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Asher grins easily, and I watch his lips, mesmerized like a total ninny. “I’ll take a glass of the something.”
I let us in, and Asher goes right to the couch in the living room and takes a seat, throwing one arm out over the backs of the cushions.
“Don’t make yourself at home or anything.” I’m just teasing, and he knows it. I guess it might be my poor attempt at flirting, but god, I’m out of practice. And really? Am I really flirting? Because if I was just flirting, it needs to stop in the worst way.
I’m not sure what counts as something, but I figure water is a safe bet since everyone probably likes water. After I pour two glasses and down one, I figure maybe Asher doesn’t drink tap water. Unfortunately, it’s all I have, so I bring it into the living room and set it down on the coffee table.
“If that something isn’t to your liking, I can get you something else.”
“Sounds good.” He tips the glass to his lips, and as he swallows back the contents in two big gulps, his Adam’s apple bobs. “Ahhh. Nope. That something was great.”
I guess we were both parched.
I take the loveseat across the way and try not to stare. Asher, on the other hand, doesn’t have any qualms about eyeing me openly and with interest. He maintains eye contact, though, and he doesn’t let his gaze stray over me, so I’m not sure why I suddenly feel like I’ve just gone up in flames the same way the fence in the backyard met an untimely end.
“I should apologize…” I guess that’s the best way to start what I’m sure is going to be a long ramble. “For making it seem like I wasn’t grateful for what you gave me.”
“I know you weren’t ungrateful. You just had to put up a fight because it’s who you are, and I knew you’d be both angry and uncomfortable when you found out. It’s me who should apologize. I should have had more tact.”
It takes me a second, but when I finally let out a little laugh, it turns into a full-on belly-busting kind. “Oh goodness…” I pant. “I’m apologizing for receiving it, and you’re apologizing for giving it. That’s quite a pair.”
Asher grins at me and seemingly decides that I’m open for awkward conversation because his next question would blow my socks off if I were wearing any. “It was nice meeting your parents tonight. When do I get the pleasure of meeting some of your friends?”
“Oh no! We are not doing that. My parents loved you, by the way. The next time I see them, they are no doubt going to harass me about dating you for real. My friends would probably love you too. But I don’t have that many. No, that sounds bad. I know lots of people, but my close friends are the ones I’m talking about.”
I’m embarrassed to admit that I’m a bit of a workaholic, and life is just kind of busy the rest of the time. Not that I really admitted it, at least not out loud, but I know it. I’m also pretty ashamed to be sitting here, just thinking about that now, about how I got so caught up with all the silly things that don’t even mean anything that I haven’t talked to some of my friends in ages. Also, a lot of my friends didn’t really like Byron, and I made the classic mistake of being loyal to him and not to them.
“What’s wrong with me meeting them then?”
If Asher can change the subject and bounce around, then so can I. “Thank you for taking me out tonight. It’s the first thing I’ve done in a long time that was fun. Other than the other night. That was pretty fun too.”
Asher’s right brow arches and the corner of his mouth draws up with it. “Yeah? Why not invite your friends next time?”
Great. So we’re back to this. “I don’t know…”
“Do you have a best friend?”
“No. I never actually had one, even growing up.” I remember how much that used to bother me until I became old enough to realize that having any number of people who care about you is a great thing. They don’t have to have the label of bestie to be in your corner and be there when you need them.
“Neither did I. The way I was raised made that kind of impossible.”
“That’s shitty.”
“We moved a lot and bounced around all over the place. You can imagine the rest. Anyway, I have lots of friends now. Kind of, sort of, whatever. It’s on the bucket list—make a best friend.”
I open my mouth, slam it shut, then open it again. “That’s probably not a bad item to add to a bucket list. Not bad at all.”
