Two
Asher
We drove back to Avery’s house in her mom’s convertible, with the top up. I had climbed into the back and there seemed to be some sort of standoff outside before Avery’s brother folded his large frame into the back beside me.
The entire drive to their house, Porter leaned forward as he spoke to his mom and Avery, but I could still feel him watching me, even though his green eyes were never truly on me.
It made me damned uncomfortable.
I had my hands together between my knees and I played with my shirt as I sat there quietly, listening to their conversations. I learned on the short drive to their house that Porter was leaving for South Carolina to play professional hockey, and more than that, their entire family played some part in the hockey community.
Their dad was a coach here in town for a minor-league team, but had played professionally when he was younger. They had two older brothers playing for the same team in San Diego, a sister who coached college hockey and was putting together a Midwest division for the women’s professional hockey league, and another sister who was engaged to a hockey player that played for their dad, who she met through the team because she did marketing for them.
Turned out, Avery was even finishing school so she could be a sports agent.
What kind of family did I stumble into?
No wonder they were okay refurnishing a guest house for a nobody like myself.
“You okay?”
I turned my head toward Porter. He was still leaning forward but it sounded like his mom and Avery were having a discussion among themselves now—I’m pretty sure I caught CJ’s name in there—and his face was turned toward me.
Porter was a beautiful man. His green eyes regarded me cautiously, as if he knew my secrets and was afraid of stepping on the wrong button. His jaw was shadowed with stubble, but it took nothing away from his beauty—it only added to it. His lower lip was slightly fuller than his upper, and his nose had a slight bend in the bridge where he likely broke it at one point.
His ear lobes had small plugs in them, too. I’d never really thought much about guys with gauged ears, but it simply added to his attractiveness.
He lifted his left brow, not really calling me out for not answering, but making a point of pointing it out all the same. That same eyebrow had a slice through the end, a scar from something or another.
“I’m good,” I finally answered. I told myself to sit back in my seat and look out the window, but I was held captive by his green gaze.
“What’s your story?”
I frowned. “What do you mean?”
“Your story. Where did you come from, how did you end up here, of all places; a small town in Wisconsin that’s known mostly for its hockey team these days, but also for its Hormel Foods plant?”
I shrugged and was finally able to turn my head. Through the window, I watched as we passed through town and then through farm fields. The colors—mostly the yellows and oranges that came with autumn—blurred together as we drove down the road.
In the reflection of the glass, I could make out Porter still watching me. Whatever relaxation I found in the last few minutes quickly flew out the window.
Porter made me uncomfortable…but I was surprised to realize it wasn’t in a fearful way.
I spent my early teens a bit promiscuously. A tease, if you will. I learned that I liked heavy petting, heavy kissing. Up until my senior year, I hadn’t ever gone all the way, but I certainly earned a reputation at the high school I attended through my junior year.
I wasn’t that person who was looking for love in all the wrong places—I wasn’t naïve in thinking that sex meant love.
I scoffed to myself.
No, sex was a power struggle, and it was one I sorely lost on.
When my foster father…
I shook my head. I refused to go there anymore. I was done with that time in my life.
Regardless, sex and guys were the last things on my radar. And because of that, I couldn’t recall the last time I felt attraction toward any guy. Sure, some of my male drill instructors in the failure that had been called boot camp, had been handsome in a hard way—when they weren’t scowling. And Hunter Douglas, the brother of a boot camp friend, certainly wasn’t hard on the eyes.
But before seeing Porter walk into Starbucks, before shaking his hand in introduction, never had there been a male who gave me butterflies. I wasn’t a butterfly type of girl.
Butterflies were reserved for the perfect, pretty girls. Girls like Carter and Avery.
Not for trashy girls like me. Girls who weren’t worthy of a place on this earth.
So yes, the butterflies and Porter’s attention made me incredibly nervous.
I moved my focus in the reflection from Porter’s outline, back to the landscaping. The fields were giving way to trees now—pines primarily, but also several regular trees that were changing colors with the season. It reminded me of Tennessee, and I wasn’t entirely sure how that made me feel.
“How old are you?” Porter broke the silence in the backseat.
I made myself turn my attention back to him. It would be rude not to.
Avery and their mom were still having a conversation in the front so I gave Porter the answer he was looking for, quietly confessing, “Seventeen.”
Both of his brown brows rose to his hairline. “Are you a runaway?”
A dry chuckle escaped my mouth as I shook my head. “No, I’m emancipated.”
“So, what, you’re legally on your own? What’d your parents do to make you want that?” His brows had dropped, but rather than be relaxed, his face now looked perplexed.
If his family was truly like what I’d been gathering, I could understand his confusion.
“I was a foster kid.” My eyes shifted between both of his as I admitted it and again I fought the need to turn my attention back to the window. His eyes on mine was nearly too intense.
“Well that’s shitty,” he answered. “So, no terrible ghosts in your closet,” he added, a hint of his crooked smile—the one that gave way to a deep dimple—gracing his face.
My mind flashed to dark nights of being woken up, nights where I didn’t sleep for fear of him, nights of my body betraying me—giving way to pleasure I didn’t want to feel.
I gave Porter the same hint of a smile he gave me and shrugged. “No. No terrible ghosts.
Porter
Seventeen.
Seventeen.
I wasn’t exactly that much older than her, no, but I couldn’t very well act on any attraction to her. Not right now.
Fucker, you’re leaving.
Yeah, yeah, there was that, too.
I stared at her across the backseat; she kept her eyes on mine. Every time she turned toward the window, I fought the need to turn her face back to me. There were secrets swirling behind those fascinating colors in her eyes, and I was surprised to find I wanted to uncover them.
Seventeen… I shook my head mentally, not because of her being jailbait but at the fact she was by herself and seemed to be doing alright on her own. Hell, when I was seventeen…
I chuckled, which only caused Asher to frown at me.
I shook my head. “Nothing, I was just comparing myself at seventeen, to you. I was only starting to get my shit together. You seem to be pretty put together.”
She nibbled on her cheek, the action pursing out her lips. My eyes dropped to them and I forced myself to raise my gaze again.
“How old are you?” she finally asked, before shaking her head. “Oh. Duh. Your mom said twenty-one and nineteen, so you must be the nineteen-year-old.”
“Why can’t I be the twenty-one-year-old?” I asked, my lips curling up involuntarily.
Whatever semi-humor I used did the trick because the soft, not-quite-there smile she gave me before was nowhere near as blinding as the full smile she gave me now.
My dick didn’t seem to care that she was too young for me. It twitched under my zipper and I refrained from moving my hands to my lap to hide the impending tent action, which would only bring attention to it. Maybe she wouldn’t notice.
Hell, maybe I could manage to keep it under wraps.
“Avery referred to you as her little brother earlier.”
“Ah, that would do it,” I answered, trying damn hard to keep the mood light.
A guy could drown on her smile.
When she turned her head away again, I battled disappointment but we were nearly to the house. I checked my phone to be sure my cancel request went through, and quickly typed in the airline website to change that over. Less than a minute later, I had a seat on a plane leaving Sunday instead.
Granted, my shit was going to arrive to South Carolina later today, but I still had clothes in the house. I’d be fine.
“You guys are taking the truck?” Mom cut through, lifting her chin to look at me in the rearview mirror. Her brows were up and I could swear there was laughter all over her face.
My family was a bunch of comedians.
“Yep! And Porter’s driving, because he wanted to come so badly.”
Like I said, comedians.
Mom pulled to a stop outside of the garage, cutting the engine. “The card should be in your dad’s glove compartment.”
“I really—” Asher started, sitting up again.
“Just be sure to bring me the receipt,” Mom continued.
I was beginning to think Asher wasn’t used to receiving things. Sure, not many people were given a newly furnished place to stay, but that was the joy of ending up in the Prescott fold.
For a foster kid whose car broke down in the middle of the countryside, she sure made out pretty good. It would probably take some getting used to.
After Mom and Avery got out of the car, Avery folded her seat forward. I pulled myself out and stretched tall, and when Asher followed me out of the car, I watched as her eyes latched onto the skin that was making an appearance as my shirt rode up. Her face flushed as she finished getting out, tugging on the sleeve hems of her shirt again.
Wasn’t intentional, the skin tease.
But it worked all the same. Girl wasn’t immune. It gave me a slight thrill of excitement.
“Truck’s this way,” Avery told Asher, who avoided looking in my direction as she skirted past me to follow my sister. I went the opposite direction, following Mom into the house to grab the truck keys.
Mom held the door open for me and I walked into the kitchen behind her.
Dad, who was at the counter making a sandwich, leaned in to Mom to kiss her when he noticed me come in. Mid-bend toward Mom, he frowned. “Aren’t you supposed to be on a flight?”
Mom finished what Dad failed to do and turned his head toward her, kissing him square on the lips.
They were always kissing and touching.
It was awkward as a preteen, especially with friends in the house. Now I pretended to not notice.
Hard to do when it was all over, all the time, but I tried.
“There’s a girl,” Mom said, after kissing Dad, rubbing her hand over his stomach.
“No, my flight was rescheduled.” I walked over to where Dad’s keys would be, making sure to grab the set with the guest house key on it too.
“There’s a girl,” Mom repeated herself with a grin.
“I’m confused,” Dad said. “What’s a girl here got to do with anything?”
“Your boy’s smitten.”
“So long as he wraps it.”
“Guys!” I had to stop them before they went much further. “My flight was rescheduled. And I do wrap it, for your information, but that’s not what this is about. She’s Avery’s girl.”
“What about CJ?” Dad asked me, bringing the knife he was using for mayo to his face. “I really thought she had a thing with CJ.”
“She’s… Well not…” I rolled my eyes—yep, just like my sisters. “She’s not, like, with Avery, but she’s Avery’s friend. I’m just helping them with furniture.”
“You think he likes this girl?” Dad asked Mom after licking the knife and putting it down on the counter, apparently not listening to me.
“Oh, I think he likes this girl.” Mom smiled wide at me.
“More than Mo-like?”
“Mmm,” Mom contemplated. “Too early to tell.”
“Mo’s a good girl.”
“True.”
“Alright, yeah. We’re going.” I slipped the keyring on my middle finger and waved at them. “Ciao.”
I left the kitchen, hearing their laughter behind me. Pretty sure Mom’s sudden giggles had to do with something other than me, to be honest, but I wasn’t about to turn around and check.
As I left the house and headed through the garage, I thought about Mo for the second time today.
Mo.
She and I had been friends for as long as I could remember, but the summer before junior year—the night before, really, if you wanted to get all technical—we decided to give “us” a shot. We’d been friends with benefits for a while before then but with schedules and my own distaste for going steady, we hadn’t thought to cross that line.
And it had been a fun line to cross.
Mo and I had familiarity between us.
But our lives were on two very different tracks right now.
I broke up with her the week after graduation. The last I’d seen her was two weeks ago, before she left for school, and while she did text me earlier today, I was closing that door.
I was going to be South Carolina for the foreseeable future. I didn’t want to hold her back.
So why are you so curious about Asher?
Who the fuck knew why.
I was curious, and I was currently okay with it.
Maybe I’d get to Charleston and the roommate would have some chicks I could meet. Maybe then, my fascination with the seventeen-year-old with freaking amazing eyes would go away.
Yeah. Maybe.
“You sure took long enough,” Ace scolded when I reached her and Asher. They were standing by the bed of the truck and Asher had her sleeves pushed up again. I tried to get a good look at her sleeve tattoo but all I could make out were colors—like a watercolor gone awry.
But purposely so.
“I couldn’t just get the keys. Dad was confused.”
Avery lifted her brows and grinned, her arms crossed. “Yeah. Seems to be the general Prescott consensus at the moment.”
Asher herself looked confused but rather than keep this going—because Ace and I could do this for days—I hit the unlock button. “Just get in the truck.” I pulled down the tailgate and hopped up, quickly rolling back the thick bed cover so we wouldn’t have to do it later.
“I’ll sit in the back,” I could hear Asher say as they rounded the bed and went to the passenger side.
I’d really rather she sat in the front but…
“Nah, I get carsick in this beast,” Avery answered and I had to refrain from barking out a laugh.
Carsick, my left ass cheek.
I hopped over the side of the bed and climbed up into the driver’s seat.
“But you were in the front before? And don’t people get carsick in the back seat?” Asher asked.
Smart girl, that Asher.
“Something about the truck,” Avery answered. I looked over my shoulder and watched as she scooted around Asher and climbed into the back. Asher’s eyes met mine through the short distance and she sighed heavily, before begrudgingly getting into the front seat beside me.