At the party? I just asked her to attend.Fuck.
"Yeah. It's not a big deal. I'll just..."
My jaw clenches. "Who?"Get a grip, Asher. She's not yours.“Do you have anyone in mind?
"No. I don't know yet," she's looking up at me, and I realise I need to leave. I need to leave now before I do something stupid and tell her to choose me.
Or kiss her.
"There's this guy I've seen around campus a few times. Dylan. He'll be at the party. Maybe him."
Or punch a guy named Dylan.
I force words past my lips as I make for the door. "If that's what you think you need."
Chapter 7
Tip seven; enthusiasm really is the key. Be confident and enthusiastic and you'll enjoy it and they will think you're good. But practice makes perfect, grab that pillow and practice riding it. Draw with your hips, up, down - side to side. Spell out the word Coconut. That is what you want to do when you're on top.
Ivy
Iwatch the door shut.
I stand there for a second longer than necessary, staring at the door like it might open again if I concentrate hard enough.
It doesn't.
Eventually, I move.
Save me a dance.
What does that even mean?
I drift to the window, pushing the curtain aside with two fingers. Outside, the afternoon light is soft, golden, the kind that makeseverything look beautiful. Asher crosses the front lawn with my brother beside him, their shoulders bumping like they always do, easy and familiar.
Leon says something that makes Asher laugh.
The sound carries faintly through the glass.
And then, as if Asher feels my eye on him, his gaze moves up to me in the window.
My stomach drops and I step back from the window with a jerk, letting the curtain drop from my fingers.
My heart skips like I was caught doing something illegal. Which is ridiculous . I was just . . . looking.
Then I hear the sound of Leon's car starting and I breathe out the breath I didn't realise I was holding.
The house goes quiet.
Not peaceful quiet. Empty quiet.
I exhale slowly, pressing my forehead to the cool glass. "C'mon Ivy," I mutter to myself. He's helping you. That's it. He's confident. He flirts with everyone.
I repeat it like a mantra.
Then I turn away from the window.
My room feels different now. Too still. Like it knows what I'm about to do and is judging me for it.
