Bad Habit (Bad Love 1)

I give him a polite smile and move to step around him, but he stops me with a hand on my shoulder.

“Hey, so wait,” he says, dropping his hand and stuffing both into the pockets of his jeans. “Let’s go out. Like, just the two of us.”

“You mean, like a date?” I ask dumbly. No, Einstein, he wants to take you to Bible study. Of course, he means a date.

“Yeah, like a date,” he says with a cocky smile, probably mistaking my preoccupation with Asher for shyness.

My gut instinct is to say no. But then, I realize that would be falling into old patterns and letting Asher influence every decision I make. Not this time. And I do like Jackson. I was even semi-interested before Ash came back. There’s no reason I shouldn’t give him a chance. He’s fun and sweet and hot as hell. What’s not to like? Plus, Asher has made it clear that there will never be anything between us. Why shouldn’t I move on?

“Okay.” I shrug.

“Okay?” he asks, thrown off by my short response.

“Okay,” I say, firmer this time, and go to leave again. My stomach is growling, and I need to call Natalia.

“When?” he shouts after me.

“Whenever!”

“I’ll pick you up tonight then. Six o’clock.”

Before I can open my mouth to object, or at least let him know that I’d drive separately and meet him somewhere, he gives me one of his signature smirks and saunters off.

I guess I have a date.

I pull into my driveway after a long day of avoiding home. Nat was working for her mom at her boutique, Lush, today, so I hung out there for a while. We tried to talk, but it was an abnormally busy day, so I walked around the other shops to kill some time.

My stomach does a flip when I see that Asher’s big, black truck is still in the driveway. There’s a ladder on top of it, leading me to believe it’s a work truck, but it’s nice. Really nice. He must be doing well for himself.

I’m immediately aware of his presence before I see him. I give a quick wave to my brother—who’s sitting with Asher on the couch, drinking a beer—and drop my keys onto the counter. I’m starving, so I walk straight to the freezer to grab my favorite pizza.

I prop a hand on my hip and whirl around to find the two laughing like idiots.

“I told you she’d notice, man,” Dash says, hiding his smile behind his beer bottle.

“Sorry,” Asher deadpans in a way that says I’m not even a little sorry. His dark hair is mussed up in that perfectly disheveled way only he can pull off, and his full lips are coated in pizza grease. “I was hungry, and your pizza was the only thing that sounded good.”

He narrows his eyes at me, challenging me somehow, and licks his lips.

God, why does everything he says sound suggestive to me?

“It’s fine.” I shrug, feigning ambivalence. “I have a date tonight, so I probably shouldn’t eat so close to dinnertime, anyway.” I swing open the stainless steel fridge door, grab a yogurt instead, and walk off without daring to look for his reaction, or lack thereof.

I don’t know why I said that. Just like in the bathroom this morning, I guess I just wanted him to know that I’m not still pining after him. That life moved on without him, and I’m all grown up now.

After hiding out in my room for a couple of hours and calling Nat to fill her in on everything, I finally decide to get ready for my “date”. I have no idea where Jackson might be taking me, so I opt for a black jersey dress. It has thin straps and dips low in the back, but it’s still casual enough to wear with sneakers. I throw on a pair of black Vans and a choker that my mom hates because she insists that it looks like something out of a fifty-cent machine. I leave my hair down, and it falls in thick waves to my waist.

Checking my phone, I see a missed text from Jackson.

Pulling up to your house.

I check the time stamp on the text and realize that it was sent over five minutes ago. I bounce down the steps and freeze when I see Jackson at my opened door with Dash blocking his entrance with a wide stance and crossed arms. I hear a chuckle, and my eyes snap over to Asher who is still sitting at the couch, leaned back, with his long legs stretched out, looking more than a little amused.

“You can stop now, Dashiell,” I say, rolling my eyes and coming to a stop in front of them. Asher’s laugh morphs into a choking sound, and all three of us turn to look at him with furrowed brows.

“Went down the wrong pipe,” he coughs, gesturing to his throat.

“Karma.” I laugh.