15. Leilani

What the hell is my problem?

Why did I agree to this?

I don’t want to sit and drink my coffee with Asher, but there’s something so freaking irresistible about the guy… and maybe I do want to make up for the fact, just a little bit, that I kind of treated him badly last night.

He didn’t do anything wrong.

If anything, he chased me to make sure I was okay, and all I did was stare at him and tell him to fuck off.

Actually, I don’t know if I said the fuck off part out loud or not, but I screamed it in my head because I could seriously not handle talking to anyone. Grace Parker drove me back to Huxley Hall, which was really sweet of her. She’s one of those girls who will do anything for anyone because her heart is made of pure gold. She rabbited on about… I have no idea the whole trip back to the dorm, and it was exactly what I needed. She didn’t once ask me if I was good or who that guy was who shouted my name. And she seemed oblivious to my mood.

Unlike Caroline, who texted me a dozen times throughout the night. I woke up this morning and felt nothing but a heavy dose of guilt. So, I’ve texted her a big apology.

She didn’t come home last night, and I didn’t blame her. Who’d want to hang out with me when I’m such a bitch at the moment? But I don’t know how else to be. I can’t talk about what happened to me, and if people push too hard, my claws seem to come out.

Caroline was really sweet about it, saying it’s all good, and we’re gonna catch up later, but that thought is an anvil on my chest. She’s gonna want to talk, and I need to figure out a way to divert conversation to light, safe topics that I can handle.

“Order for Laney!”

My nose wrinkles as I reach for my cup. “They always say my name wrong.”

Asher laughs as he grabs his coffee and heads for a couple of armchairs in the corner. I follow without protest because the coveted armchairs are hardly ever available. We grab the spot before anyone else can, and I sink into the soft cushions with a sigh.

“So, you been in classes all morning?” Asher takes a sip of his coffee before breaking off a bite of his cookie.

“I had one early class, and then I spent the last two hours in the library.” I rub my forehead. “But I started going cross-eyed, so I figured I needed a caffeine kick.”

“Good call.” He holds out his plate and silently offers me some of his cookie. I should refuse, but for some reason, I take a small chunk. I did pay for it, after all.

I’m surprised he let me, actually. I kind of want to ask why he did, but that could lead to a deeper conversation, and I’m really determined to keep things as light and fluffy as possible today. Instead, I tell him about the assignment I’m working on, and he seems pretty interested. We talk about history for a while, and he gives away how much he loves the subject. Much to my annoyance, I’m impressed by his vast knowledge. He obviously reads big, fat novels and nonfiction books about actual events in history. Or maybe he’s more of a documentary man. Whatever, he’s fascinated by the same stuff as me, and it’s…

I don’t know what it is. Half of me loves it, but the other half hates that we have so much in common.

I take another small chunk of cookie, then brush the crumbs off my fingers.

As soon as I’ve swallowed my mouthful, I ask him, “Why aren’t you a history major?”

He shrugs. “It’s just a hobby. I’m majoring in business studies.”

“Oh, so no pro hockey for you?”

“Nah, I’ll no doubt join the family business after I graduate.” His eyebrows furrow, and I kind of want to ask him more, but that feels too personal. If he shares something like that, he might expect the same from me, so I quickly change the subject.

“So, violin in high school. Do you play anything else?”

“Piano.” He shrugs. “I got it into my head when I was fourteen that I could be the next Billy Joel or John Legend.”

His eye roll makes me laugh.

“But I soon figured out that my fingers are not that nimble, and I wanted to be on the ice more than sitting on a piano stool. So, yeah, not exactly the maestro.”

Man, he’s got a sexy voice. And that smirk, which I use to think was so arrogant, has a playfulness about it. It’s almost self-deprecating from this new angle, and it makes me want to sit in this chair for the rest of the freaking day.

“How about you, Miss Cello?”

“Uh, ukulele… and also piano.”

“Damn,” he mutters, shaking his head. “Yet another thing we have in common. Could you stop that now, please?” His emphatic look contradicts the grin in his eyes, and I end up laughing. Again. Because he does that to me. Makes me smile. Makes me laugh.

It’s infuriating!

“I wonder what else we both like…” He bites his lip in thought, then throws a bunch of rapid-fire questions at me.

“Favorite color?”

“The sky on a cloudless day.”

His eyes light with appreciation.

“Favorite movie?”

“Which genre?”

“Oh, okay, so it’s like that.” He wiggles his eyebrows at me. “All right, I’ll get specific, then. I already know you love Harry, so I’m guessing you’re a fan of Lord of the Rings?”

I nod.

“Narnia?”

I nod again and can’t help adding, “I used to read those books every year when I was a kid. My dad would read them to me. Then, when I got old enough, I started reading them to my younger brothers and sisters.”

“How many siblings do you have?”

“Seven.”

His mouth drops open, and I can’t help a soft giggle. “How about you?”

“Two. Twins. Older brothers. Not very close.”

I tip my head to study him for a moment, then murmur, “That’s sad.”

“I’ve got my cousins. They’re more like siblings to me. We’re closer in age, and I used to spend holidays with them.”

I smile.

“I’m guessing your tribe is all tightknit, then?” He leans back in his chair to study me, and I can’t help getting caught in the color of his eyes again. Of course they had to be blue. Like the sky on a cloudless day.

I swallow and look down. “Yes and no. I mean, we love each other a lot, but we’re so spread out. My youngest sister is two. She’s gonna grow up without me around. And the siblings who are closest to me in age are all boys, and they drove me crazy growing up. There’s seven years between me and my next sister, who is extremely close to her younger sister, because there’s only two years between them. So…” I snicker and shake my head. “That was a really long explanation for a short answer.”

“No, it’s interesting. I’m guessing Caroline feels more like a sister to you, then?”

“Yeah, we’re really close.” The words die in my mouth as I think about the fact that we used to tell each other everything.

But not anymore.

Because I’m tearing us apart with my big, ugly secret.

My skin prickles, and I shift in my seat. Asher’s keen gaze narrows, and I feel the weight of it until he sits forward and licks his finger, picking up cookie crumbs off his plate and casually asking, “What do you like to read? Other than Harry and Narnia?”

“Um… biographies about famous people in history, fiction about famous times in history, other fantasy stuff. I just finished Fourth Wing a couple weeks ago and really need to get my hands on Iron Flame.”

He nods but obviously hasn’t heard of those books before.

“How about you?” I ask.

“I’m a huge Ken Follett guy.”

“Oh, he’s amazing!” I sit forward, excitement sizzling through me. “Please tell me you’ve read Pillars of the Earth and all related books.”

“I have.” He laughs, licking the crumbs off his finger. “And I recently watched the miniseries as well, but it’s not as good as the books.”

“Movies often aren’t, although… if it gets people enjoying stories that I love, I don’t mind so much. I gotta say, the Lord of the Rings movies… superior to the books. The books are great, they’re just—” I wince. “—long.”

“And boring.” He bulges his eyes. “What is it, like fifty pages just for the Council of Elrond?” He slumps back in his seat and starts to snore.

The move cracks me up, and a loud guffaw bursts out of me before I can stop it.

Slapping my hand over my mouth, I try to curb my laughter, but now he’s pulling faces and shit! He’s not allowed to be this charming and hilarious! And he’s not allowed to be so easy to talk to… or like all the same things I do.

This isn’t fair!

I don’t want to be attracted to this man, but he’s making it impossible.

My belly is still rumbling with pent-up giggles when Asher’s expression changes. Gone are the silly faces, and instead an aloof kind of cool washes over him.

He raises his chin, acknowledging someone behind me, and I turn to spot a bunch of tall, athletic-looking guys.

Glancing back at Asher, I notice the smirk on his face has changed again. It’s back to the arrogant one I’ve seen so many times before, and it stays that way as he stretches his arm across the sides of the chair and looks at me like he couldn’t care less if I was here or gone.

I lean back, cross my arms, and narrow my eyes at him. “Who are those guys?”

“What guys?”

A pitiful laugh pops out of me. “Come on, you’re not that stupid.”

He clenches his jaw, smirking at me before casually replying, “Just some of the basketball guys. I go to their games when I can.”

“Okay. And, um…” I lick my lips, threading my fingers together. “Are you embarrassed to be seen with me or something?”

“What?” His eyes bulge. “Are you kidding me? You’re so fucking hot, of course not. If anything, you’re a trophy.”

My head jerks back. “Excuse me?”

His face bunches into an immediate cringe. “I didn’t mean it like that. You’re not an object. You’re a human being, and I respect you and?—”

“Okay, shut up.” I raise my hand at him.

He looks at the tall guys, who are shuffling away from the counter to wait for their orders. When they turn to glance our way, he schools his expression once more. Mr. Cool and Aloof at your service.

I narrow my eyes at him. “If you’re not embarrassed to be seen with me, then why are you suddenly acting all weird?”

“I’m not acting weird.” He frowns.

“Uh…” My eyes dart from left to right. “Yeah, you are.”

“No, I’m—” He smirks again, looking all kinds of cool while raising his chin to acknowledge the towering squad of athletes as they grab their coffees and leave Java Jeans.

As soon as they’re out the door, he slumps back in his seat and says, “What were we talking about again?”

My face puckers into a scowl—I can feel it. Crossing my arms and tapping my finger on my elbow, I give him a stern look and ignore my better judgment, venturing into deeper territory, because I have to know…

“Why did you do that?”