SIXTEEN
ASHER
“MOM!” I call out to her just as she’s stepping up into the bus, clipboard in hand.
“Yeah baby?” She says it like one word, doesn’t miss a beat, this woman.
“I’m gonna catch another ride. Stay out here a bit longer.”
“That’s not really an option, sweetpea. We have to account for everyone in the company, and you’re included in that.”
“I’ll be with Ellie, that should count.” I throw it out there without thinking of how it might come across.
She raises a brow at me—a skill I inherited from her—and gives me a look, for just a second. I flatten my features into believable innocence, try not to set her mom radar off. Considering I left home at fourteen, she hasn’t had to use it on me a whole lot in a long time, but still. No need to set the hounds a sniffin’, as she’d say.
She’s still got my two younger brothers at home, and knowing them, they put her through enough shit for her to be extra wary of anything any of us say, anyhow.
“It’ll be fine, Ma. I’ll text you when I get home, if you want.” I can tell from her face, how her posture goes, I’ve won the battle, so I lean in to smack a kiss to her cheek and head back inside before she can drag this out, make it something more than it is.
It’s just my first chance at getting Ellie to see her and I as a potentialus, not just two people who share an office half the day. No biggie, right? First chance since I’ve known her, first time she’s been single in years and years, and who knows how soon someone else will scoop her off the market. Or even the next time I’ll have an opportunity to have her out of the office, her hair down, guards lowered, just there for some fun.
She’s always so careful to keep this mask up when the other staff are around. It’s subtle, it’s pretty natural for her, so she probably thinks she gets away with it. But I see it fall sometimes, when it’s just her and me in that office. When it feels so easy between the two of us, she forgets she isn’t alone in there. And then I see it snap back into place as soon as she realizes, or someone walks by, or comes in to see her.
I’m determined to remove that mask for this entire evening, get to know the girl underneath. Get her to see that Ilikewhat’s underneath that mask. That I understand her more than she realizes. We’re not so different in the ways that count.
By the time I make it back upstairs, I find Ellie at a high-top table near a corner of the bar, where she waves me down, makes sure I don’t miss her. As if I could.
Never seen so much of her on display as today, those shorts giving me a tease of thigh, that dip in the collar of her shirt that shows a hint of all that cleavage. Her skin all flushed from being outside all afternoon, blonde ponytail swishing down her back every time she moves her head animatedly as she speaks. She looks fuckingedible.
Everything about her is a tease, no more than a glimpse of what I want more of, every touch between us just a brush. Just enough to get my blood stirring, my imagination whirring, a hint of what it would be like. Never enough to satisfy the curiosity, the craving.
In my younger years, back when I partied a little too hard, most drugs I tried had the hardest hit the first time I used 'em. With a lot of 'em, every time I’d take it after, it was always chasing that first high, trying to replicate that singular feeling.
Not sure how I know, but I’m pretty damn sure Ellie would be an entirely new high for me. That first time would be incredible, unlike anything I’ve done before, but it wouldn’t be the peak. Each and every time after that seems like it would be a new buzz, an even higher rush, a whole new addiction. And fuck do I want to test that theory, find out how right I am on it.
I take the seat closest to her, putting us within touching distance, my back to the large window leading out to the bays, and turn so I can face her fully. “Hey,” I tell her, as I scoot my stool closer to hers, our knees lining up underneath the tabletop and brushing ever so slightly.
Pretty sure those are chills that just erupted all over her arms, maybe her legs too, the way she shivered there. I bite back a smirk at seeing that I’m not the only one affected here.
“Hey,” she whispers back. Her voice is so effortlessly sexy, this breathy tone, kinda innocent, a little high pitch to it. And the thing is, I don’t even think that’s how she tries to be. Everything about her is natural: her voice, her looks, her body, her hair; even her enthusiasm, her zest for life, is genuine. Nothing fake about her. It just makes her that much more attractive, if you ask me.
I lay my arms on the table and watch as her eyes take in the various pieces of patchwork artwork on them.
“I can’t believe I never knew you had all these,” she says, eyes tracing the designs she can see, wondering about the ones she can’t.
“My mom hates them, she always told me I wouldn’t be able to get a job if I kept getting tattooed, so I thought it would be safer not to show them in the office,” I admit.
To my surprise, Elliesnorts. “You seen Linda? In accounting?” She gestures to her gorgeous face. “She’s got the face tattoo?” I nod, realizing who she’s talking about, and laugh with her. “I think you’re good,” she tells me. “Can’t say my dad’s a huge fan of tattoos either, but they don’t stop people from being good at their jobs, so he’s kinda stopped caring over the years.”
She pulls up the edge of her sleeve to show me all of her right forearm. “Except, of course, on his own daughter. He wasn’t thrilled when I got this one.”
I take the arm she’s offering me, holding it so I can look closely to make out the design there. The entire inside of her forearm is covered in white ink, so subtle I’ve never even seen it before. It’s florals, like a giant mosaic of flowers, leaves, stems. Stunning work, actually. The way the ink blends into her creamy skin, it almost looks like lace overlaid on her flesh. It’s one of those things you might not notice with the naked eye, but once you’ve seen it, you’ll never unsee it, you know?
“Holy fuck,” I tell her. “How did I not know you had this?” I release her arm, even though I don’t want to, and go back to looking in her eyes instead.
She shrugs, popping a shoulder, a little smile on her face. “Only reason I got it was because it would be practically invisible. I’m not brave enough to do anything in black, or color, where people can see it. Almost no one ever notices that one. But my dad and David sure did.”
A waitress comes up to our table, and it takes me a second to look up at her, so taken by the girl in front of me. When I do, I notice she’s got a bit of an alt vibe going, covered in tats, a few piercings in her face, fishnets under her uniform. It’s a hot look, but not doing anything for me with what’s four inches to my right.
