“Dude, girls and guys can’t be best friends.”
“Not true according to a study Ally read—”
“It is a complete bullshit study she is using and preaching so she doesn’t hump you. I’m telling you, I’ve hung out with you two. It’s the Ally and Asher Show, and you guys are one sideways glance away from attacking each other like cats in heat.”
I find that I’m forcing laughter. Not sure why. “You’re delusional.”
“I’m telling you, I’m in love, and I may have ignored things like this before. But now, I know all.”
“Aiden, you don’t know your head from your asshole,” I say dryly.
He laughs. “Actually, I do, thank you very much.”
“You’re so far from the truth, it’s pathetic. We’re best friends. Drop it.”
“Whatever, dude. You care too—”
“When can I get the keys?”
Aiden laughs. “I’ll have Shelli drop them off to you.”
“Great. Thanks, bye.”
I don’t even give him time to say goodbye before I hang up and put down my phone. I swipe through my alerts, checking my messages, but still nothing from Ally. What the hell? It doesn’t matter, though; I won’t text her. But I’m seriously confused. This isn’t like her. I’ve bitched at her before about Taco, and she didn’t care. She does what she wants. Why is this time so different?
As I finish cleaning up, I text Shelli about meeting up for the key. I’m waiting for a response when a text from Angie comes through.
Angie: Hey, wanna meet up tonight?
I don’t have anything to do, and I’m mad at Ally, so what the hell. A text pops up from Shelli, and she says she’ll give it to me this weekend at the tux fitting. I almost forgot about that. Damn it. Last thing I want to do. Oh well, I have more important things to worry about right now.
Me: Sure, what time?
Angie: There is a party here on campus. Wanna go?
Ew.
Me: I’m not really into parties. Want to go to the movies? Dinner?
Angie: Eh, the whole team is supposed to go. I already said I would.
Me: Cool. I’ll catch you later, then.
Angie: You sure?
Me: Yeah, maybe we can do something tomorrow.
Angie: Okay…
Ugh, the dreaded dots. Yup, this is going great. I should be worried. I should be trying to smooth it over.
Instead, I’m wondering why Ally still hasn’t texted me.
Chapter Nine
Ally
I slam my fist into the ball, making it bounce hard against the floor as I stare at the net.
I’ve changed. I promise, baby. I’m going to do right by you this time. You’ll see. We’re a forever kind of couple.
It’s hard to believe Taco’s words. Our relationship wasn’t the best before he left. There was lots of lying and lots of treating me like shit. I was always left on the back burner, never important. He cared more about his Call of Duty game than he did me. Our fights were toxic and uncalled-for. He called me a bitch more than once, and he wasn’t good to me. I don’t know why I think it’s a good idea to start something back up with him. I’d really thought after I told him I was going home alone when we were in the parking lot of Brooks House last night, he would have gotten upset. He’d call me a tease or something. Every time I didn’t want to have sex or give him head, I was a tease to him. It was obnoxious, but that wasn’t the case last night. To my surprise, he kissed me softly on the lips, only grabbed my ass a little bit, and then asked me to text him when I got home.
It was weird, and I almost didn’t believe it was him on the other side of the kiss, but when I opened my eyes, it was. I didn’t want it to be, but it was. He sent me a grin and went on his merry way. It was crazy weird. We texted throughout the night, and he was funny and wonderful, yet I was waiting for a text from Asher. I knew he was upset, and I fully expected him to text me or try to call, but he hasn’t. Radio silence and it’s giving me a complex. It’s not like us not to talk. We can talk about the color of dirt, and it will still be entertaining. That’s how we are. Yet, nothing. Is he really that mad at me?
Which poses the question. If he is that mad, then does that mean he has feelings for me? Of course, he gets annoyed with me when I date dudes who are not up to his standards or who don’t appreciate “my worth,” as he says, but he’s never not talked to me over a guy. We can push our romantic relationships to the side because we care for each other. I’m so confused, and it’s making my head ache. Because of this, and the fact that I can’t turn off my brain, I am at the court, working on my serve. I have a good serve, efficient, but I want to be able to put the ball wherever I want. I’m almost there; I just need a bit more practice. I throw the ball up and serve it hard to the right corner. I reach for another and then another, hitting each one harder and with more anger.
I don’t even know what I am angry about. It could be because of Angie. When she got home, all excited and happy, it did not do anything for me. I ignored all the talk of Asher. I couldn’t handle it. But then she made it clear that he is looking for a relationship and, “Isn’t that just the cutest? I might have to change my thinking for him.”
Fantastic.
I wanted to be an asshole and convince her to sleep around, but that wouldn’t be kind of me. Lucy trusts me to keep an eye on Angie. If I were honest, Asher would be the most amazing guy for her. He would treat her so damn good and really show her what it’s like to be with a good dude. Any girl would be lucky to have him. Her parents would think he’d hung the moon and the stars for her. He’d be kind to them, be a part of the family, and so damn faithful. While I have a good feeling things won’t work out between Angie and Asher, I’m already jealous of the next girl who does come along. Pathetic, yes, but I know she’ll be amazing, funny, and gorgeous because Asher only wants the best.
I wish I was the best for him.
I sulk a bit as I gather the volleyballs with the basket where they’re held when they’re in the closet. It has wheels, so it’s easy to push around and fill with balls. I don’t like how I feel. It isn’t becoming of me. I could change it all, but what’s the point? It’s safer to be just friends with Asher.
Once I’m done, I move back to the serving line and grab a ball. I have time to kill. I don’t have to be to my next class for another hour, so might as well knock the shit out of some balls. Plus, Angie is back in the dorm, texting Asher and making oohing noises.
That’s a big hell nope for me.
I’m three balls in when the side door opens. I hold up the ball, stopping my hand from smacking it as I furrow my brow. No one is ever in here at this time. This is my quiet time. Asher walks in with no cares whatsoever. He has a beanie low on his head, wearing a black hoodie and fitted, ripped jeans. I can see part of his thigh and a little of his knee. It’s pitiful how turned on I am by those little peeks of skin. His gray gaze meets mine as he pulls off his beanie, his hair unruly underneath it.
I take in a deep breath, dropping the ball, and then slamming my fist into it when it bounces back up. When he doesn’t say anything, I find myself glaring. “What are you doing here?”