by Bailey B
“I know what you’re thinking,” Corah beams.
No. I highly doubt she does. If she did, she wouldn’t be hanging on the arm of the man I love. Gloating. She would be running, because the things I want to do to her, to both of them, aren’t legal in fifty states.
“It wasn’t a big, fancy promposal, but I didn’t need anything glamorous. The way Lee Lee asked, it came from the heart and that’s what matters most.” Corah snuggles into Liam’s side and looks up at him like the sun rises and sets because he exists.
I know it does in my world. I shiver, feeling a chill as the actual sun dips behind a cloud. Ironic considering we’re inside and its rays barely shine through a nearby window. Still, I feel the darkness nonetheless.
“You must have been thrilled.” I force the words out, dying a little with each syllable.
Liam finally lifts his emerald gaze to meet mine. There’s no remorse in his expression. No regret for breaking my heart into unmendable pieces. What I find is worse.
Pity.
The bell rings and, for once, I couldn’t be more grateful there are only two and a half minutes between classes. If I have to stand here any longer pretending to be happy for these two, I might crack.
“We should go,” Liam says, leading both him and Corah towards A-hall. The same hallway I should be going to, but I can’t seem to make my feet move. I can’t bring myself to walk behind them and watch their happiness. Their circle of friends follow like peasants, eager for the attention of the king and his new queen. A few steps down the hallway, Liam looks over his shoulder at me. “See you tonight.”
“Are you okay?” Maggie asks once Liam has turned down the hallway. Her hand reaches out and I watch her fingers touch my arm. I feel nothing. My mind is too busy keeping my head above the swell of tears and holding onto a smile to process anything else.
“Yeah.” I don’t sound like myself. My voice is strained, cracking with emotion while coming out an octave higher than normal. “I just need a minute.”
Maggie’s perfectly plucked eyebrows knit together. Everything she wants to say is written on her face.
Don’t let that jerk get to you. He never deserved your heart. You’ll get through this. Everything will be okay.
But she keeps it all to herself. “Alright. I have my extra credit thing with Mr. Alverson today, but I’ll try to be done in time for lunch.” She pauses, studying me a little longer. “Are you sure you’re okay?”
I nod, my lips stretched tight across my face. The smile couldn’t be faker, but Maggie doesn’t press the issue.
After what feels like an eternity, she sighs and says, “Okay, sweetie. I’ll see you later, but text me if you need me.”
“Will do.”
The moment she rounds the corner of B-hall, the dam of tears I was holding together with scotch tape and band-aids cracks. The world around me blurs into starbursts of light as liquid pain trails down my cheeks.
I run into the nearest bathroom and press my back against the wall. I squeeze my eyes shut, forcing myself to take slow, steady breaths—a tactic my therapist taught me back in middle school when my social phobia controlled my life. Deep breath in. And let it out. One. Two. Three. Four. Five. It takes a few cycles for the pressure in my chest to decrease and the waterworks to dry up, but eventually I start to feel better.
A toilet flushes in a nearby stall and the nervous needles under my skin spring back to life. I can’t bring myself to look at who is here and see either a smug smile or a look of pity from someone who thinks they know what has happened. I keep my eyes closed, using eight-year-old logic of, if I can’t see you, you can’t see me. I know that’s not how the world works, but it makes me feel better.
The lock on the stall door slides open, metal scraping inside itself. Heavy footfalls take one step, and then two, and then stop. Silence eats away at my resolve to stay strong and keep my eyes closed. After the slowest five seconds of my life, I hear, “You look like shit.”
You’ve got to be kidding me!
My eyes snap open at the deep rumble that is uniquely Asher Anderson’s. He’s got this smoked-a pack-a-day rasp, paired with knee-knocking baritone pitch. If Snow White and the Prince ever had a son, it would be him. With hair as dark as a starless sky and moon kissed skin, the contrast is striking. But then you add in his eyes, a unique shade of amethyst that looks too perfect to be real. The girls around here all but melt at the sight of him. Liam may be the shining king of the school, but Asher is the prince wearing a crown of thorns.
Asher crosses the bathroom to wash his hands in the sink, shaking loose water droplets into the porcelain bowl when he’s done, never breaking eye contact. Not even when he reaches for a paper towel from the dispenser.
“Get out!” I scream, unable to take his patronizing stare any longer. This is the girl's bathroom for Christ’s sake. Is this man so heartless as to beat me here just to inflict more pain on my already bleeding heart?
Wouldn’t put it past him.
I’ve known Asher all my life. Our parents—mine, Liam’s, and Asher’s mom—used to be friends. I still remember the stories my mother would tell about how excited she was for all of them to be pregnant around the same time. We were a heartbeat away from being a B-rated version of the sitcom Friends if they’d all had kids.
Until one day when everything imploded.
As for Asher and I, we drifted apart in the sixth grade after he ridiculed me for getting my first period. As if I wasn’t embarrassed enough to find a puddle of red when I stood to jump into the pool, Asher let everyone at that birthday party know what happened. He even went as far as calling me shark bait the rest of the year. Liam thought it was hilarious. I wanted to die.
“Perhaps I should say the same to you.” Asher chuckles and leans his ass against the sink, crossing his long, muscular arms.
My jaw drops. This is my bathroom. He… My train of thought is lost as I take in my surroundings. The girl’s bathroom has more than two stalls and it doesn’t have urinals.
No. No. No! I cover my face with my hands, mortified. Could today get any worse?
“It’s cool,” Asher guffaws. “No one will walk in on us if that’s what you're worried about. Besides, it looks like you need a moment.”
I let my hands fall to my sides, shoulders rolling forward. I know Asher’s sympathy will come with a price, but I do need a minute’s peace. I don’t know how I’m going to make it through lunch and my next three classes. Everyone is talking about prom and now all I’ll be able to think about is Liam and his stupid promposal. “It’s girl shit. I’m fine.”
“You don’t look fine.” Asher steps closer, crossing the tiny bathroom in only three strides.
I turn my head and stare at a phone number someone scribed onto one of the stalls. I hate looking at Asher. He makes my stomach jump and my heart flutter at the same time. One a feeling of irritation. The other… not going there.
Asher tucks his knuckle under my chin and lifts, forcing my gaze back to him. “You look like Liam stomped all over your heart. Again.”
I jerk my chin free of his grasp and lean back against the wall. I’d rather touch the cream-colored tiles with all its grimy germs than him. I hate him. I don’t hate him. I don’t know how I feel about Asher. Things between us are… complicated. Always have been.
“You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Don’t I though?” Asher chuckles again. The dude laughs a lot, only it never sounds happy. There’s always a hidden layer of darkness or sorrow or something straight up evil in it.
Asher steps back and grabs the door’s handle. He tugs it open and steps out, leaving me alone in the boy's bathroom. I take a second to gather my thoughts, grateful to finally be alone.
I shake my head, irritated that he thinks he knows me. Knows what I’m feeling. Asher doesn’t know jack shit about having a broken heart. He’s the heartbreaker, just like Liam, leaving a trail of tears wherever he goes.
To me, this
is the hardest part of the book to write because there are so many wonderful people who help make each story come alive and every time I get to this page, my mind goes blank.
First and foremost, I want to thank my BFF Alexandria James, who put her debut novel on the back burner to beta read/edit/help me not loose my sanity through out this process. Without her picking my brain and helping me to organize my thoughts, this book would still be sitting in my massive pile of incomplete projects. (Shameless plug…her amazing vampire paranormal romance is available in May!)
A special thank you to Elizabeth Murphy for being my star beta reader. I would be lost without your attention to detail and your suggestions.
My editors Beth at Magnolia Author Services and Lily at Partners in Crime Book Services, you ladies rock. Your attention to detail has this book polished and shining.
A huge thank you to my Mom for reading everything I write, even if it makes me cringe when she gets to the dirty bits.
To my kick-ass PA, Becky… you make it possible for me to focus on writing. Without you I’d be a squirrel of half thoughts, open giveaways, and with a dead Facebook group.
To my husband who likes to give me grief when I spend too much time typing but gets on my case when I haven’t touched my computer for a week…I love you.
To the bloggers and bookstagrammers who bring my stories to the world. You are amazing! I cannot begin to express how grateful to you I am.
To everyone I’m sure to have forgotten because I’m Dory’s second cousin twice removed and feel like I’d forget my head if it wasn’t attached.
Finally, I’d like to thank my readers. Every time you open one of my books, you make my dream come true.
Thank you.
Xoxo
Bailey B.
About the Author
Bailey B is an up and coming New Adult author. She lives in Lehigh Acres Florida with her husband, twin girls, and two fur babies. She enjoys (but doesn't get to take part in because of her crazy daughters) the simple things like Disney+ binge watching, Netflix romcoms, reading and sleeping. She reads two to three books a week and thinks if narwhal's are real animals then unicorns might be too.