Page 13 of Puck to the Heart
“The concert, you know the one.” Polly flapped her hand at us as if we were supposed to complete her sentence. “The one here at the arena on Thursday. Olivia has an extra ticket, and Ialsoknow you’re off on Thursday, Asher.”
Wow, subtle she wasnot.
But honestly, would it be so bad if Ash went with me? Trying to hide my assessment, I glanced at him and mulled it over for a split second.
“What the hell. Oops, sorry, Polly—I mean, why not. Ash, wanna go to a concert?”
As much asI looked forward to the concert, my excitement tempered itself with the prospect of seeing Ash again. Or it was tempered by the awkwardness of all our interactions. My feelings toward him were no longer violent, but somewhere closer to polite indifference. But maybe not, since I invited him? Although Polly led us into that. Ugh, everything was all tangled up in my head with no sign of unsnarling.
But I really,reallymissed live music since moving. If Dad couldn’t go with me, maybe it wouldn’t be so bad with Ash. Maybe he needed someone to hang out with separate from the people he worked with as much as I did, to be around someone without some ulterior motive.
Besides, dinner hadn’t beenawful. Not for me, anyway.
At least I had the foresight to bring my concert outfit to work, because Brad knocked over the tray of samples I needed to run when he finished with the penetrometer, and I had to set up another hundred vials at the last minute, which ate up all the time I set aside to get ready.
Fucking Brad.
Still, I was a couple of minutes late, blowing past Security fast enough for the lady behind the desk to chuckle, “Where’s the fire?”
But I wasexcitedfor the first time in ages, no matter how much I tried to swallow it down. A concert, even a questionable cover band, was one of my absolute favorite things to do. When I told Dad I still planned to go, he promptly went through their discography and sent an email with a list of his favorite songs they covered.
I conveniently forgot to mention Ash accompanying me.
I texted Dad back about the songs I hoped to hear, not watching where I walked when I slammed into the SUV waiting at the visitor gate.Thank the stars Ash didn’t bring another fucking limo.He blinked when I threw open the door, his eyes adjusting, then he smiled, a big genuine, almost boyish smile. It brought me up short, but I snapped out of it when he waved me in.
“Sorry I’m late. There was an incident with the penetrometer, and—” It was a testament to how flustered I was that I didn’t roll my eyes at the word. “Anyway, you don’t want to hear about the penetrometer. Um, hi.”
“I wouldloveto hear about the penetrometer.” Ash’s smirk was unfairly attractive around the stupid word.
Whywas it so attractive?
Even worse, I didn’t know how to act around him, despite his declaration of friendship, and his casual ease flustered me further. Lounging like some sort of king suited him, but with the normal sized car, he took up more space than he did in the limo, putting him right in my orbit.
How was I supposed to get used to him? He was so large he had his own gravitational pull trying to suck me in. A scowl pinched my brows as I resisted. “We don’t have time to stop, do we?”
Ash checked the platinum watch he wore—of course it was fuckingplatinum—and shook his head.
“Right. Well, I’m about to take this friendship to the next level. I can’t wear this—" I pulled on the boring corporate black clothes I wore to work practically every day “—to a concert. So, I’m going to have to change in here.”
The spark lighting his onyx eyes was a little too evil, and I leaned toward him, invading his space the way he invaded mine. “Don’t get excited. I learned how to change without showing any skin in gym class a million years ago. I can probably put on a formal gown, Spanx and all, without flashing extra skin.”
“I’m not going to watch you. You don’t have to show me anything you don’t want to.”
Something unspoken lay there, though I had no time to sort it out. When he closed his eyes, the length of his inky lashes and the curve of his mouth struck me, how the soft features fit him perfectly despite how the sharp angles of his face might have made them look out of place.
“Are you done?”
Oops. “Almost,” I lied.
There was something intimate about changing clothes with another person so close, even if there was nothing intimate between us. With it came awareness of every movement, how close it brought me to him. Every time I brushed against him though I squeezed into the smallest space possible to avoid it. Every sound of the rustle of fabric or the whoosh of a zipper. By the time I shoved my feet into my old Doc Martens, my cheeks burned. Why was I letting this get under my skin?
“I’m done.” It came out as a barked command, like I wastellinghim to look. Sighing through my nose, I scowled as I glanced away from him, searching through my backpack for my makeup bag. My hand scraped unfamiliar fabric, and when I pulled it out, I blushed more, with no clear cause. “I brought this for you. You said sometimes wearing a hat keeps people from recognizing you.” I shoved the dark green ball cap at him, pretty sure it was swag I’d received from a visiting vendor at work.
One of Ash’s dark brows rose, but he took it from me, settling it over his unruly hair and pulling the bill low. “Thank you.”
It sounded genuine, and for some reason it sent more heat to my face.
“I have selfish reasons. Don’t want people to mob us again like last time.” This time,helooked uncomfortable, so I changed the subject. “Will you hold this for me?” I held out a small mirror. He took it, lining it up with my face, and I kept talking, filling the silence with empty words. “Half the fun of concerts is what you wear, you know? I got this t-shirt with my dad a million years ago.” I plucked at the faded black band tee I’d bought when I was probably thirteen and had since artfully cut to mimic a style from way before I was born. The extra wide neckline always slid off one shoulder, no matter how many times I pulled it up. “The skirt is newish, though. Thrifted. And God, fishnets are awful, but they really finish the ‘look’ right?” I paused in the middle of blending neon pink eyeshadow on one lid to draw air quotes around look, the blending brush dangling from my fingers. “You, though. You look like…” I glanced past the mirror to find Ash watching me, bemused. “You look like some random guy.” In an outfit almost identical to the one he’d worn on our last outing, though he wore expensive sneakers rather than boots and the sleeves of his henley weren’t frayed.
