04 | The Party Of The Century . . .Whatever
The library is quiet, the cursor blinking back at me as I stare at Ashers completed assignment with the man himself beside me, working on another one, glasses perched on his nose and dark hair falling into his face.
The pen clutched between his finger taps against the page in sync with the blinking cursor and the ticking of the clock.
He catches me staring, raising a questioning brow as those grey eyes of his brush over my features.
I'm not sure where the words come from, but suddenly, I'm saying them. "I think I need to put some of your tips into-" I fade off as he turns his body fully to face me, "-practice."
Asher stills, his pen poised over his work. I see something flicker in his eyes, something that looks like surprise, maybe even shock. He recovers quickly, though, his expression smoothing out into that calm, collected mask he always wears. "What do you mean?"
I swallow hard, suddenly aware of how fast my heart is racing. "I mean... I've learnt all this stuff, but reading about it isn't the same as doing it, right? I should probably, you know... try it." I feel my cheeks heat and I curse my fair skin for exposing me like this.
His brow furrows slightly, and his voice is more clipped than usual. "And when do you plan on doing this?" He's watching me closely, his eyes intent, like he's waiting for something specific.
I shrug, trying to play it off as casual, but there's something heavy in the air between us now, something I can't ignore. "Maybe tonight. At the party."
Asher goes very still, the air around us thickening. "Tonight?"
"Yeah," I say, looking at him carefully. He's not acting any differently—same posture, same neutral expression—but something feels off. "It's not a big deal. I'll just... find someone and see what happens."
His jaw tightens, just barely. If I weren't staring at him so intently, I wouldn't have noticed. "Who?" he asks, his voice low.
"I don't know yet," I admit. "There's this guy I've seen around campus a few times. He'll be at the party. Maybe him."
Asher doesn't respond right away. He leans back in his chair, eyes narrowing slightly, like he's assessing me. Finally, he nods, but it's stiff, almost mechanical. "Alright. Let's see how it goes."
· · ·
The party is raging. An inferno of sweat, lust and even a little bit of anger mingling in the air. Friendships aren't the only thing that will be tested tonight and judging by the cheering and sound of fists against flesh coming from the back of the house, it has already started.
I slip between two writhing bodies, the two seeming more content to dance their way towards a mindless fuck then find a private room.
Charlie had disappeared towards the drinks station and then I'd lost sight of her with all the moving bodies.
Aiming for the stairs, I move up them to escape the dancing and find solitude.
I do not find solitude upstairs, but I do find spin the bottle.
Harlow Graves waves me in when she sees me standing at the door and my brows furrow, having never seen a nice look from that girl aimed my way but I step in hesitantly.
"Hurry up, Ash."
I startle and look behind me, noticing Asher behind me, whose eyes settle on mine. His body is tense, but he dips his chin at me, eyes moving around the room before narrowing slightly and settling back on me.
I follow his line of sight, seeing what's caught his attention and see Dylan. He's the cute guy that I've seen around campus, the one I told Asher about. I look back to Ash but he's moving into the room, slipping past me, joining the circle of drunk uni students, his steps unfaltering.
I, on the other hand, try to find a way to escape without him noticing. When I said I wanted to put his tips into practice, I didn't mean in front of him or a group of people I hardly know. My eyes settle on Dylan for the slightest second and he smiles. "You playing, Ivy?"
My eyes move from Asher to Dylan and back, seeing Asher staring hard at Dylan.
Harlow's eyes swing to me and narrow, "I'm sure she has friends she can go-"
"C'mon, Ivy. You can sit next to me." Asher cuts Harlow off and pats the spot next to him.
I straighten my shoulders and slip further into the room, ignoring the many pairs of eyes on me and move to sit beside Asher before Harlow's body stops my descent.
"Sorry, didn't mean to bump you." She settles in beside Asher, her elbow rubbing against his and then leans forward until the skirt she's wearing rides up her thigh dangerously.
I sigh and sit down beside Dylan, fingers twisted together. He smiles at me, the boyish charm he's always had pulling me in.
I can do this.
Harlow doesn't wait for anyone to say anything before she spins the bottle, giggling drunkenly when it lands on a boy across the circle who gives her a wink and stands up, leading both of them into the closet nearby.
I furrow my brows at the conversation that starts up, and drop my shoulders, content to listen to everyone else talk while I just sit here and Dylan leans over to murmur out of the corner of his mouth, "how long before we hear an over-the-top moa-"
He's cut off when said over the top moan leaves the confines of the closet followed by wolf whistles and cheering from some of the boys in the circle.
I grin, glancing around the circle, my eyes stopping on Asher and seeing him watching the conversation between me and Dylan.
He looks away, jaw ticking as the closet door opens again and Harlow exits, fixing her skirt.
She takes her seat again and then hands the bottle to me, giving me a sweet smile.
"Your turn, Ava."
I narrow my eyes at the name, knowing full well this girl knows who I am but then Asher is speaking. "Ivy." He corrects Harlow but he doesn't take his eyes off me.
I swallow.
"That's what I said." Harlow huffs and points a finger towards the bottle. "Spin the bottle,"
I place the bottle back on the carpet and with a beating heart, I flick it into a spin, refusing to look at Dylan or Asher as it spins and spins, my pulse quickening as it slows.
It lands between two guys.
Asher watches the bottle with a blank look before dragging his eyes up to mine.
Blake gives me a lecherous smirk. "Two at once-"
"It landed on you Blake." Harlow interrupts and moves from the floor to open the closet door and usher us in. "C'mon, fast games a good game."
Blake smirks at me as he makes to get up.
It's only seven minutes. It's only seven minutes. It's only seven minutes.
I stand.
Before I can react, Asher stands and steps forward. The movement is so sudden, so unexpected, that I freeze. He strides over, his jaw tight, and without a word, he picks up the bottle and stands, turning toward the closet that the game is apparently centered around.
I blink, confused. "Asher—"
He doesn't say anything. He just grabs my hand and pulls me up, leading me toward the closet. I don't protest. I don't think I can protest. The room seems to have gone quiet around us, but I'm too focused on Asher's grip, on the way his hand is wrapped around mine, firm and unyielding.
When the door closes behind us, the world outside the small, dark space disappears. It's just me and Asher, the air thick with something I can't name.
I stare up at him, my back pressed against the wall. His chest is rising and falling with deep, controlled breaths, but there's something raw in his eyes, something I haven't seen before. "What are you doing?" I whisper, my voice barely audible.
"I'm not letting you practice with some random guy," he says, his voice tight, almost strained.
"But—"
"You were right" he interrupts, stepping closer, his body so close to mine I can feel the heat radiating off him. His hand comes up to cup my cheek, his thumb brushing against my skin. "You do need to practice; reading can only do so much. You need more."
I can't move. I can't breathe. My heart is racing, my pulse pounding in my ears. "What's that?" I manage to ask, though my voice is shaking.
"How it feels."
His words hang in the air, heavy and dangerous. He's so close now, his forehead resting against mine, and I can feel the warmth of his breath against my lips.
"You don't need some random guy to teach you that," he murmurs, his thumb tracing the line of my jaw. "I'll show you."
I should be shocked. I should push him away; tell him this is a bad idea. But I don't. Because deep down, this is what I want.
"Asher..." I whisper, and my head is shaking.
I feel his hand drop and he steps back in the small space but I stop him, my hand falling to rest on his wrist.
he stops, his eyes flicking between mine curiously. "Tell me what you want?"
My mind goes back to what he'd said, how he said he'd teach me and -
I cut the thought off, willing my mind not to go there but my eyes move anyway, settling on Asher's lips.
They quirk to the side. "Ivy?"
I shiver races down my spine at the way he says my name, the way his lips form the word.
"What do you want to know, how to kiss, how to blow-"
My cheeks redden, the heat shocking me from staring at his lips long enough to glare at him.
He chuckles, lifting a hand to skim my cheek. "You're always blushing."
I step out of his reach, "cause it's not me, I don't do this shit." I snap.
His brows furrow and he moves closer. "That's not a bad thing."
"Wow, cool, look at the blushing virgin."
His brows rise and anger seems to simmer at the edge of his words, "you're not though, are you?"
I glare back and his face smooths. "I didn't mean it like that, I'm sorry." He breathes out a sigh, "let's just forget that, tell me something you want to focus on?"
My eyes drift back to his lips unbidden and my stomach tightens.
"Do you want me to kiss you?" He sighs, the words tight.
I startle and glance up, shaking myself out of my thoughts and feeling embarrassment wash over me like a tsunami.
I'm staring at him like a creep and here he is just trying to have a fucking conversation. Get ahold of yourself Ivy.
"You don't have to treat me like some desperate fangirl."
I see his eyes flash and then I see nothing, my eyes shut from the shock of feeling Asher's lips on mine, his hand moving to the back of my neck to keep me there and my back hitting the closet wall.
The kiss is soft, short and sweet and then he's pulling back.
"I don't think you're desperate." He says against my lips, skimming them with every word.
I can't say anything back, my heart choking me and stopping me from saying anything.
I look into Asher's eyes, seeing my own reflection in them before he's murmuring again.
"Do you want to practice kissing?"
I blush, like an idiot. I can feel his lips as they stretch into a grin. "Well?"
I nod.
His lips smooth down onto mine, my heart beating harshly into my chest.
Fuck. Fuck. I cannot have a crush on Asher. I will not. I am stronger than this.
I force my mind to think of this like an experiment, an exercise and not like I'm kissing one of the hottest guys at my school.
A hand slams against the closet door, shocking me away from my thoughts and Asher's lips, head banging into the wall and Asher smooths a hand over the affected area and swears viciously under his breath.
"Times up." Harlow yells, and giggles and hoots erupt outside. "Time to leave, pants on or off." She laughs at her little joke and mortifications hits me.
Asher steps back, his eyes looking at me intently and I avoid them with every fiber of my being before scooting past him to reach for the door and exit, leaving the room and the eyes and whispers behind me until I'm walking back to my car with a pounding heart and headache.
There was no way that was seven minutes.