Chapter 18
ASHER
I roll over in bed, and the sheets still smell like her. Fuck.
I reach for her, only to be met with nothing but cold bedding.
I open my eyes and glance around, hoping that maybe she went to the bathroom.
I hold my breath, listening for any sign of life.
The only thing I hear is the sound of early morning traffic outside my window.
I check my en-suite, the bathroom in the hallway, and the kitchen, but Summer is gone.
She left. She really just woke up and left without a word.
What did you think would happen? You’d both wake up, have sex again, and then eat breakfast in bed?
I mean, yeah, maybe I’d been hoping for that.
It’s not that I think so highly of my sexual prowess that the idea of a girl sneaking out on me is unbelievable… but it hasn’t happened since my early twenties. That must count for something, right?
It’s possible she never meant for it to go so far last night. I certainly didn’t invite her over with the intent to sleep with her. But she opened the door just as I was about to knock. And if the multiple orgasms are anything to go by, she seemed to have enjoyed herself.
You’re just trying to excuse your deplorable actions, my guilty conscience snarls. You wanted her, and whether you intended for it to happen or not, you had her.
I groan as I sit up, rubbing the stiff muscles in my neck.
I make my way to the bathroom, turn on the shower, then turn it off because the idea of washing away the smell of her makes my heart physically ache. God, what’s happening to me?
I brush my teeth and run a hand through disheveled hair, sighing. There are dark circles under my eyes, a physical reminder of my time with Summer. Stubble runs across my cheeks, and I decide to shave before heading to the kitchen to make myself something to eat.
What if I never hear from her again? What if the only time she even acknowledges my existence is when she absolutely has to in class? My phone burns a hole in my pocket as I debate texting her.
How bad will it feel for her to ignore me? Should I just wait and see if she reaches out to me? I open the fridge, hoping that cooking will give my hands something to do other than texting Summer.
Have I ruined everything? Sure, it’s not like we’re anything…
but we also aren’t nothing. Should I have just been content with the small amounts of time I’d managed to steal with her?
But that’s the thing. I’m not content with the small amount of time I’ve spent with her.
I want more. And I want more than just stolen kisses and hurried touches in hidden places.
I want to talk to her more, see what she looks like when she wakes up in the morning.
I want to learn her favorite movies, what she likes to cook after a long day, and listen to her talk about her favorite books.
Seriously, what is happening to me?
I can’t remember any other girl who has affected me the way that Summer has.
I’ve never been this desperate for someone.
Nor have I ever really cared when a girl left before I woke up.
Hell, I’m usually the one to wake up first and suggest that they leave instead of sticking around for breakfast. But I wouldn’t mind waking up to Summer in my arms and cooking her breakfast so I could spend more time with her.
I’m not sure how long I’ve been staring at the inside of my fridge when a sharp knock sounds at my door, pulling me from my depressing thoughts.
I open the door and feel my frustration grow. Elijah stands in front of me, completely relaxed and seemingly unaware of how pissed I was at him last night—and how pissed I still am this morning.
“Is it too early to start drinking?” he asks casually.
“Are you fucking kidding me, man?” I snap at him. “What the hell was that yesterday?”
He pushes past me into my apartment, setting a six-pack of beer on the counter. “It didn’t seem like your conversation was going so well, so I gave it a push.” He shrugs out of his leather jacket and tosses it across the back of my couch, not giving a shit about my piss-poor mood.
“By flirting with her?” I growl.
“She left with you, didn’t she?” he asks, cracking open a beer bottle on my countertop, and I swear to God if this motherfucker just chipped my counters, I’ll kill him.
“Not the fucking point.”
“I didn’t kiss her. I didn’t even buy her a drink. I’m not sure what you’re so upset about.”
“You flirted with her,” I repeat. “And you danced with her. You touched her,” I end on a growl.
“Are you upset that I flirted with her or that she flirted back?” he retorts as I take an angry step toward him. “Because she only flirted back to piss you off.” I stop, and he laughs. “Or the fact that she only came to find me on the dance floor to make you mad? You didn’t catch on to that?”
“Obviously not,” I grumble.
“You know, I’ve seen her from a distance at the bar before, but seeing her up close? You’re absolutely fucked, my friend. More so than I thought.”
“She’s more than just her looks,” I snarl.
His eyes widen before he shakes his head and gives me a pitying chuckle. “Oh, that makes it even worse. Do you actually like her or something?” His nose scrunches up as he takes in my expression. “Jesus, did you sleep with her?”
“So what if I did?” I ask petulantly.
“So that makes it even more dangerous than it already is. Thinking a girl is hot is one thing. Thinking your student is hot is a predicament. But having feelings for her? That clouds your judgment. You won’t be able to do what’s best for you because you’ll be too preoccupied with making sure she’s happy, even if it’s at the cost of yourself. ”
I scoff. “Oh, come on, Elijah. I know you’re against dating. I know how jaded and pessimistic you are, but this is a bit much, don’t you think?”
“Considering some of the women I’ve met? I don’t think so.” He glares at me.
“Jesus man, somebody royally fucked you up, didn’t they?”
He snorted. “Whatever. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
“Just leave Summer alone.”
“And if she approaches me again? Should I just ignore her because you’ve suddenly gone all alpha male over a student?”
“Is it so hard for you to believe that people are actually capable of caring about others? I get that you haven’t done that since college, but some of us have let go of our young-adult baggage.”
His jaw clenches. “Just because I choose not to get overly attached to others does not mean that I am beneath you,” he states quietly.
“I’m just looking out for you, okay? Can you just see where I’m coming from?
I don’t want you to lose your job over some girl.
You love your job. I just… want to make sure you’re keeping in mind what’s important and what’s worth risking your career over. ”
I clap a hand on his shoulder, the tense moment evaporating. “Thanks for looking out for me, Eli.”
He smiles, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “Somebody has to, right?” Elijah opens another beer bottle on my counter—which I decide to let slide, considering our truce—and hands it to me.
I lead him over to the couch, where we both flop down before taking swigs of our drinks.
Despite our obvious differences, Elijah has always been a great friend.
He’s been there for me through the tough coursework; he came with me to spend the holidays with my family; and he tried his best to cheer me up when Juliet suddenly left.
He may be rough around the edges, but overall, he’s a great guy.
Someday—whenever he gets past all his hangups—he’ll make someone really happy.
I’m about to flip on the TV when he clears his throat. “So, how’d the rest of your night go? You walk her home like the chivalrous bastard you are?”
I roll my eyes at him. “It was raining, and her car got locked in the garage she parked in.”
“So?” he prompts.
I sigh. “She left before I woke up this morning.”
“Oof, that is harsh,” he says, taking another swig of beer. “Well, if it makes you feel better, I wouldn’t jump immediately to regret.”
“Thanks,” I respond sarcastically.
“What’s really bothering you about the situation?” he asks. “She can’t be the first girl to sneak out on you. It happens to the best of us. Even me,” he states smugly.
I shrug. “I don’t know. I guess the idea of seeing her in class after the break and having to pretend as if nothing happened?
” I start picking at the label on my beer bottle.
“I think I just assumed I’d get a chance to talk to her about what happened between us, and her not being interested in something as simple as a conversation with me is sort of a blow to my ego. ”
“Look, there could be a handful of reasons why she disappeared on you,” he says, leaning forward and resting his elbows on his knees, beer bottle hanging causally between them.
“She could regret hooking up, or she could be scared of being kicked out of the program,” he lists off, causing my stomach to churn.
“She could have had something time-sensitive to do today. She could be an early riser and was lying there aimlessly for hours while you snored next to her before she couldn’t stand it any longer and decided to get up and leave instead of waking you. ”
“Seriously?” I deadpan.
He takes a sip of beer to hide his smug grin. “Just trying to list all of the possibilities.”
“I don’t know what to do going forward or how to handle this situation.”
He tilts his head from side to side, weighing the options. “Though it pains me to say it, have you considered telling her the truth?” he asks.
“What truth?”
“That you’re falling in love with her?”
I sputter. “What? That’s ridiculous, we hardly know each other. We’ve hooked up once, that’s it,” I insist as I wipe beer from my chin.
He raises his eyebrows, sticking his tongue in his cheek to stop himself from saying what he really wants to.
He shakes his head before continuing. “Fine, you don’t love her, but maybe you’re realizing you could.
” I’m about to protest again, but he holds up a hand to stop me.
“You can at the very least be mature enough to admit you like her, can’t you?
Or do I have to call you a pussy before you’ll be even remotely honest with anyone but yourself? ”
I cross my arms. “Calling me a pussy won’t get the same reaction now as it did in college.”
“I think if you want any chance of starting something with her, you’re going to need to be honest with her first.” I can tell by the sincere look in his bright blue eyes that he genuinely means what he’s saying, even if he doesn’t agree with the risk.
“I know I’m not the most ideal person to be getting advice from on these types of things, but I think sitting down and telling her how you’re really feeling will make her see that you don’t just think she’s a piece of ass but something more. ”
I bite my lip to hold back a laugh. “That was… almost incredibly insightful.”
He leans back, taking a large gulp of beer. “I try my best.”
“Can we stop discussing this now?” I practically beg as I turn the TV on, hoping that the drone of whatever sport happens to be on will distract him long enough to forget this entire conversation.
“Sure, no problem,” he responds. There’s a beat of silence before he speaks again. “Want me to run a background check on her?” he offers.
I snort. “No, but thanks for the offer, man.”
And then, because I can’t help myself, I text her.