Page 108 of Endless Anger
That realization is preventing me from it now.
When we were kids, I could do it because there was no need to pretend. He didn’t give a shit about anything or anyone, so putting on a mask to hide my insecurities and overactive mind wasn’t necessary.
It didn’tstopthe endless thoughts or the buzzing beneath my skin that made me want to constantly be in motion, but I could focus on other stuff too when I wasn’t occupied with being someone else.
I’d have thought our friendship breakup would’ve put an end to that sense of safety, but it’s almost like we’ve fallen right back into our old patterns.
With some lewd activities thrown in.
Those are new.
Taking a step toward me, Asher swoops in, gathering me into his arms once more. I go, because I am kind of stupid, and he kisses me again. This time, it’s slow, steady, and languid like we have all the time in the world, and I moan into the action, unable to help myself.
“I was an idiot,” he tells me, his tongue flicking across my upper lip as he draws back. “That’s not an excuse or really a very good explanation, but it’s the truth.”
“Well, I’m not sure what to do with that.”
Seeming sorry and vocalizing remorse are different things. Even if my heart wants to say fuck it and move on, a few kisses aren’t enough for absolution.
He sighs. “I know. I…I know it might not seem like it, but I do intend to earn your forgiveness. No matter what I have to do. I won’t stop until?—”
The lights above us flicker, and he cuts off, tilting his face toward the ceiling.
“It’s fine,” I say. “These lights are always going out.”
As soon as the last word leaves my lips, the entire floor becomes cloaked in thick darkness. We stay still for a few minutes, waiting for them to come back on.
“Avernia is way too expensive of a school for basic shit like this to not be maintained,” Asher grumbles, dipping his face into the curve of my neck.
Letting out a shaky breath, my body settles into a dull panic now that I don’t have the distraction of seeing his reactions. Instead, memories of the Primordial Forest weeks ago rush back in, and I can hear my roommate’s last moments.
I see her faceless corpse hanging in my dorm, along with another’s, and the school’s dismissal of everything.
“How long do they usually stay off?” Asher asks.
I purse my lips, yanking myself out of the impending spiral. “Depends on how mad the ghosts are, I guess.”
“Ghosts?Are you saying they’re behind this?”
My eyebrow quirks, and I grab his head, pulling him away from my neck. “You don’t believe in ghosts, do you?”
“I’m not arrogant enough to think we’re totally alone on this planet. Besides, isn’t that what makes people human? The soul? Where do you think it goes when you die?”
“Wow. I didn’t think I’d live to see the day Asher Anderson cowered away from the supernatural. You didn’t believe in them when we were kids.”
“Which was naive of me?—”
A deafening crash near the entrance to the stairwell interrupts him. I jolt, pressing closer to his chest, my heart pounding as the noise echoes between my ears.
At first, we don’t do anything.
Then another crash ricochets through the air, splintering the quiet into a million little pieces. This one sounds more like an explosion, and the floorboards under our feet seem to groan with the force of it.
Asher untangles himself from me. I twist around, peering beneath the shelves; at this point in my college career, I’ve spent so much time up here that I’ve acclimated pretty well to viewing this level in the dark.
There’s no movement out by the glass cases housing the town archives or past that where the study tables sit in neat, untouched sections.
“We should go,” I whisper, tugging on the waistband of his pants.
