Total pages in book: 84
Estimated words: 79607 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 398(@200wpm)___ 318(@250wpm)___ 265(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79607 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 398(@200wpm)___ 318(@250wpm)___ 265(@300wpm)
After relieving the ache that Asher created in the shower, I threw on a pair of holey jeans and a white tank top and slapped on some makeup, all the while nervous that Asher was going to show his face again. He didn’t thankfully, but I was still unnerved by what transpired in the bathroom. I couldn’t focus on anything knowing he could be lurking around every corner of the house, but he was nowhere to be found.
Even when my favorite barista, Matt, tried to make small talk, I was still unable to focus on anything but the sight of naked Asher pleasuring himself with my conditioner. And the way he looked at me, completely unaffected and unapologetic.
Tossing my empty cup, I make my way toward the parking lot, skidding to a stop when someone blocks my path, only to find Jackson smiling down on me.
“Hey, what’s up? I didn’t get to say goodbye to you last night, and I tried to call, but your phone went straight to voicemail.”
Oh my God. I forgot about Jackson. And I don’t mean about last night… I mean, I literally forgot he existed. Ash’s been back in my life for less than twenty-four hours, and, like a solar eclipse, he’s already casting his shadow upon everything and everyone else. It’s exciting at first. You feel like you’re a part of something that doesn’t happen every day. And maybe you’re tempted to stay in the shadows. But then you realize that you need the sun. You can’t survive in darkness alone.
“Briar?” Jackson’s concerned hazel eyes assess me.
“Huh? Oh, yeah, my phone died. Sorry.”
“It’s cool.”
I give him a polite smile and move to step around him, but he stops me with a hand on my shoulder.
“Hey, so wait,” he says, dropping his hand and stuffing both into the pockets of his jeans. “Let’s go out. Like, just the two of us.”
“You mean, like a date?” I ask dumbly. No, Einstein, he wants to take you to Bible study. Of course, he means a date.
“Yeah, like a date,” he says with a cocky smile, probably mistaking my preoccupation with Asher for shyness.
My gut instinct is to say no. But then, I realize that would be falling into old patterns and letting Asher influence every decision I make. Not this time. And I do like Jackson. I was even semi-interested before Ash came back. There’s no reason I shouldn’t give him a chance. He’s fun and sweet and hot as hell. What’s not to like? Plus, Asher has made it clear that there will never be anything between us. Why shouldn’t I move on?
“Okay.” I shrug.
“Okay?” he asks, thrown off by my short response.
“Okay,” I say, firmer this time, and go to leave again. My stomach is growling, and I need to call Natalia.
“When?” he shouts after me.
“Whenever!”
“I’ll pick you up tonight then. Six o’clock.”
Before I can open my mouth to object, or at least let him know that I’d drive separately and meet him somewhere, he gives me one of his signature smirks and saunters off.
I guess I have a date.
I pull into my driveway after a long day of avoiding home. Nat was working for her mom at her boutique, Lush, today, so I hung out there for a while. We tried to talk, but it was an abnormally busy day, so I walked around the other shops to kill some time.
My stomach does a flip when I see that Asher’s big, black truck is still in the driveway. There’s a ladder on top of it, leading me to believe it’s a work truck, but it’s nice. Really nice. He must be doing well for himself.
I’m immediately aware of his presence before I see him. I give a quick wave to my brother—who’s sitting with Asher on the couch, drinking a beer—and drop my keys onto the counter. I’m starving, so I walk straight to the freezer to grab my favorite pizza.
I prop a hand on my hip and whirl around to find the two laughing like idiots.
“I told you she’d notice, man,” Dash says, hiding his smile behind his beer bottle.
“Sorry,” Asher deadpans in a way that says I’m not even a little sorry. His dark hair is mussed up in that perfectly disheveled way only he can pull off, and his full lips are coated in pizza grease. “I was hungry, and your pizza was the only thing that sounded good.”
He narrows his eyes at me, challenging me somehow, and licks his lips.
God, why does everything he says sound suggestive to me?
“It’s fine.” I shrug, feigning ambivalence. “I have a date tonight, so I probably shouldn’t eat so close to dinnertime, anyway.” I swing open the stainless steel fridge door, grab a yogurt instead, and walk off without daring to look for his reaction, or lack thereof.