Page 99 of Falling Like Snow

“Sloane, come on, don’t ruin the night.”

His weight shifts as he lifts his foot, daring to inch toward me, and instinctively, I pull my right arm back and swing. My fist collides with Micah’s face. I’m not sure if the sound of crunching bone is his face or my knuckles, but even with adrenaline coursing through me, it hurts like hell.

“Fuck!” Micah grabs his nose.

“I told you not to come any closer.” I quickly step around him. Once I’m a safe distance away, I face him. “You will never touch me again. You will not talk to me again. I don’t ever want to see your face or hear your voice ever again.”

I pivot and jog down the hall in my heels, hot tears streaming down my face.

I need to get out of here.

I need air.

I need Asher.

Suddenly, my feelings for him are irrelevant. I just need my best friend.

“Sloane, wait! I’m sor—” Micah’s words get cut off by the music as I stumble into the ballroom. Chloe and Parker are dancing in the same place they were earlier, and I spot Hannah getting red punch topped with marshmallows I think are meant to look like mini snowballs. Ellis, Cooper, Preeti, Jake, Slug, and Fern have joined in a conga-line dance.

Where the hell is—

My heart hits the floor like a sledgehammer as I spot him behind a group of seniors—with Daphne holding firmly onto his lapels, her lips attached to his.

Bile rises, burning my throat.

Unable to bear watching them, I turn and run to the coatroom.

The volunteer working the coat check lets me find Mom’s coat, and I steal her keys. After sending her a quick text to let her know I took the car and asking if she’ll be able to find a ride home, I retrieve my own winter jacket and sprint outside as fast as I can in high heels. As soon as I find where she’s parked, I head home, tears free-falling down my face the whole way.

Swimming in poofy blue fabric, I lie on the couch staring at the Christmas tree. It’s been an hour since I left, and my tears have finally subsided and dried, making my face feel like cracked clay. I don’t have it in me to talk to anyone, so I’ve turned my phone off in case any friends call looking for me.

The heat kicks on, adding to the soundtrack of our quiet house, alongside the hum of the refrigerator and the ticking of the wall clock, which has read the wrong time my entire life. My breathing has finally evened out. Snotty tissues cover the floor.

I feel like Cinderella—if she’d been groped and then forced to watch Prince Charming make out with a beautiful royal girl. But unlike Cinderella, no prince is searching for the girl who dashed out of the ballroom tonight, so when light knocking startles me from my spiraling thoughts, I think maybe I’m hearing things.

But then the tapping continues. I sit and peek around the bay window curtains and find Asher standing at the front door. I quickly duck and squeeze my scratchy eyes closed.

I can’t. Not tonight.

“Come on, Sloane,” he calls. “I saw you in the window. Let me in or I’ll have to use the spare key.”

I groan. Squaring my shoulders and standing, I try to talk myself up.

This can be quick and painless.

Well, quick, at least.

I throw open the front door and offer my best friend a bright smile. “What’s up?”

His eyes narrow on me, his mouth sliding into a frown. “What happened?”

“What do you mean?”

“Your mom said you left early.” He scans my face, reminding me that my makeup probably makes me look like a melting clown.

“Nothing happened. I was tired, and tomorrow is going to be a long day.”

“You left over an hour ago, and you’re still in your dress,” he points out. “Can’t be that tired.”