Eight
For a second, I forget everything.
There’s no high school hierarchy, no abusive uncles, no plans to escape. We’re in a cocoon right now, our own little world where nothing and no-one outside of this room exists. It’s just me and Asher, finally giving in to this pull between us that I’ve been trying to deny since the day we met.
But then he grasps my face between his palms, spears his tongue past my parted lips, and the garbled moan and mumbled, “Farrow,” he lets out has me crashing back to reality.
Catching him off-guard, I shove him away from me with one hand while landing a hit against his mouth with the other, sending him flying back into the bank of lockers opposite.
“What was that for?” he grumbles, swiping his thumb over the blood forming on his lip, not sounding anywhere near as mad as I thought he’d be. More frustrated, actually.
I let out a weak scoff, my head still spinning. “I should be asking you that. What’s going on here, Asher? You had enough of stupid pranks, so you wanna fuck with my head, too?”
He doesn’t say anything, his silence only making my annoyance grow.
“Tell me why you brought me here,” I demand. “Tell me why you left that stuff in my locker yesterday. Tell me why you wanted to know who hurt me so badly. Just give me some fucking answers.”
He moves toward me, quicker than I can react. His hands come up again, landing on the locker door either side of my head, keeping me in place as his eyes bore into mine. He’s panting, his breath puffing out against my lips. There’s a flash of lightning, lighting up his face for only a split-second. But, it’s enough. Enough to see the torment etched into his features, the indecision.
And the burning desire in his eyes, too.
Holy shit.
The sight alone renders me paralyzed, but it’s a combination of everything - his close proximity, the heat of his body, the scent of his woodsy cologne mixed with a hint of sweat - that lets him kiss me again. His tongue sweeps into my mouth, curling around mine agonizingly slowly. My stomach somersaults, my heart threatening to beat right out of my chest. The metallic taste of his blood, the little whimpers he keeps letting out every time my tongue passes over his… it’s too much. When he tears his mouth away a minute later, he doesn’t go far. His forehead settles against mine with a soft thump, our lips still touching.
“You wanna know why?” he murmurs. “It’s because I can’t stand the thought of anyone hurting you, okay?” His throat bobs with an audible click. “Anyone but me.”
It would be so easy to get swept up in the moment again. To swoon over his words and ride out this storm getting lost in him.
But after the shit I’ve been through, I’m clued up enough to know that not everything someone says should be taken at face-value. There’s always a hidden agenda, a message behind their words. Maybe that’s a little cynical of me. Paranoid, even. But, there’s a reason my guard’s ten feet high. People always let you down, no matter who they are, and putting your trust in someone is only going to get you hurt.
And despite the things Asher’s saying, the way he’s looking at me, the passion with which he kisses me… it all boils down to one thing: I don’t trust him. I can’t trust him. I know how good he is at putting on an act, and the lengths he’ll go to to get what he wants. He’ll use me then drop me before the sun even comes up, then spend the rest of the year reminding me how easily I folded, how much I wanted him. I can admit it; as much as I hate it, I do want him. I have since the first time I saw him, even if he treats me like dirt. But, I refuse to let those feelings cloud my judgment. I won’t give him more ammunition to torture me with.
I reach my hands out slowly and Asher seems to hold his breath until I settle them on his sides. He melts, his body collapsing against me, as his mouth finds mine again. I let him in, let him explore and take, using his distraction to my advantage.
He kisses me like he’s possessed, like he’s been starving for years and I’ve given him his first taste of sustenance. It’s… intense, and so believable that it’s kind of disturbing.
It takes less than a minute to find the key to the locker room door hidden in his back pocket. I drag it out carefully, cautious not to alert him to my plan, then grasp it in my palm, waiting for the right moment to make my escape.
I don’t have to wait long.
There’s another boom of thunder, so loud and long that it rattles the walls, makes the ground vibrate beneath our feet. Then, as if Mother Nature’s on my side, a strong gust of wind sends a tree branch straight through the window just to our left. The glass shatters and rain comes pouring in. Asher jerks away, turns toward the destruction. Heart in my throat, I slip away from him and fumble with the key to unlock the door.
I manage to get it open, just as he notices. “Oakley,” he yells, his voice muffled against the howl of the wind. “What are you doing?”
I don’t stop, just fling the door open as hard as I can, letting it slam against the wall, then I run. I dart down the empty hall, the echo of my footsteps bouncing off of the walls. My ribs burn, but I push on, keeping my legs moving. I’m almost at the exit, almost free, when I hear feet pounding against the linoleum behind me. I brace myself, expecting to be grabbed or barreled into at any second, but… nothing happens.
The moment I realize that I can’t hear his footsteps anymore, I notice a bright light cutting through the darkness, shining into the window beside me. A torchlight, I realize.
My spine stiffens. I knew it, I fucking knew it. Asher was playing me, just biding his time until his buddies arrived, eager to make my life more of a misery than it already is. But to kiss me like that just so he could fuck with me? That’s pretty sick, even for him.
Heart in my throat, I watch as a second beam joins the first. How many more are there? Two? Three? The whole damn football team? It waves around frantically, moving from left to right, before landing directly on my face, momentarily blinding me. I lift a hand, shielding my eyes, and the door bursts open, the sound of the howling wind shattering the deafening silence of the hallway.
Slowly, the torch lowers and I immediately relax, recognizing the person holding it.
“Hal?” I ask, voice breathless with relief. “What are you doing here?”
He’s wearing a raincoat, absolutely drenched to the bone. Sammy, another server from the diner, stands beside him, his teeth chattering from the cold.
Hal grins, his bushy mustache twitching. “Sienna was worried about you. Said you’d been here too long and she’d quit her job if we didn’t come out here to find you. She’s taken April back to her place.”
April. Shit. My eyes about bug out of my head at the mention of her. This whole time, I’d been so consumed with what was happening with Asher that I didn’t even think about my own sister. What the hell is that all about?
Wait, Asher.
I spin around, searching the darkness for him, but I come up short. There’s no trace of him, almost like he wasn’t even here to begin with.
He’s just… gone.