He'd gone beyond his player ways for her.
She'd grown beyond her traumatic past for him.
Together, their love was beyond.
Until one fatal accident.
__________
When she loses the love of her life in a car crash, Althea has nothing left in California...
Warning: There will be some steaminess in this chapter, but I made sure both characters are above the age of consent to fit the new Wattpad guidelines.
'Just hold on, we're going home
It's hard to do these things alone
Just hold on, we're going home, ho-oh-oh.'
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*ASHER'S POV*
November 10, 2016.
"Spaghetti all' arrabbiata for Miss Peachy," I announced with the grand gesture of a five-star restaurant's waiter as I set the full plates on the coffee table with two paper towels.
"Is that what you call a study session?" Althea's lifted eyebrow traveled like she was studying a crime scene from the reheated pasta to her school bag, which I pushed away from the couch, and I was surprised she hadn't found me guilty already.
Though maybe she had, seeing the complicit sparkle in her eyes when I sat close to her.
"Our brains need fuel first."
"We could have also eaten at the cafeteria, and then, go to the library," she pointed out, her arguments wavering more and more with the aromas of tomato and spices reaching her nose until she took her first bite, and it ended with a little moan of delight.
"You were saying?"
No one could resist my mom's special sauce, and it looked even more appetizing on the tip of Althea's tongue as she licked her peachy lips.
"Okay, maybe the pasta was worth the detour."
"Wait 'til we get to the dessert..."
It would be something sweet, juicy, and fruity, I decided as she took another bite, bringing her hand over her mouth to hide the spaghetti she sucked in.
Fuck, I hadn't known the recipe could be spicier, but here we were, the fire tickling farther than my taste buds as I swallowed my mouthful, all my attention on her, from the faint groans of frustration she let out every time the spaghetti rolled off her fork to the way she caught the pasta between her plump lips, and to the drop of red sauce trickling down her chin until her pale tee-shirt, right over her left boob.
It looked like a full-on erotic show, tempting me to lick off that trail, to taste the pasta right off her soft skin, and to find out what other noise I could bring out of her—
