7. Maya
seven
Maya
I gripped the front of Asher's shirt tightly and buried my face into his chest. I hated the idea of crying in front of people. My grandmother always used to tell me that it was a sign of strength to be brave enough to cry in front of people, but no matter how many times I cried as a child, it was just as embarrassing as the time before.
Asher rubs my back in circles as he carries me back inside and out of the cold.
"Next time, take a damn jacket before you run out to the cold like that," Asher's sudden aggression causes me to jump, and I look away from him as I feel tears building up again.
The idea of the shop getting broken into is not new in town by any means. However, getting killed in the crossfire was relatively new. I've never been around death before, not even my grandmother. I never got to see her before they took her away. My heart hurt, and my chest felt sore.
"I'm sorry." Asher's voice is softer this time. You just can't be running into the cold like that." He set me down, and I grabbed my plate before returning it to the kitchen.
Asher follows me, taking the plate from my hands and washing it before setting it out to dry.
"Maybe I should leave," I say quietly. Asher freezes and looks at me.
"And where would you go?" He asks, his eyebrow raised.
"I don't know," I say honestly. Tears begin to stream down my face again at the idea of having to leave my shop. The truth is that I had nowhere else to go.
Suddenly, Asher raises his hand and wipes my cheek with his thumb. He grabs my face and positions it to look at him. His hands are warm, and I find myself leaning into his touch.
"It's too cold out for you to travel anywhere right now. I am here. I don't want you in a dangerous situation any more than your neighbor does, but it's even more unsafe to try and travel out in this weather right now."
I search his eyes for a moment as if looking for another answer, and his gaze doesn't change. I pull away after a moment and make my way back to the front of the shop. I can hear Asher's heavy footfalls not far behind me.
"Why should I trust you?" I turn around, and he seems taken aback. My words seem to sting him.
"I'm asking you to trust me and trust that I won't let anything happen to you."
I stand there for a moment before turning back around. I walk around the shop and begin turning things on, stopping at the train. I flip it on and watch it run around the shop near the ceiling.
"I trust you," I say quietly. Suddenly, he comes from behind me and puts a hand on my head, his thumb gently rubbing the top of my head.
"I trust you too," he says.
I reach into my skirt pocket, pull out a small key, and hand it to him. "Go unlock the door, please," I say. I am already worn out from the morning's events.
He gently grabs the key, his fingertips barely grazing me. Electricity flows through my hand, and I want to pull myself into his arms. He turns away and makes his way to the door, unlocking it before setting the key behind the counter. He grabs my apron and hands it to me.
I slide the apron on, put on a bright smile, and look at him. This seems to shock him for a moment.
"Today's a big day for the shop," I say happily. "This is the first day I officially have all the pastries out, so be on your best behavior."
"My best behavior?" Asher looks at me, amused.
I shrug, and he laughs, running a hand through his long hair. Without thinking, I reach my hand up to his hair and take it gently between my fingers. It feels silky and flows like black ink. Asher watches me completely still.
"Would you like me to fix this for you?" I ask. I glance at the clock and realize that we have about half an hour, and still, no one seems to be awake except for the commotion happening next door.
Asher goes to speak, but then he hesitates. He gently grabs my wrist, kissing my fingers. "I would love that," he says. My heart skips, and I pull my hand away before returning to the small apartment. Like always, Asher is not far from me.
I pull a small chair out and motion for him to sit.
"You know, I don't know anything about you," I say as I dig through a nearby drawer.
"And I don't know anything about you," he returns.
"Doesn't seem that way," I reply. "It feels like you know more about me than I do you."
He hesitates as if thinking about what to say. "In all honesty, I don't know anything about you. I know that I know you now, and I know that I want to be around you." His words cause me to freeze, and I glance over at him. He's looking out the window, lost in thought as if trying to recall memories.
"Well, if you're going to be a common occurrence in my life, I need to know more about you," I say, walking over with a pair of gold scissors.
"That can be arranged, princess. I'm an open book."
I grab his hair in my hands and begin trimming it.
"Be careful," he says suddenly. His chest is heaving as if he's anxious.
"Worried that I'm gonna cut off your ear?" I laugh a little.
"It's not a frequent occurrence for there to be someone behind me with large scissors."
"Well, today's your lucky day, isn't it?" I cut his hair, which falls to the floor as soft as feathers.
"There you go," I say, patting his shoulders. He gets up and walks to the mirror, looking at it as if judging.
"What's wrong?" I ask him. "Did I cut it too short?"
"Did you mean to cut this length?" He turns to me and plays with a strand of hair between his fingers.
I feel my face heat up, and I break eye contact. "I just figured that's how you liked it, and that's what I cut it to. I'm sorry, I should've asked."
"Do you like it like this?" His voice is low. I look up, and our eyes meet. He's staring at me intensely.
I hesitate for a moment, thinking. "I do; it's very handsome on you."
He hesitates, then smiles. He snatches a white ribbon off my nearby dresser and uses it to pull his hair up into a half bun.
"Then this is exactly how I like it."
The shop was busy that day. Many faces came in and out, and all of my stock from that fall, as well as all my Christmas goods that I had baked last night and prepared this morning, were gone by the afternoon. This meant that I got to close early, a rare treat for me.
The earlier conversation between Asher and me stayed with me throughout the day. We were both right. We were strangers to each other, but I couldn’t deny that we coexisted so perfectly.
Even though he was a stranger, I couldn’t hide my attraction to him, at least to myself. My entire life I was raised to be independent; to take care of things, especially myself. My grandmother raised me not to rely on anyone else because the only person that I could truly trust was myself. However, every time he looked at me, or his fingers grazed my cheek or brushed my hair behind my ear, I found myself wanting to submit. I wanted him to take care of me, and even though the feelings went against my instincts that had been driven into me since I was young, I couldn’t shake them off.
He had been a big help throughout the day, bustling around the shop, interacting with kids, and helping me in the back. It was strange having someone else so close to me at all times; I haven’t had that since my grandmother was alive. Even though we bumped into each other countless times, I eventually looked forward to our short moments.
“Is it always busy?” Asher says, locking the door.
I laugh happily. “On good days, Yes.” I smile at him and take off my apron, hanging it by the door to the kitchen.
It was dark out now, and the snow was falling heavily. That morning easily escaped my mind once the day had gone into full swing at the shop. The orphanage children stopped by. The news of me giving them free desserts spread like wildfire.
“We need to get you some curtains for these windows,” Asher says, looking grumpy. He’d been on edge since Sandy had stopped by earlier that morning.
“Asher,” I say. His eyes snapped over me as if my voice caught him off guard.
“Hm?” His voice is low, and he returns his vision outside.
“You seem like you’ve been annoyed ever since this morning.” He finally looks at me. I walk over to him and look up at his towering figure. His jaw is tight, and I can feel his eyes like pins driving into me.
“Something seems off,” he suddenly looks back through town. “Does anyone know who this investor is or why he’s buying up all the shops?” His sudden interest in the investor, in a stranger versus the one who’s actually been breaking into buildings, surprised me a little.
“No,” I said quietly.
A paperboy came earlier today, warning of a severe storm heading our way. It was supposed to hit the following day. Halfway through the day, I sent Asher to get supplies. He returned with piles of wood and some extra food to stock up in the apartment. Any chance that I had of escaping for safety was long gone.
“It’s strange,” he says again, not breaking eye contact with the outside world.
I sigh and climb up on a tall chair on the other side of the counter. “Well, no one‘s confirmed who it is yet. We’ve just been kind of waiting until they show their face.”
“And the person breaking into shops?”
“No one knows them either. They haven’t been caught yet. No matter how many people stay up at night to try and catch the person, it never happens. It’s like they know which shops to target and which ones not to.” I spin myself in the tall chair.
Asher doesn’t look at me and stands there silently, his body rigid. Like a dog on edge, waiting for the animal to make the first move. The black dog that I ran into not long ago comes to my mind, and I smile.
I find myself staring at his tattoos, solid-black and swirling over his skin. “Of course, there’s rumors,” I continued. “Some people say that it’s some rich kid from the city. Others think it’s just a vagabond wandering around looking for a place to escape the cold.”
“What do you think?”
My gaze trails up to his neck, where the tattoos peek out from under his tight shirt. “I don’t know what I think,” I say. “I’ve just been taking the news as it comes.”
“That’s irresponsible, Maya.” His words shock me, and my mouth falls open.