10. Asher
TEN
Asher
I can’t believe I forgot to charge my damn headphones. It’s the last straw. This promotional tour has been one giant pain in the ass. And the worst thing, well, there are two fucked-up things. One, they paired me with Tyler Wannek—fucking wanker. He’s been the biggest douche from the moment I stepped off the plane in Melbourne for the first leg of the tour. And two, I fucking miss Wiley.
Replaying our kiss over and over every night before I go to sleep has made getting said sleep next to impossible. Juggling my commitments to the Dingoes and this damn book hasn’t been easy. On more than one occasion, I’ve nodded off while talking to Wiley. She’s been forgiving, but I’m hating myself for every minute I miss with her.
Stretching my legs out on the hard plastic seating at the boarding gate area, I’m not looking forward to the last leg of this tour. Sixteen plus hours on a plane where I can’t stretch my legs out because that fucking wanker Tyler convinced the woman at the check-in counter that he needed the seat for his dodgy knee. Fucking asshat.
I get that I’m lucky to be doing this and that everything has been paid for. I just…
“Move your feet, dipshit.” Peering up at the man who owns the voice, I cock my head to the side and cross one foot over the other, leaving them where they are.
“Walk around, asshole.” If Tyler wants to trade insults, I am happy to oblige, but I won’t let him fluster me. Not here.
“If we weren’t in an airport?—”
“You’d what?” I cut him off, making a fist at my side, ready for whatever stupidity Tyler has in mind.
“You know what? You’re not worth all the hassle,” he hisses, popping his neck side-to-side. “Enjoy your middle seat, cocksucker. I know I’m gonna love the premium economy upgrade I just scored.”
A smirk a mile wide, one I want to smack right of his smug face, taunts me as he moves over to the seats assigned to premium economy. Of course, he got an upgrade. Like what the fuck did I do to the universe? Was I some mass-murdering asshole in a previous life? Seriously?
“I hope you choke on a nut,” I call out, Tyler flipping me the bird over his shoulder.
Just a few more days and I’ll be back home, I tell myself, sighing heavily. All this will be a bump in the road and I have a lot to look forward to. Wiley has agreed to come down to Sunshine Bay for a few days. Mandy pitching in to help me unpack everything, finally, so my house doesn’t look like a bomb hit it. Still want to smack the shit-eating grin Tyler’s throwing my way off his face, but all assholes have their day.
Checking my phone, I haven’t heard from Wiley in a few hours. I know she said she had a big job to do, but I miss her cute texts. The ones she sends me of her pulling faces telling me about her day. I miss the sexier ones even more. God, but that woman has a dirty fucking mouth on her. I fucking love it.
I shove the phone away and rifle through my backpack in search of the book I bought on a whim. Some sexy romance thing, I heard Wiley and her friend Ines talking about when I called her one day. Wiley can talk footy with me till the cows come home, and I love that she understands the game. I don’t get makeup, at all. The things she mentions, concealer, primer, and fixing spray. I’m not sure I ever will. But I can read a book. In fact, it was something I enjoyed when I was younger. Maybe not a ripping romance as Ines yelled down the line at me, but it’s something I can do to be more a part of Wiley’s world.
Opening the book to chapter four, I settle back and start reading, when an announcement comes over the intercom system.
“Calling Mr Asher Scott. That’s Mr Asher Scott. Please come to the desk for flight UA842.”
As the announcement repeats, I grab my bag and head to the desk, but I have to walk past Tyler to get there.
“Looks like the whole world knows you’re a bastard and they’re gonna kick you off this flight,” he jokes, laughing, pleased with himself.
“More like they want me to confirm how much of a fuckwit you are,” I bite back, and keep walking, reaching the desk. “Ah, hi. I’m Asher Scott. You just called me to come over.”
“Yes, hello,” a woman with the name tag Ursula, smiles at me. “I’ve got some great news for you, Mr Scott. You’ve been upgraded.”
Is it terrible of me that I want to rub that in Tyler’s face? Probably, but then the thought occurs to me that I might be stuck sitting next to him for the next sixteen hours. “Wow, that’s great, thanks. But can I ask one favour? Please don’t sit me next to the asshole in the grey hoodie over there.” Jerking my thumb over my shoulder in his direction, Ursula looks that way, and I swear she smirks.
“Not going to be an issue, Mr Scott. You’re actually being upgraded to first-class.” Ursula’s laugh must mean I’m pulling a face, right? I have to have heard her wrong.
“Can you repeat that?”
“Follow me, Mr Scott.” She waves me across to a door. “Let’s get you settled in your private cabin.”
“That’s it, kick his nasty ass off the plane,” Tyler calls out, the other passengers looking at me like I’m some kind of leper.
“You enjoy your premium economy, Wannek,” I call back, my inner asshole grinning like a fool. “I won’t be thinking about you from my first-class cabin.”
As the door shuts, I can hear Tyler cursing up a storm, and it makes my fucking day. Not that getting upgraded isn’t awesome. But pissing him off is pretty damn good.
“Um…not to complain, but why am I being upgraded to first-class?” I follow behind Ursula as we take a set of stairs and head down the jetway to the plane.
“When you get to your cabin, I’m sure things will make more sense,” she says cryptically, and all I can do is follow her onto the plane. “And here we are. Let me stow your bag for you.”
When she said private cabin, I thought she meant one of those cubicle things where your seat turns into a bed. Holy hell, this is way beyond anything I imagined. Each space is its own self-contained cabin, with the best of everything. Luxury leather seating that I assume turns into a bed. Cushions that feel like a damn cloud, a tablet for work or watching T.V. even my own window.
“I’ll be back later to show you how to convert your seat into a bed, Mr Scott. Please, make yourself comfortable. Champagne is coming around, and we’ll be departing within the next forty minutes.” Before I can ask her how this happened again, she’s gone, down the thin aisle between all the cabins and out of sight.
There is every chance I’ve fallen asleep in the departure lounge, drool dribbling down my chin. I mean, how often do you get upgraded to first-class? However it happened, I step into the cabin and slide the door shut. I’m able to stand to my full height and turn in a complete circle, checking everything out. After a moment, I pick my jaw up off the floor and sit in the extra wide seat and spot a curious thing sitting on the small shelf to the side. A present, perfectly wrapped with a red ribbon on it. Is this what Ursula meant when she said it would make more sense? If so, she was so wrong. This makes it even more confusing.
Reaching for the present, I spot a tag and turn it over to see just the letter A on it. I’m intrigued even more now and carefully undo the ribbon. I prise the lid off and pull back the tissue paper and lose my jaw to the floor again.
Staring up at me is a photograph of Wiley in nothing but the Dingoes jersey she wore to my game. Her hair is over one shoulder, wild and wavy, and she’s kneeling on a bed. I take the photo from the box, and find there’s more than one. Flicking through each one, she’s managed to capture the barest peek of her ass cheeks and the underside of her breasts. Each photo sensual and fucking sexy as hell. My cock is hard as fuck and I want to murder whoever took these photos for seeing her like this. The last one is by far my favourite.
Naked and laying prone on the bed, she’s used the jersey to cover some of her body and I want to be that fucking jersey so bad. Holding the photo in one hand, I grip my cock with the other, rubbing it up and down and wondering if it’s still classed as joining the mile high club when you do it solo, and the plane is still on the ground.
On cue, the pilot announces we’re ready for take-off and the screen in front of me turns on with a safety message and video. Thank god no one comes around to check that I’ve got my seatbelt on, because that would be awkward with the hard-on I’m packing. The sounds of the plane gearing up for take-off echo through the cabin, but all I can think about is Wiley and I pull my phone out, sending off a message.
Asher
You’re fucking naughty
I’m not sure how long it will take her to respond, but as the plane taxis down the runway, her profile pic pops up, and the three dots bounce on the screen.
Wiley
Oh? Why’s that?
Asher
Did you know about the first-class upgrade
Wiley
Maybe
Asher
Fuck, Wiley. I can’t say take it back because I’m already in the seat, but, damn. How the hell did you swing this?
Wiley
A girl’s gotta have secrets
Asher
What, like the damn sexy as fuck photos you left me, which, by the way, thanks for the hard-on that I’m gonna have to deal for the next sixteen hours
Wiley
You liked them, then?
Asher
Liked them is a fucking understatement, Wiley. All I can think about is getting my hands on your body. By the way, whoever took those photos is dead
Wiley
Perhaps you need some help with that issue…
I would fucking love some help with it, but we’re already an hour out of Sydney and I can’t see how texting is gonna make this any better.
Asher
You’re very funny. I swear I’m gonna make that ass of yours pink when I see you again. Making me suffer like this
Wiley
Hmm…what else do you want to do to me?
Asher
Wiley…
I take my fingers off the screen, my thoughts on what I want to do to Wiley; with her. I can’t even put it into words.
Asher
Wiley…I wish you were here right now
I drop my phone as the door to my cabin slides open and a fucking devilish vision stands before me. Wiley, in nothing but that jersey. I scan up the length of her body as she slides the door closed. My heart hammering in my chest, I pray this isn’t my imagination playing tricks on me.
“Consider your wish granted, cute boy.”