When it starts to rain and a few drops of water land on my face, I only just about manage to swallow down my groan of irritation. I think I probably could’ve kept walking with Asher all night long without getting tired or bored.
‘We should probably call it a night,’ I murmur as the droplets falling to the ground pick up in speed.
Asher nods and I wonder if I’m imagining that he looks as reluctant as I feel. ‘Agreed.’
We head towards the main road so we can call for our cars before an umbrella becomes strictly necessary.
‘I’m glad we did this,’ Asher says as we wait. ‘It was nice not pretending to hate you for a little while.’
I laugh softly. ‘It was very nice. We should do it again.’
He hums in agreement.
The car I called pulls up to the kerb first, rain misting the windows in soft streaks. I open the door and then hesitate.
‘You know,’ I start. ‘It’s a shame that we had to meet under… well, you know. Thecircumstances.’
He tilts his head, watching me with a quiet, steady gaze that makes my chest tighten slightly.
‘I just mean,’ I say, shrugging lightly in an attempt to mask how wistful I suddenly feel for a world in which Asher and I could’ve met with no strings attached, ‘if we’d met somewhere else with no drama, no spectacle? I think we’d probably be good friends. I don’t know. Maybe even great ones.’
His lips curve into a slow, deliberate smile. The type of smile that makes everything else blur around him. ‘Yeah,’he says softly, almost like he’s saying it to himself. ‘I think I’d have liked that.’
My heart does a ridiculous little flip, and I force myself to nod farewell. ‘Goodnight, Asher.’
‘Goodnight, Imani.’ He doesn’t step back from the kerb immediately and walk to his own car. Instead he lingers, eyes locked on mine, and for a moment it feels like the world has shrunk to just the two of us.
I think about stepping closer and offering another high-five or even just brushing my fingers against his, but I get the sneaking suspicion that if I did, I wouldn’t want to let go.
So instead, I settle into my car, close the door and watch him through the tinted window. He doesn’t look away as my driver pulls off, and neither do I.
CHAPTER THIRTEENImani
It doesn’t take long for me and Asher to become regulars on @TrustFundTea, and I’m not sure how to feel about that.
On the one hand, it means that the ‘create enough social chaos to force my father to pull the plug on this whole idea’ aspect of our plan is working exactly as intended. On the other, I’m not entirely sure how much more humiliation I can take.
My entire life up until now has revolved around maintaining the Davies brand. Perfect grades. Impeccable manners. Supporting the right causes. Being seen with the right people in the right places. Every single move has been over scrutinised and examined to make sure I’m not doing anything to bring the Davies name into disrepute. And in just two months, I’ve destroyed a lifetime of soul-crushing work.
I guess my father has trained me better than I thought,because every time I see my face pop up on @TrustFundTea’s stories or main feed, I want to crawl into a hole and never come out.
When our evening at The Opal Vault pops up less than an hour after I get home, I watch and rewatch the shaky video of Asher and I trading barbs over candlelight, unable to look away even though I desperately want to.
The caption is straight to the point:Davies vs. Vouvalis Round Two. Place your bets, darlings. It gets thousands of likes and comments within twenty minutes of being uploaded.
The horrible, pinching feeling that settles in the pit of my stomach as I doom scroll through the comments doesn’t go away. In fact, it only intensifies.
@nellie247:If i was worth £50 mil you can bet your ass i wouldn’t be caught dead fighting over appetisers
@princesspenny:Asher Vouvalis finally emerges from his cave and THIS is what he does?
@user4232:are rich people OKAY???
And it only gets worse from there.
Someone snaps a few well-timed photos and videos of Asher and I glaring daggers at each other from our seats at a charity art auction a few weeks later and submits them to @TrustFundTea before the day is over.
It’s the kind of event where you can buy a piece of aggressively conceptual art for less than the cost of a small yacht and still feel like you’ve done something charitable.
