Page 42 of Falling Like Snow

“It is? I thought it was funny,” I say, suddenly panicking that I shouldn’t have worn it. “How’s it different from Chloe painting Slug’s number on herself for football games?”

“Because they’ve known each other longer than five minutes, and they are strictly friends! They don’t flirt! There is no possibility there,” Hannah says.

Preeti gives me a nervous smile. “She’s not wrong…”

I cross my arms over my chest. “So this is too much.”

“Honestly? I’m here for it,” Hannah says. “He did ask you to come watch him—to be his ‘good-luck charm.’ You’re being supportive.”

I’m considering putting my sweatshirt on inside out when the crowd begins cheering. I turn back to the ice and find the starters huddled in the center—and Micah staring right at me. He somehow did locate me in the crowd after all.

I reluctantly drop my arms and show him my shirt. Even from this distance, beneath all his pads, I can see his shoulders shake with laughter. A couple of his teammates search the stands for what’s captured his attention. A few of them spot me, and I wave self-consciously.

A whistle blows, and they find their positions. The game starts, and as expected, I can’t keep track of the puck. But I do stay fully aware of Micah. Despite the roughness and speed of the game, he skates like a dancer. His skilled movements are graceful but agile and energetic, fluid but precise. Who knew hockey was such a hot form of art?

When the buzzer goes off, signaling the end of the second period, Hannah turns to me. “Please stop drooling. It’s embarrassing.”

I laugh. “Shut up. I am not drooling,” I lie. “All the guys are covered in big pads and helmets. We barely get to see their pretty faces and good hair.”

“They do tend to have good hair, don’t they?” Preeti says with a dreamy sigh.

Hannah nods. “I think it might be a prerequisite to make the team.” She watches people head out to the lobby as the Zamboni drives onto the ice; then she turns to me. “We should go warm up during the break. Maybe get some nachos.”

“I’m down, but I don’t want any nachos. Still not particularly hungry.”

The arena lobby is packed with spectators, many standing around a gas firepit in the center of the large open space. The rubbery floor is caked with white salt residue from outside, and snowflakes made from coffee filters hang from fishline pinned into the high ceiling. The skate-rental counter has Christmas lights draped from its overhead sign, and the concession-stand line is a mile long.

“Nope. Never mind,” Hannah says. “I’m not waiting in that line or shoving my way through the crowd around the firepit.”

We all pivot back toward the rink doors. “It’s not that cold in there, Hanns,” I tell her. “Just put your coat back on.”

“I wish I’d brought one of those rice-filled neck things you heat in the microwave. Or even just hand warmers,” she says. “By the way, have you figured out what you’re getting Asher for Christmas yet?”

“Ugh, no. Don’t remind me. I still have—” I bump into the back of her as she abruptly stops walking, halting the flow of traffic, and Preeti runs into me. “What are you doing?”

Hannah grabs my hand and yanks me to the left—where Daphne is exiting the rink with some other people from theater.

“Daphne,” Hannah says, squeezing my hand before dropping it.

Daph turns around and grins at the three of us. “Hey! What are you doing here? I didn’t know you came to hockey games.”

“We could say the same about you,” Hannah says with a friendly smile. “But what happened to tutoring?”

“What do you mean?” Daphne asks, drawing her perfectly shaped eyebrows together.

“Asher said he couldn’t come because he was tutoring you,” I say, as perplexed as she looks.

“We met up after school, so I’m not sure why he said that,” she says. “Maybe he just didn’t want to come? He’s not exactly a hockey-loving guy.”

Irritation stirs in the pit of my stomach. She’s telling me what sort of guy Asher is?

I stomp out the fiery feeling because what the heck? I believe Asher when he says I’m not being replaced. So what if these two have been “tutoring” for the last month or so? Mostly in secret?

Except he lied to me about tonight. And maybe she’s right. Maybe he didn’t want to come. But why wouldn’t he just tell me that?

“Yeah, I guess so.” I force a smile onto my face. “Or maybe I misunderstood him.” Out of the corner of my eye, Hannah glances at me. We both know there is no misunderstanding here.

“Well, we better get back in there,” Preeti says, probably sensing the tension. “Have fun tonight, ladies.”