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I’m not listening to her.
My focus is on the tattoo lines snaking over the top of his bicep, rippling with every step he takes.
The T-shirt is glued to his six-pack like a second skin. His damp hair sticks to his forehead. The dark strands are begging to be pushed back, gripped, combed.
A few guys walk on either side of him, but he doesn’t seem focused on them. Since his aviators are gone, I can finally see his expression.
His eyes are lost in an indifferent zone, like nothing really matters to him. It’s so similar to my gloomy cloud, which tells me to just let go.
It says there’s no use in being here.
Maybe Asher doesn’t like people to see that expression. Is that why he wears sunglasses all the time?
Except, well, he’s usually friendly with everyone around him—except with me.
It could be he’s putting up a façade, too. I always catch myself faking smiles in front of the squad and everyone at school.
Asher’s dark eyes meet mine, and my world shifts for a second.
How can a look hold so many promises and threats and…something else I can’t identify?
A slow humming starts at my spine and twists the bottom of my stomach. This is what it feels like to be caught in someone’s orbit.
It’s dangerous. It’s wrong. It’s…thrilling.
My gaze finds his mouth, that warm mouth that isn’t as cold as the rest of him. I’m taken back to that time when those lips and teeth and tongue were all over my neck, my ears.
Me.
I cut off eye contact and quicken my pace to the gym.
Still, my body temperature won’t go down, and my heart beats as if I were the one running.
In the gym, Prescott and the other guys are practicing some throws with the girls. Bree stands at the head, huffing and screaming at them to do better.
Everyone pauses upon my entrance, and Bree stares back with an impatient look. When she sees me, her brows scrunch together. “You’re here.”
“I am.”
“You should’ve seen her with Asher just now,” Lucy says in a dreamy voice. “You guys are the best couple ever. You can feel the chemistry in the air.”
“That’s not true!” I shout as if she spoke blasphemy.
“Shut it, Luce.” Bree snaps her fingers. “Go warm up.”
The latter ducks her head and heads to the locker room.
“Stop being so mean to her,” I tell Bree, crossing my arms.
“Mean? What are you talking about?”
It’s like this is a normal occurrence. Hell, I could’ve been exactly like her in the past.
Bree inches toward me but keeps her hawk-like gaze on the team. “So, who’s the target of our next dare?”
“No one,” I say loud enough for everyone to hear. “That nonsense will end now.”
She laughs but leans in to hiss, “Even you can’t change the rules, Reina.”
