Before I can even get my seatbelt unbuckled, Asher has turned off the car, gotten out, and run around the front end to open my door. This surprises me. It’s not that Asher isn’t an all-around nice guy, because he is. But I’ve never seen him so enthusiastic about doing something as simple as opening a car door for me. As I unbuckle myself, Asher reaches his hand into the car to help me out. I’m not exactly sure what all this behavior is leading to, but I decide to just go with it. I grab his hand, and get out of the car. Asher shuts my door for me, but doesn’t let go of my hand.
“So, seriously, what is this place?” he asks, trying to shield his eyes from the glare with his free hand.
“You’ll see when we get inside. I promise you’ll like it.”
Since Asher is still holding my hand, I drag him up to the door. As I pull it open, the old-school ding goes off, and it makes me smile. I have been to Rush what feels like a million times over the course of my life, and yet I could never get tired of coming here. I take a deep breath in through my nose. It always smells heavenly in here—a mix of chocolate and pure sugar.
“It’s a candy store…like a real, old-time candy store! When you told me I was taking you somewhere called Rush, I couldn’t imagine what on earth would be called that. But it must be for sugar rush.”
I turn to look at Asher, and he has the biggest smile I think I have ever seen spread across his face. “I told you you’d like it. Come on!” I tug on his hand, and he follows. To our right, in the window, is a taffy-pulling machine. In the case on the same side of the shop is just about anything you could think of dipped in chocolate, or white chocolate, and every flavor of fudge you could imagine. All over the rest of the shop are jars, barrels, baskets, and other containers full of colorful taffy, licorice, gummy bears, jaw breakers, rock candy…the list goes on and on. “I think you will like this right over here.”
It’s a good thing he’s still holding my hand, or he probably just would have stood there in the doorway, staring at everything around him. I stop in front of a bushel basket full of root beer barrels. “But—how did you know?” He’s just standing there, still as a statue, ogling the brown candies.
“Are you kidding me? You always have root beer barrels lying around. You’ve got a bag in your locker, I think one in your glove box, and I know your mom has a standing order for ten giant bags of them every Christmas. Or did you forget that I happen to work at the hardware store during weightlifting season?”
“I didn’t forget, I just didn’t think you paid enough attention to notice my addiction to a soda flavored pieces of candy.” He smiles at me, then asks, “So how does this work?”
I point to the stack of baskets sitting next to the taffy display. “You grab a basket, and put anything you want from this side of the shop into it. When you’ve got everything you want, you bring it over to that lady at the counter, and she’ll put it all into a bag and weigh it to figure out how much it will cost. Then, if there’s anything you want from the other side of the store, they package it up for you, kind of like the deli, and then you bring it all up to the register at the front to pay for it.”
“So it’s all just by weight? Like, no matter what kind of candy it is?”
“Exactly.” He just can’t seem to stop smiling, which of course makes me smile. “I would say you look like a kid in a candy shop, but…”
“That’s precisely how I feel!”
“Well, I’ll leave you to it. Grab a basket and choose whatever your heart desires…as long as you can pay for it.” I wink at him, then let go of his hand to grab my own basket. I can’t help but feel a sense of loss now that I’m not touching him anymore.
I walk around the store, trying to decide what to buy. Since I just got back from volleyball camp, and two weeks before that I was at All-State Choir camp, I don’t exactly have a lot of dough in my back pocket. It’s not like you can babysit the neighbor’s kids when you’re out of town. But I was sure to save up what I could just for this trip. The first thing I put in my basket is a giant jawbreaker. I know my mom will say it’s disgusting when she sees me eating it, because it’s not something you eat in one sitting, but I love them! Then I walk to the barrel full of strawberry-filled hard candy. I just grab four of them, because otherwise I will be pigging them down all week. On my way over to the rock candy display, I stop and grab one of each of my favorite flavors of taffy. While standing in front of the colored crystals rock candy display, I can’t help but wonder how on earth I’m supposed to walk out of this store without buying every last piece of it. I know it’s just pure sugar, but I’m pretty sure it’s my favorite of all the candy here. I finally decide on one white and one purple stick, and then head over to the lady at the counter. After she weighs my bag, I take it over to the display case. You cannot leave Rush without fudge, and something covered in chocolate.
I’m looking over all the fine choices in the display case when Asher walks up beside me, putting his hand on the small of my back. I immediately feel warmth spreading from where his hand is touching me, all the way up to my cheeks. “You just about ready to go?”
At first I can hardly speak. But when I look back at Asher, he’s smiling, and his bag of treats is practically hiding behind his back. He must be trying to hide the fact that it’s full of root beer barrels. I smile as I say, “I just need my chocolate fix, and then I’ll pay and we can go.”
The giant man behind the case asks, “What can I get for you?”
I turn back to face him. He’s wearing a too-small crisp white apron and a chef’s hat. I almost laugh at the sight. “I’d like a half pound of peanut butter chocolate fudge, two chocolate covered pretzels, two chocolate covered strawberries, and four white chocolate covered Oreos.”
He grabs a box and says, “I’m on it.”
“You’re gonna share some of that peanut butter chocolate fudge with me, right?” Asher’s breath on my ear startles me. I didn’t realize he’d moved in so close.
“Hmm. I could share some with you. But maybe—maybe I’ll make you win some. You’ll have to ask for it when we play one of our games this week.”
“I guess that’s fair. Speaking of our next game—” Asher is cut off by the man behind the counter handing me my box of pure heaven.
“Can I get you anything else?”
“That’s all I need. But thank you!”
Asher guides me over to the register with his hand still resting on my back, where a teenage girl is sitting, looking bored. At least she was, until she started ogling Asher.
Seriously? She thinks she can just stand there and run her eyes all over him? I mean, he’s touching me, in a boyfriend-ish way. Does she have no class?
I hand her my bag and box, and she pouts, having to look away from Asher, then gives me the evil eye.
That’s right! Get back to your job. Wow, what has gotten into me?!
“That’ll be $15.67.”
As I start to dig in my purse for my wallet, Asher touches my elbow and says, “I got this.”
“Asher, I can pay for my own sugar rush. I specifically saved up for this trip.”
“Nope. You’re not paying for it. You won this trip to Rush, fair and square, and I refuse to let you pay for your own candy. What kind of man would I be if I just let you spend your money, when I have perfectly good money right here, in my wallet?”
“But—“
“I insist.” He hands a twenty to the girl, who turns on her megawatt smile for him.
It seems to take her a minute to get the receipt and money all together. “Here’s your change. I hope you come again.”
In your dreams. When she hands him the receipt, her hand lingers on his, and I want to punch her in the face. I really need to get out of here, or Asher is going to see exactly how I feel about him.
Asher pulls his hand away from hers and says, “We’re just passing through.” Then he takes my hand, intertwining his fingers with mine, and opens the door for me to pass through. What is he doing? I kind of w
ant to ask him, but I’m afraid he might change his mind about it if I do, and I’m too happy that he’s holding my hand like this.
He walks me over to the passenger side of the car and opens the door for me, not letting go of my hand until I’m safely seated inside. I’m almost surprised he doesn’t buckle my seatbelt for me. He closes my door, and I can tell that my cheeks are as red as raspberries.
I’m not sure what to do with this Asher…but I like this Asher very much.
-----
Asher
I can’t believe that girl in there gave me her number and her Twitter handle. I mean, yeah, it feels good to get hit on. She was hot. But I’m here with Becca, so I take the receipt and crumple it up, dumping it in the cup holder.
I am a gentleman, after all.
As I put the car in Reverse, I take a quick look at Becca before putting my hand on the back of her headrest to back out. She’s looking out her window, but I can see in the reflection of the window that she has a huge grin on her face, although she’s also twisting her purity ring around her finger. I wonder if it’s because of what just happened…
After I put the car in Drive, I decide to test that theory. I try to nonchalantly reach for her hand, keeping my eyes focused on the road. When I first get my hand wrapped around her fingers, she gasps and starts to pull away. But I move my hand so I can link our fingers together, and give her hand a small squeeze.
She lets me move our hands to rest on the center console. I risk taking a glance at her, but she’s back to looking out the window, and this time I can’t see her face in the reflection. I decide to take her not pulling away from me as permission to continue holding her hand. And I’m glad she lets me.
When Becca was dating Trip, and I wasn’t able to spend any real time with her, of course I missed her. But it wasn’t until today, when I discovered how good it felt just to be able to touch her again, that I realized just how much I had missed her.
No matter what happens this week, I am never going to let Becca get far enough away from me to miss her like that ever again.
I'm supposed to be packing my bags for move-in day at UW. But instead, I'm flipping through my journal, trying to find the lists of things I wrote down earlier this summer that I thought might remind Becca why she belongs to me.
She was almost perfect in April. If she just would have talked to Mr. West, like she said she would, I would have been able to show her how good listening to me can be. But instead, she lied to me, and I had to show her what happens when she violates my trust.
If I can just find something in those lists, a way to prove to her that I know what's best for her, then when she graduates next year, she'll be moving in with me at UW.
Chapter Four
Becca
When we get back to the cabin, I can see Livvie is still out on the dock, getting her tan on, but I don’t see anyone else outside. I walk up the stairs to go in on the second floor. “Mom, Dad?”
“We’re here,” I hear my mom say, who is just walking up from downstairs. It kind of surprises me that they’re inside. My parents are usually the first ones out in the morning, and the last ones to come back in at night. But maybe Asher’s parents don’t want to spend as much time outdoors as mine do. “Where did you go?”
“Sorry I didn’t let you know before we left. I took Asher—“
“Becca was just showing me around downtown. I asked her what there was to do around here, besides the obvious things on the lake.”
I wonder why he’s kind of lying to my mom. Not that it’s a huge lie, but Asher isn’t normally one to omit the truth.
“Yeah, I took him to Rush. And don’t worry, I brought back your allotment of chocolate covered pretzels, so you don’t have to go into town for them, if you don’t want to.” Mom only allows herself two chocolate covered pretzels each time we come up here. She’s so worried about her figure, which is ridiculous, because she’s skinnier than I am, but whatever.
“Thanks, Becca. I might just take you up on that, in case we don’t make it into town. Laura and Robert, and your father and I, were thinking about taking the houseboat out Monday afternoon, and sleeping out on the water that evening and the next, so we might not make it to Rush this week. Your sister was invited by that family down the road—the Davidsons, who have those two twin girls she used to play with?—to spend the night those two nights as well. Do you think the two of you can handle taking care of yourselves for 48 hours or so?”
What? Both of our parents, who are normally extremely overprotective when it comes to this sort of thing, are going to just let Asher and I stay at the cabin while they’re out on the water? Just the two of us? Apparently I am more worried about this situation than our parents are. And just thinking about it makes me nervous…what are we going to do for that long without the distraction of our families being around?
“I don’t think that will be a problem, Mrs. Amy. As we all know, Becca here is a formidable cook. And we promise not even to light the campfire while everyone is gone, so no worries about burning down the cabin. Scout's honor.”
"Someone's been studying their SAT vocabulary," I say.
I can’t believe Asher so readily answered my mother about us staying out of trouble while they’re gone. Does that mean he doesn’t have any feelings toward me other than friendship? Or is it that he wants to stay here alone with me? Maybe I don’t want to stay here alone with him…it could be dangerous toward my heart health.
“First of all, Asher, I’m glad you’re so polite, calling me Mrs. Amy all the time, but you’re an adult now, and it makes me feel old. Please just call me Amy. Second, we trust you guys, and I’m sure you’ll be fine. But thank you in advance for not burning anything while we’re gone. Better to be safe than sorry. We’ll have a campfire tonight, and maybe tomorrow night too, so you won’t have to miss out on it completely.”
Campfires with our two families are one of my favorite things. There’s lots of singing, and laughter; this may be just what I need to help pull me out of this funk I keep falling into. Just then, Asher’s mom reaches the top of the stairs. “That sounds awesome, Mom. Do you need my help with anything for supper?” I’m starting to feel like maybe I need to create a little space between Asher and me after our trip to the candy store, and the car ride home.
“Thanks for offering.” She pauses, looking over at Asher’s mom then back at me. “But I think Laura and I already have everything well in hand. So you guys just run along and do whatever you want the rest of the evening, and we’ll let you know when supper’s ready.”
“Sounds good, Mrs.—I mean Amy. Becca and I will be down in the game room. We have a little unfinished game-playing to take care of.” He smiles, winking at me, and turns to start walking toward the stairs.
“Asher, would you mind sending Rich and your dad back up here, then? I need them to run down the road to the bait shop and get a tank of propane for the grill.”
“Will do.”
As Asher heads down the stairs, I turn back to my mom. “Are you sure there’s nothing I can help you with?”
She shakes her head, smiling. “Nope. In fact, I don’t want your help. I want you to get your be-hind down those stairs and play whatever game you and Asher are supposed to be playing. It’ll be good for you. I promise.”
I sigh, knowing there is no getting out of this now.
I wonder what game Asher has in mind…and what he’s going to ask for if he wins.
***
After kicking our dads out of the game room, Asher grabs a deck of cards off the shelf. “You know how to play golf?”
“I do…”
“Alright, then that’s what I want to play. What do you want if you win?”
That’s a great question. What do I want? “Umm…if I win this time, I want…I want you to play and sing ‘Silhouettes on the Shade’ with me when we have the campfire tonight.” I figure this is a pretty safe thing to ask for, and I love singing harmony on that song, even if it is ancie
nt.
Asher’s smile makes me melt a little inside. “Becca, I’ll do that anyway. You don’t have to win a game to get that from me. Pick something else.”
Now what am I going to ask for? “Ooookay. If I win, you have to…watch three episodes of Doctor Who with me tonight after we come in from the campfire.” He is constantly giving me crap for watching that show…but maybe I can make him a Whovian convert.
Asher wrinkles up his nose a little, but doesn’t comment on my choice. “Are you sure you’re going to be able to stay awake for all that?”
I laugh. “Don’t you worry about me. What are you playing for this time around?”
“If I win, you have to cook whatever I want for supper on Monday while everyone else is gone.”
“That seems fair to me.” I had already been thinking about doing that anyway. “Since it’s your game choice, you can deal.”
“Rules. Four cards, face down, in a square in front of you, only look at the two cards closest to you. When it’s your turn, you can either draw a card from the draw pile, or take the top card on the discard pile to exchange with one of your own cards. If you take the top card from the discard pile, you must use it. Once you think you have a good set of four cards, you knock on the table. The other person takes one more turn. Ace through 10 is worth its face value, jacks and queens are worth 10 points, and kings are worth 0. Person with the lowest score wins. How many hands are we playing? Nine or eighteen?”
“It’s your game. How many hands do you want to play?”
“Let’s just play nine. Otherwise we might be in the middle of a hand when supper’s ready.”
“Sounds good. Shuffle ‘em up and deal, my friend.”
Asher shuffles the deck three times, then deals out four cards to each of us. I look at my bottom two cards: an 8 and a queen. Now to decide on my strategy…
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