Page 90 of Falling Like Snow

He leans over the table and presses his lips to my cheek. It’s a ghost of a kiss—less than a peck, really—but I’m stunned by it nonetheless. It’s so casual, as though his lips brush over my skin all the time.

“I brought you a drink”—he holds up a paper cup from the Caffeinated Cat booth—“but it seems Asher beat me to it.”

“No such thing as too many tasty drinks.” I take the cup from him. “Thank you.”

“Yeah. No problem.” His eyes bounce between Asher and me, and I find I have no idea what to say.

“Do you want a T-shirt?” I ask cheerily. “You can have the friends-and-family five-finger discount.”

“Sloane, you can’t keep giving away all your shirts for free,” Asher says.

“I’m not giving all of them away for free,” I argue.

“Oh yeah? I saw Ellis walking around in one. You’re telling me you made her pay?” he asks.

“She’s my cousin!”

“And Cooper?”

“He’s helped out a lot,” I say.

“And Hannah and Preeti?”

“They’re two of my best friends!”

“You’re an awful entrepreneur,” Micah laughs.

I stick my tongue out at him. “What are you doing here anyway?”

“Came to see how your business was going. Who would have known things could go so well when everyone gets a five-finger discount?”

I lift my chin. “Fine, then. You have to pay full price.”

Micah laughs but shakes his head. “No thanks. I fully support you selling these, but, uh, I will not be wearing one. A little too corny for me.”

Heat floods my face, making my cheeks burn. Of course I know they’re cheesy puns. They’re meant to be silly. But for some reason, Micah Cook saying it aloud, declining to wear one, makes me feel… childish.

“That’s the point,” Asher says, his jaw set as his eyes shift from me to Micah.

“I know,” Micah says, giving him a lazy shrug. “But doesn’t mean they’re for me.”

“Go figure,” Asher says with an edge to his voice before he turns back to me. “Well, I’m going to go be a walking advertisement and try to get you some sales. Text me if you need me.”

I open my mouth, but nothing comes out. Because I’m at a loss for words. He’s clearly angry, but did Micah’s comment really warrant my best friend’s surly attitude?

Asher sets a twenty-dollar bill on the table and storms off.

“Uh, I think he’s mad at me,” Micah says uncomfortably once Asher’s crossing the street.

“He’s just having a rough day,” I lie. Because again, what am I supposed to say?

I put the twenty in my pocket to give back to Asher later.

“So about tonight…,” I say.

“Nope. You’re not bailing on me,” Micah says.

“Sorry,” I say, biting my bottom lip.