Chapter 29
Tip twenty-nine; send naughty messages, tease and entice them.
Ivy
I wake up, my hand already reaching for my phone before I have time to think it through.
And that sick, automatic feeling flares - the one that makes itself known before I can kill it - hope.
And then the way it dies the second my screen comes into focus.
No new messages.
I don't know what I expected. For him to message me? To fight for me?
My throat tightens anyway, like my body didn't get the memo that I'm the one who did this. That I'm the one who said the words to shut it down. That I'm the one who watched him accept them.
If that's what you want.
He said it like it took him no effort, like it didn't matter either way if we stopped whatever it was we were alluding ourselves into doing or we continued. Like it was easy for him to throw everything away.
The weight of everything presses down on me, making it hard to breathe. I stare at my ceiling like it has the answers I want.
Do I speak to him? Do I leave him alone?
I swipe through my notifications even though I know there's nothing there. Habit. Self-torture. Whatever you want to call it. My thumb hovers over his name without me meaning it to.
Asher.
It looks wrong in my contacts, like something that shouldn't exist. Like a secret sitting in plain sight.
I tap it anyway.
The blank message screen opens, bright and empty. A cursor blinks at me, patient and stupidly optimistic.
I type.
Can we talk?
I stare at the words. The cursor keeps blinking like it's waiting for me to be brave.
Then I add:
I didn't mean it.
My stomach twists so hard I almost sit up. My chest feels too tight, like I can't get a full breath without it catching on something sharp.
I didn't mean it.
Yes, I did.
No, I didn't.
I meant it because I had to mean it. Because if I didn't mean it, then I chose pain for no reason. I chose something temporary - something that was not going anywhere on purpose.
My thumb hovers over send.
My mind flashes with his face in the library - the way he looked at me for a long time. I almost thought he was going to say something.
And then he just agreed. Walked away.
And I don't know if he agreed because he respects the boundary I laid out. Of if it was just easy for him to let go.
He didn't push.
He didn't say, Ivy, don't.
He just... accepted.
The cursor blinks.
I delete the whole thing.
I lock my phone so hard the screen goes dark with a snap, and I throw it onto my pillow like it burned me.
My heart is hammering like I just ran up a flight of stairs.
I'm the one who said stop.
I'm the one who asked for space.
So why do I feel like this?
Voices drift up to me from downstairs and I freeze.
My stomach hollows out and drops.
I lie still and listen harder, like I can will one voice into existence.
Deep. Calm. Familiar.
Asher.
I don't hear him.
I hear Justin, though. I'd know his laugh anywhere - too loud, too easy, like nothing ever really gets under his skin even when it does.
I hear Mason's voice, and someone I don't immediately place, and Leon telling someone to shut up in that way he does when he's pretending he isn't happy to have them here.
I swing my legs out of bed and sit there, staring at my closed door.
Asher's probably down there with them.
I should stay up here.
I should avoid it.
I should avoid them.
Should avoid him.
My stupid brain repeats the last one like it's a guarantee.
Avoid him.
But instead, I find myself getting up, getting ready, brushing my teeth. My heart hammers the whole way down the stairs.
When I reach the bottom, the first thing I do is look around for him.
Then I curse myself for doing it.
But the worst part is? I don't see him. He's not here.
It should be a relief.
It isn't.
Leon's sprawled on the couch, controller in hand, feet on the coffee table.
If mum was alive she'd yell at him for it.
Justin's sitting on the floor, back against the couch, laughing at something on the screen.
Mason's perched on the armrest. Two other guys are in chairs that don't belong in this room - pulled from the dining table, dragged in, placed wherever there was space.
No Asher.
Leon notices me first.
"Morning," he says, casual, like I'm not standing here, staring around my house for his best friends shadow.
Justin's head turns. His eyes find mine and hold for half a second longer than normal.
He knows.
Not everything. But enough.
I try to avoid his gaze.
"Hey," I manage, forcing my voice to be calm, steady.
Mason lifts his chin. "Hey, Ivy."
"Why are you all here?" I ask, mostly to Leon, but the question tastes like something else in my mouth. Almost like I want to ask where Asher is.
I don't.
My eyes move to the empty space between the couch and the doorway - the place where Asher usually stands when he's here, shoulders filling the frame, gaze flicking over the room like he's cataloguing everything.
He isn't here.
My chest drops anyway.
He's avoiding me.
The thought hits hard and stupid and immediate, even though I was the one who started this. Even though I'm the one who has been avoiding him for days. Even though I literally told him to leave me alone.
But it still hurts.
It feels like rejection. Like confirmation.
I swallow it down so hard my throat aches.
Leon shrugs. "Day off. Figured we'd hang. You hungry? I've ordered pizza."
Of course he did. It's not even ten.
Justin's eyes stay on me like he's watching for what's wrong. Has Asher told him we're done? No, he wouldn't do that.
I don't and he turns away. I breathe a sigh of relief.
I smile instead, a small one. A practiced one.
"Cool," I say. "Sounds... fun."
Leon tosses a cushion at Justin. "Move, you take up half the floor."
Justin flips him off and stands, making his way to the kitchen. Walking past me.
He doesn't look at me as he passes and for that I'm grateful.
But then, quietly, like it's nothing, he says to me, "You okay?"
The words are normal.
The tone isn't.
Leon doesn't catch it. Nobody does. The words are just for me.
I look at Justin and roll my eyes like I'm annoyed. Like I'm fine.
"Yeah."
Justin's jaw tightens, just a flicker, then smooths. He knows I'm lying. I wish he wasn't so perceptive.
He nods once, like he's filing it away.
I want to rewind time.
I want to punch myself for thinking he'd fight for me.
For wanting him to.
I move, needing something to do. I grab my keys.
Leon calls from the living room. "Where you going?"
"Nowhere," I say. "Was just seeing what was happening down here. I'm going to go back upstairs."
Justin's head lifts, just slightly. A glance that says something I don't want to translate.