He holds me with a desperation, almost as if he’s afraid to let me go, and when I lift my head, tilting it back so I can stare into his eyes, I find he’s already watching me.
“Friends don’t make each other feel like this,” he says, his voice a gravelly whisper.
The hairs on the back of my neck rise. “Feel like what?”
“Like you could be my everything.”
My shoulders sag. “Ash—”
“Stop talking.” He presses two fingers to my lips, silencing me. When he’s seemingly assured I won’t speak, he lightens the pressure, gently caressing my lips. Back and forth. Making me tingle.
Making me want him to do more than touch my mouth.
I want him to kiss me.
“You have the sexiest lips,” he murmurs, and the blush returns, setting my face on fire. No one has referred to me as sexy before. “What we’re doing is fucking crazy. You know this right, Callahan?”
I ignore his question. “How could I be your everything when you told me you don’t know how to feel?”
“The only time I seem to feel is when...” He presses his fingers into the corner of my mouth, so gentle, I could almost think he never actually touched me. “I’m with you.”
“What are you feeling right now?” I have to ask. I might never get this opportunity again.
“Sick to my stomach. Happy. Scared.” He visibly swallows, as if all that honesty was tough to confess. “I want to kiss you.”
Slowly I shake my head, even though everything inside of me is screaming, yes! Please kiss me! “Not a good idea.”
“Nothing we ever do is a good idea,” he says, heavy on the sarcasm.
So very true. “My parents will be home soon.”
“No they won’t. They’re at a football game. And I can guarantee that game is still happening. I’d predict it’s only in the third quarter,” he says.
My mouth pops open. “How do you know?”
“Your dad was posting all over his social media earlier. The tailgate party. Entering the stadium and all his fans losing their shit. Showing off the view from the box seats. ‘Check out this hot dog I’m eating’—he literally said that right before he shoved it in his mouth. Pretty sure I heard your mom laughing while she filmed it.” Ash chuckles. “His Instagram story is popping tonight.”
The joys of having a father who’s also a public figure. Thanks, Dad, for letting Ash Davis know where you are at all times so he’s able to keep tabs. No wonder he was so comfortable showing up here.
“But we’re only being friends right now,” I remind him. “And friends leave when they’re asked, so…”
“You’re the one who’s still holding me,” he points out, and when I glance down, I realize he’s right. His arms are dangling by his sides almost awkwardly. And mine are still firmly wrapped around his waist.
I let go of him as if he’s a poisonous snake. “That’s your cue to leave.”
He takes a few steps backward, his gaze never leaving mine. I rest my hands on my hips, trying to look tough, most likely failing miserably. He examines me with his eyes, my skin burning the longer he stares, and I don’t know why he affects me this way. Leaves me feeling warm and squirmy and completely conflicted.
I shouldn’t like him.
Yet I do.
I think I do.
“You really want me to leave, Callahan?” His voice is quiet. The entire house is quiet. My heart is thundering, and I wonder if he can hear it.
I wonder if I really affect him like he does me. Or if he just says all those sweet things to get in my pants or whatever.
“I’m with someone else,” I remind him. “You shouldn’t be here.”
“And you shouldn’t be with someone else.” He pauses. Swallows hard. Looks down at the floor before he lifts his gaze to mine once again. “You should be with me.”
“I know nothing about you,” I whisper, hating how shaky my voice sounds. It’s true. I don’t know him. I only know of him. His background is a mystery. I’ve never really asked around about him, and no one volunteers any information. Does he have brothers or sisters? I don’t know, I’ve never asked. And what’s up with his mom? Where does he live?
“There’s not much to know,” he says with a shrug, glancing around the foyer once more. “I’m not rich like you, I can tell you that.”
“I’m not—”
He interrupts me. “Don’t bother denying it. You’re definitely rich. Richer than I could ever hope to be.”
I go quiet, because he’s right. I did nothing to have my life. I was just lucky enough to be born to parents who make money.
“I don’t care about money. If a person is rich or poor, I’m not going to judge them,” I say, my voice level, my heart racing. I stare into his eyes. “So don’t try to label me a snob when I’m not.”
He actually grins, the asshole. “I like it when you get mad. It’s cute.”
“I’m not mad,” I deny with a scowl.
“Sure. Whatever.” He comes toward me, his strides quick. Purposeful. I back up, my butt hitting the door, and then his mouth his on mine. Quick and fleeting. The kiss over and done with before it had a chance to start. My lips are still tingling when he pulls away, and my hands itch with the need to grab him.
But I don’t.
“See ya around, Callahan,” he whispers as he reaches around me for the door handle.
I scoot out of his way, watching as he opens the door, then quietly closes it behind him, finally leaving me alone.
I’m lying in my bed hours later, unable to sleep. Replaying every moment between us. Friday night, how I was drawn to him when I shouldn’t have been. The kiss we shared. The slow, tortuous stroke of his tongue around mine, how he held me so tight, his fingers branding my skin. He was right. I was rubbing against him like I was desperate, and I thought I’d embarrassed myself, but he liked it.
He liked it.
He likes me.
Tonight’s conversation was ridiculous. I find it difficult to believe a word he says. Most of it feels like shock value. He doesn’t really care about me.
Does he?
The frustration, the joy, the anger. All three emotions rush over me, even more intense this time around, and I don’t know what the hell I’m doing with Ash.
It needs to stop, I tell myself.
But I don’t know if it can.
Thirteen
Surprisingly, Ash keeps his mouth shut at school. He doesn’t breathe a word about our interactions over the weekend. Ben texted me late Sunday afternoon to let me know he was back home, and I was so relieved to see his text, to know he’s close and doesn’t hate me, that I almost started to cry.
Or maybe that’s the guilt trying to strangle me alive. I’m not sure.
The week goes by without any issues. Everything is normal. I have cheer practice. I get a B- on my math test. In leadership we’re planning homecoming week, and even though it’s a month away, everyone’s already stressed out. Ben and I go to Starbucks after school on Wednesday and hang out with our friends. He kisses me deep as we’re leaning against his car before we each head home, and I have to admit, I felt that little tingle, stirring deep in my stomach.