The Perfect Snow (Seasons #1)

Chapter 5: Party Crashers

My caramel brown hair looks nearly black in the darkness of the car, making it difficult to see what I'm doing as I touch it up in the rearview mirror before stepping outside.

I shouldn't be this nervous to crash a party, but the last time I did it was just for fun, not to impress a girl. And the threat of getting my ass kicked hadn't seemed as severe, being the first to have hit my big growth spurt. Oh, how things have changed and how I have not.

We leave the car parked on the side of the hill, close to Clement's place but far enough to be out of sight. The woods are lush and fragrant this close to the summit, but the wind that scrapes at my face makes it difficult even to inhale. My breath comes out shaky, and it has nothing to do with the wind nor my hair if I'm being honest—my hair's actually pretty decent tonight, if I dare say so myself.

Preston taps out a quick text and the next thing I know, we are sneaking around the fenced chalet to a back gate a teammate of his opens for us. He smuggles us into a house that is cozy enough for a single young guy, but big enough to host a party for his whole class. Dimmed lights reveal bodies pulsing to a fast beat in the central area that's been cleared of furniture, and many line the bar (this guy has a bar inside his house?) and the upstairs railing. The air is thick with sweat and beer. We dump our jackets in the nearest closet and scan the crowd. First, danger zone assessment: find Clement. Then find Melanie. My gaze rolls over bobbing heads on the dance floor, but I don't see her—

"—Oh crap!" I duck inside the closet and unceremoniously yank Preston in with me as I spot Clement heading straight towards us. I press my finger over my lips, and he nods, both of us holding our breaths. Not a minute has passed when the handle rotates. We scurry to the back of the closet, blending in with coat-laden hangers as best as we can.

"You can leave it in here," we hear Clement say in his thick, accented voice. His friend tosses a jacket inside, and they shut the door on us.

"Damn... that was too close!" I exhale.

"You... don't...say..." I hear Preston laboring to emerge from his hiding spot. Is that a feather boa?

"Okay, I will open the door slowly, you go down to the ground and check if coast is clear," I say, grabbing the handle. "Ready?"

"You know people only do that in cartoons, right? Why can't you just peek through the door at eye level, like a normal person?" he says.

"Because no one expects to see a head near the floor and that makes you less noticeable," I say proudly. I spent a lot of time thinking about this when I was younger, and am terribly pleased with myself that I figured it out.

"Ah, ok. Makes sense," he shrugs and drops on his belly.

"Wait!"

"What?" He groans, exasperated already, and the night is still young.

"Too many legs, you won't be able to see a thing. Let me take a look," I say and push the door inch by inch, peeking through the crack. Once I feel confident Clement is out of sight, we quickly step out and walk away as if entering a party through the closet is the most normal thing in the world. Moments like these, you just gotta own it.

"There she is!" Preston exclaims, and my overly-eager smile drops when I realize he's talking about Felicity. I reluctantly follow him to her perch where she is laughing with girlfriends, none of whom is Melanie. Her entire face lights up when she spots us, eyes glossy.

"Heeeeyyy! You made it!" She exclaims and untangles herself from her girlfriends to drape an arm around Preston's neck, the other holding a standard issue red cup full of beer.