Page 118 of Falling Like Snow

Maybe he didn’t come tonight.

Me: Are you at Jake’s?

I stare at my phone, waiting for a response. Nothing.

“Hey, Parker,” I say, when I pass her in the upstairs hallway. “Have you seen Asher around?”

“I think he might still be in the sunroom,” she says. “Have you seen Chloe?”

“Sorry, I haven’t. Just got here, though. If I see her, I’ll tell her you’re looking for her.”

“Thanks.”

I bounce down the stairs on shaky legs. Am I seriously doing this? In freaking snowman-patterned pajamas?

When I reach the entrance, I take three deep breaths, fake-smiling at the people walking past me like I’ve lost my mind as I try to work up the nerve to pull off a Nora Ephron–worthy grand gesture.

Then I open the door.

Asher and Daphne look up at me from where they’re eating candy canes on the couch, Daph’s body turned toward Ash, the two of them sitting close enough that my stomach sours.

What am I doing?

He likes someone. They’re happy. Why the hell would I tell him I’m into him?

I really have lost my mind. How did I let Ellis talk me into this?

“Hey,” Daphne says when I stand there silently melting down.

“Hey,” I say. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to interrupt.” My gaze flits to Asher, who’s watching me intently. Hot tears prick at the back of my eyes. When did I become such a freaking baby? I offer them my best smile. “I’ll, uh, let you get back to it.”

I dash out of the sunroom, accidentally slamming the door behind me as I sprint through the crowd and out the back door. The cold air hits my face, and I gasp for a breath.

This was the worst idea I’ve ever had.

I grab my phone from my pocket and text my mom to turn around and pick me up. But just as I’m about to press send, the door behind me closes.

“What’s going on?” Asher asks.

I whirl around to face him.

“What do you mean?” I ask, sliding my phone back into my giant chest pocket.

He gestures at my clothes. “Uh, you’re here in pajamas. You’re outside with no coat and untied boots. You just sprinted out of there like the house was on fire.”

I glance at my outfit.

“What’s going on?” he repeats when I don’t answer.

“Nothing,” I tell him.

“Then why are you wearing that?”

“What? A girl can’t come to a party in comfy clothes?” I ask, trying to keep my teeth from chattering in the cold.

He sighs and slides his coat off. He steps toward me to put it over my shoulders, but I retreat, keeping space between us. He stops in his tracks, his puzzled gaze narrowing on me.

“I don’t need it,” I say.