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It's Asher.
After years apart, and with unresolved emotions surrounding our breakup, last night’s unexpected moments of passion swirl around in my mind. Everything about Asher, from his mesmerizing green eyes, to the feel of his hard body holding me, broke through all my barriers and it was impossible to keep him at arm’s length any longer.
Asher sleeps heavily on his stomach with an arm flung out over me while he lets out soft snores. I gingerly lift the arm bearing me down, and stifle a laugh as he lets out a protesting snore. I stop and wait for him to relax back into sleep before trying again.
I manage to lift his tree trunk of an arm, and slide out of the bed and onto the floor. I wait, lying on the cold floor as I listen to him roll over and shift positions. Finally, when I don't hear any response to my escape, I creep across the floor toward my discarded clothes.
As quietly as I can, I gather my clothes piece by piece, putting them on while trying not to make a sound, watching for signs of Asher waking. Finally dressed, I move to the door and turn back once more to look at Asher's sleeping form on the bed.
My body freezes, stuck and unmoving. Asher has a tattoo of a dragonfly on his chest?!
The revelation almost floors me. He got a tattoo of my nickname. How did I miss that last night? Oh right, I was too distracted by the feel of him inside me.
I exit the room, pulling the door shut quietly as I wonder about my decision to leave before he wakes. I’m too much of a coward to find out what this means for both of us, what that tattoo means. I need time to think. I can’t go through that again. I can’t take the risk.
As I make my escape from Asher’s room to my own, I realize that being with him again has awakened feelings and desires that I thought were long buried. I've spent so many years convinced that he betrayed my trust, and that we were better off apart.
Back in my room, I gather my things and take a quick shower before getting dressed. I have a flight back to Willowcreek leaving in three hours. I was prepared to miss my flight and reschedule, but now that I'm up and out of Asher’s bed, my mind is running through a marathon of emotions about last night and the past.
Why didn’t he fight for me back then? Fight for us? I had been hurt and betrayed, but I still expected Asher to vehemently deny the accusations, to fight for our love. Instead, he seemed to accept our breakup at face value, and just let me go. That had left me feeling even more lost and wounded.
I just have to get out of this hotel without Asher catching up to me. If I see him and he asks me to stay, I don’t know if I will have the will to say no. And I need to think and understand my feelings more before I can know what this means moving forward.
An hour and a half later, with no sight of Asher coming after me at the hotel, I'm at the airport waiting for my flight—but also waiting for my phone to ring. Asher is either still tired and asleep, or he is giving me some space.
It was a real chicken thing to do, running out on him like that. But I tell myself we’ll see each other back in Willowcreek, and by then, I should have my head on straight. I hope.
On the flight back, I wonder if this might be a new beginning for Asher and I. I can't deny that I still care deeply for him, but I don't know if it’d be wise to restart a relationship with him.
Ever since the end of high school, I’ve come to expect that all the men in my life would let me down. First my dad, then Asher. I haven’t opened up my heart since. Now, I’m wondering if I made a huge mistake.
In my seat on the plane, I lean my head on the window and look out onto the scene below. The memory of the first time he asked me out is fresh in my mind like it happened yesterday. It was one late evening while we were hanging out alone in the Treehouse, waiting for the others to join us.
The summer is hot, so I sit by the window in the Treehouse on some cushions I stole from my mom. Old man Kendall hadn’t thought to make furniture so the whole place is just an empty room.
Now and again one of us will bring in things we need to make the place cozier. Kylie has a giant crochet blanket she is still in the process of finishing. Madison has a kid's table from when she was little that sits in the middle, acting as our food table. Knox has some windup lamps that we use for light when we are here late enough for it to get dark. Jaxson doesn’t have anything here, but he brings alcohol sometimes. And Asher has board games, cards, and stuff for us to amuse ourselves with.
Asher is here with me, sitting on the balcony and waiting for the others. I can climb up here and be fine in here, but hanging off an extended platform is too much for me. I just feel like any second it could break, and anyone out there would fall to their death.
I ask him to come back inside, but he says it's too hot inside. I keep looking back over to him, just to make sure he is okay. I don’t know what I would do if something did happen to him.
“You know, you could come and sit with me,” he says, attention still on watching the side of Mrs. Kendall’s house for the others.
How does he know I’ve been watching him? “Asher, you will never get me onto that death plank.”
He turns and gives me a smile. “Come on, Dragonfly, you can’t still be scared of heights now that you’re a flier.”
I raise an eyebrow at him. “I trust the people tossing me, just like you trust your defense to keep you from getting decked. I trust this tree to hold up the treehouse sitting in its middle. But that plank out there hanging off in the air held up by a few pieces of wood, I don't.”
He gets up and walks over to me, his bulk making the space seem so much smaller. He’s always been so much bigger than me, even when we were kids. He sits beside me, commanding my attention.
“What do you want, Asher?” I ask, a little bit apprehensive about his nearness.
“Come on Dragonfly, we’re friends. Can't I sit close to you?”
“Asher, you're making me nervous. What do you want?” His nearness always affects me and I think he knows it. Sometimes, like right now, he approaches me just for the fun of seeing me bothered.
“Sam…” He clears his throat and fidgets.
