Chapter 16
Harper
Once you’ve hit second base, can you go back to first?
I don’t really know. All I know is that whatever just happened in the water was a bit much for me. My…you know what…against his…you know what. Rubbing and grinding and making me feel everything all at once. Making me want more.
I can’t want more. I don’t want to cross the line.
It might sound silly, but I am holding my ground on that. I was turned on, and I knew it had to stop before it went any further. I’ve made promises to myself that I intend to keep, and I did not want to do something I might regret.
Still, I don’t want things to be awkward between us.
At dinner, I try to act as normal as possible. I take a shower and slip into a black summer dress. Then I chop vegetables while he cooks rice and andouille sausage. We toss it all together to make a spicy jambalaya that is to die for.
I whip us up some cocktails. A fruity rum, juice and coconut water that I garnish with a flower for me, and a Negroni for him. We take our food and drinks onto the patio to enjoy the view. Neither of us wants to miss a single sunset. Costa Rica truly is heaven on Earth.
Asher looks good, and it’s hard to ignore.
He’s wearing a black linen button-down shirt rolled up to the elbows, but he leaves the buttons undone at the top, revealing his chest. His khaki shorts and slicked back hair complete his look for tonight.
He looks good, really good, but it’s the way he smells that gets my attention.
The way he smells when he’s freshly showered and smells of cedar and a sweet musk is delicious.
“This is good,” I say, taking a bite of the jambalaya so my mouth has something to do besides hang wide open while I stare at him from across the table.
“It is,” he agrees, “and so are these drinks. You really should be behind a bar, you know.”
“Can I ask you a question?” I ask suddenly.
“Sure,” he answers.
“How long have you known?” I ask, and Asher blinks, looking a little confused.
“How long have I known what?” he asks, chewing slowly.
“That you were, um, in love with me?” I ask, my cheeks warming.
Ash blinks. “Oh. That. Right,” he says. It’s almost as if he’s relieved that’s what I am referring to. I’m not sure what else I’d be talking about. “So about that. I might have…dramatized that a little…” he says, nervously pushing rice around with his fork.
“Oh?” I ask with an arched eyebrow. “How so?”
“I needed a reason to stop you from marrying Daniel. I do have one, but it’s not exactly that.
I would be lying if I said that I don’t feel anything for you.
I do, and I have for a long time. It’s just complicated, you know?
You’re Jaylen’s little sister, and I’m almost fifteen years older than you.
Though when I’m with you, like this, it doesn’t feel like it’s that much of an age difference. But–”
He’s rambling, so I cut him off. I’m too focused on one part of his statement. “So what was the reason then…for stopping the wedding?”
Asher pauses for a moment before he lets his eyes meet mine. They dart around my face, as if he’s taking in every part of me, studying me. Then he blinks, and it’s as if a curtain goes up. “I just need you to trust me,” he finally says, and my shoulders slump.
“You can’t tell me?” I ask.
“Not yet,” he says, picking up his fork again. I can tell by his tone that this conversation is over.
I grab my glass and take a generous sip before finishing my food. When I take my plate inside, I’m not sure how to feel.
So, he’s not in love with me. Not completely. That’s fine. It would be a problem if he was.
I don’t think that’s even the part I am hung up on.
There is another reason he stopped the wedding. A reason that motivated him enough to hop on a plane and fly all the way to Costa Rica just to crash my wedding. The weird thing is, he hasn’t told Jaylen his reason because Jaylen had no idea what was going on.
So if it’s not that Ash has feelings for me, then what is it?
“Hey,” I hear Ash’s voice behind me, and I turn around. He set his plate on the sink and looks at me. I hug myself, waiting to see what he’s going to say next. “The reason I need you to trust me on this is–”
He stops when our phones get notifications at the same time. We pull them out and read the message, and then look at each other.
“The roads are clear,” he says.
“We can go home,” I say.
“Yeah,” he nods. “That’s good.”
I clear my throat. “Yes. It’s very good. I mean…finally, right?”
“Yeah. Finally,” he says. “I’ll book the flight. We can take the redeye.”
“Yeah. Sounds good. I’ll go pack.”
But when I walk inside the bedroom, I close the door behind me and lean against it.
This is good. We can’t stay here forever.
Nothing can happen between us, and at the rate we are going, it’s getting harder to refrain myself.
Going home is exactly what we need to clear our heads and come back to reality.
So why do I feel so sad?