Page 33 of Falling Like Snow

I ponder that. She has a point.

“Plus, he’s probably not trying to make out with you after eating onion rings,” Hannah adds with a laugh as I roll my eyes and turn onto Asher’s street.

We spent the last hour and a half at Frosty Pines, the Christmas tree farm situated on ten sprawling acres full of firs, spruces, white pines, and memories of Dad. I hadn’t wanted to go back without Mom, but after we reached out to local businesses to see who needed help with décor for the holiday market, we learned that while most of them already had trees, Mrs. Yoshida needed one for the Bramble Inn. And she wanted a live one. So Hannah volunteered us to pick one up for her since Asher was busy tutoring—which sucks because he’s the only person who knows how hard it is for me to visit the places that hold so many reminders of the years I had with Dad.

I park on the road outside Asher’s house, and Hannah, Preeti, and I climb out of the car. I rap my knuckles on his front door until he pulls it open a minute later, wearing black sweatpants and my favorite gray Caffeinated Cat T-shirt with a totally wired cat on it.

“We need dinner,” I announce. “We’re famished.”

We brush past Asher without waiting for an invitation.

“And we need your male-friend opinion again,” Hannah says.

“About what this time?” Asher asks, stepping back to give us space but still holding on to the door.

“Micah told Sloane he’s going to ask her out,” Hannah says.

Asher glances at me. “When?”

“We don’t know!” Hannah exclaims. “That’s the worst part! We’re just sitting around waiting!”

“No, I mean, when did he say that?”

“Earlier today,” I tell him. “In a text.”

Asher draws his eyebrows together. “He has your number?”

“She gave it to him when they were volunteering together at the soup kitchen,” Preeti explains.

“Oh…,” Asher says, turning back to me. “I didn’t know he worked the soup kitchen with you. Did you invite him there?”

“What? Of course not.” I barely know the guy.

Hannah claps at Asher. “Stick to the important details, Ash!”

“Which are?” he asks, his brow still creased.

“The whole ‘going to ask her out’ part!” she shrieks, exasperated by his cluelessness.

“That doesn’t sound like something that requires my opinion,” he says. “And I don’t even know what the question is.”

“Why tell her he’s going to do it instead of just doing it? Was he just joking around? Trying to get a reaction out of her?” Preeti asks.

Asher lifts his shoulders. “How should I know?”

“Well, is that a thing guys do?” I ask.

“You’re asking me like I’ve ever asked someone out,” Asher says. “Or told someone I’m going to ask them out.”

“God, I’m not sure which of you is more hopeless,” Hannah sighs.

Asher’s eyes flit to the kitchen, then back to us. “What are you guys doing here?”

“I told you, we’re hungry. We’re thinking tacos and a movie,” I tell him, bending to untie my boots. “We can study for finals like responsible people, but that doesn’t sound nearly as fun.”

“I say we study!” Preeti interjects.

Asher shifts on his feet. “Actually—”