Page 68 of When the Fake Snow Falls

Breathingin the aroma of freshly ground coffee beans, I stand in line at Southern Roast for an afternoon pick me up. It’s busy today. I think there’s something about mildly cooler weather that makes everyone want to seize the opportunity for a cozy drink.

Chase made sure I got home safe last night, but I haven’t heard from him since.

It’s starting to eat at me.

He’s been the one to reach out on most occasions, but while I’m standing here in line, I might as well see how he’s doing.

Candace:

Do you hate your haircut?

Maybe I should have stayed a little longer. I should have wet his hair and styled it so he could see the finished look instead of messing it up and leaving. My teeth sink into my bottom lip at the thought of what happened between us last night. His hands and mouth exploring every exposed part of me.

The buzzing of my phone makes me jolt.

Chase:

Absolutely not. Best haircut I’ve ever had.

No awkward grow out phase necessary.

Relief eases some of the tension I’ve been walking around with all day.

“What can I get for you?”

I look up to find the blonde barista staring at me with big, blue eyes and a dazzling customer service smile.

“Sorry,” I say as I step up to the counter. “A medium peppermint mocha please.”

“Sure,” she says happily. “Can I get a name?”

“Candace.” I pull out my wallet and fish out some cash from one of my clients earlier today.

“You were in here with that guy recently, right?”

My eyes dart up to find her still holding the marker and cup. “Uh. Depends on which guy you’re referring to. Maybe?”

She looks young. Maybe early twenties, and it annoys me even more that Chase tried to ask her out. He’s a grown ass man. Even if he and I don’t turn into anything, he should at least be with someone closer to his age.

She frowns before writing my name and passing my cup off to the other barista. “I think I saw you in here with Chase, right?”

I rock back on my heels. “Ah, that guy. Yes, I do know him.” I hand her the cash, but she doesn’t count it right away.

She’s still just looking at me thoughtfully. “You’re not dating him?”

Unsure how to answer, I eventually settle on saying, “No. No, we’re just friends.”

She nods and lets out a nervous laugh. “Probably a wisechoice.” When I stand there, waiting for her to say more, she adds, “Your drink will be right up.”

Eyebrows furrowing, I mutter, “Thanks,” and step to the end of the counter. Has he been coming in here and trying to convince her to leave her boyfriend or something? I want to roll my eyes at the thought.

There’s another text from Chase when I look down at my phone.

Chase:

What’s your favorite Christmas song?

Some variation of Frosty the Snowman plays overhead, and all I can think to say isnot this.

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