Day 9 #2
Asher pushes through the door from the three-season room and his lips are tipped up in the faintest hint of a smirk.
He looks like he’s about to sneak off to find my purse and fill it with earthworms. But he stays right where he is, just outside of the door, and greets me with a tip of his head. “Hey, roomie.”
My heart sinks. Drops to my feet and rolls right off of the deck and into the lake. “Excuse me?” I’m talking to Asher, but I’m looking at my mother, who is giving Asher a sideways scowl.
“We were getting to that,” she says, a smidge more irritated than I’ve ever heard her with him.
Asher looks appropriately scolded, and shoves his hands into his pockets. “Sorry, Ms. Walters.” Ms. Walters? What a little suck-up.
“Seriously?” It’s the only thing that will come out of my mouth—I can’t even form a full sentence. All of the words have left my head.
“Obviously you’re not sharing an actual room.” She shakes her head at me, like I’m being ridiculous, even though I’ve only said one word. “This is the best-case scenario. We can’t find anything else on short notice and together we can afford this.”
I look back out at the lake and let it settle over me.
Seven weeks in the same house as Asher Marin.
Not just dinners together, but probably breakfasts and lunches, too.
A shared television, and deck, and yard.
A shared bathroom, maybe. Access to my …
everything. I’ll have to buy padlocks for my dresser drawers.
Maybe something industrial to lock up my unmentionables.
“My room is off-limits,” I say, fixing Asher with a stare.
“Of course,” Dad says, a little more aggressively than I was expecting. I think he and I have different concerns regarding what Asher could do in my bedroom. Behind my mother, Sylvie is nodding her agreement.
Asher has wandered over to the side of the deck closest to the yard, and I sneak a glance at him. He’s already looking at me, his face emotionless. “Of course.” He shoves his hands into his pockets and raises his brows at me. “Same goes for you.”
I cut him a glare and my eyes dart over to my parents. This is the most we’ve ever let on about our … issues … in front of them. “Of course.”
Mom squeals and Sylvie does a giddy little jump in place. Dad and Greg nod in approval, clearly proud of themselves for finding a solution to what could have been a disastrous end to everyone’s vacation.
“This place is going to be like a freakish college reunion soon,” Asher mutters as he walks past me. “Let’s go pick bedrooms.” He says it so casually that I’m waiting to hear what teasing comment comes next, but nothing does.
I follow him off of the deck and back into the house, which, even at dusk, is luminescent.
We’re halfway down the long white hallway when Asher finally speaks again.
“I don’t care which one I get, so you pick.
” He stops in front of the two rooms at the end of the hallway, one on the left and one on the right.
“We’re sharing a bathroom? What kind of fresh hell is this?”
“The kind where we don’t have to go home and sit in our normal houses for the summer.” He nods toward the bedroom door to my left. “Don’t be a baby.”
I fight the pout I was about to give him and I can see the smirk forming as I twist my mouth into what I’m sure is an absolutely demented-looking smile.
“You can lock your bathroom door from the inside,” he says. “Not that I plan to creep into your room.”
I let out a little snort as we walk into the first bedroom.
It’s a pale blue-gray with yellow-and-white-striped bedding and little lamps with shades wrapped in lace.
There’s a huge painting of daffodils on one wall and a mirror trimmed in shimmering white shells.
At the foot of the bed is a long wooden box with a wicker lid.
I run my hand over one of the dark blue pillows scattered on the bed. “I’ll take this one.”
“Sure you don’t want to look at the other one?” Asher asks, glancing toward the open bathroom door.
“Why, did you do something to it?”
“Maybe I did something to this one.” His brows hitch, and he shoves his hands into his pockets. “You’ve never seen this room before.” He smiles. “You wouldn’t even know what was wrong.” He looks around the room. “It could take you days to figure it out. Weeks, maybe.”
I shake my head at him. “I’m good. I like this one.” I sit down on the bed and bounce a little. “This window faces the lake.”
Asher shoves his hands into his pockets again. He looks like he’s about to say something, but then he turns and walks through my bathroom door, closing it behind him.
I lay back on the bed and watch the fan spin in slow circles over the bed.
This room smells so fresh and clean it’s unnerving.
I take a deep breath and try to find any of the musty lake smell I’m used to, but all I smell is the fresh linen candle on the bright white nightstand, and the lingering smell of Asher.
I walk over to the bathroom door and twist the lock roughly.
This is the last time he’s going to be in this room, even if I have to barricade my door.