Junior Year #3
She lets out an amused huff. "It wouldn’t hurt him. Clearly, he wasn’t that into me."
Earlier, she was upset. I may not have seen her phone in her hands, but I'm certain those messages are hers, and if that's not enough evidence, the annoyance written all over her face when I walked over was, but now I'm not sure what I see. Her anger seems to have morphed into something else.
"I disagree. If he was stepping out, it’s because he needed his ego stroked.
It has nothing to do with you. Standing next to a strong woman isn’t easy," I say in a rare moment of vulnerability.
We don't exchange compliments, only underhanded jabs, but even those are starting to feel like a form of love language. She wants to leave her mark on me.
Her eyes narrow as she tries to determine my intent, waiting for a trick because this isn't us right now. "You really want me to kiss you?"
I pull off my gloves slowly, one finger at a time, and feign nonchalance even as my pulse hammers against my ribs.
I can't lay all my cards on the table. Not yet.
Not when she could still walk away. "Kiss me or don't…
" I say, closing the distance between us and placing a hand on either side of her as she sits atop the fence, caging her in.
"I just figured I'd offer, you know, since you hugged me the other night. "
Her eyebrows shoot up, and fire returns to her eyes. "See, this is why you are so infuriating. I wasn't hugging you, and you know it. I was checking for broken ribs."
"Semantics," I hiss, my voice dropping lower as my eyes drag lazily from her mouth up to dark eyes. The air between us crackles. "You know you can still hate me and kiss me, right?"
The words hang there, suspended in the inches between us.
The rise and fall of her chest quickens with each breath, and my jaw clenches.
Neither of us moves, both refusing to be the one who breaks first, but the want is written across every tense line of our bodies, in the way her fingers are curled and white-knuckled against the fence rail, and how I haven't backed away despite every instinct inside of me screaming this is dangerous territory.
The silence stretches between us, heavy and charged, and I sigh, leaning back to give her an out.
Hell, to give us both an out before I do something we can't take back.
But her hands shoot forward and fist in my shirt, yanking me back with a force that catches me off guard.
My palms slam against the fence on either side of her hips to catch myself, caging her in.
Our shared breaths mingle, uneven and desperate. Her lips are mere inches from mine, so close I can feel the warmth radiating off her skin and see the rapid flutter of her pulse at her throat.
"I'm sorry about the other night. What I said about your mom."
My jaw clenches. "What about her? Did Hollis say something?" Annoyance spikes through me, sharp and defensive. The last thing I need is people talking about a woman who doesn't deserve the space she'd take up in any conversation.
"No," she says quickly, nervously wetting her lips, a movement I can't ignore. "You did. And I didn't know. I would never have—"
"I don't want to talk about it." The words come out harsher than I intend. "Don't be sorry. I don't want your pity."
Her eyes search mine, and I can see her recalibrating. "What you did out there tonight? That was for me?"
"Yes." The admission costs me, but I give it anyway.
"Why? You hate me."
"Do I?" I step closer. “You hate me. You decided we were enemies. I just played along.”
She goes still and I watch the truth reorder itself behind her eyes. Every cruel word, every cold shoulder, every time she pushed me away suddenly means something different.
"Then you understand why I need to apologize." Her voice is quieter now. "For earlier…”
I subtly shake my head and close my eyes, trying to shut out the image of her face, the genuine regret written there.
Of all the directions I imagined this moment going, my mother wasn't one of them.
I don't have one. She gave up that right the day she abandoned me, put me up for adoption without even telling my father I existed. She's nothing. Less than nothing.
"What about your girlfriend?" The question comes out barely above a whisper, but I hear the deflection in it. She sees my pain, recognizes it, and she's trying to pull me back from the edge.
"We both know I don't have a girlfriend." My voice comes out rough. "Layoni exists because you made it so when you refused to show up to the lessons you put up for bid at that auction.”
Hollis won the top bid for the private lessons she auctioned without my consent, and in return, I had him put her name down.
However, in true Asha fashion, she flipped the script.
I knew she would, I just didn't expect her to give them to Layoni. She knew the girl had a crush on me. Maybe her intentions weren't rooted in revenge; she could have just been trying to play matchmaker. But because this is Asha and she loves to wreak havoc on my life, I doubt the latter is true. She was trying to get me caught up in an affair with the coach's niece. She still hasn’t figured out that there’s only one girl I’m here for, and I’m looking at her.
"Come on, sweetheart. You enjoy driving me crazy. Do your worst."
“Why do you call me that? The least of things I am to you is sweet.”
"I see who you really are," I say gently. Behind the cold exterior, the carefully constructed walls, there's someone who cares so deeply it scares her. I see her heart, even when she won't let herself.
Her forehead settles against mine, her hair cascading around us, and my heart feels like it might literally pound out of my chest as I wait to see if she'll close the distance and put her lips to mine.
Her hand glides up the side of my neck, and I know she can feel my pulse racing.
But because she doesn't mock me for it, I can't help but believe she likes knowing the effect she has on me.
Her touch sends shivers across my skin, and my eyes stay laser-focused on her mouth, watching as she rolls her pretty pink lips and leans in slightly before pulling up short.
"You came this far. Now what?"
"You should probably touch me," she says, her breath slightly labored. I bite my lip, and she clarifies with a subtle smile. "Wrap your arms around my waist like you like me."
"Yes, ma'am," I say slowly, letting my hands glide around her waist. My thumb brushes against the soft skin on her lower back, and I get a reward when I feel her skin pebble beneath my touch. I affect her too. "Now what?" I ask, eager for more instruction.
"Now we wait." She sucks in a stuttered breath that I feel more than hear.
"Wait?" My tone is full of gravel as one hand fully flattens against her bare skin. The night air is thick with the smell of summer grass, but all I can smell is her, something sweet like vanilla and reckless decisions.
"Yes, we wait." Her eyes flick up to mine for the first time since she's pulled me close, and Christ, they're darker than I've ever seen them. "He doesn't know your mouth isn't on mine."
A breeze rolls across the field, carrying the distant sound of heckling and laughter, and that's when her foot slips against the fence rail.
She gasps, and her fingers clutch my shoulders as gravity pulls her into my arms. My arms band tight around her waist as I catch her against my chest, her body now flush against mine.
I can feel her heart hammering, or hell, maybe that's just mine, but every rapid breath she takes feels like it's stealing mine.
"What if I want it to be?" slips out, uncaring of the pretense that's existed between us for years.
This moment changes things. It has to. There's no way she doesn't feel anything for me, no way the venom she's been so intent on feeding me is anything but affection gone wrong.
Every barbed comment, every eye roll, every time she's gone out of her way to push my buttons are feelings she doesn't know what to do with.
The more I've learned about her through our texts, the stories Hollis tells me, and the things she says when she thinks I'm not listening, are all cracks in her armor, and I've been cataloging every one of them because the more I know, the more I understand how the girl I once knew grew into the woman now in my arms.
She doesn't know how to do this. How to let someone in. Her hands are still tightly clutching my shoulders, and her pretty mouth parts for words or a kiss. I'll never know because before she can make a move, a throat is clearing behind us.
"Am I interrupting something?" Preston, the team's number three, asks.
Asha quickly unwraps her legs. "Not at all." She clears her throat. "Trigg was helping me off the fence." She takes a step back from me, and my whole body physically aches from the loss of her warmth.
"Okay," he says slowly, clearly not buying her story. He points to Asha. "How did you get here?"
"Oh, I drove," she says, her voice tinged with something reminiscent of guilt as she looks away.
My eyebrows tug together in confusion before I say, "You don't have a car."
"I borrowed one." She shrugs as she shoves her hands in the back pockets of her jeans.
She stole my damn Bronco.
I look to Preston. "I'm riding back with Fairfield."
He nods and starts toward the bus, and I hold out my hand. "Hand over my keys."
She has the audacity to look offended. "Technically, it's not stealing if I was planning to give it back."
"That's literally the definition of stealing."
"It's borrowing without permission. There's a distinction."
"Yeah, one that holds up real well in court." I step closer, hand still outstretched. "Keys."
She pulls one hand from her pocket, dangling my keys just out of reach. "You're being dramatic. I filled up the tank. Premium, not regular. You should be thanking me."
"Thanking you for committing a felony?"
"It's a misdemeanor at best." Her smile turns sharp. "And you're not going to report me."
"How do you figure?"
"Because then you'd have to admit that you hid her in the woods to sneak off campus."
I step closer, closing the distance that existed once more, catching her off guard and stealing her breath.
It takes real strength not to pull her close and try to go back to the moment that was interrupted, but I manage and snatch my keys back in the process.
"You're trouble, sweetheart." I tilt her chin up so her eyes have nowhere to look but into mine.
"Don't take what's mine again unless you're ready to pay the price. "
Her breath hitches, and I watch her pupils dilate. For a second, I think she might actually back down. Then that defiant spark I've come to know too well flares back to life.
"And what price would that be?" she whispers, not pulling away from my grip.
The kind that involves me finally admitting what we both already know.
But I don't say that. Instead, I let my thumb brush along her jawline, just once, just enough to make my point before I step back and leave her standing there, looking dazed and furious and something else I'm not ready to name yet.
"Guess you'll have to steal from me again to find out," I say over my shoulder as I head toward my truck.
And we both know she will.