Page 94 of When the Fake Snow Falls

I raise my chin, determined to look stronger than I feel. “Yeah. I’m sorry.”

“This is what I mean,” he says with an outstretched hand. “You’d rather we both be unhappy than admit you have feelings for me, and I don’t get it.”

I scoff and shrug off his jacket. Walking it back to him, I put his jacket in one hand and the woman’s phone number in the other. “I’m sure you’ll find someone else in no time.”

Ignoring the surprised look written in the planes of his face, I wrap my arms around myself to fight the sudden chill and turn back toward my apartment, my friends,my life.

“Candace, wait!” he says, but my steps quicken. When he picks up his pace behind me, I let the lobby door shut in my wake. My fingers barely graze my apartment door handle when he grabs me by the wrist and spins me around, forcing me to face him. His hands move to either side of the wall like he’s afraid I might slip away at the earliest chance. “Wait,” he says again, more breathless this time.

My chest heaves as I try to hold myself together. “It’s fine. We never had an agreement to be exclusively fake. You’re free to ask out whoever you want. I just don’t want to be a part of it.”

“But I didn’t?—”

I cut him off with a dubious lift of my brow.

“Okay, I did, but?—”

Trying to sneak out of the cage he’s built, I mutter, “It doesn’t matter.”

Chase grabs one of my shoulders while he holds up the slip of paper with the other hand. “This is old.” He flips up a folded corner and flattens it for me to see. “It’s Layla’s.”

I honestly don’t care who she is. It doesn’t matter, but he’s looking at me expectantly, so I say, “Who?”

He sighs. “Layla.” When I don’t say anything, he raises his eyebrows and adds, “The barista?”

Realization dawns on me, but I’m still confused. “The one with the boyfriend?”

Chase slowly lets go and runs a hand through his hair. “She doesn’t exactly have a boyfriend.”

He’s watching me expectantly for some type of reaction, but all I feel is confused. “So . . .” Instead of guessing, I just shake my head. “I’m not following.”

Chase’s hand drags down his face. “I went back the next day, like I told you, to ask for her number. She doesn’t have a boyfriend. She gave it to me, but . . .” His eyes lock on mine. “But then you and I talked, and I liked you. I was more interested to see where things would go with you, so I never used it.” He pauses, and the way his eyes burn into mine makes it harder to breathe. “I liked you, Candace. Even then. But when I asked you out for drinks, you had already written me off. You were adamant about us being only friends, and I knew I fucked up. I knew you wouldn’t agree to a date, but I thought you might agree to a fake one. I thought it might be the only way you’d give me a chance.”

I try to take in all the information he’s given me, but my mind can only process it one piece at a time. “So, you lied.”

“No, everything I’ve ever told you?—”

“About her having a boyfriend.”

He winces. “Oh. Yes. I guess I did lie about that.”

I frown. “Then why even ask for her number in the first place?”

“I thought I wanted it. You and I were texting, and even though you were fun to talk to, my mind was still made up from the day before. It wasn’t until I had it in my hand that I realized I didn’t care.”

“And that’s why she kept staring at you when we got coffee? Because you asked her out and never called?”

Chase grimaces. “Yeah. I don’t think she’s very happy with me.”

“No,” I say quietly as I try to recall my brief interaction with her. “I don’t think she is either.” Refocusing, I add, “But why give her a boyfriend? Why not just tell me?”

He wipes his hand over his mouth like he’s considering how to answer. “I thought you’d brush me off for that, too. At least if I gave her a boyfriend, you’d know she was out of the picture. I didn’t want you to wonder if I’d change my mind.”

As much as I don’t want to think of myself as being insecure, I probably would have wondered. Knowing a willing, gorgeous blonde was waiting in his back pocket would have changed the way I looked at things. “You like me,” I say, my voice small.

The corner of Chase’s mouth lifts. “I more than like you.”

All I’ve wanted was for him to tell me he wants more, and now that he has, my brain can’t keep up. He wanted this to be real. From the beginning. My heart swells until there’s no room for me to keep my thoughts bottled, and I blurt, “I like you, too.”

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