Chapter 18 (Asher)
His mouth forms a straight line as he scans over my paper. It's hard to read his expression, mostly because he's been so distant and short with me during today's session.
It's been two days since I inadvertently stayed over his house, but today's the first time we've seen one another and it's been strange...almost like he's mad at me for something.
I drag in a low, slow breath when another minute goes by and he still hasn't said a word. I worked my ass off studying for this, I even cracked open the book instead of just scanning the cliff notes.
Finally, he looks up. “Much better.” His tone is clipped, staccato. “See you tomorrow.”
Before I can respond, he slams his own book shut, tosses it in his backpack, and stands up.
“Whoa,” I all but growl, because I can't stand this passive aggressive bullshit any longer. “That's it? That's all you have to say?”
He opens his mouth to speak but then clamps it shut before he huffs and starts walking.
When I stand up and reach for his elbow, his entire body stiffens and his jaw flexes. “Did you block her number?”
His voice is low, almost deadly. It doesn't scare me, not by a long shot; but fuck if it doesn't turn me on.
When I don't answer, he faces me head on. “I tried calling her the other morning and I couldn't get through.”
I swallow thickly. “When?”
He looks at me like I've sprouted another head. “What? Why does it matter? The morning after you slept over.”
I feel like I'm being strangled with a live wire because two things become glaringly obvious at that moment.
One—using a special hidden app to block her number wasn't such a good idea after all because he's pissed—which means he still cares about her—which means that when she gets back, he'll be putty in her hands again.
And two—he called her that morning. The morning after I thought that maybe...something had happened between us. Or was starting to happen between us.
I'm a fucking idiot.
I snatch my bag off the table and charge for the doors.
“Really, Asher? I'm the one who has a right to be pissed off here, not you,” he calls out after me.
I reach in my bag for my beanie and pull it over my head. It's not 100% effective in terms of not being recognized on campus, and its effect will wear down soon, but it helps some when I'm not in the mood to be noticed.
I can hear him trying to keep up behind me. “It's 90 degrees outside.” He balks. “And I hate to break it to you, but that stupid hat isn't doing anything to hide who you are.”
My hands clench into fists at my sides. “Go to hell.”
“Asher.” He grabs my shoulder and spins me around. I can feel everyone's eyes boring into us in the courtyard. “What I meant was— you don't have to hide who you are.” He flicks a hand in the air. “Fuck these people.”
“I installed a hidden app on your phone and blocked her number,” I whisper. “I was doing you a favor because I didn't think you'd be strong enough not to call her.”
Confusion followed by anger flare in his eyes...and then he laughs. “Are we having two completely separate conversations at the same time?”
I can't help but laugh now too. “Shit, I guess we are.”
I motion to a bench in the courtyard and sit. “I'm sorry.” I look at him. “Actually, that's a lie. I'm not sorry. The way I see it is if you're not the very first stop when she gets back home, I did you a solid.”
He thinks for a moment before speaking. “Yeah, I mean, it sucks...but maybe you have a point. It's just—” He breaks eye contact. “I care about her...a lot.”
I exhale. “I know. I get it.”
His hand grips the back of his neck and he looks around the courtyard. “I suppose I'll know for sure where she stands when she gets back.”
I muster a smile that I hope hides my true feelings. “Yeah. Yeah, you will, man. I'm sure everything will end up turning out for the best.”
He nods and I swallow down my pain as he hikes his bag on his shoulder. “Your beanie's not so bad by the way. You're kind of working that whole jock-hipster vibe.”
When I cock an eyebrow, he grins. “See you tomorrow morning?”
I nod and watch him as he walks away, jealousy burning through me like a wildfire. This girl, whoever she is, must be something special.
Because he is.
He chews on his pen as he scans my quiz and I stifle a groan. Two more days have passed and this feeling has only intensified. Like a boulder rolling downhill and picking up speed. It's so bad, I have absolutely no desire to hook up with anyone else now—male or female.
Preston keeps telling me I need to make a move for my own sanity, but for someone so smart, that's dumb advice.
He looks up at me over the paper and his eyebrows crash together. “You okay? You're sweating.”
“It's the end of the summer, of course I'm sweating.” When he makes a face, I add, “I'm fine.”
I'm the complete opposite of fine. I have a hard on the size of Texas and an insatiable appetite for him that I won't ever be able to indulge in. Sex won't cure it and ignoring it only seems to make it worse. Unrequited attraction with someone you're forced to interact with every day is one of the seven circles of hell, I'm sure of it.
I chew on my thumbnail and look around the library. I'm desperate to get out of here, desperate to get away from him. I'm actually looking forward to the grueling practice in this heatwave that's awaiting me after this.
“Dude, relax, you got an 80. You're almost there.”
I stand up. “Great. Are we done?”
He stares at me open-mouthed and I adjust my gym bag so it covers the evidence of my attraction to him.
“Yeah. I mean, I guess.” He taps his pen on the edge of the desk. “I um—do you have any plans this Saturday night?”
The hairs on my neck lift and my heart skyrockets. Is Landon asking me out?
I sit back down in my seat. “Nope.”
“Do you want to watch me play? It's okay if you say no... it's just. I have this semi steady gig at an underground venue called The Black Spoon and—”
“The Black Spoon?” I interject and he nods, his knee shaking underneath the table.
“Yeah, but there's this band called The Resistance, and their lead guitarist is scheduled to have surgery on his hand over the Christmas break in a few months, and they need someone to fill in,” he continues, not stopping for air.
Christ, I've never seen him so excited.
“They're like one of my favorite indie rock bands around, they're pretty popular too. And while I have no desire to be part of a band, this would be an awesome opportunity. Plus, the money is great and I would get to visit England for a week.” He takes a breath. “Anyway, they'll be there Saturday night to watch me play. It's kind of like an audition and I…I could really use all the support I can get that night.”
“I'll be there,” I say and he smiles.
“Really? Fuck, that's awesome. I figured you'd think it was stupid and make fun of me for asking.”
“Not at all.” I lean back in my chair and grin. “Not that I want to gas your head up, but you're phenomenal, Landon. They'd be stupid not to hire you.”
A cocky smile tugs at the corners of his mouth and he looks me in the eye. “Thank you.”
Oh hell. It's no longer my erection twitching...it's my goddamn heart.
I need to get out of here. I stand up again but he halts me. “Do you want to hang out later?”
“Can't,” I say quickly. “After practice I have to put all the equipment away and clean up the field.
“Really?”
“Yeah, it's...sort of my job. Coach pays me, so it's not like it's a hardship or anything. Helps me pay the bills since I won't have time for anything else besides football and classes once the semester starts.”
“Do you want help?” He pushes his glasses up his nose. “I don't play football, but I'm pretty sure I can figure out where the equipment goes and clean up. Besides, it's hot as hell out today, you'll finish quicker if I help you.”
“Yeah, sure,” I say, despite my hearts protests. “Thanks.”
He chews on the end of his pen and shrugs. “No need to thank me, man. What are friends for?”
Friends...right.
My teammates laugh when O'Connor crushes his Gatorade bottle and throws it on the grass. “Have fun cleaning, fag.”
I roll my shoulders back and take a step forward. I'm a second away from jumping on the motherfucker, but just then Coach Crane barks, “Pick that up, O' Conner or I'm benching you for the first game of the season. You treat the field and your fellow teammates with some goddamn respect.”
He grumbles and sucks his teeth at me before he leans over, picks up his bottle, and tosses it in the trash.
When the guys are off the field, I remove my shoulder pads and helmet and place them on the bleachers.
“This is your team, Holden,” Coach says behind me. “You have to whip them into shape or this is gonna get a helluva lot worse for you, son.” He squeezes my shoulder before he walks off.
“O' Conner is a giant fuckwad,” a familiar voice calls out. I look up and see Landon walking down the bleachers. Guess he watched what just happened.
I shrug and start stacking various equipment. “It is what it is.”
“I don't know how you stand it.” He begins searching the field for discarded bottles to throw out. “Guy needs to be knocked down a few pegs. O'Connor's not even that good.”
I turn and look at him. “How would you know? Thought you hated football?”
“I do.” He picks up a football off the ground. “But I'm willing to bet I'm much better than he is.”
He launches it in the air and it misses me by more than a foot. “That's quite the execution you've got there.”
He narrows his eyes. “Bite me. It wasn't like I was trying.”
I pick up the football and toss it back to him. Thankfully his catching skills aren't like his throwing ones.
“Jesus,” he grunts, flapping his hand around. “That was...intense.”
I waggle my eyebrows and take a few steps back. “60 mph, baby. They didn't call me one of the best quarterbacks of our generation for no reason.”
He rolls his eyes. “Nice to see you're so humble about it.”
I wave him on. “Come on, nerd. I'm gonna teach you how to throw the right way.”
He snorts. “I throw just fine.”
“No. You throw like a pussy.” I gesture between us. “We're friends, right?”
“Yeah.”
“Well, my friends don't throw like pussies. Therefore, it's my duty to fix that disaster technique of yours.”
“Christ, you sound like such an asshole jock right now.”
I ignore that comment and set up the target we use for practice before walking across the field to him.
He looks confused. “I'm not throwing it to you?”
“You're not good enough to throw it to me, yet—” I stand behind him and point. “Keep your eyes on that target. Don't waver.”
When he nods, I growl, “I said don't waver. Nodding your head is wavering, Landon.”
“Are you always this much of a tyrant?”
“In my domain? Yes. Now pay attention.” I tap his right leg. “Shift your weight and push off your back foot. That's where all your power comes from. The inside part of your back foot. Got it?” When he adjusts his stance and I see that his eyes are still focused, I say, “Now step your front foot toward your target.”
I squeeze his bicep and ignore the way my cock jolts to life. I've never been aroused while on the field before, but I guess there's a first time for everything. “And now for the most important part—put your eyes where you want them to be. Pick a spot within your target. In this case, the small black dot—then let that motherfucker sail.”
I can feel his sharp intake of breath before he pulls his arm back and launches the football in the air. My balls draw tight as I watch a bead of sweat trickle down his cheekbone before traveling down to the light stubble that lines his jaw.
“Holy shit—that was awesome. Did you see that?” he exclaims and I take a step back.
“Yeah, man.” I clear my throat, trying to cover my fumble. “Not bad. Much better this time.”
I start walking around the field, gathering equipment again.
“Fuck, I feel like I need to celebrate or something,” Landon says and I bite back a laugh. “No wonder you love it. Hitting that target was a rush. I could only imagine the feeling when you throw the winning touchdown.”
I don't have the heart to tell him I intentionally positioned the target much closer than the coach does for us. His happiness is intoxicating.
“Want to grab a beer with me when we're done here?”
“Sure,” I say, even though what I should be saying is no.
“Yeah, Ma,” he says. “I got the last package you sent me.”
I hide my smile and look around the moderately crowded sports bar.
“No, Ma. I haven't forgotten to eat today. In fact, I'm currently eating a granola bar and some veggies now,” he continues as he wipes his hands which are covered in chicken wing sauce and takes a sip of his beer.
“Yes, I've checked my level and I've taken my insulin.” He lets out a sigh. “I have to go. I have a session with one of my students starting soon.” He looks down. “I love you. Say hi to the little rug rat and Dad for me.” He laughs at something on the other line. “Well, hi to you too, punk. How's that math class of yours going?”
There's mumbling on the other line and he laughs again. “Yeah, I know it sucks. But you'll get through it, kid.” He plays with his straw. “Tell you what, email it to me and I'll give you some notes.” There's more mumbling and what sounds like a squeal on the other line. “I love you, too. Hold down the fort and take care of the parental units for me,” he says before he hangs up.
My chest squeezes and a smile pulls at my lips with the sincerity in both his tone and in his eyes.
I like that he has a great relationship with his younger sibling, reminds me of my relationship with Preston—even though unlike Landon and his little sister, Preston and I are close in age.
“Your family sounds pretty awesome,” I say, ignoring the way my insides twist.
On the outside, my family looked like the poster board for the perfect family, but we were anything but. It's why me and Preston were always so close and I'd do anything in the world for him and vice versa. We were all each other had to confide in when shit got bad...which was a lot.
“Yeah—” He takes another swig of his beer. “Well, my mom in particular is kind of over protective ever since—” His voice drifts off and his face falls.
“Since what?”
For the last two hours, we've been disclosing random things about ourselves to one another. Mostly surface things like our favorite television show and favorite food, but I've been dying to know more about him. Like—what makes him tick? And all the things that make him who he is today.
His expression turns somber and I almost want to kick myself for prying. Just when I'm about to tell him to forget about it, he says, “I never really talk about this with anyone, but I lost my older brother when I was eight years old.”
“Shit, man. I'm sorry to hear that.” It's on the tip of my tongue to ask him what happened but I don't want to push him, so I stay silent, deciding to put the ball in his court.
“He died from complications with diabetes. He was only 12. My parents had no idea he had it because his doctor didn't check for it during his last checkup, despite it running in our family.”
He shakes his head. “I was the one who found him in bed that morning. I thought he was playing around and faking because he didn't want to go to school. But when my mom came in and ran over to him—” He pauses to gather his composure. “She screamed for me to call 911, but it was already too late. He died in his sleep.”
He takes a breath. “It was the worst day of my life. The second was the day my parents found out that I had diabetes.”
I sit up in my seat. “They must have been scared out of their minds.”
“Oh, they were petrified. They were already overprotective of me after Levi's death, but it brought it to a whole new level after that. I wasn't allowed to do anything or go anywhere other than school without either of them by my side. It was—it was hard to be a kid. Hard to make friends. They all knew something was wrong with me and that I was different. I got made fun of a lot and became somewhat of a social outcast, and in return; I internally resented both my parents and Levi for dying. I was miserable for so long. Miserable and lonely. Until the day I picked up my first instrument—the piano—and taught myself how to play. Music saved my life, made me happy again. It was the one thing that was for me, you know?”
I nod, because I do. That's what football was for me.
I rest my forearms on the table, silently debating whether or not to tell him the truth about my upbringing now. “My dad,” I say slowly and something inside me coils and it becomes harder to breathe.
“Hey,” Landon whispers. “You don't have to tell me if you don't want to.”
“My dad used to hit me.” I look at him. “Beat me,” I amend. “You'd never know it from the outside looking in though.”
“Fuck, what an asshole.” I can feel him eyeing the scar above my eyebrow. I almost want to pull my hat down further to cover it, but that would just let him know how much it still bothers me. “He did that to you?”
“Yeah.” I lean back against my seat. “It was the first time I told him I didn't want to go to football practice and he didn't take it too well. It would have been worse, but Preston saved my ass that day. He also has a scar of his own to show for it.”
“I guess that explains why you and your brother are so close,” he says, studying my face. “And why you agreed to come here for him.”
“Preston has some issues but...he's my brother. He's always been there for me and even though we're only two years apart, I've always tried to protect him the best I could. There's no way I wasn't coming here and doing this for him.”
“What if you fail?” He blanches. “What will they do to you?”
“I don't know, but I don't intend to find out.”
He nods. “I—uh. I'll make sure you keep your grades up.” He looks around and rubs his neck. “I won't let you fail.”
I give him a look, I'm not sure if he's saying what I think he's saying. But if he is? That only makes me feel worse.
Landon's not a cheater. He works his ass off to help those in need—it's part of what attracts me to him so much.
The fact that he's a good person. A person who cares more about others than he does himself. Him and Breslin both have that trait in common. Hell, maybe that's part of the pull for me, because it's a quality I've always lacked.
“I appreciate it,” I say, picking at what's left of my food. “But I think for once...I'd like to really try.”
I glance up at him and he smiles proudly. “I think you're going to do fine, Asher. You're already improving with every session that passes. Hell, you may not even need me in another month.”
Panic punches me in the gut. “Oh...um. Well, that sucks.”
He makes a face. “Why?”
This is it. If there was ever an opening...it's right here. Staring me in the face with the softest brown eyes I've ever seen.
“I like hanging out with you. I—I like having you as a friend.”
Jesus Christ, I just sacked myself.
“I do too,” he says. “Me possibly not tutoring you anymore shouldn't stop us from being friends.” He takes a sip of his drink and shrugs. “Not unless you want it to?”
“No.” I start digging into my food again in order to hide my disappointment over my fuck up. “Now that we've got that out of the way, what else do you want to talk about? Euthanasia? Cancer? Perhaps the homeless youth epidemic?”
He laughs. “Yeah, I guess our conversation did take a turn there.”
The waitress comes by then. After we order another round of appetizers he looks at me. “What's your biggest fear?”
It's my turn to laugh. “Let's see—I lost the love of my life. I've been blackmailed with a sex tape that went viral. And both me and my brother are currently being threatened by bookies and mobsters. I'm pretty sure I'm living it.”
The color drains from his face and he coughs. “Yeah, I guess you have a point.” He takes a bite out of his food. “Okay, it's your turn then. Ask me anything.”
Opportunity rears its head again and I think back to Preston's advice.
I want to ask him...it's a question that's been marinating in my mind ever since Preston suggested it. But how the hell do you casually ask a guy if he's ever sucked another guy's dick and enjoyed it without it being awkward?
But then again...there may not be another opportunity like this. Hell, I can probably blame it on the beer if things get weird.
Resting my arm on the booth to appear nonchalant, I give him a cocky smile. “Ever hook up with a guy?”
There...it's out there in the universe. I did it. No going back now.
I'm so wrapped up in nerves, I almost don't hear him when he says, “No. Well—” There's a long pause that stops my heart. “Sort of, I guess. I don't know if you could really call it a hookup per se.” He nibbles on a fry. “It's kind of a strange story.”
I finish off the rest of my beer and reach for the pitcher, I have a feeling I'm going to need it. “I'm all ears. Strange stories are a guilty pleasure of mine.”
The air around us seems to halt as I wait for him to speak again.
“There was this girl in high school,” he begins. “Her name was Amber Alpine. Captain of the dance squad and the hottest girl in school. She was really—” He holds his hands out in front of his chest and winks. “Smart.”
I laugh and gesture for him to continue.
“Anyway, I had the biggest crush on her. It was so bad I used to sneak anonymous mixed CD's in her locker.” His fingers drum the sides of his glass. “I never thought I had a shot with her. You know, with me being a nerd and all.” He shoots me a look. “But one glorious day, right before we graduated, I ended up losing my virginity to her and we kind of became an item briefly.” He gives his head a slight shake. “I'm pretty sure it was only because she heard from her mother that guys with 4.0 GPAs made rich husbands—but I sure as shit wasn't going to question my good fortune.”
“Can't say I blame you,” I say, my thoughts going to Breslin. She could have had any guy she wanted. Why she chose me is anyone's guess, but I didn't question my good fortune either. I was thankful for it.
“Yeah,” he continues. “Anyhow, her parents' were throwing her a huge graduation party and she asked me to be the entertainment.”
When I raise an eyebrow, he says, “To play music.”
“Gotcha.”
“I was nervous as hell about it. Playing for my entire graduating class was scary shit at the time, considering I hardly ever played in front of anyone back then.” He shrugs. “To make a long story short, mid-way through the night, one of her cousins who lived in their guesthouse offered me a little something to take the edge off. Said it would help me loosen up.”
“Drugs?”
He nods. “I didn't realize it was ecstasy until after I was done and I was practically humping everyone and everything in sight.”
“Oh, man,” I say through laughter. “That must have made for an interesting night.”
“It did,” he muses. “God, everyone was blitzed out of their minds at that party. It would have been weird if I was sober.” He shakes his head again and chuckles. “Anyway, Amber and I went upstairs to fool around and I must have passed out at some point between the third and fourth round because when I woke up—” He smiles into his hand. “Amber was laid out spread eagle next to me masturbating and the cousin who gave me the drugs had my dick in his mouth and was going to town.”
“Holy shit.”
He slaps the table. “Tell me about it. Apparently, they were the dirty version of kissing cousins, and it was a common occurrence.”
“What did you do?”
He shrugs. “I closed my eyes and drifted off again. I was high out of my fucking mind. Amber and I ended things a few days after, though.”
“Because of what happened?”
“Well, yeah.”
My stomach drops and I focus on my food. “Makes sense. I know first-hand how much it can fuck you up when you wake up to find your dick in another guy's mouth.”
His brows furrow. “That wasn't what upset me so much. I didn't give a shit about that. I mean everyone experiments in the 21st century, right? The thing I couldn't seem to get past was that she and her cousin had a steady thing going on. It just...I don't know. It wasn't even like they were step-cousins or hell, even third cousins. They were first cousins. The blood line was strong. They even looked alike. Plus, she didn't think that fucking her cousin a few nights a week qualified as cheating on me since they were family.” He reaches for his water and takes a sip. “On second thought, I think that's what really bothered me in the end.”
“Wow.”
“I know.” He sets his water down. “I wish the girl well, but I wasn't exactly devastated over breaking up.”
“You seem really laid-back when it comes to certain things...and people,” I blurt out, wishing I could suck the words back in.
His eyes hold mine. “Probably because I grew up feeling different and an outcast. It made me sympathize with those who are different too. It also made me stronger. Levi's death taught me that life's too short to spend it not being happy and not being true to yourself. Life's all about evolving...changing. Discovering yourself and who you really are is pivotal. It's how you become comfortable in your own skin. So while I might just be an uptight geek to some people, it's fine. Because those people who are so busy making judgments about me, will never know who I really am, the other parts of me; therefore, they don't matter. I'd rather invest my energy on the things and people who are worth it. Know what I mean?”
“Yeah—no. It's something I'm still struggling with...not caring what other people think.” I draw in a breath, my chest caving in. “I think it's because I lost the girl I loved when I told her the truth about me. I guess maybe I feel like I'll lose everything and everyone if I wear my sexuality like a badge of honor.”
“Your sexuality doesn't define you, Asher,” he says. “But that's something you have to figure out for yourself.”
He stands up and throws some bills on the table. “It's getting late and I have an early morning tutoring session. Want a lift?”
“No, I'll walk. I could use the exercise.”
He snorts. “See you tomorrow.”
He pauses mid-stride, his back to me. “For what it's worth, it really was her loss.”
Before I can respond, he walks out the door.
I thought finding out more about him would have dwindled my interest, but it only fueled it.
I pull out my phone and type out a text.
Asher: Make sure you check your sugar level and take your insulin when you get home or I'll kick your ass.