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My heart instantly starts to pound inside my chest, to the point where I wonder if anyone else can hear it. There’s no question as to who it’s from, and the small hope I had that he doesn’t remember me is long gone.
Re-folding the note, I shove it into my bag and grab the stuff for my next class.
THROUGHOUT THIRD AND FOURTH periods, I can’t seem to focus on anything but the piece of paper practically burning a hole through my bag. Even the way he wrote it, all scrappy and hard, shows his frustration. The only thing I know right now is that I’m running out of time to figure out what to say.
I take my time at my locker and wave goodbye to my friends as they leave. Lennon gives me a hug and makes me promise that I’ll call her as soon as I get home. Then, once the hallways clear out, I swallow the lump in my throat and head to Asher’s classroom.
It’s now or never.
6
ASHER
I pace back and forth in front of the chalkboard, running my fingers through my hair and pulling in frustration. How the fuck did I end up in this mess? It was one thing having to come and teach these brats, but to find out that one of them is the girl who gave me a night I can’t seem to fucking forget? This all feels like a bad joke, like I did something to royally piss off the universe.
After Tessa left that morning, I couldn’t get her out of my head. I thought maybe it was the environment. Every inch of the hotel room reminded me of her: the way we crashed through the door and practically fucked against the wall; the sounds she made that filled the air. It was like I was drowning in the urge to have her again.
So, I went back to my penthouse—and the thoughts came with me. I started picturing all the places I would fuck her in there. The way she would look if she were naked in front of my fireplace, wrapped in a thin, white sheet. No matter what I did, she was there, in the center of my mind, with no intentions of going anywhere.
Hell, I even went back to the club hoping to see her again. That happened more times than I’d like to admit, and Colby eventually told me I need to get over myself. That if I did find her, there’s no guarantee she would still be interested. What we had was clearly a one-night stand. She knew it as well as I did.
When I got to work this morning, I was already in a bad mood. I spilled coffee on myself right before I left the house. Colby decided it would be fucking hilarious to replace my sugar with salt, so when I took a sip of my morning liquid gold, needless to say, it tasted like shit. I spit it out and in the process, poured it down the front of me. Douchebag.
It’s like he gets some kind of kick out of messing with me. He’s been up my ass lately about cheering the fuck up and not walking around like my entire life got screwed in a matter of a couple months—but it did. He still has his dream. He has no idea what it’s like to have everything you’ve ever wanted in the palm of your hand, and watch it get ripped away.
A quiet knock sounds against the door, bringing my attention to it before Tessa steps inside. Even just seeing her again has my blood boiling. She closes the door behind her, straightens her shoulders, and turns around.
“Hey.”
My eyes widen. “Hey? That’s all you have to say to me right now?”
She crosses her arms over her chest. “What else should I say? You called this little meeting.”
“Oh, I don’t know. Maybe Hi, Asher. I’m so sorry I lied about my age and didn’t tell you I was a student in high school before we fucked.”
“Shh! Someone might hear you, dumbass.” Stopping for a second, she lowers her own tone as well. “And I didn’t technically lie. You never asked me how old I am.”
My jaw locks. “I didn’t think I had to! You were in a club, drinking alcohol. That normally means you’re at least twenty-one.”
The way she scoffs shows me she’s not taking this as seriously as she should. Then again, why would she? It’s not her freedom hanging in the damn balance.
“Like you’ve never used a fake ID.”
Truthfully, I haven’t. Sure, I drank underage—almost everyone has—but it was at house parties or in college. There was never a need for me to get a fake ID, let alone time to use one. I take a deep breath, trying to rein in my anger before asking the question I’m afraid to know the answer to.
“Are you even legal?”
She smirks for a moment, and then drops the façade. “Yes. I turned eighteen in January.”
Eighteen. She’s fucking eighteen. At least I didn’t break any laws, but Jesus fucking Christ, she’s so young. Instead of dwelling on that, I give myself a minute to breathe. I’m not going to jail for statutory rape.
Leaning against my desk, I shake my head. “I’m practically old enough to be your father.”
“Okay, first of all, ew,” she chuckles. “And second, unless you were having kids at age ten, that’s a lie.”
I
cock a brow, turning to look at her—which is a big fucking mistake because she still looks just as gorgeous as I remember, and the prep school uniform is not helping one bit. “How do you know how old I am?”
