Asher’s face turned blank. “I fuckin’ know that,” he ground out. “That certain visitor will be learning just how unwelcome he is when we get back.”
I gaped at him. There were a multitude of things wrong with that statement.
“How do you ‘fuckin’ know that’?” I used air quotes, mimicking his voice with sarcasm I didn’t know I was capable of.
“I followed you home. Sat outside your place, waiting for fuckface to leave. I was dis-fucking-pleased when he didn’t,” he ground out.
I only stared at him. “You followed me home,” I repeated quietly.
“Yep. Not surprised you didn’t notice, state you were in, the fact that Abercrombie didn’t is a testament to what a douche he is,” he clipped.
I let out a breath. “I do not need this pissing contest right now,” I snapped. “I also don’t have time to educate you on the fact that sitting outside someone’s house all night is firmly in Criminal Minds territory,” I added seriously. “I need to go home, alone and sort out my head.”
Asher’s face softened a smidgeon. “Fuck, babe, I know that. That you need time. It doesn’t mean I’m gonna like your boyfriend being the one comforting you, not me,” he said fiercely.
I pointed to the bike. “Pretty sure that wasn’t Aiden just then, that was you,” I informed him, and myself. Mental forehead slap. I was a horrible person. I shelved that bit of self-loathing for later when I wasn’t on the side of a road.
Asher’s face turned stormy. “I’m not having this shit out here. Get on the bike, babe,” he echoed my internal sentiment.
I let out a breath of relief and took the helmet he offered me.
On the ride, the usual feeling of freedom didn’t sink in. Pressed into Asher’s warm and hard back, I realized the magnitude of everything that had just happened. Asher and me. After three years. It was amazing, life shattering, like no time had passed. He seemed to feel something for me. More than I’d thought. Not what I felt for him. The depth of feeling that had settled in my soul after one night wasn’t something he could possibly feel. I was embarrassed I even felt it. It wasn’t just that, I had tears prickling at the corners of my eyes and shame burning in my belly.
I had a boyfriend.
A boyfriend who was caring, supportive, and in my bed right now. I’d just let an ex … whatever Asher was, have sex with me on the back of his bike in broad daylight. Or the beginning of daylight. I hadn’t even let Aiden past second base. I wasn’t exactly a brazen hussy, I knew that considering I’d slept with only one person, but I was a bitch. Aiden was in my bed right now. He had supported me through my nightmare, patient and caring. This and the ever present weight of grief on my chest had my cocktail of emotions turning sour in my stomach.
Getting off this bike meant going back to reality. Saying goodbye to Asher. Whatever it was between us was not something I could deal with. I could barely breathe after what had just happened. I couldn’t deal with it long term. I had to think of Aiden. But in that moment, I indulged in fantasy, traveled back to the memory that would chase away the complications of the present with the beauty of the past.
Three Years Ago
Normally I’m not one to drink into the early hours with a group of bikers and beautiful women, who seemed to radiate everything I wanted to embody. But I did. I may not have spoken much, but my silence didn’t seem to be noticeable, nor did it distance me like it normally would. Maybe because it didn’t stick out much, the scary biker Bull, beating me with his lack of words. I felt a sort of camaraderie in our mutual silence. He was battling demons of his own, much scarier than mine I knew, but it was comforting to know that being trapped in your own head wasn’t something that only happened to weak college girls, big bikers could be brought mute if the demon was big enough.
To my disappointment, Asher had left midway through our conversation, one I thought had been going well. He had frowned down at a text. His eyes moved to me and he regarded me soberly. As I was far from sober, I didn’t do too well registering what lingered beyond his gaze. His hand had bitten into my hip. I sucked in a breath at the contact, never feeling attraction like I did from his simple touch.
His eyes darkened at this.
“Fuck,” he muttered under his breath. “Babe, I’ve gotta go,” he declared.
I tried to hide my disappointment, though I was afraid that alcohol might work in taking away my shyness, it also hampered me masking my emotions.