Asher
Page 5
“Lattes it is.” He jots the order on the device and the way he worries his lower lip between his teeth is distracting. Then he looks up, straight at me, and the heat in those cool eyes nails me.
God.
I’m still until he turns around and leaves. I watch him go, a breath caught in my throat.
“Christ, Audrey.” Tessa huffs. “I swear you were murdering him with your eyes.”
“What are you talking about?” I protest. “I wasn’t.”
Zane rubs a hand over his face. “In his shoes, I’d have run out of here and wouldn’t stop until I reached Canada.”
Really? “I bet it’s Dylan’s expression that sent him running.”
Dylan’s still scowling in the direction Ash went.
“You f**kers...” Zane shakes his head. “You don’t get it.”
“Nothing to get,” Dylan says. “Ash and Audrey in the same room? Not a good idea. She doesn’t like it, man. Get over it.”
Meg brings our lattes and I don’t see Ash again the whole time we’re there. Did I really look so pissed off? I didn’t know my face has that power and I’m not sure how I feel about it.
Because all I could think of when he looked at me was how soft his mouth looks and how I want to kiss him again.
***
“You know, Audrey, I don’t understand,” Tessa says as she drives me back home later.
“Don’t understand what exactly?”
“Why you’re so pissed at Asher.”
“Are you serious?”
“Yeah. Explain it to me. Ash is a good guy.”
“His dad—”
“I know who his dad is. We’re talking about Ash, not his dad. I’m not mad at you for confusing the two, but, hey, one is old and a drunkard, the other is a young hot stud.”
I bury my face in my hands. My heart pounds. “Why don’t you leave it be, Tess?”
“Because.” She parks in front of my building and sighs. “I know the accident left its marks on you, but I don’t believe for one second you’re blaming Ash for something his dad did. It’s an excuse for you to keep your distance, I get that. But maybe it’s time you stopped looking for excuses not to talk to him. The thing is, Aud, I keep teasing you about Dylan and Zane, but I know Asher is the one you want.”
“What?” I put my hands down. “That’s bullshit.”
“Be honest with yourself. I’ve known you since you were little, and you’ve been in love with Ash from the start.”
“No, I haven’t.”
“There you go, denying it again.”
“Because it isn’t true!”
Is it?
“Ash isn’t anything like his father,” Tessa says. “At all.”
“And how would you know?”
Tessa shrugs. “I’ve been here. Met him many times over the years.”
“Dylan didn’t seem so pleased to see him.”
“Dylan can be an idiot sometimes.” Tessa sighs again. “He and Asher drifted apart over the years. Dylan always blamed Asher for turning so cold with you in high school.”
“I blame Asher for that, too.”
“Maybe he’s changed. Zane says he has. He vouches for Ash. Give him a chance.”
I so don’t want to talk about this anymore. “I’m going up. Good night, Tess.”
“Audrey.”
I pause with my car door open. “What?”
“That boy is hot. And he wants you.”
“No, he doesn’t. He never has.”
And that’s that as far as I’m concerned. I’m not falling into that trap again.
***
Fall rolls into winter seamlessly, the sky growing darker, the nights longer. Thanksgiving break comes, and everyone drives home to their families.
My mom’s busy working on one project or another, as usual. We never celebrated much after the accident. It’s as if happiness left with my dad and all that’s left is work and emptiness.
Everything comes and goes—joy, love, life—in an endless tide, leaving dead things behind. I can’t let myself get caught in the wave again.
So I throw myself into my studies, avoiding parties and cafes a certain someone might frequent. Dylan calls quite a few times and Tessa tries all her tricks to bring me “out of my shell” as she puts it, including inviting me to a chocolate fondue evening at her favorite cafe. What can I say, I’m a sucker for chocolate in all forms.
Chocolate and bad boys.
But I love my shell. My cozy little world where I can forget the past and dream of a future without haunting memories and the pain they bring.
I’m happy in my own way. A bit bored and lonely sometimes. But safe.
It’s not exactly what I hoped for when I came back to Madison. I wanted to meet new people and have fun. But the trade off—boredom for a measure of calm—seems a fair one.
So okay, maybe my reaction is a bit extreme. Hiding from everyone, cowering. The thing is, I don’t really hate Ash. He makes me feel—too many conflicting things, things I’m not yet prepared to face.
It never crosses my mind that I’ll be wrenched out of my shell so violently.
Today it’s Monday, and I should know on Mondays Murphy’s Law is in full force. But I’m not thinking about that. I’m walking to the bus stop after a late biology class. I don’t like walking alone through this part of the campus; it’s dark and deserted, but I’ve successfully managed to push my old friends away with my voluntary solitary confinement, and my mind is on an essay I have to turn in tomorrow.
I just need to catch the bus, get home and bury myself in the paper I’m writing, curled up on my sofa with a hot cup of cocoa. I’ll also call my mom.
That’s what my social life has been reduced to.
God, that’s so lame. I should apologize to Tessa for disappearing and ask her to go out for drinks on Saturday. I need to get my head straight, and running can’t always protect me. I’ve been facing my memories for years now. Facing Ash shouldn’t be this hard.
The frigid wind whistles in my ears. I resettle the strap of my bag over my shoulder, rub my hands up and down my arms and wish I’d worn a thicker sweater under my coat, and gloves.
I hear a sound over the wind and turn. Two guys are walking toward me. The few lampposts along the path don’t let me see them clearly. They wear hoodies and their faces are in shadow.
Walking faster, the wind whipping my long hair across my face, I hurry toward the bus stop. I refuse to listen to the little panicky voice in my head telling me I’m alone out here with not even pepper spray or anyone in sight.
The footsteps behind me turn quicker—and then even quicker.
Crap. Lights beckon to my right—a cafe. I turn and bolt that way. It isn’t far. I can make it.
Only problem is, I’m not prepared for running - not in the dark and even less in high heels. A dip in the concrete is enough to bring me down. I fall like a stone. Throwing my hands forward, I manage to avoid faceplanting, but my palms and then my elbows take the brunt of the impact. Pain shoots up to my arm sockets.
I lie there on my stomach, in a daze, propped on my stinging elbows, staring at the ground an inch from my nose. Fire spikes up from my ankle, the pain so sharp it brings tears to my eyes.
Oh god, I must have sprained it.
Fear rolls in a great dark wave. I twist my head, trying to see if the two guys have followed me—and I see them closing the distance. I push off the ground with a wince, but by then they’re on top of me.
A huge hand grabs my arm and lifts me to my feet. “What have we here?” a male voice says. He bends me awkwardly backward, until I teeter on my heels.
The pain in my ankle is excruciating. I keep the moan between my teeth as the other guy gets into my face and grins. His nose has been broken before; it’s crooked, his eyes flat and dangerous.
I open my mouth to scream for help and he slaps a hand over it. It tastes vile. The other one paws me, his harsh breathing echoing.
There’s a buzzing in my ears. This can’t be happening. You always think bad things happen to other people—but I should know better. If anything, the accident that took my father taught me that, and yet here I am.
The hand over my mouth makes breathing hard. Passing out is in the cards, but the pain in my ankle keeps me alert—more alert than I want. The guy in front of me is unbuttoning my coat, his eyes glinting in the distant lights of the cafe.
And then suddenly the hand leaves my mouth, and the guy behind me releases me. I wobble. My ankle refuses to carry my weight, sending me sprawling back down.
I lie on my side, stunned for a second time, seeing what’s happening in front of me but not comprehending.
A third guy has arrived on the scene, and he’s taken on the other two. The fight is short, though it seems as if ages pass. He pushes one of them away, kicks the feet out of the other, and punches him in the face. Then he stands and twists around when the second guy comes at him, and sends him flying with a mean right hook to the jaw.
Finally he turns toward me, and I recognize his pale eyes, his wild dark hair.
The guy who saved me is no other than Asher Devlin.
***
“Let me help you,” he says.
“You’ve done quite enough already,” I snap, clutching my bag, well aware that isn’t the way to talk to the guy who’s saved me from a terrible fate this evening. Maybe it’s the shock. “I can manage from here on. What were you doing out here anyway?”
His jaw clenches and his beautiful eyes cloud over. “I work at the Sunroom Cafe, remember?” He gestures at the lights of the cafe I saw earlier. “I just got out of work. I was heading home.”
I limp down the path, trying in vain to avoid looking at him. “Go on, then. I swear I’ll be fine.”
“Dammit, let me help you.” The frustration in his voice makes me stop. “You’ve twisted your ankle and you’re shaking, and we’re heading in the same direction. I’m taking the bus, too.”
“You can’t help me.” It comes out bitter and much more loaded than I intend.
He pales, I can see it even in the dim light. “Auds...”
God, I’m being horrible. Ungrateful. Unforgiving. I’m a grown up, not a little girl anymore. “Sorry. God, I’m so sorry. Thank you for punching those guys out.”
“I wish there was another way, but when I saw the way they held you...” He shrugs. “Couldn’t help myself.”
“You seemed to know what you were doing.”
He shifts from foot to foot and runs his fingers through his hair; it’s grown into dark, wild waves. “My dad taught me.”
I shiver. His dad. Of course. So much I don’t know about Ash. I haven’t cared beyond the fact his dad walked away from the accident with barely a scratch, free to live his life, while my dad died, and I was in the hospital for a long time. Had to have surgery for internal bleeding. I took quite a pummeling in the car as...
“You okay?” Ash steps closer, lifting a hand to my face. “Did they hurt you?”
I’m immobilized by the gesture, breathless. When his fingertips touch my cheek, warm and rough, I can’t help but move toward him.
And then the pain hits, my ankle gives out, and I’m falling.
Right into his arms. He catches me, swearing softly under his breath, and lifts me, gripping me under my knees and back, swinging me up.
Whoa. He holds me to his chest, against the steady beat of his heart, the solid muscles of his arms tight around me. It feels so good. So safe and warm. God, he’s so strong and I can’t believe how much that affects me.
I want to fight the attraction, the need. Wrap myself in my anger, demand an explanation for the cold shoulder he gave me back then. Keep away from him.
God.
I’m still until he turns around and leaves. I watch him go, a breath caught in my throat.
“Christ, Audrey.” Tessa huffs. “I swear you were murdering him with your eyes.”
“What are you talking about?” I protest. “I wasn’t.”
Zane rubs a hand over his face. “In his shoes, I’d have run out of here and wouldn’t stop until I reached Canada.”
Really? “I bet it’s Dylan’s expression that sent him running.”
Dylan’s still scowling in the direction Ash went.
“You f**kers...” Zane shakes his head. “You don’t get it.”
“Nothing to get,” Dylan says. “Ash and Audrey in the same room? Not a good idea. She doesn’t like it, man. Get over it.”
Meg brings our lattes and I don’t see Ash again the whole time we’re there. Did I really look so pissed off? I didn’t know my face has that power and I’m not sure how I feel about it.
Because all I could think of when he looked at me was how soft his mouth looks and how I want to kiss him again.
***
“You know, Audrey, I don’t understand,” Tessa says as she drives me back home later.
“Don’t understand what exactly?”
“Why you’re so pissed at Asher.”
“Are you serious?”
“Yeah. Explain it to me. Ash is a good guy.”
“His dad—”
“I know who his dad is. We’re talking about Ash, not his dad. I’m not mad at you for confusing the two, but, hey, one is old and a drunkard, the other is a young hot stud.”
I bury my face in my hands. My heart pounds. “Why don’t you leave it be, Tess?”
“Because.” She parks in front of my building and sighs. “I know the accident left its marks on you, but I don’t believe for one second you’re blaming Ash for something his dad did. It’s an excuse for you to keep your distance, I get that. But maybe it’s time you stopped looking for excuses not to talk to him. The thing is, Aud, I keep teasing you about Dylan and Zane, but I know Asher is the one you want.”
“What?” I put my hands down. “That’s bullshit.”
“Be honest with yourself. I’ve known you since you were little, and you’ve been in love with Ash from the start.”
“No, I haven’t.”
“There you go, denying it again.”
“Because it isn’t true!”
Is it?
“Ash isn’t anything like his father,” Tessa says. “At all.”
“And how would you know?”
Tessa shrugs. “I’ve been here. Met him many times over the years.”
“Dylan didn’t seem so pleased to see him.”
“Dylan can be an idiot sometimes.” Tessa sighs again. “He and Asher drifted apart over the years. Dylan always blamed Asher for turning so cold with you in high school.”
“I blame Asher for that, too.”
“Maybe he’s changed. Zane says he has. He vouches for Ash. Give him a chance.”
I so don’t want to talk about this anymore. “I’m going up. Good night, Tess.”
“Audrey.”
I pause with my car door open. “What?”
“That boy is hot. And he wants you.”
“No, he doesn’t. He never has.”
And that’s that as far as I’m concerned. I’m not falling into that trap again.
***
Fall rolls into winter seamlessly, the sky growing darker, the nights longer. Thanksgiving break comes, and everyone drives home to their families.
My mom’s busy working on one project or another, as usual. We never celebrated much after the accident. It’s as if happiness left with my dad and all that’s left is work and emptiness.
Everything comes and goes—joy, love, life—in an endless tide, leaving dead things behind. I can’t let myself get caught in the wave again.
So I throw myself into my studies, avoiding parties and cafes a certain someone might frequent. Dylan calls quite a few times and Tessa tries all her tricks to bring me “out of my shell” as she puts it, including inviting me to a chocolate fondue evening at her favorite cafe. What can I say, I’m a sucker for chocolate in all forms.
Chocolate and bad boys.
But I love my shell. My cozy little world where I can forget the past and dream of a future without haunting memories and the pain they bring.
I’m happy in my own way. A bit bored and lonely sometimes. But safe.
It’s not exactly what I hoped for when I came back to Madison. I wanted to meet new people and have fun. But the trade off—boredom for a measure of calm—seems a fair one.
So okay, maybe my reaction is a bit extreme. Hiding from everyone, cowering. The thing is, I don’t really hate Ash. He makes me feel—too many conflicting things, things I’m not yet prepared to face.
It never crosses my mind that I’ll be wrenched out of my shell so violently.
Today it’s Monday, and I should know on Mondays Murphy’s Law is in full force. But I’m not thinking about that. I’m walking to the bus stop after a late biology class. I don’t like walking alone through this part of the campus; it’s dark and deserted, but I’ve successfully managed to push my old friends away with my voluntary solitary confinement, and my mind is on an essay I have to turn in tomorrow.
I just need to catch the bus, get home and bury myself in the paper I’m writing, curled up on my sofa with a hot cup of cocoa. I’ll also call my mom.
That’s what my social life has been reduced to.
God, that’s so lame. I should apologize to Tessa for disappearing and ask her to go out for drinks on Saturday. I need to get my head straight, and running can’t always protect me. I’ve been facing my memories for years now. Facing Ash shouldn’t be this hard.
The frigid wind whistles in my ears. I resettle the strap of my bag over my shoulder, rub my hands up and down my arms and wish I’d worn a thicker sweater under my coat, and gloves.
I hear a sound over the wind and turn. Two guys are walking toward me. The few lampposts along the path don’t let me see them clearly. They wear hoodies and their faces are in shadow.
Walking faster, the wind whipping my long hair across my face, I hurry toward the bus stop. I refuse to listen to the little panicky voice in my head telling me I’m alone out here with not even pepper spray or anyone in sight.
The footsteps behind me turn quicker—and then even quicker.
Crap. Lights beckon to my right—a cafe. I turn and bolt that way. It isn’t far. I can make it.
Only problem is, I’m not prepared for running - not in the dark and even less in high heels. A dip in the concrete is enough to bring me down. I fall like a stone. Throwing my hands forward, I manage to avoid faceplanting, but my palms and then my elbows take the brunt of the impact. Pain shoots up to my arm sockets.
I lie there on my stomach, in a daze, propped on my stinging elbows, staring at the ground an inch from my nose. Fire spikes up from my ankle, the pain so sharp it brings tears to my eyes.
Oh god, I must have sprained it.
Fear rolls in a great dark wave. I twist my head, trying to see if the two guys have followed me—and I see them closing the distance. I push off the ground with a wince, but by then they’re on top of me.
A huge hand grabs my arm and lifts me to my feet. “What have we here?” a male voice says. He bends me awkwardly backward, until I teeter on my heels.
The pain in my ankle is excruciating. I keep the moan between my teeth as the other guy gets into my face and grins. His nose has been broken before; it’s crooked, his eyes flat and dangerous.
I open my mouth to scream for help and he slaps a hand over it. It tastes vile. The other one paws me, his harsh breathing echoing.
There’s a buzzing in my ears. This can’t be happening. You always think bad things happen to other people—but I should know better. If anything, the accident that took my father taught me that, and yet here I am.
The hand over my mouth makes breathing hard. Passing out is in the cards, but the pain in my ankle keeps me alert—more alert than I want. The guy in front of me is unbuttoning my coat, his eyes glinting in the distant lights of the cafe.
And then suddenly the hand leaves my mouth, and the guy behind me releases me. I wobble. My ankle refuses to carry my weight, sending me sprawling back down.
I lie on my side, stunned for a second time, seeing what’s happening in front of me but not comprehending.
A third guy has arrived on the scene, and he’s taken on the other two. The fight is short, though it seems as if ages pass. He pushes one of them away, kicks the feet out of the other, and punches him in the face. Then he stands and twists around when the second guy comes at him, and sends him flying with a mean right hook to the jaw.
Finally he turns toward me, and I recognize his pale eyes, his wild dark hair.
The guy who saved me is no other than Asher Devlin.
***
“Let me help you,” he says.
“You’ve done quite enough already,” I snap, clutching my bag, well aware that isn’t the way to talk to the guy who’s saved me from a terrible fate this evening. Maybe it’s the shock. “I can manage from here on. What were you doing out here anyway?”
His jaw clenches and his beautiful eyes cloud over. “I work at the Sunroom Cafe, remember?” He gestures at the lights of the cafe I saw earlier. “I just got out of work. I was heading home.”
I limp down the path, trying in vain to avoid looking at him. “Go on, then. I swear I’ll be fine.”
“Dammit, let me help you.” The frustration in his voice makes me stop. “You’ve twisted your ankle and you’re shaking, and we’re heading in the same direction. I’m taking the bus, too.”
“You can’t help me.” It comes out bitter and much more loaded than I intend.
He pales, I can see it even in the dim light. “Auds...”
God, I’m being horrible. Ungrateful. Unforgiving. I’m a grown up, not a little girl anymore. “Sorry. God, I’m so sorry. Thank you for punching those guys out.”
“I wish there was another way, but when I saw the way they held you...” He shrugs. “Couldn’t help myself.”
“You seemed to know what you were doing.”
He shifts from foot to foot and runs his fingers through his hair; it’s grown into dark, wild waves. “My dad taught me.”
I shiver. His dad. Of course. So much I don’t know about Ash. I haven’t cared beyond the fact his dad walked away from the accident with barely a scratch, free to live his life, while my dad died, and I was in the hospital for a long time. Had to have surgery for internal bleeding. I took quite a pummeling in the car as...
“You okay?” Ash steps closer, lifting a hand to my face. “Did they hurt you?”
I’m immobilized by the gesture, breathless. When his fingertips touch my cheek, warm and rough, I can’t help but move toward him.
And then the pain hits, my ankle gives out, and I’m falling.
Right into his arms. He catches me, swearing softly under his breath, and lifts me, gripping me under my knees and back, swinging me up.
Whoa. He holds me to his chest, against the steady beat of his heart, the solid muscles of his arms tight around me. It feels so good. So safe and warm. God, he’s so strong and I can’t believe how much that affects me.
I want to fight the attraction, the need. Wrap myself in my anger, demand an explanation for the cold shoulder he gave me back then. Keep away from him.
