Page 35 of When the Fake Snow Falls

My eyes slide to the barista again. “Is that why she keeps staring at you? Because you said unspeakable things to her while she has a boyfriend?”

He brushes off my comment with a wave of his hand. “Please. She and I didn’t get that far. All I did was ask for her number, and she didn’t give it to me. Maybe I’d rather spend my time with you, anyway.” Chase finishes the last of his coffee before settling his eyes back on me. “Still up for this?”

“Please,” I say in the same condescending tone. “You don’t scare me.” It’s a lie. It’s probably the biggest lie I’ve ever told, but the way he grins in response makes the whole thing worth it.

sixteen

Music hitsmy ears before I’ve reached the door to our apartment and fished out my keys. Coming home to Miles inthisgood of a mood is one of my favorite things. Before I even open the door, I know there is an eighty-five percent chance he’s dancing somewhere in the apartment—possibly in his underwear.

The music pours into the hallway as I slip inside, and he doesn’t hear me set my stuff down. I’m not complaining. From here, I have a great view of him with one leg hitched on the kitchen barstool while he twerks and raps along with Nicki Minaj.

Crossing my arms, I take a moment to fully appreciate the scene in front of me. He isn’t in his underwear today, but his shorts are short enough to be mistaken for some, and his tank top has pictures of crabs all over it.

I love this man.

Heading into the kitchen, I make sure to walk around so he can see me. His eyes lock on mine, and his performance only escalates. Popping myself up on the kitchen counter a few feetaway, I let my feet dangle and shake my head with a bemused smile.

He reaches for the speaker and turns down the music. “Thank you. Thank you,” he says with a slight bow. When his eyes lock on me again, he says, “Where have you been?”

My smile comes out more like a grimace. “I might have a lot to tell you.” Reaching out my leg, I tap him with my foot. “But I want to hear about your date first.”

“Oh, I’m going to marry this man.” I raise my eyebrows, and he shrugs. “Either that or I’ll stalk him. The point is, if this man ever gets married, I. Will. Be. There.”

“You know I’ll help either way,” I say with a grin. “When do I get to meet him?”

He leans his head from side to side as he thinks about it. “I don’t know.”

My eyebrows furrow. Miles has gone on a lot of dates, and he has never once brought up weddings. “Won’t you see him again?”

“Oh, definitely.” He gives me a reassuring nod. “He’s just new to being out, so it might take him longer before he’s comfortable coming over here and meeting anyone as my . . . anything.”

“That’s fair.”

He bites his thumbnail. “It is. I’m just excited and want to scream it from the rooftops.” He turns around to open the fridge and pulls out a High Noon. “I mean, I’ve been out since I knew the Pink Power Ranger didn’t do it for me, so it’s a little hard to wrap my head around, but I get it.”

“Give him time,” I say with a laugh. “He’ll come around, and when he does, I’ll be very excited to meet him. What makes this guy so different, anyway?”

“He just feels like a breath of fresh air. You’ll love him.” He takes a sip of his drink. “So, what’s all this stuff you have to tell me? Does it have anything to do with coffee guy’s penis?”

“Somewhat.” His face lights up, and I point a finger at him. “Don’t get too excited.” Hopping down from the kitchen counter, I open the fridge and grab my own drink while I catch him up to speed on all things Chase, fake dating, and Christmas parties.

“And he said it’s fancy?” he asks once we’ve moved to the living room and relaxed on the couch.

“Yeah, so I might need your help picking something to wear.”

He shakes his head. “We’ll go shopping. Nothing in your closet matches that description.”

My eyes narrow, but I can’t argue with him.

“You know you’re playing with fire, right?”

My head falls back against the couch, and I stare at the ceiling. “I know.”

“I mean, you have a decent poker face. I’ll give you that, but you like this guy.”

“I hardly know anything about him.” It’s true. With all our texting and meet ups, I haven’t asked him any of my usual date questions. I know nothing about his family, his upbringing, and I have no idea where he sees himself in five years.

“But you still like him.”

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