CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
Kaia
Everyone but the school staff had left while I lingered, performing my own kind of goodbye ritual—walking the empty hallways one last time.
There was nothing for me here anymore. I wasn’t sure there’d be anything at boarding school either.
I belonged nowhere. It should’ve been freeing. Instead, it terrified me.
A quiet sniffle cut through the silence. I froze by my old locker, listening. The sound came from the staircase. I followed and stopped in the doorway.
Mandy sat on the steps. Her tear-filled eyes lifted to mine. The hurt I’d buried resurfaced, and I started to back away. She’d avoided me for months. She’d never apologized. I shouldn’t be here.
“Don’t go.” A fat tear rolled down her cheek. “Please.” She shifted, making room beside her. I hesitated, then sat, hugging my knees.
“So, you’re leaving,” she said.
I nodded. “Boarding school.” By now everyone knew. I was famous for repeating a year and more notorious for supposedly hitting on my best friend’s crush.
Mandy exhaled shakily, rubbing her wet face. “I know it’s late, but… I’m sorry. I should’ve listened to you.”
Listened to me? After all this time? “Why?” I asked anyway.
She clasped her hands on her knees, nails bare, fingers trembling as she stared at them.
“Dean and I had sex two days ago. He pushed, and I thought if I said yes, he’d stay with me after graduation.
And today”—her voice cracked—“I saw him kissing someone else right here. Then he told me it was never serious, that it would’ve ended anyway because we’re going to different colleges.
He said it like it was nothing, but I thought… ”
More sniffles, more tears streaking her cheeks. She was such a fool—but so was I, for Asher. All the harsh words she deserved for choosing Dean over me vanished, leaving only pity.
“You’re better off without him,” I said, covering her hand with mine.
She squeezed my fingers. “I’m sorry for how I treated you.”
Too late. The trust was gone. I was done carrying friendships where my feelings never mattered.
“Yeah,” I whispered. “I’m sorry too, Mandy. Good luck in college.”
***
I labeled today the day of goodbyes. Saying them to Imani and the girls at hip-hop hurt infinitely more than leaving a school full of struggle and few happy memories.
“Promise me you’ll keep dancing.” Imani gripped my shoulders, eyes fierce, as if she could brand the words into me. “No matter how or where, find a way. Don’t give up what brings you joy.”
There was no place for hip-hop at the snobby, exclusive school my father chose. Still, I nodded so she wouldn’t worry. She pulled me into a hug, holding on for a few beats. When we stepped apart, her eyes shone like mine. Goodbyes sucked.
I swept my gaze over the gleaming wooden floor and the mirrors reflecting us both. “I was lucky to have you as a teacher,” I said. “I’ll visit.”
Imani pulled me into a one-armed hug and kissed my cheek. “You better. Now go, unless you want one last dance for old times’ sake.”
If I did, I’d break down. There were only so many goodbyes I could take, and the hardest one was still ahead.
A warm breeze brushed my face as I stepped out of the studio. Almost summer. I should’ve been looking forward to beach days with Asher. Instead, I’d be hours away, locked in a boarding school for girls. Just the thought unraveled every pep talk I’d given myself.
“Peque.”
My heart jolted. The last goodbye had come faster than I’d braced for. Asher pushed off his bike. I ran to him before he could take a step, and he caught me easily, lifting me close as I wrapped my arms around his neck. “What are you doing here? You weren’t supposed to be home before tonight.”
He brushed my hair back, chocolate eyes searching my face. “I thought today might be hard for you, so I skipped training. I’ll ride back early tomorrow. And…” He hesitated. “I wanted a few hours alone with you before our parents ruin everything. I’ll help you pack.”
I pressed my lips to his. “Thank you.”
“It’s nothing, peque.”
He always downplayed the sacrifices—even missing training, even riding back to the track at dawn—just to spend more time with me.
He wants to make it work, I reminded myself for the hundredth time. Asher wouldn’t leave me, not over distance or my father.
He set me down gently, his thumb feathering over my cheek. “You okay?”
“Yeah,” I whispered, pouring all the conviction I had into that single word.
He nodded, tugging his leather jacket off the bike’s handle. “Hop on, then.”
Asher climbed on first. I swung a leg over and settled behind him, and he handed me a helmet. Nostalgia clamped my chest. When would I ride with him again? He’d be traveling until the season ended. What made me think he’d find the time?
Now more than ever, he had to win, to finish strong. But after? Would he stay with Dad’s team? I had another year at school, but for a pro racer, a year meant everything.
“Hold on to me,” Ash said, glancing back, his voice muffled by the helmet.
I hugged his waist, tentative, until he pulled my hands forward and pressed my chest to his back.
His fingers brushed mine, guiding them flat against his stomach.
He looked over his shoulder once more, winked, then lowered the visor in one smooth motion.
The bike roared to life, the vibration jolting through me. I’d never truly know what he felt when he raced, but the time I’d spent on the track with him gave me a glimpse. Asher was made for this. And somewhere along the way, my na?ve, reckless heart decided he was made for me too.
He wove between cars, squeezing my fingers when my grip loosened, reminding me my hands belonged here—on him. The vehicles blurred, the world rushing by, and I clung to him, wishing the ride would never end.
When Ash parked in the driveway, he unclasped his helmet. I waited for him to climb off, then followed.
“Do your legs ever wobble?” I asked, smoothing my helmet-tangled hair.
He chuckled. “Yeah. More often than you think, but I’m used to it. Not after riding this slow, though, peque. We need to work on your endurance.”
“Ass.” I playfully slapped his leather-clad arm. Asher slung an arm around my shoulders, jostling me into his side. His lips grazed my temple, and my pulse spiked like he’d kissed my mouth.
“Have I told you you look beautiful today? You always do, but I like this shirt.”
Another kiss, lower this time—my cheek, then my jaw—and I melted like it was already midsummer.
“So, you have a thing for white T-shirts. Good to know,” I said, digging through my backpack for the keys, but Asher already dangled his from his finger.
“I have a thing for you.” He slid the key into the lock before I could.
Relief washed over me at the silence inside.
I led him to my room, and the second the door clicked shut, my arms circled his neck.
His hands skimmed my curves in slow, deliberate passes that contrasted with the heat in his gaze.
I pressed a palm to his chest, guiding him back until he sat on my bed. “A thing for me?” I straddled him. “Want to prove it?”
Leaning back on his hands, he gave me a lazy smile. “Do I need to? Isn’t what you feel proof enough?”
He tilted his hips, hard and ready beneath me. After what Mandy had told me, gratitude hit sharper—because Asher always put me first, even when it took restraint.
“Peque.” He touched my bottom lip with his fingertip. “Where’d you go?”
I cupped his cheek. “I’m here. Just thinking.”
“Want to share?”
“I don’t know. Should I?”
His fingers slid through a strand of my hair. “Always.”
He pulled me against him, then fell back, dragging me with him. All of me pressed to all of him, and my mind flashed to the hill after racing—our first and only intimate moment.
“I’m ready for more,” I whispered. “With you. I want everything.”
His hand slipped under my shirt, his palm warm on my skin. “Me too.”
“But you’re holding back.”
He chuckled, the sound rumbling through me. “I’m waiting for the moment when I can make it special. I’m not taking your virginity in your father’s house. I won’t leave you alone afterward, wondering if I care. I’ve fucked up plenty of things, but not this. Can you wait a little longer, peque?”
I buried my face in his neck, breathing him in. “Yes. Of course.”
Waiting would be worth it. I couldn’t imagine my first time with anyone else.
Asher turned his head, our gazes locking before he kissed me—slow, his tongue teasing mine. I clutched his black shirt, my grip white-knuckled, and rolled on top of him. His tortured groan vibrated against my lips. “That doesn’t feel like waiting.”
“What does it feel like?”
“El paraíso,” he murmured, sliding his hands over the strip of skin above my jeans. He nipped my bottom lip, swallowing my gasp as the kiss deepened, rougher.
Every nerve lit up, my body aching for more. A moan escaped me, answered by his low curse. One hand tangled in my hair, the other skimmed down to my stomach. His thumb brushed my belly button, and my breath hitched.
Shivers coursed through me as his fingers slipped beneath my jeans, past the thin barrier of my panties.
“Eyes on me,” he whispered, his finger grazing my clit—just as the faint click of the front door shattered the haze.
No.
Asher didn’t stop. His hand slid lower, cupping me, the heel of his palm pressing against my throbbing nerves. “Can you be quiet, peque?”
Could I? The pressure between my legs was unbearable. I needed release—needed more of him. I squeezed my thighs together, and Ash finally granted my wish, his thumb circling my clit in slow, deliberate strokes.
“Next time, it’ll be my mouth.” He dipped his fingers into my wetness, dragging them back up to my clit.
A helpless whimper slipped out, and he clapped his palm over my mouth.
“If it’s too much, bite. Just don’t make a sound, or we’re fucked.
” He eased a finger inside me, his other hand never leaving its steady caress.
Pleasure built sharp and hot, my hips grinding against him.
Asher shook his head. “We have time. Don’t rush it. ”
I lost my mind—maybe he did too—because the risk of being caught didn’t matter. The only thing I feared was him stopping when I was this close. His finger moved faster, deeper. “Look at me,” he rasped.
His eyes burned with hunger, the muscles in his arms flexing as he worked me apart. One flick of his thumb, and the ripple began deep inside, spreading through my core. I bit down on his palm, my body quaking with the most intense release I’d ever felt. A satisfied smile curved his lips.
Footsteps thudded on the stairs. My heart slammed against my throat.
“Te quiero,” Asher whispered, pulling his finger free. He licked it, his smile twisting into a devilish smirk. “Like I said—next time, it’ll be my mouth. Start packing, peque. I’ll help.”