“Mya…” he countered, determination burning in his baby blues.
“Thirty minutes and then you’re gone.”
“If that’s your attempt at an invitation inside, I gotta say, you really need to work on your manners, Hernandez.”
Rolling my eyes, I dug out my key and opened the door, not waiting for Asher as I slipped inside. I’d lived here for almost three months, but my Aunt Ciara’s house still didn’t feel like home.
I wasn’t sure it ever would.
“Nice place,” Asher said, the door clicking softly behind him. Although it might as well have been a gunshot to the heart, the way it reverberated through me. Making me painfully aware that we were all alone. In my territory.
The only place I had in Rixon to call mine.
“Can I get you something to drink?”
“You got any snacks back there?” Asher craned his neck, his amused gaze going over my shoulder.
“Come on,” I grumbled, “I’ll see what I can find.” If there was one thing I’d learned about Asher Bennet since my short time at Rixon High, it was that the boy could eat. Sometimes, I wasn’t sure where he put it all. There wasn’t an ounce of fat on him, nothing but solid muscle pulled taut over broad shoulders and narrow hips.
He followed me into the kitchen and took a seat at the counter. “Your aunt’s not here, is she?”
“You caught that, huh?”
“Were you lying to me, Hernandez?”
“I was… maybe.” I sighed, getting to work on making him a sandwich. “We only have turkey, cheese, and some questionable pickles.”
“It’ll do.” He made himself comfortable. “So how long has your aunt lived in Rixon?”
“Since I was little. I never visited her before though.” She always came to us. Mom never spoke much about why her only sister moved away from Philly, but as I grew up, I pieced together the story. My aunt Ciara had run. Escaped the neighborhood for a better life. She was older than Mom by almost a decade, and as soon as she graduated high school, she packed a bag and got the hell out of dodge.
“What you said before, about me being white, would that really be a problem for her?”
Sandwich made, I pushed the plate toward Asher and grimaced. “Yes… and no. My aunt met a man here. A white man. I don’t know the whole story, but I heard my mama talking once and whatever went down between them, my aunt and the man, it wasn’t good.”
“Wow, okay.” Asher took a huge bite of the sandwich, barely chewing it before he swallowed. “So I’m going to be judged based on one man’s actions. How progressive of her.”
“In case you haven’t noticed, Rixon isn’t exactly diverse.”
He shrugged, taking another bite. “But we’re not all the racists you paint us to be either.”
“Do you realize how bigoted you sound right now?”
“I don’t—”
“I left my home, my very diverse neighborhood, and moved to the ass crack of nowhere where football is religion and I’m one of only a handful of kids to walk the halls at school who don’t fit the white profile.”
Asher straightened, his expression hardening. If I didn’t know better, I would have said he looked possessive. But that opened a whole other can of worms I wasn’t ready for.
“Has someone said something to you?” he asked. “Because if they have—”
Leaning back against the counter, I let out an exasperated breath. “Asher, listen to what I’m saying. It isn’t about what people are or aren’t doing or saying…” It was, but that wasn’t the point right now. “It’s about how alienating it can feel for someone who wasn’t born here, who isn’t white, to try to assimilate while staying true to their roots.”
Asher’s brows crinkled as he quietly processed my words. I didn’t want to have this conversation, especially not with him. But over the last few weeks, Asher had wormed his way into my life. Whether I’d wanted him to or not.
“I guess I didn’t think…” He dragged a hand down his face.
“It’s okay. It’s tough being a Raider.” I teased, wanting nothing more than to deflect the limelight away from me.
“You’d tell me though, right, if someone did say anything to you about… you know?”
“About the fact I’m a Latina girl from the hood?”
“You are so much more than that, Mya.” His eyes burned with something I’d seen before. At first, it had been when he looked at Felicity. But then his sights had shifted from her to me, right around the time she and Jason became more than just two people who liked to drive each other crazy.
I still didn’t know how I felt about it.
Dropping my gaze, I ran my finger over the worn wooden countertops. My aunt had opened her door to me without question; welcoming me into her home and heart. She didn’t say the words, but I think she saw a lot of her younger self in me. A girl desperate to escape. Only I never wanted to escape. I just knew I couldn’t stay there anymore without losing a part of myself.
So here I was in Rixon. Hiding. Pretending everything was okay. Trying to outrun a past that I knew would one day catch up with me.
“You are so fucking beautiful it hurts.”
My eyes snapped to Asher’s and he cussed under his breath. “Shit, Mya, I didn’t… I mean, I did, but I didn’t. Fuck.”
“I think you should go,” I said calmly, giving no hint at the band of horses galloping through my chest.
“It just came out. I didn’t… Let’s rewind. Pretend I never said it.”
“Asher.” I gave him a pointed look, fighting a smile. “You don’t think I’m beautiful?”
“What? No… I do. Of course, I do, but I thought…” Asher cussed again. “You’re fucking with me, aren’t you?”
My lip curved in a faint smile. “I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?”
He stood up, an apology dancing in his eyes. “Don’t let this make things weird between us, Hernandez. I can appreciate a beautiful woman even if I know she belongs to someone else.”
“I don’t—”
“It’s written all over your face. Besides, Hailee and Flick talk. A lot.”
“They told you about—”
“They wouldn’t do that, no. But sometimes I hear things… see things,” he said cryptically. “Whoever he is, he doesn’t deserve you.”
“Yeah, and what makes you say that?” I lifted my chin ready to defend Jermaine. I guess some habits were harder to kick than others.
“Because he let you run. And if you were mine, I’d chase you to the ends of the Earth before I ever gave you up.”
My.
Heart.
Stopped.
Beating.
“And on that note,” Asher smirked, a trace of vulnerability in his expression. “I’ll see myself out. Until tomorrow, Mya Hernandez.”
I watched as Asher walked away trying to figure out what I felt most confused about: that Asher had called me beautiful, or that his parting words had sounded a lot like a promise.