Page 121 of Falling Like Snow

Your thunderous cackle.

The fact that you don’t realize how incredible (and incredibly beautiful) you are.

How fiercely you love.

How fiercely you hold grudges.

How you make me feel like I’m the most important person in the world.

Your ability to find the sun, even on the darkest days.

The list goes on and on through dozens of pages. I didn’t even realize he had this many pictures of us.

Then I get to the final couple of pages.

Your silly puns that make everyone smile and encapsulate your entire personality. All of this is to say… I turn the page to a snowy scene and the words I’m snow into you. I stop breathing as I flip the page again, where a giant pine tree cut from paper has the words I pine for you over the top of it. And, on the last page, a sprig of mistletoe is drawn at the top, and below it are the words I love you from head to mistletoe.

I close the book and find Asher watching me.

“I don’t understand,” I whisper.

He laughs. “Um, what part of that was confusing?” His smile falls. “Oh, wait.” He digs into the duffel bag and pulls out another wrapped box. “Here,” he says, handing it to me.

“Do we need to set a number limit on gifts now, too?” I ask, taking it.

“Just open it.”

I obey, tearing the paper to reveal a plain white box. I open the top and pull out… “Your Winter Wish bulb?”

“I stole it from the tree. Open it,” he says again.

I pull off the top and struggle to get the strip of paper out. But once I have it, I unravel it, and my mouth falls open at the wish.

Sloane.

“To clear up any confusion,” Asher says.

I lift my eyebrows. “This doesn’t clear up anything. Now I’m more lost than ever.”

“About what?”

“I mean, when…”

“Honestly, probably always. But last summer for sure.” He taps the front of the scrapbook on my lap. “The night of the carnival.”

“But… why? Am I forgetting something special that happened that night? Because aside from puking everywhere, I remember it being just like any other night.”

“I don’t know. You threw up on my shoes, and I looked at you wiping vomit off your face and it just… hit me.”

“What?” I screech. “I can’t tell if this is a joke.”

Asher laughs. “It’s not a joke. That night, I was so worried about you being sick. Meanwhile, even though you felt like crap, you were worried about me being upset about my old tennis shoes that barely fit anymore. And all I could think was how perfect you were. How you were my favorite person. Then we were walking around town, drinking those ginger ale drinks, and I looked over at you… Your hair was so frizzy from the humidity, your cheeks and shoulders were slightly sunburned, and then you laughed at something. Our eyes met, and I got the most ridiculous feeling in my stomach for the first time in my life, like butterflies and intense yearning. And I just knew we were supposed to have a million of those nights—together.”

“I had no idea,” I whisper.

“At first I was freaking out because you’re my best friend. I couldn’t tell you and ruin us,” he continues. “So I figured I could just pretend… forever.” He shakes his head. “But every time you said you loved me, it was so hard to hear. Because while you loved me, I was in love with you. So I decided to take the risk and tell you on Christmas.”

“You were going to give me the scrapbook at the water tower…,” I say, working through everything. “So, when you said it wasn’t about the cake…”