Chapter 8

CHAPTER EIGHT

Poison

"I can't just leave." I murmur against his lips, my fingers tracing the lines of his jaw.

"Why the fuck not? Surely you deserve a break." Asher replies, his breath mingling with mine.

His eyes lock onto mine, and for a moment, I forget how to breathe.

"You're such an ass," I say, pushing him back slightly, but not enough to break the contact.

He smirks, that infuriatingly sexy smirk that always makes my knees weak.

"Yeah, but you love it." His hands slide down my sides, lingering at my hips. "Let's go out and get some drinks."

I narrow my eyes at him, repeating myself. "We can't just leave."

"Why not? One night off won't kill anyone." He tries to pull me closer, but I hold my ground.

"That's not how this works, Ash. You don't understand." My voice is softer than I intend, betraying the conflict within me.

"Then help me understand," he says, his tone surprisingly gentle. "But let's do it over drinks. Like old times."

"Old times," I repeat, a bitter laugh escaping my lips. "You think we can just pick up where we left off?"

"Why not?" He gives me that cocky grin again, the one that makes me want to slap him and kiss him at the same time. "We were good together, Polly."

"You can't call me that right now," I snap, trying to ignore the way my heart flutters when he says my name. "When I'm doing stuff for the club, it's Poison."

"Poison," he corrects himself, his voice dropping lower. "Come on. Let's get out of here."

I hesitate, glancing back at the stage where Sydney's performing.

This isn't just about us anymore.

It's about the club, the commitment I made. But damn it, he's right. I did promise him.

"Fine," I finally say, rolling my eyes. "But I'm checking with Gears and Dex before I leave. And, if anything happens while we're gone, it's on you."

"Deal," he says.

I walk over to Gears and Dex, briefly explaining Asher wants to take me out. They both tell me to go, so I head back over to Asher.

He grabs my hand and pulling me toward the exit.

His touch sends electric shocks through my body, reminding me of all the reasons I could never stay away from him.

"You're still impossible," I mutter as we weave through the back of the arena.

"Only for you, babe," he replies, squeezing my hand. And despite everything, I can't help but smile.

As we step into the cool night air, I take a deep breath, trying to steady my racing heart.

The city lights cast a glow over us, and for a moment, I feel like we've stepped back in time.

"Where to?" I ask, looking up at Asher.

"There's a place around the corner from the Arena," he says, leading me down the street. "Maybe we try it out?"

"Better be worth it," I grumble, but there's no real bite in my words.

I'm already lost in the familiar rhythm of our banter, the push and pull that's always defined us.

"Trust me," he says, throwing an arm around my shoulders. "It will be."

We walk in comfortable silence, the tension between us simmering just below the surface.

Every brush of his arm against mine sends a jolt of electricity through me, reigniting memories I've tried so hard to bury.

"Here we are," Asher announces, stopping in front of a small dive bar.

The neon sign flickers above the door, casting an eerie glow.

"Classy," I remark, raising an eyebrow.

"Just like you," he shoots back, earning himself a playful punch on the arm.

"Jerk," I mutter, but I'm already following him inside.

The bar is dimly lit, filled with the hum of conversation and the clink of glasses.

It's the kind of place where secrets are whispered and deals are made in the shadows. Perfect for us.

"Two whiskey on the rocks," Asher orders and once he gets our drinks, he guides me to a booth in the corner.

We slide in, our legs brushing under the table.

The contact sends a shiver up my spine, and I curse myself for reacting so easily to him.

"To old times," he says, handing me a glass.

"Old times," I echo, clinking my glass against his.

The whiskey burns as it goes down, but it's a welcome distraction from the tumultuous emotions swirling inside me.

"So," Asher begins, leaning back in his seat. "How about we shove aside all the bullshit? How have you really been doing? You haven't really wanted to talk about yourself much."

"Why do you care?" I retort, taking another sip. "You walked away, remember?"

I can't help it, I'm still bitter about what went down between us.

"Yeah, well, I do care and if we're giving this a real shot," he says, his gaze intense. "Then I want to know."

"Fine," I say, setting my glass down. "I've been...busy. The club keeps me on my toes."

"Sounds like you're part of something you really care about," he says, nodding. "I'm happy for you."

"Don't act like you care," I snap, the anger bubbling to the surface. "You didn't care when you left."

"That's not fair," he counters, the fire in his eyes matching mine. "You know why I left. If I had known, you know I would have done things differently."

"Do I?" I challenge, leaning forward. "Because it sure felt like you didn't give a damn."

"Polly..." he begins, but I cut him off.

"Poison. Call me Poison. I've been meaning to talk to you about that. When we're in private you can call me Polly, but," I correct him, my voice trembling with emotion. "I'm not that girl anymore, Ash. I've changed."

"Maybe," he murmurs, reaching across the table to take my hand. "But some things haven't."

"Like what?" I ask, my voice barely a whisper.

"Like this," he says, lifting my hand to his lips. The touch is gentle, almost reverent, and it sends a wave of longing crashing over me. "Like us. Like our connection."

"You're impossible," I mutter, but before I can stop myself, I'm leaning across the table, capturing his lips with mine.

The kiss is fierce, desperate, a collision of past and present.

It's a reminder of everything we've lost and everything we still have. And in that moment, nothing else matters.

"God, I missed you," Asher breathes against my lips, his hands tangling in my hair.

"Shut up," I whisper again, pulling him closer. "Just shut up and kiss me."

"Gladly," he growls, and then we're lost in each other once more.

The conversation flows easily between us, each story and memory bringing us closer.

The hours pass in a blur of laughter and shared looks, and for the first time in a long time, I feel like I can breathe.

"Babe," he says suddenly, catching me off guard.

I look up to meet his eyes. They're filled with something I can't quite read—something intense and raw.

"Yeah?" I ask, my voice barely above a whisper.

"Thanks for giving me another chance," he says, reaching across the table to take my hand.

"Don't make me regret it," I reply, squeezing his hand lightly.

"Never," he promises, and for the first time, I believe him.

"Come on," he says, standing up and pulling me with him. "Let's dance."

"Here?" I ask, looking around at the nearly empty bar.

"Why not?" he says, leading me to the open space near the jukebox. "No one's watching."

"All right," I say, letting him pull me close.

His hands rest on my hips, and I wrap my arms around his neck.

The music changes to a slow, soulful tune, and we sway together, lost in the moment.

"Feels like old times," I whisper, resting my head against his chest.

"Better than old times," he murmurs, pressing a kiss to the top of my head.

For now, everything else fades away—the past, the hurt, the uncertainty.

All that matters is this moment, and for once, I'm content to just be.

"God," he murmurs lightly, lifting my chin so I have to look at him. "I missed you."

"I missed you too," I admit, the words tasting bittersweet on my tongue.

"Let's not waste any more time," he says, leaning in until our lips are just a breath apart.

"Agreed," I say, closing the distance.

This is a new beginning, one we've both been longing for.

As we stand here, wrapped up in each other, I have so much confidence that this time we're going to get it right.

After we're done dancing we head back over to the booth.

"Another round?" Asher's voice cuts through the din of the bar, bringing me back to the present.

"Why the hell not?" I laugh, leaning against the worn leather booth.

He nods and walks over to the bar.

The night has been perfect—almost like old times, but with an edge of something new, something that really makes me believe we can make this work.

I slide into the booth and quickly check my phone, making sure no one needs me for anything.

Asher returns with two glasses of whiskey, sliding into the seat across from me.

He raises his glass in a silent toast, and I clink mine against his before taking a sip.

The burn is familiar, comforting.

"So," he starts, his tone shifting to something more serious. "I talked to Rachel."

My stomach tightens at the mention of her name. "What did she say?"

"She said it looked like you went into the room willingly." His words hang in the air, heavy and suffocating.

I roll my eyes, the bitterness rising up like bile. "Yeah, because the rape kit and everything I had to go through afterward was all made up too."

"Jesus…" His voice trails off, eyes wide with shock. "I had no idea you went to the police."

"Why are you so surprised I reported it?" My voice is sharp, cutting through the tension. "I wasn't going to let the guy get away with it if I could help it."

"Polly, I didn't know." His voice is soft, almost pleading.

"Now you do." I take another sip of whiskey, letting the warmth wash over me. "It was humiliating, you know? Having to relive every detail, answer every invasive question. But I'd do it again if it meant he faced consequences."

"You're stronger than I ever realized," he says quietly, almost to himself.

"Yeah, well, life has a way of making you tough or breaking you. And I'm not one to break easily." I lean back, crossing my arms over my chest. "Did you think I was just gonna let it slide?"

"Honestly, I don't know what I thought." He runs a hand over his head, looking more vulnerable than I've ever seen him.

"Well, now you know," I say, trying to keep my voice steady. "And maybe next time, don't assume the worst about me without hearing my side first."

"You're right," he admits, his gaze locking onto mine. "I'm sorry, babe."

For the first time in a long while, I feel like we might actually have a chance.

And as we finish our drinks, the weight of the past starts to lift, making room for whatever comes next.

"Ready to get out of here?" he asks, standing up and offering me his hand.

"Yeah," I say, taking it without hesitation. "Let's go."

We leave the bar, stepping out into the cool night air.

The future is uncertain, but for tonight, I'm going to be positive.

The streetlights cast long shadows on the pavement, and the hum of distant traffic fills the silence between us.

Asher's fingers intertwine with mine, a solid anchor in the shifting landscape of my thoughts.

We walk in silence for a few moments, each step bringing us closer.

"I meant what I said. You're strong," he says, his voice steady and sincere. "Stronger than anyone I've ever known."

I stop walking, turning to face him fully.

His hazelnut eyes meet mine, earnest and unflinching. "What makes you say that?"

"Everything you've been through," he says, his grip on my hand tightening slightly. "And you still stand tall. You didn't let it break you. I know I wasn't there when you needed me, but seeing you now... it's amazing."

"Amazing?" I repeat, my heart pounding in my chest. "You think my pain is amazing?"

"Not the pain," he clarifies, stepping closer. "The way you've handled it. The way you've fought back, refused to be defined by it. That's what's amazing."

I swallow hard, feeling a lump form in my throat. His words cut through the layers of armor I've built around myself, reaching a part of me I thought was long dead. "Ash..."

He lifts a hand to my cheek, his touch feather-light. "I'm serious, babe. You're incredible. And I don't want to lose you again."

"Then don't," I whisper, leaning into his touch.

His lips curve into a soft smile, and before I can overthink it, he closes the distance between us, capturing my lips in a kiss that's both tender and urgent.

It's like coming home after being lost for so long.

When we finally pull apart, we're both breathless. "Let's not waste any more time," he says, his forehead resting against mine.

"Agreed," I reply, my voice barely above a whisper.