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Asher doesn't say anything, just looks at me for a moment longer before turning and walking back to his car. I follow suit, putting my keys down my bra so they can't be taken.
We slip back into our seats, putting on our seatbelts without any words passing between us. I let out a relieved breath when he starts the car and pulls out of the carpark, back towards Wheels.
The car ride is silent, with nothing but our breathing filling the space between us. I don't know how I feel about it, but I do know I need to put as much space as I can between myself and Asher. He has a habit of bringing out my weak side. But he doesn't get to do that.
Not anymore.
As we pull into Wheels' carpark, he parks next to my Chevy. I immediately unclip my belt and start opening the door to make a break for it.
Asher doesn't say anything until I start to close the door. Even then, the door slams closed the words I unmistakably heard.
"I miss you."
"Where have you been and why do you look like you've been at a funeral?"
Phoebe is sitting on the couch, phone in hand as I stroll into her place.
"I went out to see an old friend," I offer, closing the door behind me and avoiding her gaze.
I heard the clink of her phone being put down on the coffee table, and I prepare myself for the onslaught of questions I know are coming.
"Talk to me, Rylee. What's really going on? I've been home for awhile and you didn't answer your phone when I messaged you."
I head straight into the adjourning kitchen, looking at her from across the counter. "Vodka or wine?"
Phoebe stands up, crossing her arms. "That depends. What does this call for?"
Holding her gaze for a second, I reach for the vodka and she lets out a half-laugh.
"Right. That bad, is it? Let me get some food ready. I don't want you vomiting all through my bathroom."
I start pouring us some vodka and orange juice, giving her a defensive glare. "That was one time. I hold my alcohol better now."
Phoebe brushes past me, opening the fridge door and pulling out some cheese, dips, antipasto items, and the baguette from the counter.
"Sure. No offence but judging by the look on your face, you're about to smash that vodka like it's Henry Cavill. So, better to be safe than sorry."
I lift up my vodka sunrise, and take a sip. "I'd smash him every day of the week. Multiple times."
She laughs in reply, chopping up food and putting together the snacks on a plate. "Me too. So, are we going to talk about it, or are you just going to keep avoiding my questions?"
"I haven't avoided anything," I argue.
"You've been avoiding telling me the full truth since you got here. Scratch that – since you left. Now, you and I both know there's more to it. And I could assume… but you know what they say about that. Do us both a favor, and just spit it out so we can deal with it before you implode."
I look at her doubtfully. "What if you don't look at me the same?"
Phoebe scoffs in reply, throwing a piece of cheddar at me. "You know me better than that. Don't insult our friendship. Now come on. Start talking, Rylee."
I catch the cheese and shove it in my mouth. I down it back with the remaining vodka and orange juice in my glass, earning me a warning glare from Phoebe. To save time, I grab her glass and drink the contents of that too.
"Hey! That's mine," she says playfully.
I put my head on the counter and mumble into my arm.
Phoebe sighs. "I can't hear you. Speak up."
I lift my head, the vodka slowly starting to make me brave. Phoebe finishes getting the food ready and turns to me, hand on hip as she waits.
