Twenty-four
Hal doesn’t ask any questions when I ask to borrow his truck, just hands over the keys and tells me to make sure it’s back by the morning.
By now, my bruises have pretty much faded, but they’re still there. Him and Sienna try to hide their concern, the way they look at me then look at each other as if they’re having a silent conversation. I still see it, though. I try to brush it off as best as I can, make a comment about me being clumsy, although I’m sure it’s not believable in the slightest. Luckily for me, the Friday night rush hits and they’re too run off their feet to interrogate me. I duck out as soon as their attention turns elsewhere.
I tell Asher to wait for me at the end of his road, and he’s there, leaning against a street light with his hands shoved in the pockets of his hoodie. As soon as he sees me, his eyes widen in surprise and he hesitates a beat before climbing into the passenger seat.
“Should I be concerned?” he asks.
“About what?”
“That you’re trying your hand at grand theft auto. Whose truck is this?”
I laugh and spin the truck around, taking us toward the road that heads out of town. “Not mine, but no, I didn’t steal it. It’s Hal’s. He’s letting me borrow it for the night.”
“And what exactly are we borrowing it for?”
“You’ll see.” I smirk, repeating the same words he said to me the week before. “Impatient much?”
He shoves me, grumbling under his breath, and I howl with laughter, a blinding smile splitting my face.
It’s easy to pretend that nothing else exists when I’m with Asher. That I’m not still living under my uncle’s rule and heading right back into the lion’s den tomorrow. It’s just the two of us, living in our own world, tearing down each other’s walls and catching some serious feelings along the way. Jesus, how did that happen? I might not be able to be a hundred percent honest with him about everything, but I can try to show him what he means to me. I owe him that, at least.
I take us out of the town limits, but skip the turn for the freeway and keep going straight until the buildings and stop lights disappear, replaced with rolling hills and fields that seem to go on for miles. The sun starts to set, painting the sky in vibrant shades of oranges and pinks. I can feel Asher’s eyes on me, watching me quizzically, probably wondering what the hell I’m doing bringing us out here in the middle of nowhere. I just smile and keep my eyes on the road, taking a left turn down a dirt track. It’s almost two miles before we reach the clearing, perfectly secluded and surrounded by trees on all sides. It’s exactly how I imagined it.
Putting the truck in park, I climb out and lay out the blankets I borrowed from Mrs Sanderson’s house in the bed. There are four of them, extra thick and cozy, enough to protect us from the chilled night air. Then, I set out the food I got from Hal’s when I picked the keys up. Burgers, fries, shakes, three different kinds of pie. All my favorites. I take a minute to examine my efforts, pleased at how it’s all turned out, but frown when I realize I’m the only one here to appreciate it.
“Are you gonna sit in there all night?” I call.
He opens the door and hops out, spinning round in a slow circle as he makes his way over to me. His eyes are wide, lips parted, as he takes in our surroundings. “How’d you find this place?”
“Sienna told me about it once. I thought it’d be a nice change for us. Something peaceful. Romantic.” He quirks a brow and my cheeks flame, but I continue on. “There are no rules here. Nobody breathing down our necks or trying to control our futures. It’s just me, you, the stars…” I pause, jerking my chin toward the truck bed. “And a shit-ton of food.”
His teeth dig into his bottom lip, a grin breaking free. “Damn, Farrow. Is this our first date?”
A nervous laugh escapes my lips and I rub a hand along the back of my neck. “Yeah. I guess it is. Is that— is that okay?”
“Fuck, are you kidding? It’s more than okay.”
He meets me halfway, pulling me in with a hand to the back of my head to smash our mouths together. It’s slower than usual, but no less passionate. Our tongues twist and dance, a guttural groan rumbling in my chest. When he pulls away, he looks so damn happy that it makes my heart squeeze.
“Come on,” I say, interlocking our fingers. “Let’s go eat.”
We sit down beside each other in the truck bed, not wasting a second before we dig in. Asher feeds me bites of his burger, forcing me to do a ‘Lady and the Tramp moment’ with a fry. I happily go along with it, enjoying the smile it puts on his face, but when he steals the last sip of my shake, I smear cherry pie filling across his face in retaliation. Of course, I give in and lick it away, kissing him with fervor afterwards.
After we’ve finished, we pack the containers away and lay down side by side. We share a blanket, Asher’s leg laid over the top of mine beneath it. We rotate between peaceful silence, listening to the crickets in the distance, and random conversation. He points out different constellations, talking animatedly about how he’s always wanted to see a shooting star. I fake seeing one and he tweaks my nipple in response, then spends the next few minutes staring at the sky with rapt attention, afraid of missing a real one. I couldn’t hide the obvious adoration in my eyes even if I tried.
“Tell me something,” he says after a while.
I grip his fingers, trace the outline of his knuckles with my thumb. “Like what?”
“Anything. A thought, a feeling. Something that makes you smile, something that makes you mad as hell. I just wanna know you, Oakley.”
I roll my lips over my teeth, debating what to share. There’s one feeling that immediately comes to the forefront of my mind, but… there’s no way I can tell him that. Not yet. Still, I open my mouth and just let the words flow, not putting much thought into a single one of them.
“I love mint chocolate ice cream and will eat it by the gallon. Cookie dough is a strong contender too, but I mainly just eat it for the cookie parts. I’m a sucker for reality TV, but will deny it until the day I die if you ever tell anyone.” He chuckles and I continue. “I always have to have the sun visor down in the car, even when I’m not driving. The smell of lavender gives me a headache and I hate sleeping with the windows open because it freaks me out.” I stop, not saying anything for a minute. When I speak again, my voice is quiet, emotional. “I miss my parents so much it feels like there’s this big, aching hole in my chest. A wound that just won’t heal, no matter how hard I try.”
“You don’t talk about them much,” he whispers.
I shake my head, try to swallow down the shards of broken glass stuck in my throat. “It hurts too much. It fucking guts me just to think about them sometimes. I put on a brave front and try to be strong for April’s sake, but inside I’m just—”
I stop, a sob catching in my throat. Asher shuffles closer and wraps an arm around my shoulders, squeezing my fingers with his other hand. Just being in his presence comforts me, his touch keeping me grounded. He lets me cry, pressing a kiss to the side of my head every time I let out a pained sound. Eventually, the tears subside and he swipes away the remaining wetness with his thumb.
“What happened to them?” He cringes and shakes his head. “Sorry. You don’t have to answer—”
“No, it’s okay.” I inhale, letting it out in a rush. “It was a car accident. They were coming back from my dad’s office party. I’d stayed at home to take care of April. They were only ten miles away from home, but they lost control of the car and hit a tree. They died instantly.”
“Jesus. Oakley, I’m so sorry.”
“The police think it was a hit and run, that someone literally ran their car off of the road. Something to do with tire marks or— I don’t know. They never found the other driver, though.”
“Fuck, I… I don’t even know what to say. I just can’t believe you had to go through that. Thank God you had your uncle to take you in, right?”
My stomach plummets to the floor. No, farther than that. It feels wrong to lie to him, to not be a hundred percent honest. But more than that, I don’t want it to be like this anymore. This thing with Asher, it’s real. The most real thing in my life. I want him to know every single thing about me. Not just my favorite ice cream, but to know me all the way down to the depths of my soul. To know my biggest fears and deepest desires, what makes me tick and what ticks me off, without me having to say a word. Like he said earlier, I just want him to know me. And I can’t do that with this colossal secret between us.
But… I can’t tell him the truth, either. No matter how much I want to.
I’m in a fucking impossible situation.
I shift away from him, out of his grip, the weight of our reality pressing down on me. Sighing, I scrub both hands down my face and feign a sudden interest in the towering trees opposite us, avoiding his gaze. “Your turn,” I say. “Tell me something.”
He’s silent for so long that I’m not sure if he’s ever going to speak. Then, he does.
“I don’t know if I wanna play football anymore.”
I whip my head around, staring at him like he’s grown a second head. “What?”
He huffs out a laugh that isn’t humorous in the slightest and sits up. “Is that such a bad thing?”
“No, I just… I thought you loved football.”
“I do. Honestly, I do. I’ve loved it since before I could even walk. But, I—” He shakes his head, searching for the words. “It’s all I’ve ever wanted to do. And not because of the success it will bring me or the money I’ll make. I’ve never cared about any of that. But because I just love to play. When I’m on the field, it feels right. Like it’s what I was born to do.”
I know, without a doubt, that’s the truth. I could see it when I watched him during practice this afternoon, exactly the way he’s describing. I could see how much he belonged out there. “So, what’s changed?”
Somehow, I already know what he’s going to say before the words even come out.
“My dad.”
He sighs and looks down, picking at a loose thread in his jeans. I wait for him to talk, give him the time he needs to get his thoughts in order. Although, I suspect that I already have a vague idea of what’s running through his mind.
“There’s just so much pressure, you know? Loving what I do isn’t enough anymore. I have to be the best, and not just on the team but in the state. The whole damn country. If my stats are lower than they should be, it’s the only thing I’ll hear about for a month. Then there’s everything else that goes into it, too. I have to look good, because they don’t give advertising deals to the less-fortunate looking players. I have to be likable so I come across well in interviews and steal the nation’s hearts. I have to be popular, because it can’t hurt to garner a big following now, before my career has even started. There’s just so much.”
“Have you tried… talking to him about all of this? Telling him how you feel?”
“What would be the point? He doesn’t get it. All he sees when he looks at me are dollar signs. More money to fund his exuberant lifestyle. Bragging rights. A way to pull in potential clients. He wants to be Alistair Brooks, father of NFL star Asher Brooks. Not Alistair Brooks, the understanding and supportive dad.”
I lean closer and grab his hand, stopping his nervous fidgeting before he tears his jeans to shreds. Helping him get through this the same way he did for me earlier. “What about your mom? Have you told her any of this?”
He nods. “I have. She just wants me to be happy. To live my life the way I want to.”
“And what does that look like? A life that’s entirely up to you?”
“I’d still play football. I wasn’t kidding when I said I love it.”
“What else?”
“I’d want to earn a scholarship to a college of my choice. Not one where my dad basically paid my way in. I’d play for four years, get my degree, actually enjoy myself. And if I make it to the NFL, great. If not, then that’s okay too. Either way, it’ll be entirely down to me.” He turns, looking right at me. “And I’d want you there, too.”
I swallow hard, try to slow my racing heart. He has no idea how much I long for that, too. To be a part of his life, to stand by his side. Helping him through the hard parts and celebrating the good parts. To be his rock, his unwavering support. God, I want that so much it physically hurts.
“I did something the other day,” he says. “I applied for a spot at Berkeley, to be on the California Golden Bears. My dad will probably be pissed as hell when he finds out, but… I did it.”
“Holy shit, Ash,” I gasp, smiling so hard it almost splits my face. “That’s amazing. What did they say?”
“They’re sending a scout to our game on Friday, but they seem pretty interested.” He gnaws on his bottom lip, hesitating a beat before asking, “Will you come?”
“I’ll be there. I promise.”
“Good.” He chuckles, letting out a relieved breath. “It’ll help, seeing your face in the stands. You kind of have this way of… calming me. Bringing me strength. It sounds weird, I know.”
“No, I get it. I, uh…” I pause and count to ten in my head, building myself up before letting the words out. “I feel the same way. When I got beat up that night, I thought I was gonna die.” His wide eyes shoot to mine, lips parted in shock. “I accepted it. But then your face popped into my head. You told me to fight, to get back up and not let this be how things end. And… I did. Just hearing your voice, seeing your face, even if only inside my head, it gave me the strength I needed to get away. To live. You saved my life, Asher.”
“I’m so sorry for the way I treated you before.” His voice cracks and he shakes his head, tears pooling in his eyes. “I was a coward. Too dumb and immature to deal with the boatload of feelings I felt when I first saw you. I thought hurting you would make them go away, but it didn’t. It only made me want you more.”
I pull him in by the back of his neck, dropping my forehead down onto his. “Fuck that. I don’t want you to be sorry.”
“You don’t?”
“No. Because we wouldn’t be where we are right now if it weren’t for you making me hate your guts.”
He laughs and calls me an ass, then he kisses me.