Page 47 of The Lie
I sigh and look between them. Asher’s looking all coy and innocent, and I’m growing a little wary of this act.
“What’s up with you, Asher? You like Hunter. Why did you mess with him this morning, and don’t say it’s because it was fun. I thought you were becoming friends and stuff…which, yeah, in the grand scheme of things with the Kings and Rebels rivalry is, well…strange. But you’re still human and have feelings. Did you want him to snap your neck?”
Walker turns to Asher. “The fuck, man? What did you say to him to have him wanting to snap your neck?”
Asher shrugs, and I cross my arms. “I won’t leave here until you tell me, or I’m telling Dad you wanted to see me naked.”
At that, the whole room goes quiet. All I can hear is the two of them breathing as Walker turns to Asher and nudges him with his shoulder.
Asher throws his hands up and lets out a deep exhale. “Okay…all right. You once asked me if guys and girls can be friends without all the sex shit getting in the way. I told you…”
He takes a step toward me. “My truth. When it comes to you—I want you, I know I shouldn’t, but I do. I’ll get over it, don’t worry, and I’ll apologize to Hunter.”
Walker just shakes his head and gives Asher a sympathetic look.Fuck. I run my hand down my face and stare at my bare feet. I haven’t put my sneakers on yet. I thought…he said…I touched his…fuck.
“You know why we can’t,” I whisper. Why did that come out as a whisper? I look up at him, and he gives me a small smile and shrugs.
“I know why…but it’s also an excuse. They would understand. You feel it too?” His hand is outstretched to me.
Do I feel something for him? Yes, but not like how I feel for Hunter. But is what I feel for Hunter because we have history? There’s a foundation already built between us. Asher is new; we’re only making a history, building a foundation, now.
When I don’t say anything, Asher shakes his head. “I’m sorry I acted like a dick. Just chalk it up to jealousy.”
I don’t like seeing Asher like this. We both agreed it was just sexual attraction between us…a lot of attraction, but still. He’s been an amazing friend, and I guess we’ve gotten closer than ever since my accident. So much so that even Dad and Kate have mentioned it, and I worried they wouldn’t be happy, but they were. I just didn’t see this coming.
Did I miss it, or have his feelings been there the whole time? Why would he think I feel it too? I think back over the past week, and it hits me.
“Want to watch a movie with me?” Asher asks as he helps me with the dishes. I’m attempting to dry the pots, and he’s getting water everywhere. His white tee is soaked, and I can see the ripples of his abs through it. I suck my lip into my mouth and chastise myself for looking at him. But I’m a girl…who likes the male body. It’s hard not to look.
“Huh?” I look up at him, and he has a grin on his face. Shit, did he catch me looking at him? I fumble with the pot, and it crashes to the ground, clanging around. And I freeze. Shit.
“Are you all right in there?” Kate yells out from another room.
We both reply, “Yes.”
“Jinx,” we both say together, and it breaks the strange spell between us as we laugh together.
I bend down to pick up the pot, and just as I touch the cool metal, I feel Asher’s warm, calloused hand on mine, but he doesn’t pull away.
Freezing, I look over to him. He’s so close that I can see gold specks in his deep brown eyes that I’ve never noticed before. They’re so pretty. My eyes roam over his face as my hand grows heated under his, but he makes no move to let go.
We just stare at each other, and it’s as if time has stilled and we’re both frozen in place. The only hints we aren’t frozen are the bob of his Adam’s apple as he swallows and the small intake of breath I take at the sight.
I feel…
Butterflies. Fuck.
NINETEEN
ROMAN
Ipack my bag for the fight tonight, jamming what little possessions I have into it. My hands start to shake, and I collapse onto the floor beside my bed. How many times can I do this? How much more before I break? Before Mila came back, I’d been fine. This was my life, and it was enough.
But now…I know I hadn’t been living at all. That wasn’t a life—going through the motions to stay alive, and for what? To end up here, packing my bag while the sperm donor is out getting his fix. Fighting for money I won’t receive because he’s already shot it up his arm.
Why do I keep doing this for him?
When is it enough?
