Page 17 of When the Fake Snow Falls

“Are you doubting me?”

My cheeks flush even though he can’t see me. I didn’t scoff because I don’t believe him. I scoffed because Ido.But before I can say anything, he speaks again.

“Let me prove it to you. Get drinks with me. You pick the night.”

My feet come to a screeching halt in front of my apartment door. “Why?” I’ve known this guy for less than two days, and he’s already making my head spin.

“Because I like you,” he says, like it’s the easiest thing to admit. “And I think it would be fun.”

Why am I so tempted by this? I’m not supposed to get butterflies from a guy like him. Haven’t I learned anything from all the terrible guys I’ve gone on dates with this year? I should tell him no. I should hang up the phone and ignore all future calls and texts, because if he can get to me this muchafter two days, I should cut my losses and hit the road. My mouth opens, but no words come out.

“It’s only drinks,” he says with that dangerous hint of a smile still in his voice.

I roll my eyes to the ceiling, and my shoulders drop in defeat. “As friends.” It’s not a question. If I’m going to do anything with him, there needs to be clear boundaries.

“Of course,” he agrees without hesitation. “Strictly friends having a great time together.”

A breath of laughter slips out of me. “Okay. Well, I just got ho—here. I’ll text you.”

“I look forward to it.”

We say our goodbyes and hang up, and I’m left staring down at my phone with a storm of emotions brewing in the pit of my stomach. After adding his name to the contact info, I fight the urge to text him right away. Because as much as I know I shouldn’t, I’m looking forward to it, too.

eight

The clinkof my keys in the entryway dish spurs a, “Hey, Stink!”

“Hey!” Setting down my bag, I peek into the living room. Miles has a headset on, wearing nothing but neon pink boxer briefs and a tank top as he plays Fortnite. He’s pulled his office chair out of his bedroom so he can sit closer to the TV, and between that, the coffee table, and the obnoxiously large Christmas tree, the apartment has never looked so small.

“Did you wear pants at any point today?”

He wiggles a little in his chair like he’d be shaking his ass if he were standing. “I did not.”

“The luxuries of working from home,” I answer wistfully.

He glances over his shoulder at me. “Well, I did have to listen to the workings of Lenny for hours on end, so it’s a fair trade. How was your day?”

There’s still no elaborate Christmas decoration in the lobby, so I wonder what the guy upstairs could be working on. Heading into the kitchen, I reach for the bottle of Chardonnay on the counter. “Kind of weird?”

Miles has one side of his headset slipped behind his ear. “How so?”

I pour my wine into a stemless glass. “That guy called me tonight.”

He glances over his shoulder as he continues to play. “The guy from Southern Roast?”

I nod. “Chase. He wanted to get drinks.”

Abandoning his match, he spins the chair around and rips the headset off. “Bitch, then why are you here?”

I give him a warning look. “He also asked out the barista again today, but she turned him down.”

“So?”

I blink. “So, I don’t want to be his shitty backup plan.”

“Wow.” Miles crosses his arms.

I frown, setting my glass on the counter. “Wow what?”

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