Page 53 of Falling Like Snow

“Well, I’m here if you decide you want to talk about it,” she says.

I stare at the ground in front of me as we head back. “I know.” We walk in silence for a few seconds before I cave. “I was really nervous. To kiss him, I mean.”

“That’s normal,” she assures me.

“Yeah, but like, more nervous than excited,” I explain. I don’t turn around, but I can feel Mom’s eyes on my back. “So, how am I supposed to know if I’m ready to kiss someone? How do I know when being nervous is actually a bad sign?”

Mom’s silent for a moment, then: “That’s a tough question to answer. I think you just know. You might be nervous, but you aren’t uncomfortable. You don’t feel pressured. You want to be closer to the person. The idea of kissing them is exhilarating. Explosive, but in a good way, you know? It just feels… right.”

“Hmm,” I manage, as I try to decide whether it felt right with Micah.

“And if it didn’t—or you’re not sure—maybe it’s best you were interrupted.”

“I guess,” I say. “I do like him, though. I think.”

“You think?”

“I still hardly know him.”

“But he gives you butterflies?” I glance over my shoulder to find her looking at me with a knowing smile.

I shift the ladder in my hand and face front again, my mind spiraling.

Micah definitely makes me nervous. He’s wildly attractive. And I do wonder what it’d be like to kiss him. But does he give me butterflies? I don’t know. It’s more like a tornado than a fluttering of delicate wings. But maybe that’s a good thing. Maybe that is the explosiveness Mom’s talking about.

“It’s okay if you didn’t feel ready just yet,” she says when I don’t respond. “It doesn’t mean you’ll never feel ready. It doesn’t mean he isn’t the right person. It might’ve just not been the right time. I say casually keep exploring what it could be; figure out how you feel and if he’s the boy for you.”

I nod, taking comfort in the advice.

“What does Asher think?” she suddenly asks.

I knit my eyebrows together. “About what?”

“About you and Micah.”

“No idea,” I say, pushing away all thoughts of how things ended between us last night.

“I see…” She’s silent as we walk into the woods.

I put the ladder on the ground and turn around. “Just say it. I can practically hear your brain whirring, so…” I motion for her to continue.

“I’m just wondering if he’s part of the reason you’re reluctant to see things through with Micah,” she says.

“What?”

“It’s just… Asher is your comfort zone—your bubble wrap. And I love that he’s that person for you. Obviously, I want you to feel comfortable and safe. But you’ve been through a lot, so I also want to make sure you’re not putting up walls. I want you to take chances and let people in—people other than Asher. You know, there’s also nothing wrong with kissing a few frogs—as long as they’re not assholes.”

“Micah is not a frog, and Asher is not bubble wrap,” I snap. “Not kissing Micah has nothing to do with Asher.”

“Sure. Okay. Good.” She presses her lips together, then: “Because the bond you two share is the sweetest, but eventually you both will start dating. You should be prepared for things between you to be a little different, and that’s okay. Good, even. It means you’re growing up.”

I stare at her. Yeah, things have been off lately, but there isn’t a world in which Asher and I aren’t us.

But… is that what’s happening? Is he making concessions—putting distance between us, trying to hang out less, keeping secrets, telling me I should leave—because he’s into Daphne?

“Can we just get started?” I ask, picking up the top end of the ladder again.

“Sure.” Mom helps me lift it upright. We part the legs and she locks them into place. “Sooo,” she says with an overeager grin, “when do I get to officially meet this Micah? He could come over for pizza and a movie and a formal introduction. I’ll even forgo the interrogation.”