When he answers with his low timbre of a voice, I say, “Hey, meet me at Brooks House in about an hour and a half. I’m having dinner with my parents, and then I’ll have drinks with you.”
“Maybe some more? I miss you, Allison.”
I feel like I’m choking on my answer, but I say, “Maybe, if things have changed.”
“They have.”
They haven’t, and when I hang up, I immediately drop my head.
Jesus, I’m pathetic.
Dinner with my parents and Asher is just like I remember it. Full of laughs and happiness. My parents have always loved Asher like he was theirs. Because my dad is clueless to my feelings for Asher, he doesn’t realize how hard it is for me to sit here, joking and having fun, when I know, at any moment, Angie will show up, and then Asher will be with her. My mom does know, and the sympathy-filled gazes she keeps flashing me are way worse than what I feel. I hate that I am so pathetically in love with someone who has not even an inkling of feelings for me. I almost wish I could make my own feelings stop, but I really don’t. I could. I could actually find someone else. I could fall in love with them and be happy; it would be easy. Give them the parts of myself I hold back for Asher, for a dream that won’t ever come true. Not only am I terrified by the idea of his rejection, I am scared of losing him as my person.
My ride or die.
I couldn’t imagine things being awkward or weird between us. We’re both stubborn, and I know we’d make our friendship work, but all that would do is make it blow up in our faces in the end. Problem is, we couldn’t give up on each other, which really should be enough to force me to admit what I am feeling. But the fear of him laughing in my face is entirely too much to bear. I know he wouldn’t do it maliciously—Asher isn’t that person—but he’d think I’m joking. When he discovers I’m not, the weirdness would start. No, I can’t let him know. It would ruin the friendship of a lifetime. As much as it hurts to watch him with other women, I’d rather have his friendship than nothing.
No matter how much it hurts.
I really hate that I’m this way too. I hate that I hide so fiercely. When Posey was going through this—in love with Maxim, her friend—I urged her to be honest. I urged her to go to him with an open heart and tell him what she was feeling. I felt like a phony because I wouldn’t do the same. I’m glad I haven’t since that all blew up in her face, but on the flip side, she found this amazing guy. A guy who thinks she is perfection. Maybe I need to be honest to move on?
But I won’t.
Dad leaves the table when Asher does. Of course, Angie came fully prepared to get her man. She’s insanely gorgeous in a bodycon green dress that makes her eyes shine. Her hair is down in wide curls, framing her beautiful face. I hate how Asher’s eyes lit up and how he rushed over once she entered. Not even really a goodbye to me. When he asked me to wish him luck, I told him he didn’t need it. But in my head, I didn’t want to give it to him, and so I didn’t.
Because I’m petty like that.
“I’m aware this makes me petty.”
Things are never good when my mom says that. I tear my gaze away from where Asher and Angie have sat down to meet my mom’s heated gaze. “But I think if we call Lucy and tell her Angie is with Asher, she’ll stop it quickly. We all know Lucas’s past as a whore, and Aiden was no different. While Asher is nothing like them, I still think we can spin it in your favor.”
I pinch the bridge of my nose. “Mom—”
“I’m just saying,” she informs me so matter-of-factly.
“That is petty, and I’m not like that.” At least, I’m not in public. In this mind of mine, I’m Petty Patricia. She’s a nasty bitch, but I feel her on many levels. She’s probably my mom’s cousin. “It is what it is.”
“It could be more. I think he’s head over heels for you.”
I scoff. “In your head, yes. But here in reality, he doesn’t see me as
more than just a big sister.”
I glance over to where Asher is laughing at whatever Angie has said. She’s so beautiful, and I know his type. He loves dark-haired women and super-skinny girls. Jasmine was model-thin, and Angie is on the thinner side. That’s why she is a great hitter. There is no weight holding her down. Also, she’s got a great personality. He’s gonna fall for her, and I’ll have to watch and hear it go down.
As I exhale deeply, I see Taco entering the room. He’s cut his hair; it’s shaved up the sides and wild on top. He looks like a J.Crew bad-boy model. He comes from money, but unlike the men in his family who work for everything they have, he likes to have everything handed to him. It’s annoying. Don’t get me wrong, my parents spoiled me, but I know what sacrifices were made to give me what I had. The weeks we’d go without my dad, the long hours my mom put in at the studio when my dad was blowing their money on pills, and the interminable six months without my dad while he got clean. He did that for us, for my mom, and my mom worked her ass off to make sure we had everything. Journey and I have already said that, no matter what, we’ll care for our parents when they’re old and gray. One of the many things I love about Asher is he always has said he would help care for my parents too.
He’s a good dude, and Taco is nothing like him.
I text him quickly to meet me at the bar. I don’t want my parents to see him, but of course, that’s not my luck.
“What the fuck is that Chalupa asshole doing here?”
My dad sits beside me, his brows drawn in as my mom whips her head around and then back to me, her brows matching my dad’s and her lips in a snarl.
They don’t like Taco. Like, at all.
“Guys—”