Chapter 14 (Asher)
I watch as she walks out of the classroom after class ends, taking my entire heart with her as she goes.
I decide to stay back and clean up after her. I figure, it's the least that I can do given she's basically the one doing the entire project herself.
When I cast a glance at the canvas, my breath catches. Breslin's talent for art has always been impeccable, but she's grown even more now.
But her talent isn't the only thing that leaves me in awe. Because she's managed to capture the essence of Landon while he's playing music perfectly. From the way his eyes close—to the way he touches those ivory keys with the kind of passion you can't fake.
I can't help but smile as I think about our project—various depictions of love—because there's no mistaking the love Landon has for music in this portrait.
“Hey,” a familiar voice calls out. I look up as Landon strides in the studio. Thinking fast, I turn the easel with the painting on it. Breslin's always been weird about people seeing her art and I don't want to give her another reason to be mad at me.
I walk over to the sink and start cleaning her brushes. “Hey yourself.” I turn on the faucet. “At the risk of sounding like a dick, why are you here right now?”
He gives me an adorable grin that nearly has my brain scrambling as he holds up a paper. A paper with a bright red A on it. “I stayed after class to help Mrs. Sterling grade the papers.”
I almost start to smile, but then I remember. “You didn't have anything to do with it?”
He shakes his head. “Didn't need to. This was all you, Asher.”
He puts my paper back in a folder and returns it to his bag. “I'm so proud of you.”
Before I can say another word, he moves closer to me. Normally I can't resist the pull of him...but all I can hear are Breslin's words from earlier. “He's good for me, Asher.”
I back away, ignoring the way his lips thin and the look he shoots me.
“I thought you'd be happy.”
I lift a shoulder in a shrug. “I am. Just have a lot of shit on my mind.”
“Like?”
I let out a sigh and drop the brushes in the sink. “I don't know, Landon. Where would you like me to begin? How about needing to win the first game for starters? Hell, all of the games this season. Or what about my brother ignoring my texts now because he's probably out on a gambling bender and God only fucking knows what fun stuff it will add to this shit storm when he's done.”
I rip some paper towels off the stand. “Or how about the fact that Breslin just beat up Becca in the courtyard and now she's probably on Dragoni's radar.”
Landon's eyes become saucers. “What?”
I raise a hand. “Don't worry, I'm talking to Dragoni tomorrow.”
He starts pacing. “What good is that going to do? He—”
“He still needs me if he wants to win all his bets this year.” Nerves rise in the pit of my stomach. “It just means the stakes are going to be that much higher for me.”
Panic crosses over his face. “But what about your performance lately—”
I slam the wall with my palm. “I've got it under control.”
His hand slides up my shoulder and he gives it a squeeze. “You're spinning out again, Asher.”
“I know,” I whisper and he takes a step closer, wrapping his arms around me.
“You're not alone in this.”
I know his words are supposed to bring me some kind of comfort but they do the exact opposite. “That's what I'm afraid of. You, Breslin, and Preston getting hurt.”
I can hear his sharp intake of breath before he says, “We'll get through it. You making yourself sick over it will only make it worse. There's no way you can win a single game, let alone all of them this season with this kind of pressure.”
He's right. I can't.
“Make any headway on this apparent plan of yours that you were going on about before?” I ask, wanting to change the subject.
He drags a hand through his hair and his jaw tenses. “Haven't quite worked out all the details yet but if you swing by my apartment tomorrow night, we can talk about it.”
“Yeah, okay.” I start walking toward the door. “I'm going to go to the dorms.”
When he starts following me, I look at him. “I take it you're coming?”
“Not exactly.” He rubs the back of his neck. “I told Breslin I would stop by tonight and bring some clothes from Kit's apartment over to her.” Something passes in his gaze. “But, maybe you should come, too.”
I stare at him like he's crazy, because he most definitely is. “Breslin doesn't want anything to do with me. And Kit—”
“I know, but—” He pauses. “Breslin loves Kit and maybe if she sees that you give a shit, it will help.”
“You do realize what you're suggesting, right?”
I have no clue why he's suddenly helping me out, but I'm in no position to refuse it.
He hikes his bag up his shoulder as we continue walking. “Yeah, Asher. I do.”