Page 10 of Be Your Forever
My eyes flicker to the worn cherry bookshelves covered in a thick layer of dust. I’ve always been meticulous about keeping my shelves in pristine condition, dedicating every Sunday to making sure the wood shined so bright you could see your reflection. And my books? I worked hard to ensure that each book was immaculate. Now grime and what looks like spider webs coat every crevice. Ishouldtidy them up, make them sparkle. But shame is a wet log in a fireplace, refusing to light up, leaving me feeling useless and frustrated. It doesn’t matter anyway; these books aren’t going to be sitting on the shelves much longer.
There’s something about diving into a story and falling in love with the characters that always brought me joy. My list of book boyfriends was ever growing. Now, the place in my chest that reading once filled is completely void. I miss getting lost in a story, but I just can’t scrounge up the energy to do it.
I have to have at least a hundred or so books to donate, and I’ve put it off for far too long. I scan my shelves in its entirety, and I’m reminded of a dream I once had…emphasis onhad. Opening my own romance-only bookstore has been a fantasy of mine. Watching someone's face light up when they’re matched with their perfect book? Priceless. Ever since then, I’ve been building my collection to add to my future store. Now? I can’t even fathom following through with that dream. Now, I just want to get through the day without a breakdown.
I mentally log everything I need to get so I can pack everything up while mourning the death of teenage me’s dream. Fuck, this is overwhelming. I walk over to the white papasan rocking chair in the corner, grab my grey, weighted throw blanket, and snuggle beneath its warmth. I’ll just sit down for a few minutes and rest before tackling such a big project.
The sound of my phone ringing has me bolting upright, my heart still racing from my favorite recurring nightmare. Who the fuck is doing a drumroll with my heart right now? I wipe the grogginess from my eyes and reorient myself to my surroundings. My phone rings again and I answer it without glancing at the caller ID.
“Hello?” My voice comes out dopey and slow.
I wasn’t planning to sleep, but that’s all my body wants to do nowadays. Which I guess is another reason for my current figure. I grab the fallen blanket off the floor and cover my body like a shield. What do I need protection from? Me. I need protection from myself. Because whenever I look at my figure, I get all—no. Don’t go there. I fight a full body shiver, and the sound of my name on the other line of the phone jerks my focus back to what woke me in the first place.
“Hey, Bri. Everything okay?” The masculine timbre is a blanket fresh out the dryer, its heat curling around me, bathing me in comfort. I rub my eyes, attempting to rid myself of the grogginess associated with a midday nap before looking down and seeing Asher’s name across my phone screen.
“I, um…yeah. I’m sorry, I just woke up from a nap. W-Why are you calling me?”
I’ve felt awful for how I treated Asher when he came to visit me. I said some god awful things. Things that my anxiety was feeding me through an invisible earpiece. After a long and surprisingly restful sleep, I immediately wanted to take it back. With all the hurt that I’m carrying, I don’t have room for anything else, let alone a silly grudge. Something I’ve taken away from the accident is that life’s too short. It can be ripped away from you fast and hard, shattering your world within mere seconds. Was teenage me valid in her anger toward Asher? Yeah. But did she have to ice out someone who had meant the world to her? No. What can I say, adolescent me was a tad dramatic. Okay, more than a tad. Asher’s presence has always been my pillar of strength. My flashlight in the dark, guiding me through my darkest moments.
I pull my phone back to check the time. 2:30 p.m.
I cringe at what Asher must think of me, which of course gives my inner demons the green light to cause chaos.
You're lazy. I mean, look at you. You don’t work out like you used to. All you do is eat and sleep. No one’s gonna want you looking like that.
Stupid fucking intrusive thoughts. They’re a tornado determined to destroy everything in its path.
“I hope it was a good nap. I could use one myself. Things at the bar have been crazy, and I’ve been talking to Gage about hiring someone else. The best I get out of him is a shrug and a grunt. I’ll wear him down eventually. I was calling to see what you were doing. I’ve had a craving for some Uncle Tito’stacos.Wanted to see if you were down. You hungry, Bri?”
Why is he so nice to me? I yelled at him, pushed him away.
Despite all that, my mouth waters at the thought of stuffing my face with tacos. Then, almost immediately, my mind steers itself into self-hatred territory when I think of the body underneath the blanket. I really shouldn’t be stuffing my face with tacos—no matter how much I want them. Just the thought of being seen in public has me panicking. DoorDash and Uber Eats have been the real MVPs over the last several months. In person grocery shopping? Don’t know her. But for whatever reason, Uncle Tito’sisn’t on either delivery service, which is the one thing I’m craving.
“Bri? Don’t feel like you have to say yes. We can just go another time. Or not at all, whatever you want.” Is it just me, or do I hear a hint of nervousness in Asher’s voice?
“Um it’s not. I’m not—” I ramble when I’m anxious. Wait, why am I nervous? It’s not a date or anything. I mean…it's Asher. And he’soff limits. I mean, he could get any woman he wants. Tall, beautiful,thinwomen. I used to check those boxes. But because I was fueled by hurt and embarrassment, given the choice between sleeping with Asher and remaining celibate, I’d have chosen the latter.
“Bear?” Asher asks, shaking me from my thoughts.
“I—thank you, but I’m not really up for going out. I’m also not dressed to go anywhere.” I’m not sure what I expect to come out of his mouth, but it isn’t what he says next.
“Oh, well I’ll just bring it to you instead. You still like shrimp with extra cheese and hot sauce?”
The man has the memory of an elephant, rendering me speechless that he remembered such a small detail. I can count times on one hand that we’ve gotten tacos together, and I’ve known him for over ten years. And said instances always involved Max. I mean, before I entered high school, I was always hanging out with them. Not because my parents forced my brother to include me, but because both Max and Asher wanted me around.
My order has always been the same: three shrimp tacos with extra cheese and hot sauce. My heart soars at both the sweet gesture of offering to bring me food and that he remembered my order. The sound of my name being called for a second time has me jumping out of my head and into the present.
“Bri? Just tell me what you want, and I’ll give it to you.”
Is it me, or is there a double meaning behind that statement? Maybe I’m hoping there’s one? Wait, I don’t want there to be one…Do I? I glance at my now uncovered body and wince.
Even if you wanted him, he’d never go for you.
“Oh, you don’t have to—”
“Bear.” My nickname comes out as a growl. I could just give in, comply. But my internal demons are allergic to kindness, spewing venomous vitriol my way at any given opportunity.
“But I—” Again, he interrupts me.
