Page 77 of All That Glitters
“I did. And the gracious Helen Troye would help anyone who needed it. This is different.”
“Maybe to you it is.”
“To you it is.”
I shrugged and set my feet on the floor. “Are we going to talk all night?”
“Do you have somewhere else to be?”
“No.”
“Is there something else you’d rather do than talk?”
“We could go for a drive.”
His body tensed as soon as the words were out of my mouth. His hands gripped the arms of the chair until his knuckles turned white.
I stood slowly and cautiously moved toward him. I knelt at his feet.
“Ashton.”
Fear and anger brewed in his eyes and he gave his head a short, violent shake.
“This is what you asked me to help you with. You haven’t gone near a car since the first night.”
“How do you know?”
“Tell me I’m lying.”
He didn’t answer. He didn’t give anything away, but I could see the pulse beating in his neck, I could see his shallow breathing. He might’ve thought he could hide from me, that he could keep his cool with me, but he should’ve known better.
I wanted to touch him. I wanted to lean into him and wrap my arms around him. I wanted him to lean on me, to trust me.
“No.” His voice grated like rocks crunching under heavy boots. The anger was going to win. He wouldn’t harm me. That much I knew.
“We can talk. We can fuck. And I’m all for both, but those things alone will only help you so much. You don’t have to drive. You can sit in the passenger seat and we’ll go for a midnight road trip down A1A. Remember when we’d pile in the car and drive all night to Miami, then turn around and head back, stopping for breakfast before getting home? Brax and Hale would eat so many pancakes that we had to stop just a few miles up the road?”
Those were some of the best times I had growing up. I was the only girl between them and for the most part, they treated me as one of them.
Then one day everything changed and I saw Ashton as more than a friend, wanted him as more than a friend, but I never let it come between any of us.
“I…”
The panic was so real, so palpable and my heart hurt for him. I reached for his hand, but he snatched it away.
“What if I can’t?” The question was a whisper of sound and maybe he hadn’t meant for me to hear it, maybe he didn’t want me to reply, but I would anyway.
“What if you can?” Pop psychology words on a meme shared across social media. They meant something more, part of a larger quote with different words. The anger was losing and I wasn’t sure what would happen if his fear took hold. “Are you really going to let Hale win? Again?”
The flash was back when he glared at me and darkened the longer we stared at each other.
I could handle his anger. Not his fear.
“Get out.”
“No.”
“Get. Out.”
