“Good, where and when?”
I look up at him. “You think I should just do what he says and meet up with him? What if he really is the killer? What if he killsme?”
“Then this whole thing will be over, and I won’t have to keep watching true crime documentaries.”
I scoff. “You’re horrible.”
He leans down so he’s close to my ear. “You haven’t even seen horrible. And I don’t see you talking to Wesley at all, when this is probably the best opportunity you’re going to get.”
“He won’t even look at me,” I say through nearly clenched teeth. “What am I supposed to do about that?”
Asher stands up again and looks past the kitchen island, where we’re standing, at Wes and shrugs. “We make him look at you, then,” he says.
“And how are you going to accomplish that?”
He smiles, and it’s wicked. “By being horrible.”
I hardly have time to question it before his hand juts out, grabbing me hard around the arm, his fingertips squeezing into my skin as he pulls me forcefully to him, and I drop the cup I was washing with a loud thud in the sink. My body slams into his and I suck in a breath at the pain.
“What the hell, Asher!” I try to shove him back.
The vacuum noise cuts out abruptly as it falls to the floor. “Asher!” Wesley barks out at him, storming over to us.
Asher gives me a small grin out of Wesley’s view before whispering, “Now make nice.” He lets me go and faces Wes in that devil-may-care way that he does.
“Don’t fucking grab her like that, do you hear me?” Wes is standing so close to him that I realize they could almost be brothers when they’re face-to-face.
Asher only pushes past Wes and heads to the door. Wesley runs a hand down his face as I rub my arm, still sore from Asher’s grip.
“Can’t you just pick someone else, Sloane? Anyone else but him?” His tone is pleading, and it makes me feel bad. I should say we’re not together, I should reassure him of that at least, but I don’t, because that is not the plan.
“I miss you.” I don’t mean for it to come out; it just does. It sounds desperate, but I guess I am. His eyes widen and I can see it was the wrong thing to say. I’m about to scare him off, so I recover. “Like as a friend. I miss being friends. We don’t have to talk about last summer, or two weeks ago, just please stop avoiding me.”
“I’m not... avoiding you. I’m just— I’ve been busy.” We both know it’s a lie. I’m trying to think of what to say next but he speaks again. “If you’re going to get involved with my cousin, just be careful, okay? Asher is... he’s just got a lot of personal issues.” Whether he’s talking about Asher’s weird obsessive need to take over their family business or his total lack of regard for anyone’s feelings, I want to tell him that I know about all of it.
“I am careful,” I whisper. We’re both quiet, staring out into the living room, and I’m silently scolding myself for having two weeks to come up with something to say to him and having nothing. But in my defense, I’ve been a little preoccupied.
“So do you think Annica is going to hate this whole thing?” he asks.
I smile, knowing that she probably will. Annica doesn’t like to make a big deal of her birthday. She’d probably much rather go out for a low-key but very expensive dinner, which is actually the plan for tomorrow night. Charlie and Sam break up our moment when they walk in with the cake.
“Sorry it took so long. We weren’t sure if we grabbed the right one,” Sam says. He sets the white box on the counter, and runs a nervous hand through his black hair.
“How were you not sure? It should’ve been the only one at the bakery that said ‘Happy Birthday, Annica’ on it.” But knowing Sam, he was likely too timid to ask the bakery to check and took whatever they handed him. And by the hint of powdered sugar left on the corner of Charlie’s mouth, he was too busy sampling the pastries to care.
I lift the top of the box, revealing the circular cake with white frosting and blue writing in the middle that reads “Sorry I Backed into Your Car” with a frowny face.
I sigh. “Yeah, she’s going to hate this whole thing.”
Dani makes sure Annica has a few drinks before arriving, so when we all jump out and say “surprise” Annica starts laughing. She laughs even harder at the cake, then hugs and thanks us each individually for the effort. I look over at Dani, wondering how many drinks she gave her.
Some of the hockey boys show up, followed by Marissa and her friends. Music plays from the TV while we all start to pregame for the bars. I can hear Marissa loudly bragging about her TikTok fame, if you can even call it that. She got 100K followers from posting her stupid sorority outfits during rush week and calls herself an influencer.
“So how’d it go?” Asher asks when we’re alone on the couch.
“I had to beg him to stop avoiding me—he said he’s just been busy. But I think we’re good again,” I say. I sneak a glance over at Wes, who is standing by Annica and Dani, but he’s looking at me and Asher. He looks away when we make eye contact. “You didn’t have to grab my arm so hard. I’m going to have a bruise.”
He doesn’t say sorry, because why would Asher ever say sorry. Instead he says, “Toughen up, buttercup,” before standing and walking toward the door, where a whole host of people have just arrived.
