Matches | √

Chapter Nineteen

burn | an injury caused by exposure to heat or flame

• • •

3/19/17

"WOULD YOU EVER get a tattoo?" Asher asks me before he takes a hit of the joint that always resides on his bedside table. The smell of weed hangs in the air around us creating a haze in his room. The sun is beginning to set and the room flushes with golden light, as our half naked bodies lie curled around each other.

I run my thumb over my bottom lip as my mind runs his words through my head. "Maybe..." I trail. "Would have to be something I really love or you would need to get me really drunk," I tease with a chuckle.

His hand caresses my bare hip causing the skin to heat at his touch. "I'd love to get you drunk," he tells me with a wicked grin.

"Why?" I question with a raised brow. "You think I'd let you sleep with me then?" I ask with a tilt of my head.

I feel his shoulders lift slightly. "Maybe," he admits candidly. "But I know I don't need alcohol to get you under me," he tells me cockily, and I hate to admit he's right. He knows if he really wanted to nudge me in that direction I wouldn't resist. I would follow him willingly and he knows it.

I rise up on my elbows so I'm looking down at him with his hands now tucked behind his head. "I've already been under you," I point out with a roll of my eyes.

"You know what I mean," he says as his mischievous grin breaks into one of his rare, breathtaking smiles. A smile that lights up every aspect of his usually dark and intimating features. A smile I like to believe is only for me.

A sigh flutters from my lips as I lay back into his warm body. I do know what he means and it worries me how close we've come to crossing that line. I know not sleeping with Asher won't matter in my best friend's eyes if she ever finds out about our secret nights wrapped in each other's arms. But it matters to me. To still hold on to pieces of me that want to be good. That don't want to be tarnished under Asher's touch.

"How was your date with Franny?" I ask though the words burn as I say them aloud.

That night after their date I didn't want to hope. I didn't want to leave my window unlocked for him to slide into bed with me and whisper naughty words in my ear. But I did.

The click of my window opening causes my skin to prick with goosebumps and my heart to still. I tried to fall asleep; to not stay awake in anticipation he would show up and prove in some twisted way that it's really me he wants.

My back remains towards him as I hear his footsteps and the sound of him sliding the window shut to protect us from the cool midnight wind.

I want to roll over and grab him and kiss him and make him take away all the parts of me that hurt. That aches and burns to be the one he takes on dates and struts around proudly throughout town. But I also want him to leave because as soon as I feel the dip in my bed I feel his warmth and I smell my best friend on him.

I smell the perfume her mother bought her for Christmas. Freesia and pear. I remember the smell because she said it was specially made and crazy expensive, and she now only uses it for special occasions. I guess she broke it out for Asher.

My stomach churns knowing what I'm doing as he lowers himself behind me. My heart clenches thinking of how Brooklyn says I've changed and here I am proving him right. Here I am letting a boy play with my body and discard my heart. Here I am lying to my best friend and hurting her in ways that no one ever should hurt someone they love.