Page 43 of The Backup

Because Asher’s in my head, pulling at a string I didn’t even realize was there.

I glance at the staircase across the room.

The smart thing to do would be to stay put. To finish my drink, keep laughing with my friends, and let whatever this thing with Asher is fade into the background where it belongs.

But the pull is too strong.

I drain the rest of my drink and set the glass down on the table.

“Bathroom break,” I say, standing. “I’ll be right back.”

Jacklyn glances at me. “Want me to come with?”

“No, I’m good,” I say, forcing a smile. “I’ll be quick.”

She shrugs, turning back to Brian, and I slip away before I can second-guess myself.

The staircase feels impossibly long as I climb, the noise of the party fading with each step. My pulse is pounding, and my head is spinning, but I tell myself it’s just to talk.

When I reach the top, the hallway is quiet, lit by the warm glow of sconces along the walls. I hesitate for a moment, glancing back down the stairs. Jacklyn and Brian are somewhere below, still laughing, completely unaware of what I’m doing.

I take a deep breath and step forward, my heels clicking softly against the hardwood floor. Asher’s room is at the end of the hall, the door slightly ajar. I stop outside, my hand hovering over the handle.

With one last deep breath, I push the door open and step inside.

The door clicks softly behind me as I step inside. The room is dimly lit, the faint glow of a desk lamp casting shadows across the walls. Asher is sitting on the edge of the bed, his jacket tossed over the back of a chair, his bow tie undone and hanging loose around his neck. A bottle of whiskey sits on the nightstand, next to two mismatched glasses.

He glances up as I enter, his dark eyes unreadable.

“You came,” he says, his voice low and rough.

I fold my arms, trying to steady my nerves. “Just to talk.”

He grins ever so faintly. “Right. Well let’s talk.”

He stands, crossing to the nightstand and grabbing the bottle. He unscrews the cap and pours two fingers into eachglass, handing one to me. I hesitate before taking it, the amber liquid warm against my palm.

He clinks his glass lightly against mine. “Truth or dare?”

I blink at him. “What?”

“Let’s play,” he says, sitting back down on the bed and gesturing for me to take the chair across from him.

“I didn’t come here to play games, Asher.”

He leans back, his expression dark and challenging. “No, you came here to keep me a secret. Isn’t that the plan?”

His words cut deeper than I expect, and for a moment, I don’t know how to respond.

“I’m not—” I start, but he cuts me off.

“Truth or dare, Sloane,” he says again, his voice softer this time.

“Okay. I’ll play.”

I swallow hard, gripping the glass a little tighter. My heart? My heart is telling me to stop fighting this pull between us, to stop letting fear hold me back. But admitting that feels too big, too raw.

“Truth,” I say finally, my voice barely above a whisper.

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