Page 26 of When the Fake Snow Falls

“Sure, I’ll get right on it,” I say, but the only thing we need to change is what we’re talking about. “When are you free for me to show you how I layer foils for balayage?”

“I do still want you to do that,” she answers with a sharp nod of her head. “But don’t change the subject. Seriously, Candace, when is the last time a guy brought you coffee?”

After Greg, all my flings were just that—a few overly optimistic weeks or months that always either fizzled out or ended with him not being the man I thought he was.

And that doesn’t even count the last year. For the pasttwelve months, I haven’t had anything that remotely resembled a relationship. Even the thought of the title feels foreign.

“Yes, Chase brought me coffee. Which is great, but it doesn’t mean anything.” I hold up my phone for her to see. “We barely talk.”

She points. “It looks like someone texted you.”

I turn the screen toward me, and sure enough, a notification from Chase is front and center.

“Is it him?” Amanda asks, and based on the smile in her voice, she already knows the answer.

Opening the message, I read.

Chase:

I need to ask for a favor.

It’s a big favor, and I’m hoping you’ll say yes, but also no pressure.

My heart rate rises at the thought of him needing anything from me. It looks like he sent it only three minutes ago. His ears must have been ringing.

Candace:

I’m not cutting your hair.

It’s the only thing I can think he might need from me.

Chase:

Not that.

Although I do have full intentions of you being the one to cut my hair next.

“What does it say?” Amanda prompts. I almost forgot she was sitting across from me.

“Sorry,” I say as I glance between her and my phone. “He’s asking for a favor.”

She wiggles her eyebrows suggestively. “Ooh. What type of favor?”

My phone lights up on the table and both our eyes jump to the screen.

As I reach for it, I say, “I guess we’re about to find out.”

Chase:

Will you be my date for my company’s Christmas party?

I know, I know. As friends, but no one else there has to know that.

“He wants me to . . .” I frown at the messages, not sure if I should even open this door. I look up at Amanda and she’s clinging to my every word. It’s too late to backtrack now. “He wants me to go to his company Christmas party with him . . . as his fake date.”

“Yes.” She nods eagerly.

A burst of laughter leaves my lips. “You think I should actually agree to that?”

---