Chapter 9

nine

. . .

Asher

The drive back is quieter than before, a comfortable silence stretching between us. When I drop her off, she lingers for a moment, her hand brushing the door handle. “Thanks for tonight,” she says softly, her eyes meeting mine. There’s something unspoken in her gaze, something I want to hold onto.

“Anytime,” I reply, my voice low. She hesitates, then gives me a small smile before slipping out of the truck and disappearing into the night.

Once I park on the street, I enter the first floor of our frat house, with the warmth of the evening clinging to me. It’s quickly replaced by the cool reality of the dimly lit living room. Joe’s sprawled on the couch, half-watching a movie, the blue light from the TV casting sharp shadows across his face.

“Late night?” he says, his tone clipped as his eyes flick briefly to me before returning to the screen.

“Yeah. Late one.”

“You have a girl?” he asks, his voice laced with something between curiosity and accusation.

I shrug, keeping my expression neutral. “Nah. I was going over game film.”

He huffs a laugh, but there’s no humor in it. “Well, isn’t that great.”

He gets up, moving toward me with a deliberate slowness that sets my nerves on edge. “I don’t know what’s gotten into you,” he says, his tone sharper now. “But you’ve been acting fucking weird all week.”

I raise an eyebrow, leaning casually against the doorway. “How so?”

“You stay in your room. Don’t go out. You’re…different.”

“Yeah, I’m not a partier like you. And since when have you been keeping tabs on my habits?”

He narrows his eyes, studying me like he’s trying to piece something together. “Are we friends, Asher? I know we’ve never been close, but I want to know if we’re friends.”

“You barely talk to me,” I say, crossing my arms. “So, I’d say acquaintances.”

“Well, damn. Alright.” He exhales heavily, running a hand through his hair. “Fuck, man. I miss her.”

The words hang in the air, heavy and raw. I don’t need to ask who he means.

“Miss her?” I say anyway, my voice carefully neutral.

“Oh, come on. You know I had a breakup,” he snaps, frustration bubbling to the surface. “I just want to know who she’s with now. It’s ridiculous, the stuff this girl put me through. And then…fuck. I shouldn’t be telling you this, but she calls me, and some fucking guy gets on the phone and says, ‘She’s busy.’ Do you believe that shit?”

My jaw tightens, the memory of that moment flashing in my mind. I force myself to stay calm, even as his words claw at something primal inside me. “Well, you’re an asshole, man,” I say, my tone steady but edged. “And not the good, boundary-setting kind.”

He glares at me. “What the hell does that mean?”

I hold up my hands, feigning innocence. “It means I think I should stay out of your business.”

His expression darkens, suspicion flickering in his eyes. “You’ve been coming for my position all summer, haven’t you?” he says, stepping closer. “At training camp, studying all the defenses, making yourself look good. Planning to fuck me over.”

I don’t mean to laugh, but the absurdity of his accusation gets the better of me. A short, sharp laugh escapes before I can stop it.

“Oh, this is funny now?” he spits, his fists clenching.

“I gave you a playbook every week, Joe,” I say, my voice calm but firm. “You don’t even read it. That’s on you. Don’t act like I’m some traitor. Fuck off, man.”

For a moment, he just stares at me, his face a mask of anger and confusion. Then he shakes his head, muttering something under his breath as he stalks back to the couch.

I don’t wait to see what he does next. I head upstairs, my steps heavy on the creaking wood. Once in my room, I close the door and lean against it, exhaling a long breath.

Even as exhaustion tugs at me, sleep feels like a distant dream. My thoughts are still tangled with the taste of her, the feel of her body against mine, the sound of her laughter under the stars. And despite everything—Joe’s accusations, the tension simmering in the house—I feel more alive than I have in years.

Sliding into bed, I stare at the ceiling, the faint glow of my phone on the nightstand casting soft shadows. Tomorrow’s game looms large, but tonight, my mind is only on her.

And her taste is still on my lips.