Page 41 of Endless Anger
The other is a dead man.
10
LUCY
NINETEEN YEARS OLD
I blinkat the silhouette shrouding the doorway, then rub my eyes, certain that I’m imagining things.
Surely Asher Blake Anderson isn’t standing in the same room as me, glaring at the boy beside me with his hand on my bare knee.
That’s two birthdays in a row the asshole’s ruined now.
Maybe ignoring him wasn’t a good idea, but since Aurora decided to take Asher’s place with me at Avernia, she spends most of her time suggesting I avoid communication with him. Not that I’ve wanted to reply to anything he’s sent, but still.
The easiest way for me to stop sulking was to just shut him out completely.
He’s been blocked on my phone for months. I wouldn’t have even known he still called or texted if Foxe didn’t harass me nearly every day, begging me to answer him.
Like I give a shit if Asher’s despondency ruins Foxe James’s precious little tour.
The only reason he’s out there having so much success anyway is that he signed to his cousin’s label. Hisfamouscousin, who has nothing but time and money to pour into Foxe’s career.
I sound bitter—and maybe I am. But so far, college isnotall it was cracked up to be, and Asher being here is only amplifying that sentiment.
If he really is here. The figure in the doorway hasn’t moved a muscle, and I’m starting to think maybe I’m hallucinating.
What the hell was in that joint?
The guy with his hand on my knee—whose name I can’t recall at the moment—makes an irritated noise in the back of his throat. His fingers are cold now, and I reach down to pry them off one by one.
Asher’s brown eyes aren’t totally visible with the bar lighting spilling in from behind him, but I can sense them tracking my movement.
For some reason, my stomach feels hollow. I craved Asher’s attention a year ago, and now I’m no longer interested.
“You’re lying.”
Anger boils inside my body, threatening to explode.
“This room’s occupied,” Sofa Guy says, pushing my hand aside and squeezing my leg.
“Leave.” Asher’s voice is barely audible over the bass bleeding in from the front of Lethe’s, but I hear its deep timbre anyway.
“No,” I reply immediately, like a reflexive defiance. “Youleave.”
Even though I’m not sure I want to be stuck in here with this Avernia student anymore, the battered pieces of my heart still prefer him to my former best friend.
“Yeah.” Sofa Guy scoffs, sliding his hand higher. “Fuck off and find your own place. We’re busy.”
Without saying another word, Asher stalks over to the couch, his arm lashing out before either of us has a chance to process what he’s doing. I assume he’s grabbing for me, but the contact never comes. Instead, seconds later, Sofa Guy is flying off the seat and face-planting on the floor.
He groans, placing his palms on the ground as he tries to push to his feet. Asher fists the guy’s hoodie and drags him toward the door without letting him up.
My skin feels warm, watching the whole thing unfold, and I chide myself silently for it.
Asher isn’t stepping in for my sake. He’s just being a dick.
Sofa Guy’s face squeaks across the floor, and he moans the whole way but seems unable to pick himself up. Asher hauls him onto his hands and knees, then gives him a shove over the threshold, sending the guy’s limbs flailing.
