Maybe I’d get better at lying to myself.
DECEMBER 1ST
Yesterday I hid in my room all day. Dad and Sharon came back in the afternoon. Turns out they’d spent Friday night at a hotel in Emerport. Dad didn’t even bother with an excuse this time. He just wanted to be with his girlfriend—which is apparently more exciting than watching me dance.
You know what sucks? I still hope he’ll start caring, even though I know people hardly ever change. And you know what sucks even more? Realizing some people care for the wrong reasons—like Asher.
The flowers he gave me yesterday sit in a vase on my desk. Beautiful, stupid flowers. And I’m delusional enough to pretend he gave them to me because he likes me, not because he pitied me when my father didn’t show.
I like him. I wish I didn’t. I wish I liked someone like Kyle—someone my age, someone available, someone who actually likes me back. But the heart can’t be told who to choose. Like Mom used to say, “It’s the most stubborn organ, but it’s never wrong. If you ever doubt who to trust, trust your heart.”
I’m trying, Mom. But right now, trusting it feels like asking to get hurt.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Kaia
It was the first Sunday morning I hadn’t worked at Grill&Go.
I needed to get out of bed. I couldn’t spend the whole day wrapped in a blanket, scribbling in my diary. Besides, once Dad and Sharon came back from the mall, he’d call me lazy and yell at me for not studying.
Sighing, I pushed up. Maybe a cup of something hot would help.
As soon as I stepped into the hallway, my heart picked up speed. Spanish lyrics drifted from Asher’s room. He must’ve returned from his run while I was writing about the showcase—and him.
We were alone. I stalled, twisting my hands. Would it be awkward to stop and say hi? I couldn’t punish him forever for not slow dancing with me last night. Still, him holding my hand, calling himself myfriend,then leaving me for the rest of the party had felt… off.
Not that I was alone. He wanted me to have fun with my friends. I’d only wanted to spend time with him.
With each step toward his room, my resolve hardened. We were stuck living together. Avoiding him would only make my feelings obvious.
The music grew louder as I reached his door. Before I could overthink, I crossed the threshold.
One step, and my pulse skyrocketed.
Asher stood by the window, drying his hair with a small white towel. Naked.
Six feet of golden skin.
Droplets slid down his back, tracing the lines of muscle, leaving shimmering trails.
My eyes followed lower. Perfectly shaped ass.
My mouth went dry. I knew I should look away, but I couldn’t. His hair was still damp, and he hummed along with the song, unaware.
The music cut off. Asher sighed and tossed the towel onto his bed.
My heel squeaked against the floorboard.
He spun. Dark eyes widened, mouth parting. “Peque.”
Shit.
Heat flared up my neck. I shouldn’t keep looking—but my gaze dipped over his chest, his abs.
Oh God. I jerked my eyes away, too late.
I’d seen all of him. Nothing could erase it.
