Page 70 of When the Fake Snow Falls

Candace:

Why am I not surprised?

My fingers hover over the keyboard. I’m tempted to tell him about my weird interaction at Southern Roast just now. I still can’t figure out why she would suggest not dating Chase beprobably for the best. What could she know that I don’t?

Chase:

On another note, I was hoping we could get drinks tomorrow, but I don’t think I’ll be able to see you until the party. I didn’t finish all the work I brought home on Tuesday for some reason.

It’s almost like I was distracted or something.

Shit. I totally forgot Tuesdays were bad for him. I was so focused on giving in and finally cutting his hair, I didn’t even pay attention to which day it was.

Candace:

I’m sorry! You could have told me to come over a different night.

Chase:

And risk missing out on all the fun we had?

I let out a breath of laughter.

Candace:

Your job is more important.

Chase:

That’s debatable.

But the boss wasn’t pleased. She’s stressed about the party, and now she’s breathing down my neck on top of it. I’ll probably have to put in some late nights these next couple of days. She wants proposals for three different pitches by end of day Friday.

My heart sinks. Partly for him dealing with his boss, and partly because not seeing him until the party feels like such a long stretch of time. The deeper I fall into Chase, the more anxious I am to be around him again. I’m like a junkie who needs her next fix, and it’s borderline pathetic.

Candace:

Take care of what you need to do.

I add a heart emoji and press send.

Next time I see him will be the performance, except for once, I won’t have to act at all.

thirty-one

My fingers rununder the delicate maroon straps that rest over my tattooed skin. The inked flowers are visible the same way they were for our date. My head tilts as I study myself in the mirror. It certainly doesn’t leave much to the imagination. From the low backline to the sleek material that clings to my every curve, and the slit stretching up to my thigh, more of me is on display than ever before. And somehow, amidst all those things, the dress remains elegant. It has a sophistication to it that makes it easily my favorite thing I own.

Miles walks out of his bedroom after finishing work for the day, and I catch him in the reflection of the mirror doing a double take when he passes my open door. He’s wearing sweatpants with no shirt, his colorful tattoos clearly on display.

In the time it takes me to turn around to ask him what he thinks, he’s already slammed his back against the hallway, both hands gripping the wall on either side like he was blasted backward.

I let out a laugh and pop my hand on my hip. “I take it you approve?”

He cranes his head forward to get a better look without separating himself from the wall. “Who. Are. You!”

With my best dazzling smile, I hold out my hand and say, “Oh, I’m Chase’s girlfriend. It’s so nice to finally meet you.”

Laughter bursts from his lips. “You’re going to kill it tonight.” He looks me up and down. “You’re going to destroy him, aren’t you?”

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