CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Ledger
Fifteen Years Ago
“A shooting star. Look.” I point to the last remnants of it as it dies out with its fall.
“Make a wish,” Asher says, squeezing my fingers currently laced with hers.
“That’s ridiculous. No one believes that shit.”
“Fine. Then I’ll make one for you.”
“Go ahead.”
I turn my head so I can look at her. We’re lying on a blanket in the middle of the lavender fields staring at the stars. Or at least she is while I’m trying to figure out when to make a move. A guy only has so much restraint when the girl he’s with is like Asher—gorgeous, funny, unique.
A girl who looks at me like I’m a normal boy instead of the prep-school trust-fund kid whose father is part of New York City’s elite.
Hell, she’s never asked for a damn thing.
Not once. I have girls back home asking for fancy shit when they can afford it themselves.
And then there’s Asher who has nothing and asks for nothing.
If she did, I’d give it to her in a heartbeat.
Without question. It’s not like Dad ever checks what we spend money on anyway.
If he did, we’d be majorly screwed for all the money we shelled out for beer on this trip.
Asher closes her eyes and scrunches up her nose. It’s freaking adorable.
“What’d you wish for?” I ask when her nose un-scrunches. Apparently, that’s her wish-making face.
“I’m not telling you.” She swats playfully at me, but her eyes remain fixed on the sky above. “If I do, it won’t come true.”
“C’mon. I wanna know.” What does a girl like Asher wish for?
“No.”
“Pretty please?” I lean up on my elbow so I can stare at her and so she can’t ignore me.
“No.”
“Ah, there’s a smile,” I say, putting my hand on her hip and rocking her back and forth. “You know you want to tell me.”
“I need the wish more than you want me to tell you,” she says drolly.
“You need it?” I draw the word out. “Then that means it’s me, right? Since you need me.”
“Oh, geez.” She rolls her eyes. “Did you seriously just say that?”
“Yes. And I’m pretty sure I’m right.”
She pats the top of my hand still on her hip. “For your ego’s sake, I’ll keep letting you think that.”
“Don’t you worry about my ego. It’s doing just fine.” I flop back onto the ground, look up at the stars like she is, and huff. “You’re no fun.”
Crickets chirp all around us and beetles make their distinct clicking sound, but the only thing I really hear is Asher’s even breathing beside me.
Feeling slightly and ridiculously dejected because she won’t tell me, I fall quiet.
“I wished that I’d get a chance to make my mark somehow.
” I’m just about to ask what she means when she continues, her voice barely audible.
“That people will look at me and admire me, what I’ve done, what I’ve made of myself instead of looking at me and feeling sorry for me because I’m Lydia Wells’s, the town floozy’s, daughter. ”
Her voice breaks, and it fucking kills me. I’ll never understand how she feels because we’re polar opposites. Whereas she has pressure weighing on her because people expect nothing from her, I have it because they expect too damn much from me.
We’re from completely different worlds, and yet somehow . . . we work.
“Ash.” I lean back up on my elbow and run a hand up and down her arm. I don’t even know what to say. How to respond.
She shakes her head and musters a smile I don’t believe. “It was stupid. Forget I said anything.”
“No. It’s important,” I murmur and press a kiss to her lips. “And I want you to know I already do look at you like that.” Another kiss. “You are Asher Wells, my lavender girl, and maker of her own destiny.”
Then another one.
And later when we see another shooting star, I make my own wish: for Asher’s wish to come true.