“You ready?” he asks.
I shake my head. “No.”
We look over at the Jeep, which is entirely open in the warm weather, just as I predicted. Asher won’t even have to break in. “Man, this is too easy,” he says. “Call me if anything crazy happens in there so I know to get out of the car.”
“Okay,” I say, but it’s barely above a whisper.
Asher opens his mouth to say something but closes it to give me a tight-lipped smile before turning toward the Jeep.
I walk up the small set of stairs before the back door to the coffee shop and take a few breaths before going in. “You can do this,” I say to myself.
I open the door and am met with the overwhelming smell of coffee beans and fresh flowers. Large vases full of stems sit all around the shop, making it difficult to see much of anything. I take a few slow steps farther in, getting closer to the coffee bar in the center of the shop. Small wooden tables are placed around it, each full of people, but none of them are him. My heeled boots clack on the white tile floor as I keep walking to where you order. When I look to my left I see a black-wire spiral staircase leading to an upstairs of the shop, where more tables are lined against the wall, overlooking the downstairs. I peer up at the landing, and that’s when I see him. Miles Holland sits at a small table for two, with a coffee mug in his left hand. He brings it to his lips for a sip as his right hand types over the keyboard of his laptop, the bright white screen reflecting off his glasses. He sets the coffee down andchecks the time on his watch. I’m suddenly flooded with memories, particularly the bad ones, and I duck back beneath the cover of the landing so that he can’t see me if he looks down. What am I doing? I can’t do this. I take out my phone and start to email him back saying I have to cancel and send it without a second thought. I creep around the spiral stairs just slightly to see his face when he reads my email. He only sighs and shuts his laptop, starting to pack up.
Shit.
I make my way back out to the parking lot and yell for Asher. His head pops up from inside Miles’s trunk.
“You can’t be done already! I just started looking back here, and he’s got so much shit to go through.”
“I couldn’t do it,” I blurt out, going up to the car. “I couldn’t talk to him. I emailed him saying I had to cancel and he started packing up, so get out of the car, come on.” I gesture for him to get out urgently, but the back door to the coffee shop opens and I hear Miles’s voice as he leaves the café. He’s turned around talking to someone as he steps out the door. “Shit, shit, shit!” In a moment of pure idiocy, I hoist myself over the edge of the trunk and land right on top of Asher with a thud. Something sharp digs into my back as I land, and I hiss before Asher covers my mouth with his hand. We lie completely still, barely breathing as Miles’s footsteps get closer to the car and walk around to the driver’s side door. He gets in and starts up the Jeep and I finally lift my head from Asher’s chest enough to look at him with panic in my eyes.
The Jeep shakes and rocks as it pulls out of the gravel lot. Miles puts music on loud enough to drown out anything going on back here and I take a look at the mess we’ve gotten ourselves into.Asher wasn’t kidding when he said there’s a lot back here to go through. There’s a folded-up dog crate behind me taking up most of the room, and also the culprit of what’s digging into my back. Multiple duffel bags, papers, towels, and other junk are scattered all around us. There’s no room for me to get off of Asher. I’m lying on top of him, with his hands tightly wrapped around me to keep me from sliding into the crate and making noise. But that’s the last thing I’m thinking about as Miles is driving to god knows where.
“What the fuck are we going to do?” I whisper to Asher over the music.
“We could try jumping out at the next stoplight?” he suggests.
“Into oncoming traffic?” I say. “Not to mention he’ll see that in the rearview mirror.”
“Then I guess we better hope wherever he’s going is a short ride.”
I start to get a kink in my neck after five minutes of trying to not have to rest my head on his chest. I give in and lie back down, which sends my hair up into his face. I hear him sputter trying to remove it from his mouth. He brings a hand up and smooths my hair back out of both of our faces, and the gesture feels gentle and comforting. The first comforting touch I’ve felt in weeks and I close my eyes for a moment just listening to his quickened heartbeat.
“This playlist fucking sucks,” Asher says after about fifteen minutes’ worth of songs goes by, and it hits me then that this is the playlist I made for him last year.
“I made him this,” I say, more so to myself, because I can’t believe he still listens to it.
“No wonder it sucks.” Hearing Asher’s annoying voice rumblethrough his chest snaps me out of my thoughts of comfort and I start to look around the trunk for any other place to go so I don’t have to be in this position. There’s a tiny bit of room where I might be able to curl up into a ball above his head but that would require me dragging my entire body over his face and I am sure neither of us wants that.
He makes an uncomfortable noise as I’m moving around looking for another spot. “Will you stop with that?”
“I’m trying to find another spot to move to,” I snap back at him.
“Trust me, I don’t want to be in this position either.” Miles takes a sharp turn, which has my body sliding up against Asher’s and rocking back. He lets out another groan and shuts his eyes, and that’s when I feel it.
“Oh my god, tell me that’s not what I think it is,” I say, looking at him, as I’m now positive that he’s hard against me.
“What do you want from me? You’ve been straddling me for the past twenty minutes during a particularly aggressive car ride.” He grits his teeth and takes a deep breath.
“That’s all it takes? Men are disgusting.” I shake my head. Miles takes another turn, not nearly as tight as the first time, but for some reason I let my body slide against his again. And why? I don’t know. I tell myself it’s because I like seeing him miserable.
His arms tighten around me to keep me in place. “You did that one on purpose,” he says. I would never admit that I did, or how feeling him underneath me with arms around me so tight is making my mind go to mush.
I try to reel it in. Try to clear out the thoughts that are popping into my head about him. It’s Asher, Sloane. It’s the same guy who is helping you only to get what he wants. He doesn’t actually careif you go to jail for murders you didn’t commit. Just three hours ago he told you Bryce was dead just for a laugh. He’s cruel.
Minutes later the car slows to a stop, and Miles puts it in park. I hold my breath again, worried he might come back here for one of these bags, but his footsteps echo off the pavement, getting farther and farther away. I peek up over the trunk to see him walking to the door of a brick town house and putting the key in.
“Okay, we’re good.” I push myself up and climb back over the trunk, careful to stay behind the Jeep just in case Miles decides to look out the window. Asher climbs out after me, any sign of embarrassment from our previous predicament wiped from his features. He’s all business again, like that didn’t just happen. “What now?” I ask.
