Unexpected

I smile at him like a doe-eyed pre-teen, too drunk to care if I look stupid. Asher has a nice face. I should tell him.

“Youuve gawt a naish faysssss.”

Asher looks at me funny. Maybe right now isn't the best time to tell him. My words aren’t cooperating as they should. My legs feel like Jell-o when Asher takes my hands and pulls me onto my feet. I’m not sure if I’m the one moving or if the world is doing it on its own, but the trees behind Asher are swaying.

Asher hooks his arm around my waist and I hang onto him. Pretty sure I’d be on my ass if he wasn’t by my side. He was right, I should not have taken those shots.

“Watch your step,” he instructs as we climb the four wooden steps to the door of his double-wide.

I’ve always known Asher lived on the sketchy side of town, but I’ve never been here. With our parents being on the outs, there was no reason for me to come over and Mom never brought me for a play date when we were little. I turn my head to look around the neighborhood while Asher fishes for his keys in his pocket. My vision is a little blurry, but from what I can tell we are on some sort of cul de sac. Three, no four, double wides sit around a giant concrete circle, with a singular yellow street light illuminating the shadows. It’s not as scary as I expected, but it isn’t home, either.

Asher’s front door squeaks when he pushes it open. The sound isn't loud, but it hurts my ears nonetheless. “Mom is working and Clint should be gone until sometime tomorrow afternoon. It’s just us tonight.”

“Okay.” I’m not sure if I said that right. My voice sounds funny to my ears, slow and garbled. I don’t think I like drinking anymore. At first, everything felt great, but now the world moves too fast.

“Careful,” Asher says, moving us a foot to the right. “Don’t step there.”

I let him lead us through the dark to what I’m assuming will be his room. I can’t see anything but shadows, but he knows where he’s going. I close my eyes and lean my head against Asher’s shoulder, listening to him ramble and letting my feet carry me.

“That’s a bad spot too.” His voice is soothing. I could fall asleep to it, but I force my brain to focus on what he’s saying because this feels important. Asher may bring girls here all the time, but he's sharing a piece of himself with me.

“When I was a kid,” he says, almost nervously, “I used to try and avoid the soft spots by playing the game ‘the floor is lava’. I hated that spongy feeling under my toes. Now, it’s a miracle when I step on a firm section. Mom and I have been in this trailer for as long as I can remember. We need a new floor. And a roof. And air conditioning.” Asher shakes his head, and his whole body moves. Or maybe I’m swaying. It’s hard to tell at this point. “The list goes on, but the money to fix the problems doesn’t exist.”

We stop walking. I try to lift my head and open my eyes, but they are too heavy. Asher’s keys jingle again. It almost sounds like he’s unlocking another door, but that’s silly. People don't put those kinds of locks on bedroom doors.

We’re moving again, and then a bright light shines past my eyelids. Something in my brain clicks to life, because I’m able to lift them open again. It takes a second for the world to come into focus but when it does, I realize we are in Asher’s room.

He leads me to the bed, where I sit down and he turns back to the door. He turns a deadbolt, slides a chain, and then for good measure twists the lock on the door handle.

“That’s a lot of locks,” I try to say. It sounds like thafs awat ov lawks, but at least it’s close.

Asher chuckles and pulls the rolling chair from his desk in front of me. He takes a seat, then lifts my foot into his lap. I watch him untie the laces of my red Converse sneaker, then pull my sock off and tuck it inside my shoe. He sets my foot on the ground, then takes the other and does the same. “Do you want to sleep in that or borrow something of mine?”

“Yours.” I grasp the end of my shirt and lift to pull it over my head. My arms don’t work as they should because my shirt gets caught, both on my earrings and my ponytail. Asher chuckles again at my pathetic attempt to free myself. I wiggle and pull, but it becomes apparent that I’m not getting out of this by myself. “I think I’m stuck.”

“Mmm-hhmm,” is all he says.

I wait a few seconds, hoping he’ll pick up on the not so subtle hint that I want him to get me out of the mess I’ve gotten myself into, but like most men, he needs me to spell it out for him. I try to wiggle and pull myself free again but it’s no use. “Can you help me?”

“I don’t know.” The bed dips beside me, but Asher doesn’t touch my shirt or my arms. My skin pricks with anticipation. I can’t see anything, but I can feel the heat bouncing off his body. “I kind of like the view.”

“Asher!” I scold, but it comes out breathy and weak. Something is happening inside me. Excited flutters spring to life. I’m exposed, in nothing but a lace bra, and I think he likes what he sees.

&nbs

p; Asher chuckles again. This time I feel his fingers fumbling with my earrings. As soon as they are free, he maneuvers my arms and pulls my shirt off. I fall back onto the bed, thoroughly exhausted from my entanglement.

“You good?” Asher trails his finger from the band of my bra down my side.

I shudder as a jolt of need zings through my body. Each feather light touch feeds the desire growing within me. I blame the alcohol. Under normal circumstances, I’d never relish the way Asher’s hand feels on my body or relive our kiss in my mind. That kiss was nothing like I’ve ever had before. I close my eyes and smile. “Yeah, I’m good.”

Asher stands and the bed shifts. I open my eyes and push onto my elbows. I bite my lip to keep the turndown of a frown hidden. I want him to come back and keep touching me, but I can’t say any of that. I can’t explain what I’m feeling, but if this is one-sided, I’ll be humiliated.

Asher crosses the room to his dresser and pulls out a shirt and a pair of gym shorts. He turns around, smirks then hands them to me. “Here.”

I sit up and take the outstretched clothes. Asher turns around and faces the wall. He still has his jeans and shirt on from earlier in the night. My gaze falls to his ass, and how the denim hugs it just perfectly. Feeling brave, I ask, “You don’t want to watch?”

Asher peeks over his shoulder, a flash of purple meets my gaze before darting to my chest. “Do you want me to?”