Page 36 of The Backup

I start typing a reply, deleting it twice before settling on:

Me: Not really in the mood, but thanks.

His response comes fast, as if he was waiting for me to say no:

Asher: Mood? I’m about to fix that. Let’s go.

I sigh, typing back:

Me: I’m serious, Asher. Long day. I’m just gonna crash.

The dots appear again, and this time his message is longer.

Asher: Sloane, don’t do this. You can’t tell me you’re tired when you’ve been on my mind all day. Come on, I’ll pick you up. Twenty minutes tops.

I can’t help the small smile tugging at my lips, but I force myself to stay firm. I can’t. Not tonight.

Me: It’s not about being tired.

I hit send, then add another message before he can respond:

Me: I don’t think we should push this into public territory yet. People are already talking.

The dots appear, then disappear. When his reply comes through, it’s shorter than I expect.

Asher: Who cares what people say?

I let out a frustrated breath. It’s not that simple. I know he means well, but Asher doesn’t understand what it’s like to be the focus of campus gossip, to have people dissect your life like it’s their business.

I take a deep breath and start typing again.

Me: It’s easy for you to say. You’re used to the spotlight. Me? Not so much.

The dots appear again, then stop, then start. I picture him holding his phone, probably pacing in his room, trying to come up with the right thing to say.

Asher: I get it. But you shouldn’t let them decide how you live your life. If you want this, if you want us, stop letting fear hold you back.

His words hit harder than I expect, and I blink at the screen, my chest tightening. He’s right, but it doesn’t make it any easier.

I don’t reply right away, and after a few minutes, another message comes through:

Asher: Okay, fine. You win this round. But don’t think I’m giving up. Next time, no excuses.

I can’t help but smile at his persistence, even as a part of me feels guilty for shutting him down.

Me: We’ll see.

His reply is instant.

Asher: That’s not a no. I’ll take it.

I laugh softly, setting the phone down and staring at the ceiling. Asher has a way of getting under my skin, of making me feel things I’ve spent so long trying to avoid.

But even as my heart flutters, the nagging fear remains. How long can we keep this quiet before it all blows up in our faces?

eleven

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