12

––––––––

“What are you doing here?”

Aster glances up from where she’s crouched on the gym floor, tying her laces. “I’m playing with you guys today. Shamus invited me.”

She ties a double knot and stands, the blue of her eyes made more intense by her blue tank top. Something weird passes between us, a tension that’s never been there before, then she blinks and it’s gone.

“I’ve missed you,” she says. “A week is a long time.”

“I texted you,” I blurt out. “You didn’t reply.”

She rubs a hand over her face. “I know. I’m sorry.”

“What’s going on?”

She scans the gym, players from earlier games collecting their gear and shuffling out as new people arrive. “It’s so embarrassing,” she mumbles.

“What is?” I drop my bag on the bench and pull off my hoodie, tugging on the team’s white mesh jersey over my T-shirt. I’m desperately curious to know what’s embarrassing, but I’m equally embarrassed to feel that way so I try to play it cool.

“Hang on,” Aster says, zeroing in on my bicep. Normally when girls check out my arms it’s to comment on any one of my stupid tattoos, but I remember too late that there’s a new addition to the display. “Is that a nicotine patch?”

“Ah...” My face heats. It shouldn’t make me blush to admit I’m trying to quit smoking, but the idea that it’s so obviously for her makes it mortifying.

“That’s great!” Aster exclaims. “Good for you.”

I try to act nonchalant. “It’s not a big deal, stop trying to change the subject. What’s this embarrassing thing that’s kept you away all week?”

She blows out a breath. “After we got home on Sunday, I went into my room and just looked at it. Like, really looked, Aidan.”

“Okay...?” I’ve seen Aster’s room. It’s just a room. A little sparse, but not offensive.

“It was disgusting! That’s not who I am. It’s not who I want to be. Wine bottles and candy bar wrappers and dirty laundry... You were right when you called me dark and angry and depressed. It was pathetic. So I decided to clean up.”

Something about this doesn’t ring true. Doesn’t feel quite right, like the image of Aster giving Jerry a box of burnt belongings. “And that took all week?”

She groans. “You have no idea. Every time I thought something would be easy, it was impossible. We only have three washing machines for the whole building, and two were out of service. I kept trying to take out the recycling when the floor was quiet so no one would see how much I’d been drinking, but the second I stepped into the hall someone would need something. And then...” She pinches the bridge of her nose. “Then I tried to put on my favorite pair of jeans and they were tight.”

“Er...tight?”

“Yeah. Like, stop-subsisting-on-alcohol-and-candy-bars tight. It was awful.”

I look at her from head to toe. She’s wearing the mesh jersey over a tank top and the black tights from last time. She’s hot, plain and simple. Except, not plain and not simple. Just hot.

“Something’s wrong with the pants,” I say decisively. “Because there’s nothing wrong with you. Turn around, let me check.”

She swats away my hand when I pretend to spin her. “Maybe I should have called you immediately after the denim debacle. I spent the whole night reading up on diet plans and the next day I went for a run.”

“That’s good. I mean, the running. You don’t need to diet.”

“No, the running was not good. I was sore for two days after. It was painful and embarrassing. Your skunk story has nothing on my week.”

“Are you feeling better now, at least? Is your room clean?”

“I feel so much better, Aidan. Thank you for inviting me to the wedding. Getting away from here gave me some perspective and reminded me that there are good things in life. And good people.” She smiles at me and I swear I feel it start at my toes, spreading warmth to every part of me. And not just the perverted parts, either.

“I’m glad to hear it.”

“And I’m glad to report it. I owe you.”

My perverted parts come back to life at the thought of Aster owing me something.  Especially if she’s no longer heartbroken Aster but an Aster that’s ready for a rebound fling. Fling. Not just a fuck. I want to hang out with her some more, have fun, have sex. Nothing serious, but maybe not quite as un-serious as I’d originally intended.

“So is it hard?”

The question interrupts my thoughts. “Ah, what now?”

Aster’s pulling her hair into a stubby ponytail and the way her arms are extended makes her breasts thrust out and I actually am getting kind of hard.

“Not smoking,” she says. “How’s it going?”

“Oh, that. It’s going all right. I mostly just smoke when I’m stressed, so...”

Aster bends up one leg to stretch her hamstring, and her breasts jut out again.

I look away. “It’s not hard at all,” I lie.

* * *

“That was fun,” Aster says, two games of Frisbee baseball and one round of beer later.

It’s only six o’clock in the evening but it’s dark and cold, the afternoon rain still shining on the sidewalks.

“I’m glad you came,” I say. “I was starting to worry about you.”

“Why? What did you think I was doing?”

“I don’t know,” I say, because I can’t think of anything better. “I just wanted to see you.”

She smiles before facing forward again. “This year has been crazy,” she admits. “Two months ago I’d never even met you, and now you’re practically my best friend.”

“I am? Really?” I have friends. I don’t think I’ve had a best friend since I was six years old, but the idea’s not off-putting. It’d be better if Aster knew the real me, though. Then again, maybe not. Maybe then we wouldn’t be friends at all.

“Well, not in a desperate, I-literally-have-no-other-alternative kind of way,” she clarifies quickly. “Just in an...unexpected way.”

I’ve never been relegated to the Friend Zone before, but I can sense we’re getting close. And I’m all for waiting until her broken heart is mended and she’s ready to move on, but I’m not on board with helping her recover then being the “best friend” who watches her move on with someone else. “Hey, I—”

“Oh!” she exclaims quickly. “I almost forgot.”

“Forgot what?”

“That I owe you! I’m on chaperone duty tonight, but are you free tomorrow?”

I get that weird feeling again. I’ve never known a girl well enough to get a “feeling” about her, but maybe what I’m reading is Aster sensing that I was about to get a little too serious about things and she wants me to back off.

So I do. “I could be free.”

“Okay, good. Meet me right here at two o’clock.”

“For what?”

“It’s a surprise.”

“Aster, I don’t like surprises.”

She grins. “I think you’ll like this one.”