Tell Me Pretty Lies - Charleigh Rose Page 0,113

with the movement. I gulp. Asher’s growl has my eyes snapping back up to his.

“Stop looking at me like that, Briar,” he warns, his voice lethal and low.

“Like what?” I ask, feigning innocence.

“Like you want what I can’t give you.”

“The only thing I want is for you to stay.”

“I have to tell you something,” he says, changing the subject.

“What is it?” And why does it feel like he’s about to end our nonexistent relationship?

“I got a scholarship,” he says, his mouth twitching at the corner in an almost-smile. “A full ride.”

“Are you serious?” I squeal, my frustration from a minute ago all but gone. I’m more excited for him than I’ve been about anything in my entire life. I knew he was applying, but he told me it was impossible for swimmers to get a full ride. “That’s amazing, Ash!”

I throw my arms around his neck, but there’s nothing sexual about it this time. Just genuine pride and happiness for him. Ash is one of the best people I know, and he deserves an opportunity to live a life as good as he is. I pull back, scanning his face. He’s not easily excitable, but I expected more enthusiasm than this.

“What is it? What else aren’t you telling me?”

“It’s in Georgia.”

For the second time tonight, I feel like that time I fell on the playground in the fourth grade and got the wind knocked out of me. “What?”

“I leave in four months.”

I nod, caught between two warring emotions. I’m elated for him, but I’m sad for me. He untangles our limbs and sits on the edge of the bed, resting his elbows on his knees, avoiding eye contact.

“Does Dash know?”

“Yes.” He looks over at me, and his eyes soften at his admission.

He never even bothered to tell me.

“I’m happy for you,” I say, my voice contradicting the words coming out of my mouth. “This is your chance.”

He nods, and we sit in strained silence, unsure of where to go from here.

I try to hold back the tears. To be a good friend and be happy for him, but my chin starts to wobble, and one, single tear runs down my cheek. Asher is in front of me in an instant, gripping my face with both hands, forcing me to look into his eyes.

“Don’t waste one fucking tear on me.”

I sniff and look away.

“Dash is losing his best friend. And so will I.”

“I’m not leaving tomorrow, or next week. We have time.”

“Promise me something.”

“What’s that?”

“Promise me you won’t leave without saying goodbye. Promise me I won’t be blindsided.”

“I promise,” he swears.

I nod, feeling slightly pacified. I want nothing more than for Asher to get the hell out of there, but selfishly, right now I can only think about losing him.

“When you leave…”

Asher watches me, waiting. “Yeah?”

“It won’t be forever, right?”

“I can’t promise you that.”

“You really need to work on this whole ‘comforting someone’ thing. You’re really bad at it,” I say, pulling back to look up at him. Ash is at least six feet tall, and I have to strain my neck to make eye contact when we’re this close.

“I’ve never had to do it before.”

“Why does it feel like we’re saying hello and goodbye all at the same time?” After years of tugging at his sleeve and following him like a lost puppy, I’ve finally gotten Asher’s attention in the way I’ve always wanted. But I’m not na?ve enough to think that this could end well.

“Because once I leave, you’re going to forget this night ever happened.”

I lick my lips, and his eyes follow the movement.

“But you’re still here now, so…” I rise onto my tiptoes, circling my arms around his neck. Asher grips my waist and lifts. My legs automatically wrap around him.

“For once in my goddamn life, I’m trying to be the good guy, and you’re not making it easy.”

“I like you better when you’re bad.”

Something not unlike a growl is all I hear in response before his lips are on mine once again. Ash walks us over to the wall next to the window, still holding me by my ass. When my back hits the wall, his hands are free to roam. He smooths them up the outsides of my thighs and then either side of my waist. I hold on to his shoulders to keep from melting into a puddle at his feet as I feel it building again, and my hips shift in search of the friction I need, when I hear it.

Giggling. Feminine, annoying giggling.

“Shut the fuck up! You’re going to wake my parents,” says a familiar, albeit irritated voice.

“Fuck,” Ash whispers, dropping me like a sack of potatoes, right before Whitley, Asher’s ex, appears in the window. She lands in a pile at my feet, and she smells like alcohol and cheap perfume. When she notices me, her face morphs into one of total and utter disdain.

Dash climbs through after her—his preferred method of entry when he has a girl with him—and looks between us. It’s not exactly suspicion I detect on his face, but confusion. I feel the need to straighten my shirt or tame my hair, but I’m frozen, afraid of doing anything that will display my guilt.

“What’s going on?” he asks, concern coating his tone.

“A little help here!” Whitley slurs in her high-pitched, dolphin sonar voice. Dash rolls his eyes, reaching down to help her to her feet.

“She was looking for you. Wouldn’t take no for an answer,” Dash explains. “Figured you’d be here when we didn’t see your truck at yours.”

“I was just, uh, helping Asher with something,” I say. Dash reads the meaning of my words, and his head jerks toward Ash, assessing.

“You okay, man?” he asks, keeping it vague since Whitley is here.

“I’m good,” is all he says, and the two share a look that even I can’t decode.

“What the fuck are you doing here, Whit?” His tone is harsh, but hearing him call her by her nickname reminds me of the fact that they were close once.

“We need to talk,” she says, crossing her arms over her chest.

“The fuck we do,” Asher snaps. “Go home.”

“I can’t!” she protests, and I fight the urge to cover my ears. She’s always so loud. “I didn’t drive.”

“Jesus Christ,” Asher says, scrubbing a hand down his face. “Go wait for me in my truck. I’ll take you home.” Whitley wastes no time, probably knowing that he’d rescind the offer if she pushed her luck.

“Which is it this time? You pick a fight with some random asshole, or is your dad drunk again?” Dash asks once we hear the car door slam shut.

“The latter.”

“Does he look like you?” He gestures to his bloody appearance.

A devious smirk lifts the corner of his lips. “Worse.”

“Good,” Dash says solemnly. He hates this just as much as I do. It’s the most helpless feeling in the world, standing by and watching something so awful happen to someone you care deeply for, and not being able to do a damn thing about it. As much as I hate the thought of him leaving, I feel so much relief in knowing that there’s now an end in sight. “Call me tomorrow. I gotta take a piss.”

The moment my brother is out the door, Asher’s guilt-ridden eyes dart over to mine. “This was a mistake.”

“Bullshit,” I argue, moving toward him.

“Don’t,” he says, backing away, and I die inside, just a little.

And before I can pick my stupid, na?ve heart up off the floor and form a response, he’s gone.