9. Charleigh
NINE
CHARLEIGH
October 29, 2014
I’m clutching my phone, pressing it against my chest, still buried under the covers of my queen-sized bed. My house is large enough that my parents shouldn’t hear me, but when it comes to Asher I try not to take any chances. I’ve only introduced him to them once, but that one time was all it took for me to know they didn’t and don’t approve of him. In any universe or under any circumstances.
My father looked at him with disdain, my mother with disgust. They played their parts well until Asher left, but behind closed doors they didn’t shy away from making their feelings known.
So, for the past three weeks, when Asher has been climbing the trellis outside my bedroom window once they’ve gone to sleep, we’ve tried to be as quiet as possible.
Every night while I impatiently wait for him, my heart rate accelerates and my neck tingles. The anticipation of knowing how it feels when I’m with him circles around me every night he comes over. It’s my favorite part of the day. Even if all we are is friends. For now .
My phone vibrates against my chest, the screen casting a blue glow against my skin. With shaky fingers, I unlock his message.
Asher: Coming up.
I scramble out of my bed, tossing my down comforter to the side. I tiptoe to my window and look out to see Asher climbing the trellis. I pinch my bottom lip between my teeth and glance over my shoulder, making sure my father hasn’t woken up. The hallway is still dark, with no light filtering in through the gap beneath my door. Turning my attention back to the window, I see Asher grip the edge of the window before he hoists himself through the opening.
He swings one leg over, but the other gets caught on the lip of the windowsill, and he stumbles forward, his hands shooting out to catch his fall on the plush carpet of my bedroom.
I cover my mouth with the palm of my hand, stifling my giggle.
“Oh, my God,” I gasp, muffling my laughter as I step back but hold my hand out to help Asher up off my floor. “Are you okay?”
He nods, keeping quiet while he pulls himself to a stand. When he looks up, he’s grinning. My heart races with the way he’s smiling at me, as it has since the first time I saw him standing in the middle of my street.
I giggle again, pinching my lip under my teeth to stifle myself.
“Shh,” Asher whispers, closing the space between us. His eyes nervously move to my bedroom door behind me before he places his finger to my mouth. “If your dad comes in here and finds me with you, he’ll kill me.”
Asher’s shadowed figure towers over me. He’s at least a foot taller than me, and even in the subtle glow of my bedside lamp, his eyes flicker with warmth.
My smile wanes under his touch, alarm bells screaming inside me, focusing on his touch. My heart somersaults in my chest, the echoes of the pounding vibrating up my throat to the place where his finger meets my mouth. We haven’t kissed yet, and I play it off as though I haven’t spent every minute of the last three weeks wishing we had. Even if he hasn’t kissed me or voiced his feelings for me out loud, I know I’m, without a doubt, in love with him.
Asher’s gaze constantly dances between my eyes and my mouth, never knowing where to stop. My breath dances across his skin, and I grip onto his shirt to pull him closer. He follows my lead, not breaking the trance we’ve pulled ourselves in to.
I don’t want this to stop. I don’t want him to stop.
My fingers tighten on the familiar fabric of Asher’s shirt. He’s wearing the same clothes he did two days ago, but I don’t say a word, knowing why. Asher only owns three different T-shirts and two pairs of jeans, but that doesn’t bother me.
Unlike everyone else at school.
Apparently.
Though they don’t like me, either. I think it’s another reason why Asher and I clicked effortlessly. We’re outcasts. Two sides of the same coin.
Asher changed my perspective on life that day he told me my voice was beautiful, and I haven’t looked back since.
“Can I tell you something?” he whispers.
I nod, clutching onto his hole-ridden shirt even tighter. “Of course,” I whisper back, feeling like a typical teenage girl. Raging hormones. First love butterflies. All of it is crashing around me like waves roaring onto the beach during a storm.
I welcome the feeling with open arms.
Asher shifts, and instinct has me standing on my toes. Finally lowering his finger, he shoves his hands nervously into his dirty jeans.
“What is it?” I ask with uncertainty.
“I, um…” He swallows, and for a moment I think he might retreat. I’m worried I’ll blink and suddenly watch him climb back down the trellis outside my window. “This is hard for me to say, but there’s something I’ve been wanting to tell you for a while.”
“You can tell me.”
“I’m not exactly good with words.” He winces.
“Is that why you always carry your notebook with you?”
“No.” A crease forms in the corner of his tilted mouth. “I use that for something else.”
“Oh.” I frown, unsure where this conversation is going.
I’m still holding onto Asher, keeping his body pressed to mine, but he hasn’t given me any hint that he wants to pull away.
“You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to. I get it.”
“I can try to tell you.” He hesitates.
I don’t answer, hanging onto every word as if it’s the last I’ll ever hear.
“My home life isn’t exactly the best,” he admits.
A knot forms in my chest with his confession. I know the basics of Asher’s life but not his darkest secrets.
“My dad left years ago, and I live in a trailer on the edge of town. The pipes are always leaking, and I’ve carried my mom to her bed when she’s been blackout drunk more times than I care to count.”
“I know,” I whisper, flexing my fingers, remembering the bits he’s told me in the weeks since he started climbing into my bedroom in the middle of the night. “But that’s why we talked about our plans, right? We both want to move to New York City and get into NYU. We will?— ”
His finger flies back up to my mouth and his eyes meet mine. “No, it isn’t that.” He looks at his feet. “That’s not everything I wanted to tell you.”
“Then, what is it?”
“Charleigh, you’re…”
“What?” I ask him, tugging on his shirt. My heart does another jumping jack. “I’m what?”
He lifts his head, with his eyebrows pulled together. “I think I’d rather just show you. If that’s okay.”
A sharp gasp hits the back of my throat when Asher drags the tips of his fingers across my cheek, sending a shiver down my spine and the length of my body. No one has ever touched me like this. I’ve been kissed before, but this feeling with Asher is different. He’s different.
His fingers move across my cheek before disappearing through my hair. He grips onto the back of my head and tilts me so I’m looking up at him. My eyes flutter, drunk on whatever feeling he’s feeding me. His other hand finds my waist as he pulls me toward him. My hips land against him, and I inhale another shaky breath. My fisted hands grip onto his shirt, anchoring me to my bedroom floor.
“Asher, I…” I want to tell him how I feel, and maybe I’m a fool for trying to speak when all he wants to do is show me whatever it is he wants to tell me. I swallow my words, forcing myself to let this moment unravel.
“Charleigh.” He smirks. “Just let me show you.” His whispered words brush across my mouth before his lips find mine.
They press against me, stealing the breath from my lungs. I close my eyes and savor this moment, afraid if I open them, this will all go away.
Asher’s mouth molds to mine. His lips are warm and soft. He parts them, allowing his tongue to dance across mine. His fingers massage the back of my head, and I press my whole body to his. My legs tingle and my heart hammers in my chest.
I tug on Asher’s shirt once more, guiding him to follow me. We don’t break our connection as I pull us until the back of my legs hit the edge of my bed. I lean back and scoot myself down until Asher is on top of me. He slips his knee between my legs, and his hands are on either side of my head as he lowers himself while continuing to kiss me. He keeps one hand beside my head and uses his other to cup the side of my face. He tilts my chin. Our kisses are increasingly fevered and rushed. My entire body heats, and I’m suddenly wanting him in a way I’ve only dreamed about. I want him to have me in a way no one else has.
“Charleigh,” he says against my mouth. “Wait.” It takes several attempts before he can finally bring himself to break our kiss.
“What is it?” I ask, panicked I’ve done something wrong. My heart sinks, and I feel the heat leave my body.
“Trust me,” he says, clearly understanding the shift in my expression. “I don’t want to stop. This is what I wanted to show you, and I haven’t stopped thinking about it all day.”
“Oh.” My cheeks heat. “Can I tell you something, then?”
“Of course.”
“I’ve wanted you to do that for three weeks now.”
He laughs, dipping his head before looking back into my eyes. His hair hangs over his forehead, adding more shadows to his gaze. “I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t, either.”
I grin, tracing my finger along his jaw. “It’s good to know I’m not alone.”
His smile fades and he leans down to kiss me again, pulling back just enough to keep his lips feathering mine when he says, “You’re never alone, Charleigh. Not with me.”
His confession forces a lump in my throat, and I swallow around it .
“There’s something else I wanted to show you tonight.” Kissing me one more time, he climbs off me and sits on the edge of my bed. I sit up and adjust the spaghetti straps of my tank top, scooting along the bed to sit beside him until my thigh is touching his.
He breathes heavily, digging into his pocket and pulling out a folded envelope, the seal already opened. He hands it to me.
I look down, reading the familiar blue letters in the top corner.
“Wait.” I look up at Asher, wide-eyed. “Is this…?”
He shrugs. “I applied in the spring at my old school. I didn’t think I’d get an answer this soon.”
“Is this what I think it is?” I whisper, struggling to contain my excitement. Blood rushes through my veins as I open the envelope. “Did you get in?” I ask him before I’ve even pulled the letter out.
Graduation is months away, but Asher told me he applied at the end of his junior year at his last school. Coincidentally, I did, too. It was another reason for me to tick off why I think we’re meant to be.
I don’t even have to open the letter to know what it says. Asher’s smile is just as wide as it was when he stumbled into my room a few moments ago.
“I got in,” he answers quietly. “And they’re giving me a full scholarship.”
“This is amazing. Congratulations, Asher.” Tears well behind my eyes, but I try to hide them. It isn’t that I don’t want him to see me cry; it’s that I don’t want to make this about me. Even though I applied in the spring, too, I haven’t received my acceptance letter yet, and as far as tuition goes, I’m not worried. My father agreed to pay for any school of my choice as long as I promised to finish. He happily agreed to my decision to go to NYU.
“You’ll get yours soon,” Asher says, as if he’s reading my mind. He drags his thumb across my bottom lip. We may have only just had our first kiss and crossed a line from friends to more tonight, but this is now my favorite thing.
Asher looking at me like that .
Touching me like this .
“I hope so.” I nod, feeling my mouth tug into a tiny smile.
“You will,” he insists before pulling me in for another kiss.
When he eventually pulls away, I inhale an unsteady breath, wanting to keep the focus on Asher and his moment.
There’s a sparkle in his eye. He’s still looking at me as if he can’t believe what’s happened tonight.
“You’re going to be incredible at NYU.” I pause. “Have you told your mom?”
“No.” He massages the back of his neck. “She’s already terrified I’m going to leave her. I think telling her I’m going to college two hours away will break her.”
I frown. “I’m sorry.”
“I’ll figure out the right time to tell her.” He takes the acceptance letter from me and stares at it for several seconds. “I’m eighteen, so it isn’t like she’d have much of an argument when I leave, but I’m foolishly hoping for something I know she’s incapable of.” His face remains placid. “Acceptance.”
There are no words for this moment. I know Asher is right. Instead, I allow us to sit in the silence. My cotton shorts do nothing to ward off the slight chill in my bedroom, but Asher keeps me warm. I press my hands to my thighs, unsure if it’s okay to grab Asher’s hand. My thoughts are firing on all cylinders, scrambling to understand what we are exactly, and what this means for us.
“Do you think we’ll fit in in New York City?” he asks, staring out my bedroom window. “I mean, we don’t exactly fit in here, so what would make New York different? ”
“I think we’ll fit in perfectly. We’re meant for bigger things than this, Asher. Well, at least I know you are.”
I try not to let him hear the sadness in my voice. As much as I try to picture myself surrounded with flowers in the city and Asher at my side, it’s difficult to imagine a life outside of the one I live now. A bubble covered in gold and luster, when it’s blanketed in darkness.
“Don’t do that,” he argues.
“Do what?”
“Say you won’t belong. You belong everywhere, Charleigh, and you’ll look good on New York.”
I giggle and tilt my head to the side. “I think you mean New York will look good on me .”
“No.” He threads his fingers through mine, holding my hand. “I said it right the first time. New York will look better once you’re in it. It won’t know what it’s been missing until you’re there.”
I lean forward and rest my elbow on my leg and my head in my hand as I stare at Asher. I can’t help smiling at him. My cheeks ache with my unrelenting happiness. “And you say you aren’t good with words.”
“I’m not. Usually.” He chuckles and runs his thumb along the back of my hand. “But I’m falling for you, Charleigh. I’ve never felt this way for anyone, and I’m afraid if I tell you the depth of my feelings, you’ll come to your senses.”
“Can you stay for a while?” I ask, not wanting him to leave, especially after sharing our first kiss. I’m afraid I won’t be able to sleep if I’m left alone with just my thoughts. “Just until I fall asleep?”
Asher pulls his cracked phone from his pocket.
It’s nearly one in the morning.
“My mom is probably still passed out, so I can stay for a while.” He slips the phone back into his pocket .
I slide under the covers of my bed and hold them up for Asher to slide in beside me. I don’t expect to sleep with him. I’m still a virgin, and the thought of giving it to Asher tonight doesn’t feel like the right time. Even though I already know it’s him I would want to lose it to over anyone else in the world.
It appears Asher isn’t thinking about sleeping with me, either, when he lifts his arm up to pull me to his side. After sidling up to his ribs as close as possible, I drape my leg over his and rest my hand on his chest, directly over his heart, feeling its rhythmic beat against my palm.
My eyes grow heavier by the second, and I try to fight it.
I don’t want Asher to leave, but I know the moment I slip away, Asher will slide his arm out from under me and sneak back out of my window.
I worry about Asher’s mother and how she’ll take the news of him leaving. I think about my own parents and how my mother will never leave my father. I try to picture what they’re life will look like when I’m finally gone or if I’ll actually care.
Soon, though, everything fades to black, and our hushed breaths are the last sounds I hear before I finally drift off.
I wake up the next morning and crack my eyes open to the bright morning sun. Rubbing the sleep from my eyes, I sit up and look through my bedroom window. The trees are no longer swaying. It’s a calm, bright, sunny morning. Every moment of last night comes flooding back to me: Asher’s confession of his feelings for me, our kiss, his acceptance letter. I can’t stop grinning and am anxious to get to school so I can see him again.
I spring to my feet and move toward my closet but stop dead in my tracks.
Taped to my window is a small heart cut out of paper.
Excitement courses through my veins when I hold my breath and cross my room. I peel it from the glass and ghost my finger along the front of the ink-stained paper heart.
From Asher, With Love
My cheeks grow sore from smiling, when I turn the heart over in my hand to read the message on the back.
Remember… you’ll look good on New York.
My heart is still pounding as I carry Asher’s paper heart across my room. My knees press into the carpet when I bend down in front of the foot of my bed and reach beneath for a shoebox my mother left under my bed after she bought me a pair of heels last summer.
I remove the lid and drop Asher’s heart inside. Pinching myself, I tell myself this isn’t a dream. Asher kissed me, and it isn’t until I close the lid on his first paper heart do I realize it was his way of telling me he was falling in love with me, too.