Page 37 of When the Fake Snow Falls

Sure. Same place?

Chase:

No. I’m picking you up and taking you to dinner.

Dress nice.

“What the fuck are you smiling about?” Miles asks, and I let out a laugh.

“Nothing.” I let a smile stretch across my face. “Nothing at all.”

seventeen

Miles holdsup the little black dress he wanted me to wear last Thursday when I met up with Chase for drinks. “It is time.” He holds out the small piece of black fabric and nods toward me. “Put it on.”

“Are you sure?” I ask as I take the hanger from him and hold the dress to my body. “This seems like a little much.”

“Trust me, I’ve seen you in this dress, and I’ve seen you in everything else you own. You’re wearing the dress.”

“Should I take that as an insult or a compliment?”

He crosses his arms. “Both.”

I roll my eyes. “Fine.” I quickly strip down to my underwear and pull the dress overhead. The thin straps carry a dipped neckline that shows more cleavage than anything else I own, and the slimming waistline gives me a classic figure. It stops just above the knee. It’s one of those rare pieces of clothing you sometimes stumble upon that feels like it’s tailor-made for your body. I bought it for a friend’s bachelorette party a couple of years ago and haven’t worn it since—despite Miles suggesting it for every event.

“Damn, Candace,” he says as soon as it’s on. “I think it somehow fits you even better now.”

I stare at myself in the mirror, and I think he’s right. I’ve filled out a little since I first bought it. I was worried it might be small on me now, but it hugs my frame in all the right places.

My hair is down in loose waves, and I add a little more makeup than usual to help dress things up. “And you don’t think it’s too much?” I ask, turning to face him.

Miles takes a seat on my bed. “I think he’s going to try to fuck you, and if he doesn’t, I think he might like boys.”

“This isn’t a real date.Remember?” I turn to look at myself in the mirror one more time. “He’s not actually interested in me.”

He waves off my comment. “Yeah, I know. He likes blondes who serve coffee.” His knees bounce. “I can’t wait to meet him.”

I give him a warning look over my shoulder. “Just . . . be nice.”

He gets to his feet. “Shut up. I’m always nice.” He points to a pair of strappy heels—also picked by him. “Put these on.” Without another word, he walks out of my room, and I’m left alone to do the finishing touches.

Chase:

Be there in 5.

For a fake date, this feels real. My nerves and excitement run away with all the hypothetical ways the night might go. Just knowing he’ll be here in a matter of minutes is enough to spike my heart rate.

Forcing out a deep breath, I sit on the edge of the bed and slip on the shoes Miles chose, sliding the back strap over my heel. With these shoes and a delicate bracelet, I stand in front of the mirror again for a final review.

I look incredible.

Do I look like myself? I’m not sure, but the girl in the mirror looks fearless. I usuallyamfearless—more than I have been lately, at least.

You are a hot, successful woman in your twenties. Start fucking acting like it.

There’s a knock at the door, and the tiny yelp that leaves my lips contradicts my pep talk immediately.

Miles is on his way to the door when I come out of the hallway, and I hold up a hand. “I’ll get it.”

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