Chapter 13

CHAPTER 13

HOLLY

T hat night, I lie in bed, trying to sleep.

I should’ve freaked out when I walked out of the shower and saw Asher standing there in his gym gear. I saw his hand on the toilet handle. I knew what game he was playing. He was going to prank me.

Something came over me, a confidence I’ve rarely felt, or maybe I’ve never had a reason to feel it. When I told him to look at me, I felt powerful. I could see how hard it was for him to resist.

What was my plan? Did I even have one?

Tomorrow, we’re going to the rock-climbing place together. At least Dan will be there as a shield between his best friend and me. Earlier, Asher seemed somehow more interested when I told him I was a virgin. It was like he wanted to be the one to take my virginity.

These are precisely the thoughts I need to suppress if I’m going to get through this without completely losing my mind.

Disaster strikes as soon as I walk into the kitchen. Dan just told me he can’t come rock climbing with us.

“I’m sorry,” he says, rushing around the kitchen as he makes a quick breakfast. He could afford a chef, but our roots run deep. “I know it’s a crappy move. I’ve got a meeting with an overseas client. I can’t brush him off, but you should still go. You and Asher will have fun. It’ll be like old times.”

“I … I don’t know.”

He pauses, looking at me in confusion. “What are you talking about? I know how excited you are about this. Don’t let me spoil it for you.”

“You’re not spoiling anything.”

“It’s settled, then. You and Asher will still go.”

Asher walks into the room wearing sweats and a T-shirt. It’s difficult not to look at his crotch now. I’ve seen him. He was big, hard, throbbing. I had to tell him I was the owner of a V-card, so he knew I wouldn’t be able to take his impressive size on a lust-filled whim.

“What’s going on?” Asher asks.

“I’m going to need to ask you to chaperone the kid,” Dan says good-naturedly, meaning it as a joke.

Hearing him refer to me like that after what happened last night is too much. I stuff a slice of toast into my mouth to stop from screaming.

“I’ve got a meeting,” Dan goes on. “Is that okay, Asher?”

“Yeah, sure,” Asher replies after a moment, sounding as stunned as I am. “As long as you’re okay with that, Holly?”

“Why wouldn’t I be? I’m looking forward to it. I’ll finish my toast and get my camera gear ready.”

“Okay,” Asher says. “I’ve called ahead and made sure it’s okay for you to record. They said it is, but they ask that you tag them in anything you upload to social media.”

“You didn’t have to do that,” I say, touched.

Emotionally touched, not touched like last night.

“It’s no big deal,” Asher says.

He’s wrong. It’s thoughtful and sweet, a side to him I never would’ve dreamed about when I was a kid, and he called me those teasing nicknames. Last night was supposed to be an innocent prank, a “get-you-back” for my shower prank.

It turned into so much more.

What does that mean about today? It’s supposed to be a fun trip, “grab some video,” and soak in the Christmas theme. What if it turns into something else?

I grab the Secret Santa phone, deciding to find out once and for all if Asher’s my texting buddy before we go on this … date .

Can I think of it like that?

After packing my bag, I sneak down the hallway and peer around the doorframe into the kitchen. Asher sits at the kitchen island, sipping coffee and staring into the distance like he’s reliving last night. I need to ice myself. Why would I assume that? He could be thinking about anything.

Hiding behind the wall, I text. Me: I wasn’t ignoring you. I just don’t want to talk about this.

I’m almost sure I hear a vibrating noise from the kitchen. Almost . It could be the sound of the refrigerator or the heating.

I peer around the edge. He isn’t checking his phone. Maybe he left it in the office, but my Secret Santa has texted me out of office hours plenty of times.

I hide again and send another text.

Me: Are you going to ignore me to get me back now?

Again, I’m sure I hear that noise—a short burst of zzz , then nothing. When I peer around the door, Asher isn’t checking his phone. I sigh and walk down the hallway.

My phone vibrates.

My Secret Santa: I’m cringing reading through these texts. I’m never typically this needy.

I rush back down the hallway, poke my head around the door, and come face-to-face with Asher. He smirks down at me. “Why are you sneaking around, Snowflake?”

“I’m not,” I say, noticing his hand is in his pocket.

“I’ll get changed, and then we’ll hit the road,” he says. “About last night …”

I shake my head. “Last night didn’t happen, remember?”

If I didn’t know any better, I would say he looks hurt, but if he is, he quickly hides it. “You’re right. Today, we’re just friends. Let’s keep it that way.”

“Not just today.” I hate that I have to say this. Things are so much easier over text. “Always. We must put whatever happened—or didn’t happen—behind us. Today is only about getting some cool footage and soaking in the Christmas vibes. Deal?”

He offers me his hand. “Deal, Snowflake.”

We shake hands. His touch makes my resolve feel weak already. I should probably tell him to stop calling me Snowflake. I like it too much, and I think he enjoys calling me it too much.

He walks down the hallway. About thirty seconds after his bedroom door closes, I get another text.

My Secret Santa: We should make a deal to keep our texts about Secret Santa. I think we can both agree this is getting out of hand.

I stare at the word “deal.” It seems like a sign. It’s like Asher is messing with me, which would annoy me if I didn’t like it so freaking much.