That was mean. Fuck. He's right. I do get scholar if I don't eat. Something flashes across his face—there and gone before I can name it.
His phone rings.
He glances at the screen and his entire body changes. Goes rigid. The playful energy drains out of him like someone pulled a plug.
“I need to take this.” His voice is different. Colder.
He's already moving toward the living room, but I catch the name on the screen before he answers.
Atlas.
“What?” No greeting. No warmth.
I can't hear the other voice, but I watch Asher's jaw work as he listens. Watch his free hand curl into a fist at his side.
“That's not—” He cuts himself off. Breathes through his nose. “Nah fuck that.”
More silence.
“I don't give a fuck.” The words come out low, dangerous. A voice I've never heard from him. His annoyance turns into a sarcastic chuckle that raises the hair on the back of my neck. “Mmm. Someone's got the story twisted, huh?”
He disconnects without saying goodbye, stands there for a moment staring at the black screen like he wants to throw it through the window.
When he turns back to me, that mask is already sliding back into place. But not fast enough. I saw what was underneath. Raw fury. Something wild and barely leashed.
“Everything okay?” I ask, now it's my turn to test the maniac.
“Peachy.” He shoves the phone in his pocket. “I have to head out for a bit. Later today.”
My eyes widen playfully. “Mysterious.”
“Family thing.” The way he says 'family' sounds like a curse. “I'll be back in the morning.”
I take another bite of bagel, watching him try to reassemble himself. “You know I don't actually need a babysitter, right?”
“Who's babysitting?” He's back at the counter now, but there's still tension in his shoulders. “I just like knowing where you are.”
I clear my throat, shuffling forward. “I believe that's called stalking.”
He glares at me. “That's called caring.”
“Same thing.” I hop up on the counter, legs swinging. “Besides, I'm five years older than you. If anyone needs supervision here—”
“You're twenty-nine.” He steps between my knees, not quite touching but close enough that I feel the heat off him. “In the grand scheme of things, that's nothing.”
“In the grand scheme of things, you're practically jailbait.” My lips roll beneath my teeth to try to stop my laugh.
He chuckles, dark, rough. “Never stopped you from looking.”
My mouth drops open. “I don't—”
“You do.” He plants his hands on either side of my hips, caging me in. “But if it makes you feel better, I've always had a thing for older women.”
“Five years is not—”
“The experience.” His voice drops, eyes tracking down to my mouth. “The confidence. The way they know exactly what they want.”
My throat goes dry. “And you think you know what I want?”
