Total pages in book: 129
Estimated words: 129110 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 646(@200wpm)___ 516(@250wpm)___ 430(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 129110 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 646(@200wpm)___ 516(@250wpm)___ 430(@300wpm)
Ah, that makes sense. Asher grew up between England and California. Brad must have been his California neighbor.
I try to sneak a peek past the curtain to see what Asher and Jess are up to.
“I hear you play poker,” Brad grabs back my attention.
“I do, but it's been a while,” I nod, quickly averting my eyes as Jess and Asher return.
They didn’t even dance for a full song!
With Brad on the opposite couch Asher takes the seat next to me.
“What are you guys talking about?”
“Poker,” Brad lifts an eyebrow like they’re exchanging some secret language.
“Oh watch your money around her,” Jess laughs, but I'm far too focused on the way Asher has extended his arm around the back of my seat.
I look at him out of the corner of my eye and then at Jess.
She winks at me.
What the hell happened out there?
“No kidding.” Asher takes a swing of his beer, catching my stare with an interested gleam.
“She hustled every guy on our floor sophomore year,” Jess smiles proudly. I hear her words, but remain stuck on Asher. His eyes have not left mine.
“Guilty,” I mumble through my trance.
“Okay we need to play sometime.” Brad is thrilled.
There are words being said. Lots of things. But Asher's hand is almost touching me. I feel its shadow on the base of my neck, his wrist near my shoulder. He inches closer. I hold my breath. Our thighs press together. My bare skin against his black pants. Neither of us moves. He leans in and I swallow hard, needing whatever is about to happen next.
“Dance with me,” he whispers. His stare says you're mine if you want to be.
It has to be the alcohol.
I playfully push him away, my hand lingering on his chest. I’m afraid I’m about to make some very poor decisions.
Or the greatest.
“I told you,” I clear my throat. “You don’t want to see that.”
As I take the last sip of my drink a new one is brought over.
“Besides, I’m too good of a dancer for you. Thanks,” I tell the waitress.
“Oh I know," he bites his lip. "You looked great down there,” he nods towards the curtain.
“Asher Montgomery, were you spying on me?”
“Maybe,” he pushes his leg into mine and I close my eyes.
He's succeeding at whatever he's doing. Whatever that is. Hook. Line. Sinker.
“So Asher, are you excited for your show?” Jess interrupts the moment.
I've never loved her horribly timed interruptions more.
I can't do this. What am I even thinking?
“Absolutely!” he looks away. “Will you be you coming?”
“Unfortunately no,” she sighs. “I have to go away for this stupid grad school thing.” She brushes her trip off like she hasn't been looking forward to it her whole life.
“There’ll be other shows,” he glances at me.
“Really? I thought you weren’t sure?”
“Things happen,” he shrugs.
“Asher…” He’s clearly made some very big decisions since I saw him last.
He flashes a big goofy grin and I'm back to being lost in my fantasy world.
“I’ve decided to go after the things I want.”
What exactly does that mean? He doesn't give me a chance to ask. He turns towards Jess and Brad.
“Like for instance I want to dance with Elle but she doesn’t want to,” he all but pouts.
“Oh come on,” Brad groans, rolling his eyes.
“No, no it’s okay. I’m used to her hurting my ego." He takes the last sip of his beer and puts it on the table, waving the girl off as she starts to bring him another. Instead he picks up mine and takes a long sip.
I'm staring.
"What?" he pauses the drink at his lips. "Do you mind?"
"You called me Elle."
"So?"
"Usually I'm New York."
“Lets play a game,” he gets this look about him.
"Where do you come up with this stuff?"
First the envelope thing and now this.
I’m a straightforward person. The only games I like to play are on a board. Yet there’s an excitement he brings whenever he has these wild schemes that I've come to love, so I don't say no. I grab my drink back from him and take a long swing of it.
He's intently watching.
My head is spinning.
"Ugh," I slam the bottle on the table. "I don’t even think I like beer anymore.” I make a face and everyone laughs, including me.
“This is the last time I’m gonna ask,” he reaches into his pocket for something. I'm intrigued.
I slowly shake my head as we exchange a challenging stare. Then he pulls out a quarter and we both laugh. He can tell I'm shocked he has any cash on him to begin with. He holds up the shiny silver piece with a smirk. “Alright, heads I win. Tails you loose.”
I burst out laughing.
“I’m drunk, not stupid.”
I find myself standing.
He looks up at me with these puppy dog eyes, lighting up as I grab his shirt. I pull him up and past the curtain, onto the empty dance floor. Not because I necessarily want to dance but because I need an excuse. Like our hug I'm aching to feel him close again.