by Olivia Chase
I guess he didn’t forget me, after all.
I stretch out in bed, naked, and grab my phone from my bedside table. Open my bank account app. Make myself really look at it and take pride in what I’ve accomplished. After three years of scrimping, eating meals from home and foregoing shopping splurges, I have enough money to pay for the tuition that scholarships and student loans won’t cover for college.
My dream.
It’s taken three years of hard work, sacrifice, extra hours at Foley’s, kissing the asses of ridiculous customers to make it happen, but as of this month, I can make my dreams come true. Pursue my undergrad degree. Get the hell out of this house and make something of myself. Come spring semester, I can enroll in the university.
I won’t be responsible for my father’s drinking binges anymore. As much as I feel bad leaving it for my mom to deal with, I just can’t handle it. I need to focus on myself, not on caring for my parents. Even if it makes me feel bad, makes me feel selfish.
In the end though, I know they both want me to be successful. Despite my dad’s mess, he loves me. He’s struggling too. Unhappy in his career. Wanting something to change.
I’m not going to be like that—stuck in misery, hopeless, drinking for my solace, my escape.
I put my phone down on my bedside table and curl up under my sheets. I don’t want to think about Asher. I told myself I left him behind months ago, after not hearing from him. After months of feeling mortified that I somehow messed up by responding to his dare.
Years of being attracted to him. Years of silently wanting him. Then the one night comes along when he wants me too, and it ruins our friendship.
What am I supposed to do now? Do I believe that things will be different this time? That if we pursue something sexual, he won’t just up and leave? How can I believe in it?
My head starts to throb. I flick off my light switch and close my eyes, lying in bed. Willing away the headache. I don’t want to deal with this right now.
And yet…if I’m honest with myself, I’ve wanted him since it happened. I’ve wanted to see what it would be like to actually have sex with him. To feel him push deep inside me, his cock pumping deep, making me come.
It’s shameful to admit, but I do.
Asher has turned me on since the moment I first saw him freshman year in high school. Years of wanting him, fantasizing about him. And now he’s back in Rock Bridge, telling me he wants me too. What am I supposed to make of that?
It can’t be real. I must have hallucinated it.
But no way did I hallucinate the way he touched my hip. The back of my neck.
I push those mental images out of my head. So Asher is back in town. Doesn’t matter to me or change any of my plans. I’m over him—he can’t hurt me again. My future is plotted out, and it doesn’t include him.
I don’t know what to think of all of this or how to deal with it. But as I fall asleep, I can’t help but hope I’m not lying to myself.
I shouldn’t have come here.
It’s only been a couple of nights since Asher showed up unexpectedly in my life again, and I vowed not to let myself fall pray to his charms.
And yet here I am—in the one place I’m certain to find him.
“This place is insane!” Rylie shouts above the music. Her grin is wide, her lips bright red, and she’s nursing a light beer.
I give her a weak smile and try to not look as nervous as I feel. Of all the places I expected to be tonight, Outlaws wasn’t one of them. But Rylie wanted to see the local band playing, and since she’s one of my besties, I couldn’t tell her no. Even if it meant possibly facing Asher tonight.
Devon, Rylie’s older brother, shoots me a smile. His dark brown eyes are sparkling. He raises his beer mug. “How ya doing, Whitney?”
I shrug and try to pretend like everything’s fine. Like the idea of being in Asher’s proximity isn’t making every cell in my body on hyper alert. “Oh, fine.” I sip my beer, which is still mostly full, and glance around the bar.
I’ve only been in Outlaws once, a while ago, but I have to say, this place seems different than it was before. I remember it having a wild reputation as biker bar, a place where bad boys and girls frequented. Not people like me, innocent and responsible. Boring.
But tonight, it’s filled with average joes, not wild and crazy boys. It’s a place for…average people. Definitely a big change in here. Closer to Foley’s than they’d probably want to admit.
Devon shifts, and his thigh brushes mine. I shoot him a friendly smile. I’m trying to not assume anything, since it may have been an accident, but he’s been kind of flirty over the last couple of months. Just minor comments here and there, small touches of my hand. I’m not interested in him that way.
On paper, he seems perfect for me—friendly, outgoing, smart. But he doesn’t set me on fire. Not the way a certain someone I’m not thinking of does.
I straighten my skirt, smooth down the front of my tank top. I can tell myself all I want that I’m not thinking about Asher, but I totally dressed to look good tonight. Took time to put on makeup, fix my hair, show a little skin. I don’t know if it’s to let him see what he’s missing out on or if I’m trying to flirt with him, to see if he wants me the way he says he does. Maybe a little of both, if I’m honest.
A new song comes on, one that has a dirty grind and strong beat, and Rylie grabs my hand. “Let’s dance!” There’s a small area in the corner where drunk girls are wiggling and shaking their asses. It’s not a dance floor, per se, though it’s definitely drawing the attention of many of the men in the bar.
I start to say no when I see Asher behind the bar. A girl is leaning toward him, wearing a tube top and booty shorts, and he’s smiling at her as he pours a beer. Jealousy hits me hard. “Okay, let’s go,” I say.
We head to toward the group and begin to gyrate to the music. Our hands go in the air and we’re moving our bodies, and after a minute or two, my mind is clear and I’m focused on the music. It feels good to just enjoy the moment.
“My brother is madly in love with you,” Rylie says with a wide smile. “I’m sure you can tell.”
My heart gives a little thud. I mean, I could tell he had feelings for me, but love? “Wow, really?”
“Anyone with one eyeball can see how he feels.” She snorts and does a little spin-shimmy move. “I think he’s going to ask you out soon.”
“He’s a really nice guy,” I say, pasting a smile on my face. The idea of him asking me out makes me nervous, and not in the good way.
Rylie’s gaze narrows on me. “But he’s no Asher.”
A hot throb works its way through my chest. “And that’s a good thing, because Asher is a jerk.”
The music changes, and we move away from the dance area. “I know. I remember how upset you were with the way he treated you. What does he expect to happen? That ship sailed, and it’s his fault.”
I told Rylie about him showing up at my work out of the blue. After all, she was the one who held me and stroked my hair many nights as I cried in her arms over his silence, his rejection. “I know.” I sigh.
She rubs my back. “I just don’t want you to get hurt again. And a guy like him is only going to break your heart.” We settle back into our seats. Devon’s gaze rakes over me as I slide in beside him.
“You guys have some good moves,” he says with a broad grin. “Well, at least you do, Whitney. Rylie dances like her legs are broken.”
She shoves him with a snort. “Shut up, jerk. I do not.”
The two of them pick at each other for a moment, going back and forth. I just watch them. Despite the teasing, they have a good relationship. Devon’s responsible and caring without being overbearing or pushy. For the millionth time, I study his profile, the strong line of his jaw, his flashing eyes, and wonder why I don’t feel something for him.
“You do know this isn’t Foley’s, right?” a deep voice says from beside and above me.
I glance up to see Asher
standing there, eyes hard and fixed on me. There’s a heat crackling in them that steals my breath. My whole body lights up, and my skin feels like it’s on fire for him.
Asher slides in on my other side, wedging me between the two men. His hard, hot thigh pressed against mine makes my core give a painful squeeze of longing. Stop it, stop it, I chant to myself. I’m not going to let him see how he’s affecting me. He can’t hurt me again.
“Don’t you have work to do?” I tell him airily.
Devon and Rylie have gone quiet. Asher gives them a nod of acknowledgment.
“Asher,” Devon says with a nod in return. “How ya been?”
“Eh.” Asher shrugs, then turns his attention back to me. “Things are getting better now.” There’s undeniable warmth in his tone. His eyes are blazing with fire, like he’s fucking me right now in front of everyone.
God, he isn’t holding anything back. And my traitorous body is responding to his assertiveness. My nipples are getting hard, and I’m squeezing my thighs together. He hasn’t even put a hand on me, and I’m ready for him.
Stay strong, I tell myself, but that voice is getting weaker in his proximity. Asher has never looked at me like this before, like he wants to possess me. Strip me and own me.
His hand reaches down to brush my thigh, and I suck in a shocked breath. He doesn’t even care that Rylie and Devon are right here. His boldness toward me knocks me off center.
Asher wasn’t messing around when he said he wanted me. And I have no idea what to do, because every single atom in my body is screaming that I want him, too.
Devon and Asher make small talk, and Rylie’s texting on her phone, while Asher’s hand slides up my thigh toward my apex. I try to pretend like I’m not affected, but I know he can feel the tremor in my leg muscles. The way I’m desperately attempting to sit still.
During a lull in the conversation when Rylie and Devon are looking at her phone and laughing over something on Facebook, Asher leans toward me, his lips brushing the shell of my ear. “You look amazing.”
My pulse throbs. “Thanks. I threw this together at the last minute.” A blatant lie to make it sound like I’m not trying to impress him.
He chuckles, and the sound sends waves of arousal across my flesh. “You make last-minute look fucking good.”
I turn a little to eye him, our knees touching. “What is this, Asher? What are you doing? We’ve… Our friendship was…”
“It was fucking awesome, is what it was,” he says with a crooked grin that makes my heart race. God, I missed his face so much. I don’t think I realized how much until this moment. “Remember the made-up sign language we invented to talk to each other from across the room in Mrs. Bodinsky’s class?”
I can’t help the laugh that erupts. “Oh God, I forgot all about that.” We had our own hand shortcuts, where we talked about how mean our teacher was for assigning homework for weekends and holidays and how badly we wanted to go to lunch. “Remember when we got busted?”
Asher’s hand remains warm and firm on my thigh, and the connection brewing between us shifts. Not just sexual heat, but something else. Something much more intimate and resonant, layered by our past. He shakes his head and laughed. “Yeah, but going to detention was totally worth it.”
Mrs. Bodinsky had caught Asher signing to me and told him he needed to grow up and to not come back to her class until he did. The next day, he showed up in a business suit and fake mustache.
“You should have kept that ‘stache,” I say, laughter bubbling up within me. “It looked good on you.”
“I think it would have looked better on Mrs. Bodinsky.” His eyes are lit up as he looks at me. “It was fun talking you into cutting class.”
“You always were good at convincing me to do bad things,” I admit.
The smile slides from his face, and his lips part a fraction as he leans toward my mouth. “I wonder if I still can.”
That makes me swallow. The heat flashes through my body again, hard and insistent.
“So, Whitney,” Rylie says, interrupting the moment. I pull back, my face flushed. She gives me a pointed look. “How’s your college planning going? You still going next semester?”
Asher stiffens beside me just a fraction and goes quiet. I know what Rylie’s doing. She’s making sure Asher knows my life is moving forward…without him.
“Asher!” Jax calls from a few feet away. He waves at us. “Hey, guys. I gotta steal my brother back. He actually has a job to do, even if he forgets sometimes.”
Asher removes his hand from my thigh, and I try not to think about how the loss of his touch makes me feel. “I’ll see you later.” The words sound like a promise as he rises from the table and leaves.
I watch him as he goes. Jax is shaking his head as Asher scowls.
“If you don’t like it, you’re free to go back to college where you fucking belong,” Jax says to his younger brother, half-smiling, but his eyes have a glint of seriousness to them.
It takes all my strength to turn my attention away from Asher’s retreating form and resume a conversation with Devon and Rylie when all I want is to feel Asher’s hands on me again.
Asher
My phone buzzing on my end table pulls me out of sleep. I fumble around the table with my eyes closed and grab for my cell just as the buzzing goes silent. When I peek my eyes open to peer at the screen, it’s a missed call from my coach. My former coach, I remind myself.
I sigh and toss the phone on the bed beside me.
A minute later, another vibrating notifies me that he left a voicemail message. I’m not going to check it.
I get up, brush my teeth, take a shower, and get ready, all the while studiously ignoring my cell phone. I don’t need to hear anything he has to say. I already know it all—he said it when I told him I was quitting school.
What a mistake I was making. How I was throwing my future away. Same bullshit Smith gave me.
I plop down on the end of my bed, running my hand over my damp hair, then shoot a glare at my cell. Pick it up and listen to the voicemail.
“Smith. It’s Coach. I know you’re going through some kind of…thing. And look, I get it. We all do shit that’s out of character. But there’s still a spot for you on the team. You just gotta come back. I’ll speed you through enrollment and keep your scholarship ready, if you’re worried about that. But your team needs you—just leaving everything like this is letting them down. Call me. Let’s talk.”
I stare at the screen for a long moment, a heaviness sitting on my chest. Why does it seem like any decision I make has to take into account everyone around me? Why do I keep getting that pressure put on my shoulders? Jax throwing Dad in my face, Coach throwing the team members at me…it’s fucking wrong.
Anger replaces the heaviness in my chest, and I stuff my phone in my back pocket, clenching and unclenching my fists. Fuck them all. I took a lot of time to think about what I want. I’ve spent too many years doing what others tell me to do, following their rules, their plan for my life. I’m done with that bullshit. This is the right thing for me.
I leave my room and plod down the hall toward the kitchen. Jax and Brooklyn are in there, sitting at the table. Jax sips his coffee and eyes me over the mug.
“Thanks for rousing your lazy ass out of bed this morning, slug,” he says.
I roll my eyes. I was at the bar later than him last night cleaning up. “Whatever.” I move to the coffee maker and pour myself a steaming mug. Take a deep gulp of the hot liquid and let it roll through me.
“How are you?” Brooklyn asks.
I turn to her. Her brown hair is pulled back in a ponytail. She doesn’t have makeup on, but she’s glowing. Pregnancy looks good on her. When she stands to put her water glass in the sink, I can see a baby bump. “Feeling any better?” I ask. “I haven’t heard you puking since I got back.”
She laughs and rubs her belly. “Yeah, morning sickness was a bitch, but I’m in the second trimester. Feeling good, actuall
y.”
Jax snakes a hand over and cups her ass. “You sure are, darling.” He waggles his brows, and she swats his shoulder but chuckles.
Brooklyn goes back to her seat and flips open the notebook in front of her, then grabs a pen. “So my old roommate has a friend who does catering,” she says to Jax, “and I was thinking she could do our reception.”
“Anything you want.” Jax tucks a strand of loose hair behind her ear and caresses her cheek. He doesn’t stop staring at her.
I’ve never fucking seen my brother like this. So in love. It’s surreal, actually, watching it firsthand. “You two are like a Hallmark movie,” I remark dryly. “It’s so beautiful.” I wipe away a fake tear.
Jax smirks at me. “Don’t be jealous. Green isn’t your color.”
“Suck it,” I say with a grin.
Brooklyn just quirks a brow and purses her lips. “Oh, I don’t think Asher is jealous. I heard he was cuddling up beside Whitney Cavanaugh in the bar the other night. Sounded pretty cozy, in fact, from what people are saying.”
Jax gives a mock gasp. “Could it be my baby brother is in love?” Then his face goes serious. “Oh, fuck. Don’t tell me she has anything to do with why you came back. Tell me you didn’t quit school over a girl.”
I feel my pulse surge and fight back the snippy response about how he should mind his own fucking business. “I’m not telling you anything.” I sip more of my coffee and lean back against the counter.
Brooklyn eyes me, then her brother. “I’m sure Asher knows what he’s doing.”
“No, he doesn’t. He’s a Beckett.” Jax snorts. “We’re all fucking idiots.”
“Until you have a good woman to show you the right way,” she says sweetly.
“Damn straight, darling.” He presses a kiss to her mouth, then to her jaw, and turns to look at me again. “Seriously, if Smith finds out this has anything to do with Whitney, he’s going to murder you in your sleep. You know how he is.”