Page 19 of Wrecked
Chapter Nine
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Asher
All week long, watching Payton and her father interact made me miss my own father. It’s been years since I lost him, and it still hurts like hell. I still pick up the phone absentmindedly to call him to tell him about something funny, or a sweet car I’m working on, forgetting he’s no longer here.
Life is cruel.
Both my parents were yanked away from me before their time was up. Well, before their time should have been up anyway. I miss them.
Pulling up to Payton’s apartment, I park and stare at the brick building. I’ve gone all damn week without saying a word to her. I tried to act like everything that happened from the fucking to wanting to kill Charlie didn’t happen, but I can’t. All it’s done is make me want her more. And she’s avoided me. Avoided everyone, really. She’s been a little withdrawn, not as cheerful, and I hate if I caused that.
Tonight, it’s all getting laid out on the table. She’s going to give me answers, and I’m going to apologize for being such a fucking coward.
She opens the door in little white shorts and a yellow tank and smiles. “Hey.”
“Hey. You look amazing,” I say, walking in. “Don't,” she says, turning to cross through the small space to the open kitchen. I follow her and lean against the counter.
She faces me and crosses her arms. “Don’t,” she says again.
I mimic her position, lifting my eyebrows. “Don’t, what?”
“Don’t come here being all... Asher,” she says, shaking her head.
I can’t help but laugh. “You don’t want me being all Asher? Well who do you want me to be?”
“That’s not what I meant. Just don’t flirt with me,” she says.
“I’m not flirting. You’d know if I was.” I follow her into the kitchen. Looking around, I notice there is nothing that says anyone lives here. No pictures, no curtains—no girly shit. It’s just this couch and a small coffee table in the living room, and no appliances in the spotless kitchen. “You still moving in?” I question.
“No.”
Now I’m really confused. “How long have you been here?”
She shrugs. “Almost three months.”
“Where the hell is all your stuff?” Maybe I shouldn’t ask, but fuck, I have more shit than she does.
“Storage. I don’t think you’re here to talk about my place, so why don’t you tell me what’s going on?”
“I told you, we need to talk,” I say.
“About what? I don’t think there is much to say,” she comments.
“We have a lot to talk about.”
“Not really. But, you’re here now, would you like a drink?” She’s a bit sarcastic, so I hand it right back to her. “I would love a drink, please.” I laugh a little.
“But of course, kind sir. Let me wait on you hand and foot. I have beer or water,” she says even more sarcastically.
“Beer.”
“Yeah I thought you might say that.” She heads to the fridge and grabs two beers.
I take one from her and smile. She laughs and I’m happy she’s being friendly. I really don’t deserve it. “There is a lot that needs to be said.” I take a long pull of my beer, holding it in my hands as I search her face. “I owe you an apology for last weekend.” She goes to interrupt, and I place a finger over her full lips. “Don’t. I was an asshole. I messed up. It was fucking incredible, and after, I just, well, I felt overwhelmed. It’s not an excuse. I know that. I’m just trying to ask you to forgive me. It’s not how I wanted things to go, and I regret it. I’m so sorry, Payton. You deserve better than that, so much more than that.”
She chews her lip, her eyes searching mine as we move to the couch to sit down. I can’t tell if she’s pissed or upset. Her face shows no emotion at all.
