9. Dalton
Chapter 9
Dalton
M y best friend loves me. No, he doesn't just love me, he’s in love with me and I had no fucking idea. Not a clue. Have the signs always been there and I've been oblivious this whole time? With my hands gripping his cheeks, searching his eyes - those deep, expressive greens that remind me of a forest - I see it now, the love, the hope, the longing.
Though I don’t yet know how I feel about his revelation, I know I have always loved him - maybe not in the way he means, but it’s still love. Trying to untangle the feeling his confession has brewed up inside me, I only come to one conclusion - he’s my favourite person, my constant, my home. My Asher.
It’s as simple as it is complicated.
“What do I deserve?” He asks and it’s the easiest question he’s ever asked me.
“Everything Ash, you deserve everything.” Not a word of that is a lie. My eyes drift to his lips again. What would it be like to kiss him? I’ve never been attracted to a guy before, hell, I’ve only been attracted to maybe three girls but the idea of feeling his soft lips against mine has heat rushing through my blood and it’s suddenly all I can think about.
Would he want me to give him his first kiss?
I lean in a little, not really sure if I’m going to kiss him or not. I feel like I’m on a rollercoaster that’s lost control because less than five minutes ago the thought of kissing Asher had never even crossed my mind. Then he says he loves me and now I am so beyond confused that I’m starting to give myself a headache.
Asher must read something in my expression because he puts a hand to my chest and pushes me backwards. “I’m sorry I blurted that all out,” he says, then clears his throat and moves away from me to sit on the sofa. Knowing Asher, he’ll try and pretend this didn’t happen, he’ll act like those words he said are not out there in the world, wreaking havoc on me.
I dip my head in a half nod, then sit next to him, one leg bent up and my body facing his. “Please don’t brush it off, can we talk about it?” I still have no idea what to say but it’s suddenly very clear why he wanted some space. If he believed I could never love him in return, every forehead kiss and playful touch must have felt like a cruel tease. Discomfort burns fiercely in my chest because that is the last thing I would ever want to do to him.
“I love you, Dalton and it’s okay that you love me differently. You’ll always be my best friend. Can we just forget I said anything?” He reaches for my pinky, the gesture a balm to my confused heart.
Before I can respond, the wind howls, rattling the windows and the lights flicker once, then twice, before cutting off completely, leaving us with only the burning embers of the fire for light.
Beate howls and dives onto Asher's lap. “She’s shaking, she must be scared of the storm, or the dark,” Ash says, rubbing the dog’s back to soothe its trembling. And just like that, everything else is forgotten - at least that’s how it seems with the way Asher relaxes back into the sofa, his head thrown back and his eyes closed - while my mind is still circling around the fact that he’s in love with me.
We sit and watch the fire for a while longer, chatting about Christmas and what our family might be doing, while listening to the wind battering against the cabin. Neither of us has brought up the topic again and though the words sit heavy on my tongue, exhaustion creeps up around me and I know the conversation is better left for another time. Next to me, Asher yawns, setting off the domino effect that has me doing the same. Lifting my arms, my muscles ache as they pull before I drop one arm to my lap and rub a hand over the back of my neck.
“Should we go to bed? I don’t think the electricity is coming back on any time soon, and I’m exhausted after the day we’ve had,” I suggest and Asher wipes at his eyes, before lifting the dog and gently placing her back on the sofa. I’ve kept the fire going so the room is bathed in a fiery glow as he stretches then nods at my suggestion. Checking that the grate over the fire is secured, we head to the one and only bedroom.
“Fuck, it’s cold in here,” Asher exclaims as we enter the room and are hit by a cold that quickly penetrates our minimal layers. He wraps his arms around himself in an attempt to warm up. The room is freezing and so dark that I can barely make out anything but the outline of a small double bed. I dash back into the living room where I’d seen a torch on the side table, returning a moment later to scan the room. The radiators in the main living space did an okay job of battling away the cold until the fire took over, but the one in this room is tiny and now that the electricity is off, it won’t be doing much good.
“There’s only an electric heater in here,” I point to an old heater in one corner then turn to look at Asher. “Let’s pull the mattress off and put it in the living room near the fire. That should keep us warm.”
Asher nods, dropping his arms and we move to the bed, awkwardly lugging the mattress off and dragging and pushing until we have it laid out not too close to the flames but close enough. Asher rights the comforter and pillows then flops down nearest the fire.
“You planning to sleep in your clothes?” I gesture to his jeans while I unzip and remove my own, then pull off my cardigan and t-shirt, leaving me in only a pair of black boxers. It’s plenty warm near the fire and once I’m under the blankets, I’m certain I won’t need the added layers.
Asher scans my body, my lips tipping up on one side when our eyes meet and he quickly dips his head and fumbles with removing his own jeans. We’ve seen each other in underwear before but I am momentarily left floundering when I catch sight of the red panties with Christmas baubles scattered over them, covering my best friend's lower half. Asher coughs when he sees me staring, then moves quickly to dive beneath the blanket, pulling it up to his chin. He’s been self-conscious of his naked chest for the last few years so I don’t suggest that he removes any of his layers, even if I think he will be too warm in his cardigan.
He watches me cautiously from the safety of his blanket taco as I get into position next to him, then turns so his back is towards me, facing the burning fire.
Turning onto my side, I stare at the huddled mass of body next to me and the cold space between us. Like a moth to a flame, I inch a little closer to Asher’s warm body and breathe out a sigh when our bodies meet. My breath ghosts over the back of his neck and he wriggles slightly in response but remains silent.
Trying not to overthink, I wrap an arm over him, taking note of the way his breath hitches at my proximity. He smells like a mixture of the fire, and snow and the same old Asher I have always known.
It’s a comforting feeling, having him this close to me, feeling the weight of him in my arms. It’s the way I always presumed everyone felt about their best friend, but it’s possible I misunderstood it all along.
Maybe, when you hold someone and they feel like home, maybe that’s love on a whole different level.
“What are you doing?” Asher asks in a quiet voice.
“Keeping you warm,” I reply, squeezing him tighter.
Asher nuzzles his head into the pillow and breathes out an ‘okay’ before I feel his body relax.
“Ash?” I say into the quiet.
“Yeah?”
“I don't want to need you less. I can't even picture what that looks like.”
His voice is a whisper when he says ‘okay’ again and I lie silently until I feel the rhythm of his breathing change.
It takes all the willpower I have to not kiss the back of his neck, the thin expanse of pale flesh peeking out between his collar and his hair, but I don’t. Instead, I close my eyes and fall asleep with the wind rattling the windows, the fire crackling, and my best friend in my arms.