4. Penelope
4
Penelope
It is absolutely freezing when we get out of Willow Hope. My skin prickles the moment the cold air nips at my cheeks. No matter how much I hug myself with my coat, it’s not enough to keep me from shivering.
The individuals huddled against the building’s exterior project an air of indifference, despite the visible puffs of breath escaping from their lips. They chat casually, punctuating their conversation with deep drags from their vapes or cigarettes, clouds of smoke swirling around them as if to mask the chill of the night.
Fortunately, snow isn’t falling from the sky, so the drive shouldn’t be too difficult, even at this late hour. I’ll need to watch for ice and drive slowly. Hopefully, traffic won’t be too bad, either.
“You’re sure you’ll be okay?” Asher doesn’t try to hide his concern as we reach his truck. He must be able to see me thinking about all the possibilities of getting home in one solid piece.
Thanking my past self for parking next to him, I don’t have to walk far to say my goodbyes. After tonight, I’m already dreading the thought of letting him go again.
“Oh yeah, this is nothing.” Offering him a smile, I bundle my arms closer to my body to trap whatever heat I can. “I was born for this weather. In a past life, I bet I was a race car driver. Speeding in dangerous conditions, you know how it is.”
He snorts, and it’s like a breath of fresh air. He always had the richest laugh.
“I should head home, though. Work early in the morning and all that.” Pursing my lips to keep my teeth from chattering, I shift from one foot to the other.
As badly as I want to slip into my warming car, a part of me is afraid to say goodbye. The last time I let this man go, he disappeared. It’s foolish to worry about it happening again. Asher is a grown man who can make his own decisions, but that doesn’t mean I like them.
Turning toward my car, I pause. “Oh, and thank you for letting me talk about all that sad stuff. I don’t really have many people to lend that kind of ear. My social circle has always been kind of small. Lately, it’s been pretty nonexistent, so this was nice.”
His mouth slants, and he nods. Automatically, his arms lift, and his offer for a hug is all too welcoming. My heart flutters as nostalgia hits me all at once.
We’d hug in the past, and I’d never think twice about it. Not with Danny at my side.
However, when I step into his embrace, something is different. Has Asher always been this warm? Has he always smelled like crisp leaves? Has his heart always pounded so slow and deep?
Sighing against his chest, I breathe in deep. I really missed this. Counting the seconds until he pulls away to end this bliss, I realize he must be doing the same. He holds me tightly in his arms, showing no intention of moving.
At this rate, we may never part. I have to be the strong one here. Pulling away, I wish him a good night.
“You have my number,” he reminds me as he opens his door. “The next time you call, I’ll pick up.”
There’s promise in his voice. My stomach tightens as I nod. With the cold air seeping right back into my limbs, I make the escape to my car.
Asher doesn’t leave until I do. We part ways as soon as we hit the street, and I’m left looking at the glow of the red lights in my rearview mirror as I make my way back home.
* * * *
“Your favorite customer is here,” Angela murmurs up against her propped-up hand.
At this point, I think everyone who works here recognizes Asher’s truck. They’re also happy to let me take a claim.
I’d have rushed out to grab his order if I were still on the clock. He would have ordered the same burger he had during his previous three visits. However, this time, he’s not here for food. He’s here to pick me up to hang out.
There’s an undeniable tingling in the pit of my stomach as I watch him take the spot he’s marked as his own. As I replace my pastel pink coat with my usual hoodie, I can almost hear Angela’s thoughts spoken out loud.
Hell, yesterday, she didn’t even bat an eyelash when she asked me what was going on between us.
Asher suddenly appeared, and my loneliness vanished. It feels like the missing piece has returned, making me feel whole again. Right now, I sense I might appear overly needy or greedy as I struggle to establish boundaries. Maybe I’m being a tad too eager.
Whenever he is close, my heart races, revealing what my mind refuses to acknowledge. I bet from an outsider’s perspective, Angela has spun quite a story.
I’m spending a lot of time with my ex-husband’s old best friend. She doesn’t know the fact, but if she did, I know she’d ask the same question I’ve asked myself so many times.
Am I merely attempting to recapture how I once felt? When the three of us were together, everything was joyful, warm, and perfect. Both men left at one point, and now that one has returned, it feels as though I’m holding onto the past.
I don’t think that’s the case. I can’t look back at the past, not when everything Asher does keeps me right in the present.
In the back of my mind, I know what’s happening. However, I’m refusing to accept it.
I can’t possibly be falling for Asher. All the attention he’s been giving me is only making me think I am.
He doesn’t want me. Not in the way I think I want him.
Today is a prime example. We’re going to hang out as nothing more than friends. Sure, he’ll take me out of town to a nice movie theater, the place with those reclining chairs, but that doesn’t mean much. We’ll share a bucket of popcorn, laugh at a terrible horror movie, and whisper our amused commentary —as friends.
Shaking off her stare, I wish everyone a good night as I grab my bag containing my uniform before I rush out toward his truck.
“I think I should’ve gone home to clean up a bit,” I tell him as I toss my bag on the seat behind us. “I smell sweaty from running around.”
Every time he visits me at work, I’m always worried he can smell the way my job clings to me. From the sweat to the oils. Ugh . Should’ve gone home to shower, but he insisted.
“You smell fine,” he assures me with a crack of a smile. “Kind of like a basket of french fries. I love those.” He barks a laugh when I slap his arm.
It’s not fair. He’s cleaned up his beard and doesn’t have that familiar black stain on his skin. Hell, the cologne he’s wearing is rich enough to make my mouth water. I’m fighting not to scooch closer to smell him up close.
He looks good. I don’t compare. Charming men like Asher don’t have any interest in women like me. Even if he’s grown a little rougher over the years, he’s still way out of my league.
Moving my attention to our surroundings as we pull away from Tee’s, I watch trees pass by. Don’t want to let my hopes get ahead of me here.
I shouldn’t welcome the idea of love with open arms. Not when I still feel an occasional heart throb from time to time. Entertaining such a ridiculous thought only risks repeating the same heartbreak. No thanks.
Even if Asher doesn’t look like he’d hurt me, I don’t want to ruin what we have going on here.
Pushing the worrying thoughts to the back of my mind, I enjoy the music coming from the radio.
Even if I won’t try the impossible here, I’ll let myself enjoy the sensations that come whether I like them or not.
The drive out of town isn’t as long as I’d like it to be. Once we make it to the theater, Asher lets me pick the seats. Of course, he insists on paying for everything. Even when I try to slip a few bills I got in tips into his pocket, he easily catches me, making my skin tingle as he captures my wrist.
My poor heart continues beating foolishly.
One popcorn bucket doused in delicious butter later, we’re tucked away in the dark room. Getting the chance to focus on something that isn’t this guy, I give my brain a break from these thoughts.
The horror movie is just as bad as I expected. I’d laugh and call this a comedy if it weren’t for the few other people inside trying to enjoy what they paid to see.
If I don’t want to think about how poor this story is or about my feelings about Asher, then I’m stuck in limbo. What else is there to think about?
I can think about how his arm brushes mine with every shift, but that’ll invite my brain to think deeper about Asher.
Or, the way he rumbles with chuckles every time something utterly ridiculous plays out on the screen. If I do, the same thing will happen.
Even now, I’m losing myself to him. He doesn’t even have to speak, and he’s pulling me away from this movie. I’m not even sure what the killer’s motive is at this point. I might as well say he enjoys killing people just to pass the time because there’s nothing else to occupy him.
That’s how Asher is to me. All I’ve had to do is work hard, pick up shifts whenever I could, and focus on making enough money to pay my bills. Now, he’s squeezing himself into my life, making me realize there’s more to life than revolving everything around my job.
Like love. He’s making me think about love too much.
I don’t really see Asher as a friend at all, do I?
This situation is chillingly disturbing. It stirs a fear deeper than any movie can depict. My feelings for him raise my heart rate and create tension in my body so tight that one wrong move will leave me in crumbles.
His leather seat creaks as he leans my way. Instead of mentioning how another female lead has tripped and fallen to the slasher killer now filling the screen, his fingers brush my knuckles. His breath tickles my ear as he leans in to whisper to avoid getting shushed. “Are you alright? If you’re not enjoying the movie, we don’t have to watch it.”
Asher is too nice.
Shaking my head, I give him a smile in hopes of reassuring him. “I’m fine. No, this is great. The best.”
Today, my heart bothers me more than usual. I blame Angela. Her earlier looks left me thinking too deeply about this. I’m painting an impossible picture.
I’ll get through this movie and then move on. Before I get home, I’m sure I’ll realize how silly these thoughts are.
I’m not in love with Asher. I can’t fall in love with a guy who plans on leaving again in the future.
Once the weather clears and he can get that house sold, he won’t have any reason to stick around. Maybe he’ll go right back to wherever he’d run off to in the first place.