Monday morning dawns, the air crisp and cold, the sky blue and not a dark cloud in sight. I wake up at six-thirty, practically bounce out of bed and take a long, hot shower, remind Shep when I’m done that we need to get going. He’s still in bed with Jade, the lazy ass.
But I forgive him. He’s got a nice warm woman snuggled up close to him. Why would he want to leave?
I wait patiently for him down in the kitchen, sipping on coffee and pacing back and forth. I’m starving but I want to save my appetite for the diner. Whatever’s the biggest breakfast plate on their menu, I’ll take it. I need to fortify for later today when I see Alexandria.
Saturday she worked. Saturday night I worked the gambling house while she finished a paper that’s due, though we texted each other throughout the night. Sunday we met for brunch. I’ve never brunched with a girl before. It was nice. I sat across from her at the table in the restaurant surrounded by tons of people talking and carrying on. While all I could do was stare at her lips, remembering how I had my dick between them a few nights ago.
Yes, I’m a fucking pervert. I can’t help it.
We didn’t do anything Sunday night. Nothing sexual, at least. We hung out in her room and she forced me to watch Friends—I don’t mind Friends, I can admit I grew up on that shit. Somewhat. I sort of paid attention.
Okay, fine not really.
I tried to make a bold move when I kissed her, but she told me she wanted to take this slow. There was nothing coy, nothing bogus about her suggestion. She told me she liked me, she thought we had a connection and she wanted to ease into whatever it is we’re doing. I want to honor her request. It’s either that or she bails. And I’m not ready for her to bail.
I like her too damn much to let myself ruin whatever we have between us.
“Why the hell are you so cheerful?” Shep asks as he shuffles into the kitchen, looking like the world’s biggest grump. He’s dressed but it’s half-assed at best, like he just rolled out of bed and threw his clothes on. Plus, he’s a little bleary-eyed and not one hundred percent awake. “It’s Monday for Christ’s sake.”
“I had a good weekend.” I shrug.
“Meaning you got some?” He pours himself a cup of coffee, dumps a ton of sugar and creamer in before he sticks a spoon in it and stirs. “Fucking finally.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” I scratch the back of my head, pausing in my pacing. Was it that obvious that Alexandria and I weren’t doing the nasty?
“You’ve been chasing after this girl for weeks. It’s nice to see you act so…cheerful.” He takes a drink of his coffee and makes a face. “You’re never cheerful.”
“I’m always cheerful,” I counter.
“No, you’re really not. Once we started seeing our girls on a regular basis, you became even worse.” Shep sets his cup on the counter. “But now that you’ve joined the club, it’s all good.”
I frown. “What club?”
“The relationship club,” he stresses, a cheesy grin on his face. “Face facts, bro. You’ve fallen. You’re in a relationship with Alex.”
“I am not,” I immediately say, wondering why the hell I just did that. What Alexandria and I are doing though, I wouldn’t classify as a relationship.
Yet.
But really, what the hell are we doing? Because I’m not sure, and I don’t think Alexandria knows either so maybe we’re both fucked?
“Really? So you fucked her because of our bet,” Shep suggests. “Nice one.”
I nearly flinch at the word fuck. He makes it sound so…crude. This is coming from the guy who used to ask girls if they were down to fuck.
And he would have to bring up that stupid bet.
“Listen, you won the bet,” I say firmly. “I owe you.”
“I won? Are you serious?” Shep sounds skeptical.
“Well, yeah. I didn’t…” I was about to say we didn’t have sex yet, which is true. But I can’t tell him that. That means Shep will tell Gabe and they’ll both cackle and gossip over us like little old women. No thanks. “I’m not with her because of a lame ass bet we made on a whim.”
Shep’s smiling. “That’s nice to know.”
“So don’t ever bring it up again,” I tell him.
He shakes his head. “I won’t.” His grin never budges from his face.
“And stop smiling at me like a freak,” I mutter, waving a hand at him. “It’s disturbing.”
“You should feel disturbed. I’m disturbed too. I seriously, seriously never thought I’d see the day that this would happen. I figured you’d be pervy Uncle Tristan for the rest of your life to my six children.”
“Six?” And I’m his cousin, not his brother. I wouldn’t be his kids’ uncle.
“I bet I could get Jade on board.”
“You’re insane.” That he’s contemplating having children with Jade—six of them—I guess it shouldn’t surprise me, but damn. I can’t imagine.
“Whatever. I didn’t see you with children. Hell, I didn’t even see you married. I figured you’d be a forever bachelor, go into retirement, chase after all the divorcees and widows until we finally put you up in the old folks’ home, only for you to get kicked out because you wouldn’t stop pinching the nurses’ asses.”
“You’ve got it all planned out don’t you?”
“Jade and I have talked about it more than once.” Shep shrugs, like that’s normal, to plan the rest of my life.
Weird.
I chuckle. “You never know. It could still happen. The pinching asses part, at least.”
“No doubt.” Shep’s smile fades and he gets that serious face going on. The one that tells me he’s about to venture into sappy territory. “This is nice to see though—you with a girl. A nice girl who isn’t like the usual ones you uh, spend time with.”
“What sort of girls are you referring to Shepard?” I ask innocently. I want to hear his answer because not too long ago, he was hanging with those same types of girls too.
“You know the type. Always eager to please.” He takes a big chug of coffee then sets his cup in the sink. “Let’s get out of here.”
Nice way to change the subject. I get why he’s doing it. Closely examining me and my habits when it comes to women means Shep has to examine his past behaviors as well. I’m not perfect, I’ve never claimed to be. Neither has Shep. But he’s turned his life around these last six months with Jade. He’s a different man. But his past still lingers, as does Gabe’s—and they have to face it every day when they look at me.
They’ve never liked that. I know. It always felt personal, like maybe they didn’t like me much anymore either. And that hurt, not that I’d ever admit it. I’d much rather pretend I was my normal, asshole self. I wanted to piss them off more so I’d at least get a reaction.
Infantile? Yeah. But I couldn’t help it.
Then I go and find a girl. A girl I actually like. A girl I want to spend more time with. That’s all I can commit to for now. I can’t say I want a girlfriend. I definitely can’t say I’m in love with her. But I can say that I like Alexandria. I like her a lot.
And for once, admitting that to myself doesn’t scare me.
“You ready to go?” Shep asks, knocking me from my thoughts.
“Yeah.” I drain my cup and set it into the sink as well, offering Shep a smile. “I’m fucking starving.”
“Regular sex with someone you like does that to a person,” Shep says smugly as we walk out into the garage.
I don’t answer, just open the passenger side door of Shep’s car and climb inside. We ride together every Monday. This week it’s his turn to drive.
My phone dings and I check it, smiling when I see who the message is from.
What are you doing this afternoon?
I answer her quickly, ignoring the kissy noises Shep’s making as he fires up his car and backs out of the garage.
Spending it with you.
Her reply is just as fast.
☺ Awesome. So you’ll go on a run with me?
I frown. My girl runs? Since when?
You run?
I do. Well, I haven’t for a while but I think I need to get back into the habit. All this pizza I’m eating with my roommates is ruining my figure.
Please. She’s so thin I wonder where she puts it all.
You are perfect just the way you are.
You’re such a flatterer.
I’m not trying to flatter her. It’s the truth. She sends me another text before I can reply.
Text me when you’re done okay?
“Texting first thing in the morning. You two are so cute,” Shep says in a mock falsetto.
I’d hit him if he weren’t driving. “Fuck off,” I mutter as I send her one last text.
I’ll talk to you later. Have a good morning.
You too. xoxo
“What does it mean when a girl texts you a bunch of x’s and o’s?” I ask, frowning at my screen.
“Are you for real right now?” When I send Shep a helpless look he shakes his head, muttering under his breath. “It means hugs and kisses, dumbass. Jesus, where have you been? Living under a rock?”
His mocking words slide right off me. No one has ever sent me hugs and kisses in the form of x’s and o’s in my life. That probably makes me pitiful but I don’t care. In fact, I’m damn glad Alex is the first to ever do it.
So glad, I smile all the way to the diner.
Running with Tristan this afternoon was a huge mistake. Not only did he leave me in the dust more than once, he also made it look so easy. I’m huffing and puffing, trying my best to keep up while he’s running beside me, barely breaking a sweat and looking damn good while doing it. All the while he’s chatting me up without taking a breath.
I mean seriously, who is this guy?
Your potential boyfriend?
I shove the giddy-inducing thought to the back corner of my mind.
“I thought you said you were a runner,” he taunts as we’re in the home stretch. Otherwise known as a few blocks from my house. He’s turned around so he’s running backward, not paying attention to what he could possibly run into and I want to punch him for making it look so easy.
I also want to squeal with joy and tell everyone that guy’s mine. But that might freak him out so I keep my mouth shut.
“I warned you it’s been a while,” I huff out. I’ve pretty much given up, keeping up as best as I can while walking since I’ve given up on the running part as he runs ahead of me. Backward-runs, that is. He grins, too cute for words, the sun shining down upon him, casting him in this golden glow that makes him look downright…angelic.
Funny, considering he calls me angel on occasion, thanks to that costume I wore when I first met him.
He’s wearing a red T-shirt that clings to his chest in all the right places and black track pants, the type that button up the sides. Wonder what he would do if I went up to him and tried to rip his pants off…
“You should go to the gym with me,” he offers nonchalantly, interrupting my dirty thoughts.
“Really?” I try my best to remain nonchalant and not read too much into what he says. Of course, I could be insulted and think he’s making a veiled reference that I need to work out. I’m so thin—built just like my mom, who has the same willowy figure, so I know that’s not true. But I am fairly weak. “Am I not muscular enough for you, Prescott?”
“Not even close…” His voice drifts and he frowns. “I don’t even know your last name. How fucking lame is that?”
I glance around to make sure no children are in the vicinity before I yell out, “It’s Asher.”
“Alexandria Asher? AA? Don’t tell me your middle name is Ann.” His laughter is infectious and I can’t help but respond. “If I call you Triple A, will you fulfill my every need?”
“You wish,” I toss back, grinning madly, my heart light, though it has no business getting involved in this…whatever we’re doing.
We’re playing a game, Tristan and I, though I’m not sure if he’s aware of it. I’m trying my best to throw up as many roadblocks as possible to take this slow while he’s acting like we’re already a couple. I don’t even think he realizes he’s doing it.
Truly, we’re both just a couple of idiots, dancing around this—thing that we’ve become. And it’s silly. But I’m not budging from my current position. I don’t think he’s going to either.
So we’ll continue to dance around each other until someone makes the next real move.
“Seriously, though. If you want to come with me to the gym I don’t mind. You could use the treadmill or whatever other machines interest you.”
“You don’t use the treadmill?” Of course not. He runs like this naturally. Ugh.
“I prefer lifting,” he says with a shrug. “Used to do it a lot in my high school football days.”
“You played football?” I squeak.
He gives me a weird look. “Yeah.”
“I was a cheerleader!” I bound toward him, my feet light as I run. “I was even my class’s homecoming queen my senior year.”
“Get the fuck out.” He stops in his tracks. “I was my senior class’s homecoming king.”
“You were not.” I stop just in front of him, resting my hands on my hips as I try and catch my breath.
“I was. On the prom court too, three years in a row, though I never won.” He makes a face. “Not that I really wanted to. That was such a bogus popularity contest.”
“Meaning you were super popular,” I add. All I ever wanted to do was win. It meant I was popular and people liked me. That’s what I thought, at least. Once my family had their fall from grace, I realized no one really liked me at all. I had no friends stick by me in the aftermath.
None.
“Well, you had to have been too.” His gaze runs down the length of me, from the top of my head to the tips of my toes. “I’d like to see you in your cheer skirt sometime.”
My skin heats from his stare. “It was really short.”
“I’m sure,” he drawls, his voice like warm honey oozing over my nerve endings, making me…
Horny.
Yes, God, I keep putting him off the sex thing, but why? Our most recent confessions prove we were almost made for each other. We would’ve been that disgustingly perfect couple in high school land. Though if we’d meet in high school, it probably wouldn’t have worked. I would’ve been too emotional—I was a wreck back then, always giving my boyfriends grief, like some sort of insecure minor stalker—and he would’ve undoubtedly cheated on me.
Not that Tristan’s a cheater but…yeah. That’s what hot football jocks did back in the day, at least in my school. My boyfriend, who was my homecoming king and escort, cheated on me the night of the homecoming dance by getting a hand job from the rival high school’s head cheerleader after the dance was over. He dropped me off, snuck over to her house, and messed around with her.
Talk about a cliché. I dumped his ass. He was snatched up by one of my friends on my cheer team within a week.
I hung around a lot of catty girls back in the day.
“I bet you were sexy in your jersey,” I throw back at him. “And amazing to see playing out on the field.”
“I wasn’t that great.” His smile dies a little. It’s not as bright, not brimming as much with fond memories. “I played to hang out with my friends and get girls.”
I laugh. “At least you’re honest.”
“Yeah, you can never call me a liar,” he says. “I always give it to everyone straight.”
I say nothing. I feel like I’m not giving it to him straight, keeping little pieces of myself hidden from him, from everyone. That’s not fair to anyone, especially Tristan—Kelli and Jade and Lucy, Steven and my roommates, even Shep and Gabe. I’m hiding my past, my family’s problems, my parents and what they did because I’m ashamed of them.
If I told Tristan, would he understand? Or would he think less of me? I don’t know.
I’m not sure if I ever want to find out.
“Well, pick up your pace, Asher. Meet you on the front porch,” Tristan calls, envy rippling through me when he turns and starts to run toward my house. I let my gaze linger, a sigh full of longing leaving me.
Effortless, perfect jerk—though that’s not really fair. He hasn’t been a jerk to me in days. No, he’s been sweet, on his absolute best behavior. After our night of naked times, we’ve been playing it cool. He took me to brunch Sunday and stared at me so hungrily throughout the entire meal I could hardly focus. That had been sort of uncomfortable.
And hot. I can’t deny it.
We’ve texted a lot. Hung out a bit. Kissed numerous times. Long, tongue filled kisses that seem to drug my brain and turn me into a pile of mush. It’s been…nice. It’s felt real. Fun and light, nothing too serious. In the past, I was always so quick to rush headlong into a full-blown relationship. Expecting so much more than the guy I was with ever wanted to give.
Yeah, we’re dancing around it but we’re not in a full-fledged relationship, and I’m okay with that.
Really.
I finally make it to the front porch to find Tristan sitting on the steps, chugging from a bottle of water and looking sexy as sin. I collapse on the step beside him, resting my head against his shoulder as I try to catch my breath. He doesn’t push me away, doesn’t say anything rude or discouraging. Merely drops a kiss on top of my head when he’s finished drinking and waves a new bottle of water in front of my face with a flourish.
The sweet gestures melt me. Something he’s really good at doing lately.
I grab the water from him and crack the top off, taking a long drink before I twist the cap back on and set the bottle beside me. “I’m out of shape.”
“You look in pretty good shape to me.” He nudges me with his shoulder and I really do almost go toppling over. He’s as solid as a mountain, this man.
“Not really. I’m thin but I come by it naturally. When I was in my early teens, they all thought I was anorexic.” I frown. I’d forgotten all about that, though I don’t know how. I hated when my mom took me to the doctor, stressing again and again that I must have some sort of problem.
Which is ironic really, since she’s the one who gave me the problem. She always told me I needed to watch my weight, watch what types of food I ate, was always tugging at my clothes and implying that I somehow looked fat. She’s the one who could’ve made me anorexic in an instant. I’m surprised she didn’t.
“Whose they?” Tristan asks.
“My parents.” I go quiet. I don’t want to talk about them, though I really should with Tristan.
“They were hard on you?” he asks gently.
“Most of the time I didn’t think they knew I existed,” I confess truthfully. “They were always busy.”
“Same with mine, especially my dad.” Tristan stares off into the distance, squinting at the sun. “He’s a workaholic. Has a lot to show for it too, so that’s something.”
“You come from a lot of money.” I state the obvious.
He turns to look at me. “The Prescott fortune is in the billions. Shep and I have a lot to live up to, though we’re not expected to do anything. Not like Gabe. His dad fully expects him to take over their family business someday, not that he wants to.”
“Are you going into your family business after you graduate?” I ask, curious. He never talks about his future either. But neither do I, more so because I have no clue what it might hold.
“If they’ll have me. I guess.” He returns his gaze to the falling sun, his eyes crinkling at the corners, his mouth twisted in this tight grimace. “I don’t know if that’s what I want to do.”’
“What else do you want, then?”
“I know I like spending time with you.” He takes my hand and squeezes it in between both of his. “That was probably fucking sappy as shit, huh. Sounds like something Steven would say.”
I laugh because—and I know this is wrong—I like how jealous he is over the relationship I have with Steven. Though calling it a relationship is a stretch. It’s more like a friendship. “Steven is very sweet.”
“And I’m not. I’m the farthest thing from sweet,” Tristan says, knocking into my shoulder again, more gently this time. “You like ‘em that way? Am I wasting my time here, angel?”
Is he testing the waters to see how I’ll react? How does he want me to answer?
Turning to look at him, I smile, my gaze never leaving his. “I don’t think you’re wasting your time. And sweet’s overrated. I prefer them a little spicy and full of themselves.”
His smile grows. “I’d never think you’re a waste of time. I hope you realize that.”
“I do,” I say sincerely.
I so do.