Chapter 8 Brianna
Brianna
You’ll always be safe in my arms
Crash. The sound of glass shattering pierces my ears.
People are screaming and crying. It’s pure chaos.
The nightmare jolts me awake. It feels like the walls are closing in around me, and I can’t breathe.
My bedsheets are tossed haphazardly on the floor, and I’m lying in a pool of my own sweat.
Breathe in, breathe out, Bri. It was just a dream.
He’s Max’s best friend, for fuck’s sake, Bri. Could you be any more pathetic?
My phone weighs heavy against my palm while my head and heart declare World War III against each other. And no matter how hard I try, I cannot remain a neutral party. I scroll my phone to find his contact and hit call before my brain has time to overanalyze my decision.
One ring.
Two rings.
Three rings go by, and I’m about to abort the mission when the sound of muffled sheets accompanied by a groggy voice carries over the line.
“Hello?” Asher’s raspy, sleep-filled voice does something to me.
“Hi.” The sound is merely a whisper in the quiet of my room. I try—and fail—to hide the pain in my voice.
“What’s wrong?” Ruffling sounds come from the other end of the phone, and I hear the faint click of a lamp turning on. Given my current state of mind, everything takes longer to process. I woke him up. Of course I did. Not everyone is up at one in the morning.
“I-I’m sorry I woke you up. Don’t worry about it. I’m not even sure why I’m calling you right now. Just forget it. I—”
“Hey. You can always call me whenever you need. I need you to find the confident Bri inside you and ask for what you want.”
What do I want? When did I get so needy?
I used to be a badass bitch who thrived off her independence.
Now? I’ve become a stage-five clinger, and I hate it.
But I’m way too tired to make rational decisions, seeing as how sleep and I are two passing ships in the night.
The last time I got a decent night’s sleep was when Avery crawled into my bed.
I couldn’t possibly ask Asher to come sleep with me. Could I?
“It’s gonna sound so stupid. I—just forget about it. I’m sorry, I—”
This is Asher, Bri. You’re supposed to hate him. And now you’re asking him for help? This is what rock bottom must look like. Too weak to do anything on your own.
“Asking for help doesn’t make you weak, Bri.” It’s like he jumped inside my brain, reading my every thought. How does he do that?
That’s exactly how I feel, though…weak. I used to ask for help and never think twice about how others viewed me.
Now, when I even think of asking for what I need, it feels like people are judging me.
Poor, helpless Bri. Look at her, she can’t do anything for herself.
How pathetic. I wish I could talk to my best friend about how far I’ve fallen, but I can’t.
Not after all the times I’ve left her on read.
I don’t have to look at my phone to see her most recent slew of texts. I have them damn well memorized by now.
Avery: Bee. I was scrolling through TikTok the other day and I came across that book you were telling me about. The new Kennedy Ryan book? So I splurged and bought it. I had to tell you. I know you won’t respond, but I still wanted to tell you. I love you. Please take care of my bestie.
“Bear? You still there?”
Oh, shit. Asher. So I did call him then. A part of me hoped this was just a vivid dream.
“Y-Yeah. I, um. I really shouldn’t have called you so late. I mean, we aren’t, like, together or anything. I mean, who would want to date someone like me? I’m a fucking mess. No one would ever be attracted to someone like me, especially not—” Fuck. Get a grip, Bri. He doesn’t want to hear all that.
“Especially not who, Bri?” Asher interrupts my nervous rambling.
“Y-You know exactly who I’m talking about.”
“I need to hear you say it.”
“E-Especially someone like y-you.”
“You’re saying that I don’t find you attractive? That’s a complete load of bullshit, but we’ll put a pin in that for later. What do you need from me, bear? Be that confident badass I know you can be.”
“I need you to come sleep with me.” The silence on the other end is deafening. OH SHIT! I just asked my brother's best friend, my former—yes, former, because I can no longer say I hate him anymore—nemesis to sleep with me. Ground, swallow me whole, please.
I need to clarify what I meant…ASAP.
“NO! Not sleep with me as in have sex with me. I, um…I mean actually sleep. Like, in the same bed. Our clothes would be on, and we can each take a side. My bed is big enough…” Ugh, and now I’m rambling like a madwoman.
Surely he thinks I’m crazy. “Okay, just ignore everything I said. Forget I called. Goodni—”
“I’m on my way,” he says before hanging up without commenting on my word-vomiting.
Great, there’s no turning back now, and the desire to text him a haha, I was just kidding text threatens to take hold of my body.
I remove myself from my sweat-slicked sheets and make my way downstairs.
I highly doubt I’ll be getting any sleep.
Especially since Asher is on his way to sleep over.
In. My. Bed. If my overly anxious mind won’t let me sleep, the sheer proximity of Asher fucking Larson lying next to me with all his intoxicating masculinity will surely do it.
A buzz shakes against my palm, and I look down and notice I have my phone in a tight grip. An eerie awareness radiates down my spine, and somehow I know without looking at my phone who the message will be from. Does that stop me from looking? No.
Max: Brianna Mae. Why are you ignoring me? You leave me on read and I can’t figure out why? Please just answer my texts. Or even better, come over. I miss you.
My blood freezes, and dark black spots flicker alongside my peripheral vision.
You are the worst. Look at you. You’re a cold-hearted bitch for ignoring your brother.
My breathing turns shallow as I desperately gasp for air.
But no matter how much oxygen I take in, it’s not enough to fill my lungs.
I’m faintly aware of my feet guiding me to the living room, but barely.
I can’t focus on anything behind the sound of blood rushing in my ears.
The world begins to tilt on its axis. That, or I’m collapsing to the floor.
When I wanted the ground to swallow me whole, this isn’t what I meant.
A soft beat sounds somewhere in front of me. Wait, is it in front of me? Behind me? I can’t really tell; my eyes are slammed shut in an attempt to ward off the spinning. The sound repeats followed by a deep voice saying…something.
Crash. Glass shattering. Piercing cries.
“Bri?” The sound of what I assume is a door opening followed by my name is somewhere in the distance.
“Shit, baby, what happened?” The ground disappears beneath me, and my first thought is I’m dead and on my way to heaven.
The smell of cinnamon and leather collides in the best kind of sensory explosion. Yes. I have died and gone to heaven. That’s the only logical explanation I can conjure up with how potent and delicious this smells.
“Breathe, bear. I got you.”
Wait, I know that voice. His deep vibrato reverberates against my cheek. It’s my own form of serotonin as I feel my breathing begin to slow.
Asher.
“H-How did you—” How I manage to form a somewhat coherent sentence is beyond me. But if I had to guess, it has everything to do with the man next to me.
“Your door was unlocked. You really need to stop doing that, bear. Now keep breathing. That’s it, Bri. Just follow the rise and fall of my chest. My arms are wrapped tightly around you. I’m here, baby. I’m not going anywhere.”
Following his direction is like second nature, and soon my breathing begins to match his slow, even breaths. I feel his arms squeeze me tighter, but not in an uncomfortable way, in a I know I’m safe and protected kind of way. Even if the thing I need protection from is my own remorse.
Asher and I sit in comfortable silence. My heartbeat and breathing have since regulated, but I’m still cradled within his arms. His fingers brush through my hair, sending tiny pinpricks of calm that can be felt from the top of my head to the tips of my toes.
“You doing okay?”
“Mmmm.” I nuzzle against the crook of his neck as if I’m scent marking him. When my eyes pop open, reality is a cruel slap in the face.
Who would want to be with you now? Look at you. So pathetic. You just nuzzled your brother’s best friend. A friend who just saw you at one of your lower moments.
Asher stops my frantic attempt to scramble from his grasp. He just hugs me tighter, refusing to let me go.
“Oh no you don’t. I told you I wasn’t going anywhere. And neither are you. Tell me what’s going on in that pretty head of yours.” His fingers resume their scalp massage, and my body melts even further into his body.
Do I tell him my thoughts? Maybe if I lay them all on the line, he’ll leave me alone. If he spent one second inside my head, he’d go running for the hills.
“No I wouldn’t.”
My face scrunches in confusion as I blink up at him. “What?”
“You said I would leave you alone, that I’d run for the hills. I wouldn’t, bear. No matter how many times you’ve pushed me away in the past, I’d never just walk away from you. You mean too much to me.”
You mean too much to me.
Click. Those words seem to heal a part of my wounded teenage heart, washing away my resolve to hate the man. In its place is confusion. Why doesn’t he hate me? Why is he here? Why…me?
I let out a long, exaggerated yawn as my mental exhaustion has finally caught up to me. Asher notices and, with minimal effort, lifts me up bridal style, my head resting against his shoulder. It isn’t until he reaches the landing that I begin to squirm in his arms.
“Asher, you can p-put me down. I’m too hea—” The look in Asher’s eyes is fierce enough to stop me mid-sentence.
“Don’t you dare finish that sentence.” His words come out as a growl, and I can’t help but jolt within his embrace. Asher notices my shock and winces.
“I need to have you close to me, bear. I just…Please?”
His pleading tone has me nodding my head in agreement. Somehow, I don’t fully believe he needs me in his arms. But I’m too tired to care, let alone dissect what he truly means. Asher pushes my door open with his shoulder—I guess I didn’t close it all the way—before putting me down on my feet.
“Thank you.” My tone comes out so softly that I’m surprised he hears it. But of course he does…He always does.
“You don’t have to thank me. I’d do just about anything for you.” His gruff, whispered confession slams into me, threatening to knock me off my feet. With my eyes trained on the floor as if it’s the most interesting thing ever, my head nods with the quickness of a damn bobblehead.
A soft groan has me turning to attention, and I notice Asher’s eyes are trained on my thighs before his tongue darts out to wet his lower lip.
What the—then I look down and freeze. Shit. I’m in nothing but an oversized t-shirt. In my nightmare-filled daze, I must have taken off my sleep shorts. Not that they would have covered much—they’re practically glorified underwear with my thunder thighs.
He’s probably disgusted by you. Don’t think for a second that he wants you. No hot, muscular man wants to fuck the fat girl.
“I-I’m…um.” I pull at the hem of my shirt, hoping it’ll cover my bumpy skin. My eyes blink at an alarming rate as I try to stop the tears that threaten to spill down my reddened cheeks.
He’s sure to run in the other direction now. There’s absolutely no way in…
“Beautiful,” Asher whispers.
“Bea—What?” I stammer. Does he not see what I see?
Asher stalks toward me, and I instinctively take a step back. We continue this pattern until the backs of my thighs graze against the mattress with enough force that I sit down.
Asher’s smile can only be described as pure sin, and his gaze like liquid fire. He kneels in front of me, gripping my chin in his hands before leaning in to whisper, “I said beautiful. You, Brianna, are so damn beautiful.”
“But you…No, you don’t mean that. You can’t.”
“And why not?”
“Well, for starters, you're my brother's best friend. Aren’t there, like, rules?”
“Fuck the rules. What else ya got?”
“Look at me, Asher. I have fucking stretch marks on every inch of my body.”
Asher glances down at my thighs before meeting my eyes “And?”
“I’m embarrassed by the marks on my skin. They’re an ugly reminder of everything that’s happened. So you paying attention to them so closely, it makes me feel gross.” Tears begin to form behind my eyes.
His rough thumbs gently brush the tears off my face.
Great. I had to go and vocalize my insecurities, and he’s now going to leave any second now.
I brace for the inevitable coldness that comes from his absence.
He does, in fact, get up, but it isn’t to leave.
He makes his way over to my bed, laying down without any regard to the sweaty sheets.
I’m completely dumbfounded, especially when he pats the space next to him.
“What are you doing?”
“You asked me to sleep with you. That’s exactly what I’m doing. So get over here.”
“Y-You don’t want to leave?” I ask.
Asher unknowingly holds my hope within his strong hands.
And when he pats the side next to him again, this time with a smile, I crawl over to him.
He pulls me in so we’re face to face as he brushes the hair from my face.
Our foreheads touch, and that clicking sound from earlier returns.
This time, it feels like a piece of my tattered soul clicks into place.
I feel Asher’s fingers trace the jagged lines with the most delicate, loving touch. Our eyes meet, and years of deeply buried yearning rises to the surface.
Safe.
In his arms, I feel safe.
“You may see these lines as a bad thing, but I don’t share that opinion. Your stretch marks are a roadmap to your story, to everything you’ve had to endure. And I find it incredibly sexy,” he growls.
Desire pools between my legs, and I have zero time to hyper-fixate on any negative thoughts with him staring at me so intently.
“Seeing them illuminated beneath the moon? You have no idea how badly I want to trace my tongue along every single line. But we’ll save that for another time. Right now, you need to sleep. You’ve had a long night.”
He presses a chaste kiss to my forehead, but it feels anything but. My toes ache to curl and my heart skips a beat.
“Goodnight, Bri. Close your eyes. I’ve got you.”
“Thank you, Asher.”
“Anything for you, bear. You’ll always be safe in my arms,” he whispers, kissing my forehead again before pulling me even closer to him. With my head nestled against his chest, I fall asleep with a smile etched across my face.