Chapter 37
Days blended together. I wasn’t sure how long I’d spent under my blankets this time, but it was enough for sour body odor to set in. Not a pretty sight or smell.
My dreams were over, my relationship was over, and all drive to do anything besides sleep had driven off without me.
I missed Luke. Every haggard breath from my lungs reminded me of his whispers.
Every heartbeat was his against my body instead of my own.
So many times, I’d picked up my phone, typed him a text, only to erase it.
The simple act of saying “hi” would be enough to make me walk back every hard-earned inch I’d taken for myself.
I’d done the right thing. Maybe? No, I meant, yes, I had.
No one should force a person to come out.
That wasn’t what I did, and I hoped Luke hadn’t taken it that way.
But as much as I wanted him to live the life he wanted, I had to do the same too.
He might grow to resent me one day, the reminder that he couldn’t be openly in love, or maybe I would.
I didn’t want to hate him, so I had to stop while I still loved him.
Self-sabotaging? I couldn’t see any way around it.
“Savannah is here to see you,” Percy said. He’d been in my dorm room more than not lately.
I mumbled something that was supposed to be “I’m not up for it,” but even I couldn’t understand what I said.
“She brought some peanut butter cookie things with sprinkles.”
Aunt Penny’s special cookies, I’d bet. They were so good, but not enough to tempt me out from under my grief.
“Ash,” Savannah’s soft voice spoke to the blob of my blanket-covered head. “Wanna come to a Valentine’s event with me?”
That was an overwhelmingly fuck no. I didn’t even want to move, much less shower or dress up.
“Percy’s going,” she added.
“Savannah said she’d spruce me up as she’s done for you before,” Percy said. “Dorian is going as my straight date, but I’m gonna make him kiss me.”
I snickered in spite of myself. Percy was relentless in getting Dorian to admit he had a twinge of queer in him.
“Men give better head. It’s science,” Percy had said to Dorian once.
“How would you know? You’ve never done it.”
“We can fix that right now.”
“No, Percy. You’re not sucking my dick.”
“You, sir, are no friend of mine.”
These guys were the best; all my friends were. They kept trying to push me into the living, and maybe I’d moped enough. I wasn’t sure of the protocol, the allowable depression time frames, being my first breakup and all.
“You’ll feel better once you’re all dressed up like Cinderella.”
“No,” I snapped. If I never dressed like a girl again, it’d be too soon.
“Bad analogy. Sorry,” Savannah said.
And now I felt like shit. I flipped the covers off my face. “I’m sorry for snappin’.”
She wrinkled her nose. “You stink.”
“Kick me while I’m down.”
“You get in that shower, and I’ll suck your dick,” Percy said.
I chuckled. “How about I’ll get in the shower if you don’t?”
“Fair.” He shoved from behind while Savannah grabbed my hands and pulled me to my feet.
“Wait.” I swayed because I hadn’t been upright for a few days. “How did you get in here?” The RA would have a shittin’ fit if he knew a girl was in my room.
“I’m resourceful. Come on.”
Savannah led me to the bathroom, got the shower going, and left me to it.
I had to admit the steam cleared my head a little, and the smell of soap was preferable to whatever had died in my armpits.
Though it wasn’t Luke’s bodywash or shampoo or cologne or laundry soap.
Hell, I’d rub myself down with a used dryer sheet of his if it were here with me.
Ugh, I missed him so much.
Fresh tears mixed with the streams trailing off my head and were easily washed away, but my red eyes told on me when I emerged. Savannah had set up a mini salon at my desk and was in the process of applying makeup to Percy’s eyes.
“Oh, Asher,” she said, then hugged me. “Will you come with us tonight? You can fake it ’til you make it.”
I tried for a smile and failed. “What is it? What sort of event?”
“Uh, it’s a Valentine’s thing, but before you say no,” she rushed on, “it’s a good cause. A children’s hospital thing.”
Savannah flipped a gilded invitation into my hands. The card stock was thick, and dark red letters on a faint pink background gave the time and place with a dress code requirement of black tie.
“Luke,” I whispered and traced the words with my fingertips. Would he be there? I couldn’t imagine him being at every event in the state, but I’d run into him so many times before. Would I risk it?
Would I survive?
“I dunno.”
“I doubt he’d be there,” Savannah said, applying pink shadow to Percy’s eyes.
“Why not?”
She shrugged, not taking her eyes off her task. “It’s not the same as those other events. The same company, I mean.” She straightened and winked. “I got a new contract. He kept showin’ up before, but those were planned by Creative Style. This one’s different.”
I reckoned that made sense, but I was clueless about the event industry. The prospect of not seeing him was worse, though. God, I was a mess.
“Fine,” I bit out and stomped to my closet. My tux was even more ill-fitting since I’d lost weight from the last time I’d worn it.
Savannah offered to do my makeup, but I vehemently declined. No fucking way would I do that again. I gave in when it came to my hair, but hell no on anything else.
“Is that a new dress?” I asked as Savannah worked her magic. She wore a red, slinky thing that had Dorian’s eyes bugged.
“Uh, yeah,” she said, somewhat evasively, but maybe she was focused on making me pretty. I was reading too much into it. Too nervous. Too excited too.
She finished with my pompadour, and Dorian asked, “We ready?”
Percy gushed over how hot I was, and Dorian rolled his eyes. Savannah called him out for acting jealous and that it made him gay. But Dorian wouldn’t be ruffled. I applauded him for knowing himself well enough to not give in or get offended by being teased so much.
A black SUV waited for us in front of the dorm, and the suspicion that this was more than they were letting on wiggled inside my brain once again.
Dorian’s family had money, but Savannah didn’t. I didn’t. Percy didn’t. Who was paying for this ride? Where had Percy and Dorian gotten their perfectly fitting tuxes? And the new dress? Savannah evaded every time I asked, and then Percy would distract me with something outrageous.
Or maybe I was still bruised and uncertain all around, disbelieving, and raw from—Luke.
Twenty minutes later, we pulled under the porte cochere in front of a hotel I didn’t recognize. Everything was decked in red, pink, and silver, with a large sign announcing the Sweetheart Rose Ball.
“A ball? Really? You said party,” I accused.
“Eh.” Savannah shrugged. “It should be fun.”
Dorian nodded. “Free food and booze.”
My stomach rolled. This was a bad idea.
We unloaded and followed a stream of other guests in their tuxes and glittery dresses.
More than one group checked us out, but I was determined not to let it bother me.
I doubted I would find Luke’s parents here, but every older couple seemed to judge us as if they saw past the outerwear to our merger net worths.
And I hated that my view of people was forever skewed, tainted. That that was my initial thought of these strangers when it never had been before. Maybe they had RBFs, or maybe their upper lip really did stink, as Momma would say.
Dorian and Savannah left me and Percy to grab drinks at the open bar.
“They better not come back with mocktails,” I grumbled. “I need strong shit.”
“I’m still three years away from drinking legally.”
“Oh, right. I missed your birthday. Sorry ’bout that.”
Percy shrugged. “Whatever. No matter how many I have, I never catch up.”
I smirked and patted his head. He dodged my hand and snapped his teeth at me like a feral brat.
“But you’ll always be the cutest,” I said.
“That’s true.” He shrugged. “But am I cute enough to turn a straight man gay?”
I rolled my eyes and huffed. “Give up on that one. Dorian will never turn gay.”
“Not him. He’s like the brother I wished I’d had instead of my stupid sister. I just like messin’ with him.”
“Have you talked to your family lately?” I asked.
“Nope. They didn’t reach out for any of the holidays or my birthday, so fuck them.”
“Fuck ’em.”
Savannah and Dorian came back with drinks for all of us.
“These are chocolate martinis,” Dorian said. Each glass was rimmed with pink sugar. So festive. Percy declined, so Dorian finished his for him. My eyes watered at the first few sips, but I soldiered on. Drunk was a great companion for depression, right?
As a group, we mingled. Percy gushed over the table of sweets. Everything was heart shaped, even the normal food. Gross. So much red and pink and chocolate. My blood sugar rose just from smelling it.
“This was a bad idea,” I said.
No matter the reason, children’s hospital or not, there was no doubt this event was for romance. Mood lighting, rose petals, and silk drapes. Soft classical music played in between sappy love songs.
“I can’t.” I shoved my empty glass at Dorian.
“Whoa, okay.” He fumbled with it for a moment, then dropped it on a random table.
“Asher?”
The three held expressions from confusion to pity.
“I can’t …” I waved around as if that explained everything. “This is too much. I’m not ready for life to move on.”
A few of the couples near us turned.
A sane person might’ve lowered their voice. A right-minded person might not’ve wanted to cause a scene.
I was neither.
“What’re you lookin’ at?” I barked.
“Asher,” Savannah said, tugging on my sleeve.
A few of those nearest returned to their own business, but not all.
“What?” I asked anyone listening. “You think slathering a room in pink and red will make everyone happy? You think this mends broken hearts or, or, or helps whatever cause you’re here for?
It doesn’t. Life sucks, no matter how cute you make it.
No matter how you dress it up. Sometimes your only choice is shit.
Sometimes you have to hurt the one you love. ”
“Asher, let’s head over—”
“No. I’m not done.” I shrugged off Savannah’s hold, shaking my head and sneering at the disapproving faces around us. “I’m not—” I cocked my head as I stalled at one particular face. “Is that Tate?” I blinked, then jerked. “Jamie?”
I cut across the dance floor toward them, the questions around why they were here lost with my outrage from seconds before. Both stood in their tuxes, and even more shocking were Wren and Michael, also in tuxes, standing next to them.
And Momma.
And Ben.
“The fuck?” I half huffed, half laughed, then screeched to a stop, my shoes literally squeaking on the floor.
Luke.
A group of women, some older, but others young and pretty in their pink, glittering dresses, stood in a circle around him.
His mother smiled and laughed with the others.
Was his wife-to-be among them? Was this another attempt to stud him out?
Georgina wasn’t there. Who this time? An oil tycoon’s daughter? A fucking princess?
I dropped my chin and balled my hands so tightly, the joints popped.
Luke’s eyes were on mine. Sad eyes. Wary, pain-filled eyes. Eyes I’d missed much more than I knew.
“Luke,” I whispered.
As if he heard me, as if I’d pulled his leash, he jolted forward, disrupting the women, who cut off their laughter and conversations with gasps. I stayed frozen, as much in shock as them.
Luke barreled right for me, a sexy determination in his stride, hands loose and jaw set. He cut a line through the dancers, not stopping, not dodging. They moved for him.
I swallowed hard, which didn’t make a dent in my scorched throat.
He stopped, right here, inches from me, and extended his hand.
“Will you dance with me?”