Page 37 of Bleeding Hearts

“Maybe.” I smile back at her, knowing it’s not that easy. I can’t just go up to Asher and say, “Hey, do you like me as more than a friend?” It doesn’t work like that. We’ve gotten comfortable in our friendship. It’s not that easy to just blow it up.

“I won’t push you. But just promise me you’ll think about it.”

“I promise,” I say, and it’s true. I do think about it a lot, actually, but it’s only a thought and I don’t know if it could be more than that. She nods, satisfied enough with my response.

“Well now that the serious talk is over, lunch?” She smiles at me. “The new Mexican restaurant across the street has amazing tacos.”

“You had me at tacos.” I smile back at her.

We end up spending the rest of the day together until I have to go to work.

We go to the Mexican restaurant first, which does, in fact, have phenomenal tacos and I take note to make Asher take me back here and buy me some.

We end up bringing food back to Asher, Kaden, and King, who are all working at the shop, before heading back up to the loft.

Asher is in the middle of an appointment when I bring the food in, so I try to just leave it on his desk quickly, but that’s not how Asher operates.

He pauses what he’s doing and introduces me to the regular he’s tattooing, forcing me to sit down and hang out with them for a little. I’m probably in there for a good twenty minutes, talking and laughing, before Lo comes and grabs me, much to Asher’s dismay.

Lo and I end up going back up to the loft and binge-watching a new reality show that Theo got her obsessed with, which in turn now hasmeobsessed.

Hanging out with Logan has always been one of my favorite things to do. We’re different in a lot of ways, but we also understand each other in a way nobody else does.

She’s calm where I’m chaotic, she’s organized while I’m a mess, and she’s a fucking genius while I never really cared about school.

We have so many differences, but we’re also similar.

We both hold guilt over the ones we love. Her sister’s death for her and the inability to help my mom get away from my father for me.

Even if my mom played a big part in the pain I endured during my childhood, even if there are times when I’ve been beyond angry at her, even if she has refused to acknowledge still after all the years that I’ve been gone that my father is the problem and not me, I still wish I could help her.

She may have masqueraded as his accomplice for years, but the truth is that she’s a victim, just like I was.

I’m not a victim anymore, though. I got myself out. I made a better life for myself. I’m a survivor now. I just wish I could help her survive too.

Logan understands that more than anyone. Since the very moment I met her, she’s been the best, most supportive friend I could ever ask for. And now, in a few weeks, she’ll be my sister. I don’t know how I got so lucky when it came to her.

I leave the loft around four thirty to stop at home and get changed before heading to work the dinner shift.

Luckily, Sheila isn’t working tonight, so although it’s packed, the shift goes by painlessly.

By the time I get home, I’m exhausted enough that I don’t think I’ll even need to distract myself with any baking to fall asleep.

As I lie in bed, Logan’s words from earlier about saying fuck my friendship with Asher and recognizing there might be more there play over in my head.

I think about it long and hard, but all the reasons I’ve created as to why we shouldn’t be together keep popping into my head.

I fall asleep still thinking about Asher and all the what-ifs, and I wake up around three a.m. still thinking about Asher, but this time for a different reason.

Sweat sticks to my skin, my heart pounds in my chest, and I rub my legs together, acknowledging the wetness that’s formed between them.

Rather than thinking about all the reasons Asher should just be my friend, I wake up thinking about all the unfriendly things I wish he would do to me.

The pulse between my legs begs for a relief part of me believes only he could bring. A relief that no other man has. Something I always thought was my fault, but I’m starting to think it may not have been.

I know all the reasons that Asher and I should stay friends, but I also can’t ignore that I want more.

I reluctantly slip my hand under the sheet, knowing I won’t be able to fall back asleep like this.

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