CHAPTER 15

 

One Year Ago—The Bad Day

 

Charis: I just realized something amazing.

Asher: Yeah?

Charis: You're my best friend.

Asher: Took you a while.

Charis: You know, it never occurred to me in a million years my bestie would turn out to be a dude. Wait, I didn't mean that like it sounded. I've always known you were naturally born with testicles that fully descended. I mean, oh, shit…

Asher: Go on. Do. Go. On.

Charis: I'm really serious. You're the best. Thanks for what you did yesterday, Asher.

Asher: Not a problem. Everybody has some bad days.

Charis: Yeah, well, I'm not used to locking the keys in my car, getting stood up, losing my wallet and knocking my skull on a garbage dumpster all in the same crappy twenty-four hours. You really came through, even though you were dragged from a most excellent date at Emmenders.

Asher: You ponied up when Aura's bank account was hacked and she couldn't reach me. I still have to pay you back the two point six grand.

Charis: Hey, that's right. Oh shit, tuition's coming up next month. Come on—hand it over while we remember.

Asher: Char…

Charis: Yeah?

Asher: Nothing. Just…you're a kinda awesome best friend yourself.

 

Charis

 

SPRING BREAK WAS MY problem, that's all. I had nearly a week to kill. I knew I should drive down to Portland to see my parents, who were home for a change. Portland is where they'd semi-retired. Mom didn't perform anymore, but they gave classes, Mom in dance, Dad offering a leatherworking workshop. They're a couple of bohemian hippies, did I mention that?

The idea was daunting, though. They'd been doing their artsy circuit for almost fifteen years. I was proud of their accomplishments. I guess.

But going home means the Jenny and Adam Sloane Show, 24-7. You'll always find dozens of people hanging around, getting drunk, smoking weed, a few even popping uppers, and to be honest? It's exhausting.

My idea of a good vacation is hanging out with Asher and maybe getting in some extra visits to the gym.

Asher.

Damn damn damn.

All right, enough. My problem might be bigger than spring break.

I still tightened up inside every time I thought of him, which was about every five minutes.

This whole thing with Asher going on this weird wooing-me trip was frying me. My emotions, my damnable body were out of control.

So here's something most people don't know about me: I'm an emotional person. It's counterintuitive, I know. I'm not the type to go woe-is-me all the time and sob on people's shoulders. But I'm kind of fiery. I keep it from my students, of course, but behind my calm face I can get pretty angry or freaked out.

Those texts he'd sent—I'd never had anybody do that to me. I was still discombobulated.

It was entirely his fault that I couldn't concentrate on anything. The texts were why I lay here on the bed fully clothed midmorning Tuesday, my breasts aching and swollen, writhing around like a kitty-cat in heat.

I mean, really, how pathetic can you get? What he'd said was completely inappropriate and had essentially morphed me into this nympho form. A cradle-robbing nympho, let's not forget that.

Yesterday I frigging broke my vibrator. The silicone flaked off on me, I'd used it so hard.

I'd ordered another one online within the hour, blushing like a virgin because I couldn't get his cocky "muches" out of my head.

I jumped up from the bed and started pacing like a caged tigress. My phone rang half an hour later, while I was still wearing out the carpet, trapped with all this bottled-up emotional magma.

Already I'd been to the gym and run around the block in the sleet. All I wanted to do was dash over to Asher's and yell, okay, you win, take me, Mr. Hotness, I'm yours if you really meant it, which I don't think you did, I think your brain is screwing with you, but take me anyway and then rip his clothes from him and drag him down to the floor and…

Weak, weak Charis.

It was Karl, wanting to come over.

I grasped at the lifeline. "Sure."

Karl is such a soothing presence in my life. Until recently, he'd always been the remote eldest Norrell brother, kind of a Greg Brady if Greg had been a bad boy.

(Um, this is Asher's fault. Asher's always forcing me to watch his favorite show. The fact that I secretly catch episodes when he's not around means nothing. I can quit anytime.)

Anyway, Karl. Since we'd gotten engaged, I hadn't noticed any real change in our relationship. I still thought of him as not just Asher and Mel's brother, but mine, the kind of brother I'd have wanted around if I'd had one.

For sure more than I'd ever thought of Asher as my brother.

"Treat him like you'd treat a little brother," Mel had told me airily when I'd consulted her about the awkwardness of being Asher's friend with the age difference between us. "He'll get the message."

Oh, Asher got the message all right. I mean, insultingly fast, given how, well, let's call it single-minded he'd been as a kid.

But whatever. I am what I am. He is what he is. He was only gravitating to his natural complement when he set his sights on Aura.

I was an aberration in his early, pre-formed life.

But me?

Intellectually I grasped the concept that being four years younger than me puts a man in the verboten camp. (His sister Ryanna thinks differently, but then she goes for way older men, like, fifteen years older. So she's not unbiased here.)

Effectively, let's face it, I'm a dirty old lady. It's not how old you are, it's how much older you are. If my latest calculation is correct, I am 18 percent older than Ash. Shit's not right, is it?

I've had many frustrating nights replaying our times together, only adding on an X rated layer. I guess you could say Asher inspires all my RPF fantasies.

The last two nights could be described as Asher-infused. Even though I was staying far, far away from him, he had a presence that could not be dissipated.

He'd looked at me. He'd actually said—

No. Do not. Go there.

When Karl arrived, I was banging out push-ups and sweat was pouring down my chest and forehead.

"Hey," I said, wiping my brow with my sleeve. "Is that pizza?"

"Dudette, you need a shower," he said, squeezing my shoulder. He looked me up and down. Not the hot way I'd caught Asher looking at me, but more with vague concern.

Asher's brother is like him—a top grade pantymelter—but there's something distant and inaccessible about Karl even while he's smiling amiably at you that makes you not want to go there in any romantic sense.

If he hadn't made it clear our marriage would be nothing more than a piece of paper, a shared residence, and maybe an annual shag to keep it official, I'd have turned him down. There were depths to Karl, but I was skittish of depths. I'd had enough angst growing up with unconventional creative types to last me a lifetime. Give me a simple straight shooter and I was happy.

Someone like Asher.

Asher and his sexy, straight shooting—

No. Bad Charis.

With the stern discipline I was not even remotely known for, I ordered myself to cease and desist on all thoughts Asher.

"Yeah, I'm smelly," I said. "Give me ten minutes."

Only for a microsecond did I get weirded out by showering with Karl in the apartment. Now if it had been Asher lurking in my living room…I was pretty sure the act would have taken on sensual overtones, and I'd have been tempted to take the edge off. Embarrassingly, it had happened that way a few times.

The worst ever was during an opening-night movie party I gave at the end of spring quarter last year. For some reason, I'd found it impossible not to keep shooting peeks at Asher, whom I hadn't seen all week and who was dressed that night in shorts and a gray tee shirt. He'd looked luscious. I'd wanted to lick him.

Aura had been there too of course. They'd been acting all night like a couple in a spat, like they'd been getting on each other's last nerve. I remembered him looking around with an irritated expression and stopping when his gaze landed on me. I expected him to wink or roll his eyes and I gave him a warm smile and a thumbs-up. Instead he'd looked blank as if he didn't recognize me. That was weird. Then he'd turned to Aura and kissed her.

Not the kind of kiss guys usually give their girlfriend in public.

I'd gotten up shakily and gone into the bathroom. I lectured myself on inappropriate jealousy, inappropriate lust, inappropriate imaginings, all-around inappropriateness. And I'd stripped off my clothes right then in the middle of the party and taken a seven-minute shower. It had only taken four to achieve the chemical wash of a solo orgasm. I was super-relieved that Asher and Aura had gone by the time I got out.

Thankfully that kind of public insanity only comes on a couple of times a year, probably in sync with my fertile cycle or something.

When I came out squeaky clean wearing jeans and a sleeveless shirt with my handy special bra that keeps my girls decent, Karl was sprawled on the sofa with the open pizza box on the coffee table, making pieces disappear with alarming alacrity.

"Hey, save me some of that!"

"What's up with Asher?" He handed me a plate.

I froze, stopped breathing, then huffed out all the air, shoved the plate back at him, and dropped to the floor.

He watched me do sit-ups. Twenty. Thirty. Fifty. I was a madwoman.

"Have you even seen him?" he persisted.

"No, I—haven't—seen him." Seventy. Eighty. Not bad. I was getting really buff this week.

"Hmm. Food's almost gone."

Somehow my appetite had waned. "Don't spill red stuff on my carpet. I had it steam cleaned last week. What is so very amusing, Mr. Karl?"

"You. You usually train this intensely?"

"It happens."

"It's happening to Asher, too," he said idly. "He drove a squash ball into my ass four times last match."

"Oh."

"My brother's been hounding me to release you from the engagement. I'm starting to feel sorry for him. You sure you want to go through with this? It's coming up Friday, you know. The meeting with the executor and then our big day Saturday."

"Shit." I'd actually forgotten the wedding was this weekend. That was bad, wasn't it?

I collapsed, rolling over on my stomach, my heart pounding and my abdomen burning. But it was better than the confusion of thinking of Asher.

So he'd been on Karl's case to quit the engagement. I couldn't believe he was persisting in this. Whatever had gotten into him I was expecting to go out of him at any moment.

I fucked up. What had he meant by that? And berserk? He had to be joking. I was the last kind of woman to make guys berserk with jealousy, and certainly not Asher.

I'm more the kind of woman you forget is in the room until you want someone to play center field.

The prospect of Asher doing what he said and looking at me without clothes on made me seize up with panic. This was the man who got a hard-on for E cups and grabbable asses. He'd laugh his fucking face off if he saw me naked.

No. I didn't think he was lying to me, exactly. But at best he was pretending an attraction for my own good. At worst he was fooling himself.

But damn, I wished it were true.

Except, no I didn't. Because, getting married Saturday.

I stumbled to my feet and made my way over to sustenance.

"The date's not solid," he commented. "We could reschedule with the judge."

I hesitated with a piece of pizza halfway to my mouth.

"C.S…you don't have to do this. I can keep asking around. Someone will step up to the plate. And if not, I'll live." His tone was dry, at odds with his carefree words.

"But we got the license already. And you really want your inheritance."

"I can take it or leave it."

"You say that, but you'd rather take it," I said wisely. "I'm learning you, Karl. You're a man of understatement. When you show a slight inclination toward something, that's the same as somebody else's life dreams."

"I don't have life dreams." His face didn't change, but he sat there placidly, and I had the feeling I'd struck an off note. There was no way I was going to ask what was wrong, though. Asher's whole family was a hot mess of personalities, most of them boisterous and sociable. Karl was the lone dark wolf, an exception that proved the rule. Karl liked his privacy, and I respected that.

"I promised," I said firmly. "I filled out the paperwork, and in case you don't know this about me, I despise paperwork. I'm doing it. We are going to get you wed." I could hear the stubborn note in my voice.

Yeah, brilliant, Charis. Thirty minutes of filling out forms is a good reason to alter the course of your romantic life.

What course?

Good point.

"We probably won't need to be married forever," he sighed. "A year or two should do it."

"Whatever." I waved my hand, then started in on the pizza, adding with my mouth full, "One year, twenty. It's all fine by me."

He tilted his head. "You don't have dreams of—"

"No." I swallowed the pizza through a lump in my throat. "You've asked me that before. When it comes to getting married, I'm sans dreams."

"Why is that?"

I frowned at him. "Why are you asking me this now?"

He laughed, then changed the subject—I think. "Yesterday I told Asher I've been getting texts from his ex-girlfriend. He said—"

"What?" I was startled. "Which ex-girlfriend?"

"Aura Renaldi, of course."

"No way. Texting you? Why?"

He shrugged. "Fuck knows."

I suddenly remembered Aura being there outside the coffee shop the other day when that whole fiasco with Asher happened. "Crap, Karl, maybe she wants you now."

"Could be."

"Bizarre that she'd go to you after she's had Asher."

He laughed.

I munched through two more slices of pizza, barely registering the taste when usually I go wild for pizza.

Seriously, though. It strained credulity that after a long-term relationship with one man, a woman would go after his brother in a move bound to cause hurt. The soap opera shit people did….

"And you? How do you feel about her?"

Another shrug. "She's not bad."

"Would you actually date a woman who's already dated your brother?"

"No reason why not."

"Don't you think it would upset him if you dated his ex?"

"Who knows?"

"You're kind of an ass sometimes, Karl, aren't you?"

He smiled. Karl was the opposite of a soap opera. Maybe that's why he and I had gotten on so well at Thanksgiving. I'd been deliberately steering clear of Aura, whose existence rippled up my pond, and Karl was all still waters and peace and calm.

I stared at a swirl of congealing cheese on pepperoni. "So what did Asher say about it exactly?"

"He was fairly grim. He said he had an idea and I should run it by you."

"Run it by me?"

"He thinks we should all double date."

Pizza suddenly flew all over my shirt. Grease and tomato were probably soaking through to my bra.

I brushed myself off frantically. "Let me get this straight. Your brother wants to go on a double date with us."

"Seems so."

"With Aura there as his date."

"Yeah."

"What about breaking up? Is he back together with her?" I murmured the question, but I didn't hear his answer. My head was spinning.

Then it hit me. Asher had gotten jealous! He caved! I knew this would happen!

"Karl, he's not over her, not by a long shot. Do you think she played him with you or…?"

"Could be."

I flopped back down, my chest heaving, my belly feeling wrung out by cruel hands.

Fucking men!

Okay, maybe men was an exaggeration. My singular boyfriend had been nice, a real good guy—a little indecisive sometimes, like, for example, going out to eat was painful. But he made me feel good about myself, made me feel I was cute and interesting, and he admired my intelligence. We'd parted ways amicably when we graduated.

So I couldn't say I had any reason to be soured on men. Nobody had really done me wrong. But for whatever reason, right now I wanted to curse the whole lot of them.

I'd been so achingly tempted to believe Asher that he was over his relationship. When really, he was doing just what I dreaded—using me as a substitute for his girlfriend.

I felt humiliated, like I'd fallen for a line. Like he would really have a thing for me, Charis Sloane. He went for girly-girls, and I was about the most opposite of a girly-girl you could get.

Deep down, I'd known that was pure foolishness.

He was wiser, my ass. More like he was getting stupider every day since losing Aura.

And me, I'd lost a significant number of brain cells, too, to have let him engage me in those texts.

Now he wanted a double date. Probably for this go-round he'd gotten Aura to agree to make nice to me with the idea that we would all become one big happy family. We'd go everywhere together, him and Aura and me and Karl, holding hands and skipping along…

Okay, now I was sure I'd made the right decision to marry Karl.

His casual voice tore me out of my bitter thoughts.

"Whadya say, Charis? Tonight at seven, The Eatin'?"

"Is that when he wants to meet up?" I was about to inform him what Asher could do with his double date when I had a brilliant idea.

I should go. I should totally go and put a monkey wrench in his plans.

What an Evil Queen thing to do.

But, you know, Snow White pisses me off, running her smug little ass away to get involved in an MMMMMMMF relationship and then sending all those selfies to the Magic Mirror so it would know she's still a ten. It's like she has to have all the guys.

I'd for sure poison that girl's apple if I were a badass sorceress. I wouldn't be sneaky, though. I'd stick it in her face and be like, "Bite this, Snowgirl."

Yeah, I've given this some thought.

Aura's my Snow White. I still don't get all her issues, exactly, but Asher's loyal and true, he deserves better. He should know she's being fake here.

Look, I know it's unethical to step in, given my bias. Obviously my judgment is being clouded with clawing jealousy from the fiery pits of hell. I mean, it's what's held me back from saying anything negative about her all this time.

But maybe it's time to stop holding back. If I were his sister and I'd seen Renaldi flirting with other guys all over campus, I'd totally expose her for the wannabe-ho she is.

And then if the idiot still wants to make the same mistake twice, he can knock himself out.