Page 110 of Falling Like Snow

“The song has less than three minutes left,” I tell him.

“What I did was royally messed up, and I’m sorry,” he begins.

I huff out a laugh. “Yeah, okay. And how many times have you given this empty apology, exactly?”

He knits his eyebrows together. “Never. I’ve hooked up with girls, but I never…” He shakes his head. “I was an asshole. I deserved to be punched. I probably deserve worse.”

“You do, yes. You made me feel like it was my fault. And like all you cared about was hooking up with me. I mean, did you even like me? Or was it all just an elaborate act?”

“None of it was an act. I did like you. Do like you. Listen, I’ve always known who you were, Sloane. We didn’t hang in the same circles, so we never talked. But after you ran me over with that sled, I wanted to know you. Not because you were cute—even though you are. But because you were funny as hell. And you were volunteering at a soup kitchen just because. You seemed interesting and nice, and I had fun when I was with you. Then you mentioned you hadn’t kissed anyone, and as I got to know you, I realized I wanted to be your first. I messed up thinking you wanted me as much as I wanted you.”

“No, you messed up by not stopping when I told you to,” I spit out.

“You’re right. I was pushy and I said mean things, and I’m so sorry. You are genuinely the first girl that I can say I probably would have fallen for, and probably the only one I’ll have regrets about for a very, very long time. I am sincerely sorry that I was such a dick because I really do think you are ‘hella cool.’ ” He grins that beautiful grin of his as he tries to joke with me, but I can’t bring myself to smile back. “I swear, if you can forgive me, it will never happen again, and—”

“Please. Save it,” I say, holding up my hand. “I hope what you’re saying is true. I hope you did like me and that you are sorry because maybe that means you’ll learn something from this. Maybe next time a girl tells you to stop, you’ll listen. But I won’t be the girl who sticks around to find out,” I say, unable to muster up a single ounce of forgiveness. “And, for the record, you weren’t my first, nor were you my best.”

Micah lifts his eyebrows in surprise. “Okay…”

“Okay. Are we done here, then?”

He slowly shakes his head. “Actually, no,” he says, standing straighter. “Look, I made a huge mistake. I’m an asshole, and I don’t deserve for you to ever talk to me again.” He glances at Scarlett singing the final chorus. “But you’re also an asshole, and I think I deserve an apology.”

“Excuse me?”

“I pushed things further than I should have. I made you uncomfortable, and I broke your trust. But everything I’ve said to you since we met—every effort I’ve made to get to know you—was sincere. Meanwhile, you were flirting with me and pretending to be into me, but you were kissing someone else. I mean, what the hell, Sloane?”

My cheeks flare. “I wasn’t pretending to be into you.”

“I’m an asshole but not an idiot. There’s only one person you’re into, and I am not him.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Tell me Asher isn’t who you kissed,” he says, crossing his arms over his broad chest.

My eyes flit to the ground for the briefest second, but it’s enough to confirm his suspicion.

“I knew it,” he says with a self-satisfied smirk.

“It wasn’t like that,” I argue. “We were just under mistletoe. It didn’t mean anything.”

“To who? Because I think we both know it meant something to you.” Micah drops his arms to his sides. “I never stood a chance with you, because even Micah freaking Cook can’t compete with Asher Yoshida.”

“It’s not like that,” I tell him again.

“You search for him in every room. You smile at your phone when he texts. You worry when he doesn’t. You’re so jealous of Daphne, it’s laughable. I’d actually find it hot if I were him. He is your first priority—I’d say even before the town events, if we’re being honest. And I don’t think that’s just because he’s your best friend. Friends don’t look at friends the way you look at him. I have been a placeholder for the past month, a substitute while you pretended not to be in love with him. You made me like you—made me believe you might like me—when in reality I never had a shot. For that, I think you owe me an apology.”

“You are not turning this situation around on me,” I tell him.

“I’m simply stating the obvious,” he says as Scarlett and her friends sing their final note and the music fades. “I can wait until you’re ready to admit it. Then you can find me and say you’re sorry.”

Micah turns to face the stage and whistles at the Geriatric Plastics. Scarlett winks at him as she makes her way to the edge of the stage, followed by her friends.

“I’ll let you get back to work,” he says over his shoulder as another kid from school comes to look through the song choices. “I’ll see you around. And again, I’m sorry.”

I stare after Micah as he walks the group to seats in the back, where some theater kids rave about their performance.

Oh my god, I was an asshole.