Playing to Win

And suddenly, because of one Asher Sloane, I also feared it.

Why?

Because it faced the Cunningham’s old house.

Asher might have been on my last nerve, but I couldn’t deny the guy intrigued me. He had his good looks. He played hockey. And who didn’t like a guy who played guitar?

Which was why I didn’t want to go in my room. I knew if I did I’d be tempted to stand at my window to try and catch a glimpse of the new family who practically shared our backyard.

Who was I kidding?

I didn’t want to see his family.

I wanted to see Asher.

So, I stayed downstairs and worked on my homework at the table. Then, I took my time in the shower, shaving my legs and giving my hair a good wash until the steam filling the bathroom grew so thick I could barely see.

With my shower finished, I couldn’t put it off any longer. I had to go into my room or spend the rest of the night in a bath towel. After slipping through the door like a thief in the night, I tiptoed over to the window. I left the light off and made sure to stand to the side because getting caught half naked by my new neighbor would just be the perfect ending to a perfectly crappy day.

I loved this time of evening, when the sun set and the oranges and reds softened to pinks and violets. My bedroom still felt warm from the afternoon sun. I wrapped my towel more securely around my body and with one hand while standing to the side, opened the window just enough to allow a slight breeze into my room.Only the breeze didn’t come alone, it brought something with it.

Mesmerized, I dropped to the carpet below my window.

At first, I only heard the guitar. Then, as my ears adjusted, Asher. It had to be him. I didn’t recognize the melody or the lyrics, but his voice. Even after such a short time, I knew his voice.

The music stopped. I waited. He began again, repeating what he’d just sung only to cut himself off again. For the next thirty minutes, I sat under my window in my dark room wearing nothing but a damp bath towel, straining my ears to hear every note, every lyric.

I could listen to him forever.

“Asher!” a man’s voice called and my heart raced as though I’d been caught eavesdropping.

“Yeah!” Asher called back, his voice clear and a lot closer than I expected.

I rolled to my knees and peeked enough to see Asher’s long strides carry him across the yard to the back door of his house. The dark silhouette of a man filled the opening. He stepped aside allowing Asher to cross the threshold before closing the door.

Glancing down, I realized I still wore my towel. I hadn’t even gotten dressed. I’d been so engrossed listening to Asher.

Asher.

The boy who threatened my chance at achieving my goals.

I needed to get a grip.

It didn’t matter what he looked like. Or if he had the most amazing voice. Because my new neighbor had become my number one enemy.

Asher

“How was hockey practice?” Dad called me in from the backyard where I’d been working on a new song before dinner.

My step-mom, Shari, wanted us to eat dinner together as a family. I didn’t mind except it usually turned into an inquisition.

Typical. My first day at a new school, my senior year no less, and all he cared about was hockey. I had to leave my friends behind and start a new school so close to graduation because of him. You’d think he’d be a little sympathetic. But no. Not my dad.

“Fine,” I replied. I pushed a pile of peas around my plate hoping it would make them disappear. If I could get away with it, I’d slip them onto my baby brother’s high chair tray. At ten months old, Caleb would eat just about anything you put in front of him. It didn’t even have to be food.

“And how about school?” Shari asked, forcing a cheerful smile. “How was your first day?”

I liked Shari. She had a way of softening the rough edges my dad developed after my mom left us when I was two years old. Shari and I weren’t necessarily close, but I figured we needed her. It had been an adjustment when Dad married her five years ago and even more so when Caleb came along. But Dad seemed happy.

“First day was good.” If it had just been Shari, I might have told her about the incident in the parking lot with Jordan. She would get a kick out of it. Dad would ask too many questions which would lead to him realizing Jordan was Coach Parks’s daughter. He’d tell me not to aggravate her to stay on Coach’s good side.