3. Dalton
Chapter 3
Dalton
R oamy’s lips on mine are soft and warm and a little sticky from her gloss and while I don’t hate the feel, I don’t particularly like it either - I don’t really feel anything . It’s nothing more than a kiss brought on by a stupid game and when she tries to deepen it by forcing her tongue into my mouth while grinding her body against me, I pull back and still her hips then gesture for her to climb off my lap. I know she likes me, she’s made it very clear before, as have all her friends but I don't feel the same. It’s been a while since I’ve felt anything for anyone, not that I'm actively looking.
Roamy gives me a disgruntled huff when I help her off my lap then stands, rounds the table and flops down in the armchair opposite me, the one Asher had been in only a few moments ago.
“Where’s Asher?” I ask, a wave of panic washing over me as I straighten and scan the room, looking for his mop of unruly dark hair.
“He left after you acted all grossed out about kissing him,” Ivy says as she sits scrolling through her phone, having lost interest in the game she insisted we play. I have no idea what she’s talking about, I never said anything about being grossed out - why would she think that? More importantly, why would Asher?
“What the fuck do you mean? That’s not why I didn’t kiss him. I didn’t want to kiss him because….” I don’t finish my sentence letting the words drift off - it’s not my words to say.
In truth, I didn’t refuse to kiss Asher because I think of him like a brother - I have one of those, and how I feel about him and how I feel about Asher are completely different. I only said that big fat lie because Asher is my best friend and I love and respect him. I respect him enough not to steal his first kiss because of a dare. He doesn’t talk about it often, but he’s never been kissed and I know he has this dream of falling in love and having this great storybook romance. I also know that he’s embarrassed by it - by being twenty-one and never having kissed anyone but, he told me once in confidence that it’s not that he hasn't had the opportunity but that he’s waiting for the right moment, whenever that may be. I don’t know what that moment looks like for him but it sure as fuck wasn’t this.
“He said something about finding a toilet, he looked a little pale,” Kiki says as she leans forward to grab a cider off the table. My stomach churns uncomfortably at the thought that he wasn’t feeling well when he left and I ignore my friend’s calls for me to stay as I stand up, feeling a little woozy, and head back upstairs, to where the party is in full swing.
I’m feeling a little sick both from the drinks and from not knowing where Ash is, as I head down the hallway and try all the bathrooms on this level but don’t find him. Returning to the main part of the house, my eyes scan the room, and I press up onto my toes to try see above the heads of the people on the dancefloor but with the movement and the flashing lights and my swimming head, I can’t see shit nor can I make out my best friend’s form anywhere in the fucking house.
Pushing through the crowd and brushing away hands that paw at my chest and ass, and trying to duck away from the few people who stop to talk or drag me to dance, I finally make it outside where the air is now biting and most of the people who were outside earlier are no longer. Pulling out my phone, I go to call Asher but see my battery has died - I am notoriously bad at charging it - and curse myself for being so careless. Panic gnaws at my chest and I spin around in the hopes that I’ll find him waiting somewhere outside, but he's nowhere to be seen.
I guess he could have left but I doubt he’d have just abandoned me when he was meant to drive us both home. I look down at the dead phone in my hand and sigh, knowing that if he did leave and messaged me to get a cab home, I would have no way of knowing. Rubbing the back of my neck with one hand while clutching my useless phone with the other, I let out an annoyed groan then tilt my head to take in the dark, star filled sky.
A noisy group belting out Christmas carols, passes me and I track their movements as they head down the street towards a parked car, three of them climbing in and then driving off while the others head on further down to where Asher parked earlier in the evening. I follow behind them, hope blossoming when I see his old Ford Focus still parked on the curb where we left it and let out a relieved breath when I see the light from a phone inside, lighting up his silhouette.
Giving him no warning, I swing the door open and throw my big body into the warmth of his car. Immediately his comforting scent of lemons and honey hits me and I breathe out deeply, letting the tension drain from my body. “Hey, I’ve been looking for you. You okay? You didn’t say you were leaving.”
Ash doesn’t say anything as he looks up from his phone, adjusts his glasses and turns his head to look at me. It’s dark in the cabin of his car once his phone powers down and I can’t make out his facial features as he clears his throat and answers me. “Yeah, I’m fine, just felt tired and have the start of a headache. The music and smoke weren’t helping.” His voice doesn’t sound quite right but I can’t put my finger on why.
While I am certain Ivy was wrong, I ask Asher anyway, “So you’re not mad at me ‘cause of what happened in there?” I point to the window behind me, in the direction of the party, though I doubt he can see me in the darkness. “You know I didn’t mean -”
He cuts me off as he starts the car and the radio blasts out Snowman by Sia. “I know. It’s all good, let's go home,” he says over the music, sounding more like the Asher I know. I lean my head back and close my eyes, grateful that my best friend isn’t angry at me. Breathing a sigh of relief, my eyelids grow heavy and the motion of the car has me drifting to sleep. I knew Ivy was wrong, Asher understands why I didn’t kiss him. It was all a misunderstanding.
I wake with a start when Asher pulls up outside our house and swats me on the arm. “We’re here. Come on, time for bed.” Shaking away my sleepy daze, I slide my hand over the console to link my pinky finger with his but as our fingers brush, Asher lifts his hand abruptly and rubs it through his hair. I wince at the movement but drop my hand to my lap and turn away from him as my heart squeezes, aching from not being able to touch him in this way that has long since become our form of comfort. I tell myself not to read too much into it, that it wasn’t intentional, as I open the car door and climb out. He follows closely behind me, and we walk down the driveway and into the house.
“Sure you’re okay?” He doesn’t turn to look at me, fiddling with his keys as he locks up the house. The lights are all out as our other housemates have all left already for the holidays.
“Yep, fine. Get some sleep, Dalton, I’ll see you in the morning.” He nods and my eyes catch his - they don’t sparkle like usual and he looks tired but when he yawns, I put it down to the fact that it is really late and it has been a long night.
We’ve reached his bedroom door and he doesn’t look at me again as he slides inside. “Okay, Ash, sleep well,” I say to the closing door, feeling an emptiness in the pit of my stomach that I can't quite understand.