“You want the grand tour, or the expedited version?” he asks.
“Definitely the grand,” I answer seriously. “Considering I may never get to see this place again with the roommate situation you have going on.”
“As you wish,” he teases, doing his best Westley impersonation, and takes me on a tour of the entire space, room by room. I see the balcony first, the video game collection on the small entertainment center on our way through the living room and then the kitchen. He shows me his roommate’s bedroom and en suite (a disaster), the spare bedroom, the laundry room (Asher is very thorough on this tour), the second bathroom that is primarily Asher’s (fairly clean), and finally, finally, his bedroom. Pretty sure I held my breath until we crossed the threshold into his sanctum.
The walls are a bland neutral, probably whatever the apartment came with, but his queen sized bed is neatly made, with a simple navy bedspread and pillowcase set. Otherwise, he’s got a chair in the corner (another marketplace find his mom helped him with, he admitted sheepishly), as well as a dark brown dresser I recognize as from one of the IKEA lines, along with a single matching nightstand (I’m actually impressed he got it from the same line, even if he didn’t shell out for a second one). A small TV rests on top of the dresser (the one he watches our show on nightly, he informs me), and aside from an overflowing laundry basket, the room is actually not that messy. We finish the tour back in the living room.
“Wow, Asher, this apartment is—” I start, but he cuts me off.
“I know your house is all, like, decorated and shit, and your condo was probably way fancier than this place, but it’s actually pretty sweet for us. We’re lucky Mark’s dad agreed to co-sign, and that he pays the larger chunk of the rent. I really just rent a room.”
“I didn’t have a place this nice when I was your age,” I tell him honestly. “It took me ages to get my first house purchased, and I only ever lived in that trendy condo downtown because it’s what David wanted. You’re doing the right shit to get where you want to go.”
He gives me that signature half-smirk and by the time I notice the playful glint in his eyes, it’s too late. Asher launches himself and quite literallytacklesme onto the couch. Luckily, it is incredibly comfortable and the cushions aren’t a painful place to land, but his body lands on top of mine and we both let out gusts of air and some awkward noises as he settles in between my legs, his arms still wrapped under my torso.
I don’t think he thought through how much momentum a thick girl in motion has. That could’ve gone badly. It’s like he doesn’t even realize that I’m bigger than him, how heavy I am, when it’s always the first thing I’m aware of in regards to my physical self. He only ever treats me like I’m desirable just the way I am, which is new for me. He makes it hard to stay self-conscious when he clearly doesn’t have any sort of issue with my size, my shape.
“Asher!” I squeal, trying to assess whether the sudden rush of adrenaline throughout my system is from pain or nerves. I do a quick internal assessment of my vital organs and limbs and decide it’s definitely just nerves.
He gives me a mischievous grin and leans in close, his mouth so close to mine I can feel his soft breath across my lips. “Hmm?” he asks.
My gaze drops to his lips, so close I could reach out with my tongue and—what was he saying?
“What?” I ask him, flustered.
“You said my name. Were you just practicing?” he teases. “I’d love to give you a good reason to say it again, start chanting it.” He lets his eyes run down my face and they settle on my chest for an extra beat before meeting my gaze again.
“Aren’t—aren’t we going swimming?” I ask him hoarsely. And why? Why do I ask that? I’d much rather stay here, him on top of me.
He sighs, pulling back from me and leaning back on his haunches so that I can sit up. “I guess.”
“You don’t want to swim anymore?”
One of his hands reaches out and lands softly on my stomach, causing me to suck in a sharp breath. He lets his fingers trail under the hem of the shirt and pushes his hand all the way underneath my tee, flattening his palm against my stomach, causing what feels like literal sparks to alight under his touch, even through my bathing suit. His progress upward is stopped by the arms of my hoodie that are tied around my waist, but he may as well have just run his handsallover me if the sudden, strong dipping sensation in my belly or that rush of heat straight to my core is anything to go off of.
He groans in a pained tone. “I’d definitely love to see you in whatever this is,” he tells me throatily. “Or out of it,” he tacks on after a second.
“Then lead the way,” I tell him playfully. Whether I’m hoping he leads me to his bedroom or the pool, I’m not sure.
TWENTY-FOUR
ELLIE
When he stands from the couch and tells me to give him a minute to get changed,Ialmost let out a pained groan in response.
Not two minutes later and he’s back, wearing a dark green tee with maroon board shorts that have a broad white stripe at the bottom of each leg, and flip-flops.
I let my eyes roam his body for a moment before meeting his twinkling gaze.
“Let’s do this,” he tells me.
“You got towels?” I ask.
“Oh shit, I hope so!” He laughs as he makes his way to the hall closet (somehow I missed that on my extended, top-tier tour, might ask for a refund from my tour guide, or maybe he’ll make it up to me some other way), and digs out two bright, tacky towels that must’ve come from one of the tourist shops down by the water. I can see one of the towels is branded with the name of a local beach on it from here.
We walk out of the apartment hand in hand, and take the elevator ride in silence, all the way up to the rooftop patio and pool, exchanging nothing but heated glances, the quiet air fraught with unspoken words. We’reneverthis quiet with one another, but tonight that ever-present energy between us is different than usual, taut, like we’re seconds from snapping.
When he escorts me out onto the wide space, lit with those cute strings of Edison bulbs and decorated in tasteful wood patio furniture, I actually gasp at the view. The sun is just starting to set, and the view of how it lights up St. Pete and the bay beyond the skyline is absolutely beautiful.
