Chapter 15 #3
His confused glare searches mine. “You’re not shocked?”
I shake my head, voice quiet. “I’ve wished the same,”
He watches me for a long moment.
“Who are you?” he asks, not like it’s a joke. Like he genuinely needs to know.
I hand him the bottle, then answer with the only truth I can offer.
“In all honesty, I don’t know. I’ve never had the space to find out. Every time I try to get somewhere, try to break the cycle, I get dragged right back down. But I’m done letting it happen. I’m going to claw my way out of this mess. Even if it kills me,”
The quiet that follows feels different this time. Lighter. Less like we’re drowning, and more like we’re floating.
Asher raises the bottle. “To breaking free. And maybe, if we’re lucky, our fathers die in their sleep tonight,”
He drinks, then hands it to me with a grin that’s half broken, half sincere.
I raise it too. “Here here. But make my father’s death slow and agonising,”
He chuckles, and it’s the first real laugh I’ve heard from him. It warms something inside me.
I take a long drink and sink deeper into the chair, the blanket tucked around my legs, the buzz in my veins soft and safe.
I breathe, I really needed this.
***
We chat back and forth for what feels like hours. Not a care in the world, only the passing of the bottle back and forth and laughs like we have been old friends for years.
The Asher before me is a different man all together. His eyes are bright, and his smile could light up any room. I thought his scowling face was attractive enough, but my lord, happy carefree Asher is something else entirely.
We have covered the topic of schooling, embarrassing moments, what I think of the Academy and fucked up things our fathers have done. Obviously, I adlibbed a bit on my stories because they would no doubt horrify him.
“So, what are your plans after the Academy?” I ask as he shifts in his chair.
“Take over the company,” He shrugs. “I’m the heir. I don’t really have a choice,”
“You always have a choice,”
He shakes his head. “I don’t, but it’s okay. I want to run the company; I enjoy working with all the different aspects of the conglomerate,”
“And bossing people around?” I scoff.
He grins. “And bossing people around,” He repeats. “What about you?”
I tilt my head side to side. “Hmm. I haven’t really thought very far ahead,” Because I thought I would be dead by now, at the hands of my own father. “But I think I might like to travel. See the world and experience what it is like to be surrounded by good people,”
“Where would you go?” He asks and he is truly interested. Not for filling the silence or asking because I asked him.
“I really want to see Europe. All the cities, the museums and architecture. I want to feel sand between my toes for the first time before spending the day watching the ocean,” I imagine it in my mind, the days I will spend strolling with not a care in the world.
“And I want to get chunky from tasting all the delicious food,” I laugh, but Asher looks confused.
“You’ve never been to the beach?”
Crap. Too much sharing. I got way too comfortable tonight and I clear my throat. People with the status and money to attend an Academy like this have holiday homes in numerous European cities, at the very least they have been on a single beach holiday.
I clear my throat, too late, now time to lie. “My father is always too busy, and like I said, they aren’t really the caring type,”
“I’ll take you to my families place in Italy for spring break,” He nods as if it’s set in stone, and I wish it was.
I’m not delusional enough to think things have completely changed between us because of this drunken night.
Not only is he inebriated, but he is also still Asher Vander.
I am still the girl lying to everyone and as soon as I find Marlowe, I will be gone, way before spring break.
Before my mind can spiral again, one of my favourite songs kicks in, and Asher lights up.
“Fuck,” he laughs, nearly tripping as he turns up the speaker. “I’m hammered,”
His voice is loose and boyish, pulling a grin from my lips.
“Come on, little vixen,” He extends a hand, tipsy but inviting. “Dance with me,”
The familiar chords of The Middle by Jimmy Eat World fill the room. I hesitate, just for a breath, then decide: if this is all I get with him, then I want to feel it all.
I take his hand, and the moment it closes around mine, everything shifts. I crash into his chest and we both laugh. He spins me, the world tilting with him, and then he’s bouncing on the balls of his feet, head bobbing along with the beat.
I throw my arms above my head, eyes closed, letting the music and the moment pour through me. When I open them, he’s wrapped his tie around his head like a bandana, dancing like he’s straight out of an ‘80s teen movie, all limbs and abandon.
He turns to me, shouting lyrics completely off-key:
“Live right now, and just be yourself,”
He points dramatically.
“It doesn’t matter if it’s good enough, for someone else!”
I scream the lyrics back and jump onto the nearest chair, arms flailing like a rockstar in a dive bar. Asher follows suit, stepping up onto his with a wild grin as the guitar kicks off. We both leap down together, howling laughter echoing between the stone walls and the firelight.
He catches me. Holds me close. One hand pressed between my shoulder blades, the other curled around my waist like he’s afraid I might disappear. Our foreheads meet, breath shared, hearts almost too loud in our chests. His eyes burn into mine as he sings the next line, softer now.
“It just takes some time, little girl, you’re in the middle of the ride…Everything, everything will be alright,”
He’s not looking at me. Not really. He’s seeing me, in a way no one else has. Even drunk, even messy, he’s trying to hold me together with only his voice.
A new song pulses through the speakers, but we don’t move. We’re caught in a hush between beats, tethered by something thick and unnamed.
And then he lowers his face.
I should pull away. I should. But I don’t. I want this, God, I want this. His lips brush mine and time holds its breath. It starts soft, almost cautious, until I loop my arms around his neck and pull him down to me.
That’s when everything breaks.
The kiss deepens into something wild, hungry, all tongue and teeth and the taste of whiskey.
His hands run over my sides, gentle and searching, but the way he kisses me is anything but.
It’s a contradiction, fire and tenderness in the same breath.
Like he’s trying to unravel me and put me back together at the same time.
But then…
Guilt.
Sharp and immediate, slicing through the lust like ice water. You’re kissing Asher Vander. The boy you’re lying to. The one whose sister’s name is inked to your secrets. The boy who will never forgive you if he finds out.
I break the kiss, chest heaving, eyes wide. He frowns, leans in again, but I stop him with a hand pressed to his chest. His arms stay around me, holding tight.
He whispers, “Are you okay?”
I shake my head. No. No, I’m not. The alcohol is messing with my sense of logic, but not enough to erase the facts. I want him, but I need the truth more.
If I can’t have him the way I want, then maybe… maybe he can still help me.
“I think Bronwyn is the latest in a long line of girls to go missing,” My voice cracks. “And someone’s covering it up,”
The room stills. The fire seems quieter. Asher steps back just enough to inspect me, brows furrowed as the alcohol fog starts to burn away. His jaw tightens, muscles ticking, as the gravity sinks in.
Marlowe’s name sits on the tip of my tongue. My sister. My motive. My truth.
Would he understand, if I told him? If he knew everything, every lie, and every omission, would he still be here, holding me like this?
I study his face.
And in the flickering firelight, I watch the shift: confusion, then anger, and finally, a quiet, exhausted kind of acceptance.
His shoulders fall with a sigh.
“I think you’re right, Nancy Drew”.