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“Deal,” he agrees, and we both head in the direction of the grandstand, through what used to be the food court. The place is so quiet that I could probably hear a pin drop from the other side of the building.
“So, you weren’t hooking up with Whitley while you were gone?”
Asher stops short and turns to face me, his expression dead serious. “Not even once. I never saw her while I was gone.”
I nod, waiting for his question.
“Does any part of you still want Jackson?” He doesn’t waste any time asking. I think he more than knows the answer to this question, but I give him the reassurance he needs.
“Not even a little bit,” I say with the same sincerity in which he answered me. “He was nice. You were gone.” I shrug, as if that’s all there was to it. There wasn’t much more than that, to be honest.
“Are you going to leave again?” I ask, voicing my biggest fear.
“Probably,” he answers honestly. His head is down, hands in his pockets, as he angles his body toward the dark sky through hollow windows while I die a little inside.
“Why did you help my dad?”
I suck in a breath. I knew this one was coming. “I’m sorry,” I start, but he puts a hand up and stops me.
“That’s not a straightforward answer, Bry.”
“Okay.” He’s right. “Um, because I felt bad for him. I felt that he truly regretted how he treated you. And I knew that he was still your father. I wanted to take care of him for you. It made me feel closer to you, too.”
Asher doesn’t speak. He stares out at the silhouettes of palm trees against the night sky, and I can see the tension in his jaw. I decide to hit him with a not-so-loaded question.
“Did you miss me?”
“Every fucking day. Even when I despised you.”
“Why did you—” I start to ask, but he tsks and wiggles a finger at me.
“It’s my turn.” Oh. Right.
“Did you miss me?”
“So much it hurt.”
His eyes snap toward mine.
“What are we?” I ask, even though my heart is in my stomach waiting for his response.
“I don’t know,” he says, coming closer. He moves my hair off my right shoulder, bringing his mouth close to my neck. “What do you want to be?” His breath dances across my exposed skin, and I shudder with anticipation.
“Everything.”
“We can’t,” he rasps, curling a hand around my thigh and lifting. I wrap both legs around his waist, and he backs me up against the pillar behind me. “I can’t give you that. Not yet.”
“But, I don’t want to stop this,” I argue.
“I can’t stop this,” he agrees, reaching to unbutton his pants. I use the heels of my shoes to push them down, and then I feel him there. Warm and hard and ready.
“So, we keep doing this, but—”
“But we don’t tell anyone,” he finishes.
“What are you waiting for then, Kelley? Fuck me.”
His eyes fill with heat, and he thrusts forward, showing me exactly how much fun secrets can be.
