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“Why are you still here?” “You were a lot nicer last night.” “Alcohol makes me nice. Get. Out.”
Note to parents everywhere: don’t judge your kid based on what you like.
He’d probably be good-looking if he wasn’t scowling, but with a single, menacing look, one thing is clear: Asher Dalton is trouble.
My cock twitches. What he said wasn’t supposed to sound sexual, but apparently my body is going to take it that way. I mentally tell it to calm the hell down because having sex with a cactus would be less dangerous than fooling around with Coach’s son, even if that destructive part inside me is already reveling in the fallout that tryst would bring.
“This better work. Because if they kill each other, your dad will kill me, and then my boyfriend will dig me up and kill me again for leaving him.”
“I hope you know what you’re doing,” Beck says. Holy shit, so do I.
“What about emotionally unavailable guys who treat people like shit? Because I’m that too. Don’t pigeonhole me, dude.”
Not hooking up with the only friend I have at this school is smart. Then again, when did I ever claim to be that?
And they’re all in suits. Hot men in suits are my weakness. Wait, hot men in general are my weakness.
We reach our room, and Asher walks straight past me and claims the bed next to the window. “So you know, this side’s always mine.” “Why?” “Because if someone comes through the door to murder us, you’ll be the first victim.”
“What if I promise not to fall in love with you? Then will you let me suck your dick?”
“Can I steal your shower?” “As long as you bring it back.” I make a drum noise. “Ba dum tshhh.”
“But I think I hurt my dick out there.” He pretends to pout. “It needs to be kissed better.” “No blowing your load or you might blow your brain.” He sniggers. “Aren’t you supposed to be a doctor?”
“And if nothing else, I want you to remember this, not because I said it, but because it’s true. You are never a waste.” Especially not to me.
“Oh, honey …” I frown at the endearment because it always precedes something condescending. “What?” “You want my brutally honest advice?” “Always.” “You’re both fucked.”
“Ha, you can’t come up with an excuse. Buckle up, big guy. A date with Asher Dalton is like a date with—” “A pushy, insistent jerk whose head is so big it’s surprising he doesn’t fall over when he walks?” “I was going to go with something cliché like destiny, but yours might be closer to the truth.”
“Wendy’s?” I ask through a grin. “Only the best for you.” “Well, it’s not McDonald’s.” “No, this is way classier.” He turns into the drive-thru. “And since it’s a first date, I’ll even let you order from the regular menu. I should warn you though, second dates and onward are deal items only.”
“So you’re the one who broke the porch gutters.” The deep, authoritative voice almost makes me shit myself. Coach Hogan is back. Oh goodie.
Merry Christmas, Dad, I’m dating the team brat.
I loop my arm around Asher’s waist and tug him to me before smacking a kiss against his cheek. “Dad, you’ve met my boyfriend, right?” “This is how my life ends,” Asher mutters, which only makes me laugh more.
I don’t think I’m falling for him. I’ve already fallen.
“You forget I was friends with Foster, and Beck and Jacobs, and Cohen. I’ve given up assuming people are straight, and you two have been behaving just like those other idiots.”
