Page 97 of Falling Like Snow

This will pass. It has to. I refuse to lose my best friend because I caught feelings.

A slow song comes on, and Micah grabs my hand and pulls me through the crowd until we reach the far corner of the room, where we’re nearly hidden in the shadows. Then he twirls me around, making me laugh as he pulls me into him. His hands settle on my lower back, and I rest mine on his chest as we begin to sway to the music.

I can like Micah. I will like Micah. He’s great, and he likes me.

“I seriously can’t get over how stunning you look,” he says.

I blush. “Shut up.”

He grins. “You don’t take compliments very well, huh?”

“Not generally, no. But especially not from you.”

This makes him laugh. “Oh? And why especially not from me?”

“Because you’re you!” I exclaim.

“I have no idea what that means.”

“Come on, yes you do,” I say. “I mean, you’re Micah freaking Cook. You make me nervous.”

His smile is soft, his green eyes unsure. “You never seem nervous. In fact, you’ve mostly seemed… uninterested.”

“In you?”

“Yeah.”

“Sorry,” I say. “I think maybe that’s because I don’t know how to be when I’m around you.”

He draws his eyebrows together. “Why do you think you have to be a certain way?”

“Um, because you’re Micah freaking Cook?”

“You’re making me feel like I have a lot to live up to. This Micah freaking Cook guy sounds a little too cool.”

“You’re telling me!”

He laughs. “Seriously, though, you’ve sent some pretty bold texts, but in person you make it seem like maybe you were only joking.”

I swallow. “I wasn’t.”

My heart gallops, knowing exactly what I’m setting myself up for right now. But I have to get over the Asher feelings. And the best way to do that is to prove to myself once and for all that they only emerged because he was my first kiss. Kissing Micah won’t be as good… it’ll be better. Because there won’t be any history, no friendship to ruin. Plus, he likes me.

His gaze dips to my mouth. “And yet every time I’ve suggested hanging out or made any move to kiss you, you’ve bolted or made an excuse not to see me…”

“Again, you make me nervous.”

“If I tried to kiss you now, would you run?” he asks.

His eager eyes bore into mine, the same brilliant green irises that captured my attention the first time we met, and I find that I don’t want to run. I want to explore what could be. I want to kiss this boy.

Wordlessly, I shake my head, and Micah grins at me.

“Good,” he says.

Then he stops swaying and tilts my chin up with his index finger. My pulse skips as he leans over and brings his face slowly to mine. The whooshing in my ears and the deafening thump of my heart are all I hear as he presses his lips firmly against mine.

There is no uncertainty. No shyness. No tentative testing of the waters. Micah Cook has the confidence of someone who’s kissed a million girls.