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“Tell me,” I urge, my voice dropping so no one hears us. “Please, Asher.”
He blows out a long breath but gives me what I want. “When you broke up, he was having your funds pulled. Your dad went up to the office to find out what happened, because I’m assuming he got a letter. His mom runs that shit and, I don’t know what he told her, but you were going to get kicked off the art scholarship.”
“Why? I didn’t do anything.”
He shakes his head. “No, you didn’t. He did. He fucked Samantha Evans, and she was going to run and tell you.” I pale and his face falls practically to the floor. “How do you not know this, Mags?”
Tears burn the back of my eyes out of pure embarrassment, and I know he can see them because he’s searching my gaze for the obvious ignorance of this whole story.
I broke up with him because he was a pushy asshole. His football career was his first love, and I was his side bitch. And I didn’t need his full attention, I just wanted some.
“Mags, I’m sorry.”
“Can you walk me out? I need to get home.”
He nods immediately. “Sure. Do you want me to drive you? I can have my sister drive your car home.”
I shake my head, already rising to escape the breakdown that’s going to be evident as soon as I leave the parking lot. “No, I’m fine.”
“Your scholarship is fine now,” he tries to reassure me. “It’s all taken care of for as long as you plan on going to college.”
“How?” He’s following me out of the bowling alley as I hit one of the double doors, leading out with fury.
“I threatened that I wasn’t going to play football anymore if they were going to treat you like that. I was going to quit the team and transfer.”
It’s like my body hit a brick wall because I’m stilling and frozen to my spot as Asher passes me before noticing I’m not in step with him anymore. He turns to face me, annoyance painted along his handsome features.
“What?”
“You’d stop playing football…because of my scholarship?”
“Yeah.” His answer is immediate as I gape at him like he’s insane. “What?”
“Are you…nuts?”
He shakes his head, tongue pushing out one of his cheeks. “No. I’m just making it known that no one is gonna fuck with my future wife and expect me to play along with their agendas. I’m not standing for that shit.”
Then he pivots straight toward my car and doesn’t bother waiting for a response from me. He has it all planned out. He demands respect.
And this man wants to go on a date with me.
I don’t know if I should be more afraid to not agree, or that he’ll turn the whole town against me if I don’t.
