Page 41 of Wicked Titan

“Asshole,” I mumble, moving to look around the darkroom. I’d guessed that’s what room we’d been in last time Asher pulled his crap, but I hadn’t exactly had time or been in the right frame of mind to investigate.

He leans against the wall, watching as I explore the room. There’s a reason he’s pulled me into this room again.

A picture of the lake beyond the courtyard catches my attention. Mainly because it’s the lake that Asher and I took a swim in the first day of school. “Did you take this?”

He nods.

Hm. I’m impressed that tough guy, Asher Hastings, likes doing something as trivial as taking pictures. It’s baffling. “I figured you play sports or something. You know, where you can fight or throw things.”

He cocks his head to the side. “Never said I didn’t play sports. Some of us have multiple talents.”

“Sure.” I roll my eyes, knowing there is a sexual reference in his words but we’re in this room for another reason. This room must mean something to him.

Pointing around at the pictures, he shows me the ones he’s taken. Most are around campus or scenic photographs, but I love them all.

“These are really good.” He remains silent as I move in front of him. “Why are you showing me all of this?”

“No reason,” he says, casually remaining against the wall.

Everything Asher does is calculated with a determined—if delusional—reasoning behind it. “I call bullshit.”

Snaking an arm around my waist, he pulls me against him. Raising his other arm, he brushes his palm against my cheek, rubbing his thumb across my skin, reminding me of the moment he made the same gesture in the garage when he wiped my tears away. “A picture can hold more pain than a thousand lies.”

Another riddle to decipher, just like the complicated human being before me. “Care to elaborate?”

His expression remains unreadable, almost painful, as a knock sounds on the door. His voice is low and raspy as he whispers, “Time’s up.”

Clasping my hand, he leads me to the door where a student is waiting for his turn to use the darkroom. I’m lost in my thoughts, confused as ever about the many sides of Asher Hastings.

Giving us a knowingly look, the guy smirks as we walk out the room. Seriously? We weren’t even doing anything, yet I can’t stop the blush from spreading on my face.

“I have to get to class.” I pull out of Asher’s grasp, hurrying away without looking back at him.

I’m not embarrassed because someone thinks we did something in the darkroom. I’m embarrassed because I’d wanted to.

32

Tucking my legs to my chest, I lean my chin on my knees, studying the lifeless Corvette. A glimmer catches my eyes as I look to the immaculate Audi sitting beside it, the gold-winged pig hanging from the mirror reminds me of Nathan saying anything is possible.

There’d been so many times I’d wanted to ask Nathan questions at dinner, but didn’t.

It’s frustrating because I’m not sure if I’m scared of the lies it may uncover or the truth it might unearth. Either scenario will probably lead to pain.

Telling myself it’s best to figure out a little more about Nathan, I’d decided to play along with him and Candace. I’d even directed a smile Candace’s way at the dinner table. Putting on a show had been the hardest part of my day because I’d just wanted to scream, demand the answers that I fear.

The side door opens, and Asher steps inside the garage. I don’t move my chin off my knees as he strides over, hopping on the counter next to me, resting his back against the wall.

“You about done hiding away?”

“I’m not hiding,” I mumble.

“Then were you out here waiting for a rematch of our last round?”

“I know this news flash will hurt your precious little ego but not everything is about you, Asher.”

“Try me. I bet I can fix the problem.”

I clutch my legs to my chest. “I don’t think anyone can.”