For the Love of Ash (4 page)

High school could be summed up in one word: nightmare. Even thinking about it made me want to erase my face so I could hide for eternity. To say I was a royal bitch would be an understatement. I was the definition of angst. I didn't give a fuck about anyone, giving off this brave, tough vibe that was just a cover for the lack-of-love I got from home.
 

I smoked and drank. I slept around with random boys so frequently that even now, I couldn't count. But I knew why I did those things, thanks to Doctor Cohen, and I was a better person—or at least I tried to be.
 

"I'm so sorry. I'm not like that now," I tried to explain, my words just stumbling over one another. My fingers were tingly, my skin still on fire.

"It's all good. I'm over it. Nice to officially meet you, again," she said, smiling through her pearly whites. I was a bit taken aback by her cavalier attitude. I would hate the people who bullied me in high school. Yet, she was cool about it.

"You can punch me if you want," I said, attempting to lighten the mood. I laughed under my breath at how painfully strange this interaction was becoming. "Totally won't blame you."
 

"Nah. I'm a lover not a fighter—unless you really screw with me." She shook her head and waved her hand in front of me. She sat back in her seat, laughing. Her laugh was light, like she didn't have a single trouble in the world. I sucked in a breath through clenched teeth to quell my jealousy.

"Well, if it matters, I'm sorry, and it's nice to meet you again, June." I made a point to use her real name, not the one my asshole friends and I bestowed on her. "What have you been up to since high school?" The class was still filling up, not yet full, so I decided to create small talk with her.

"Rehab, therapy."
 

I laughed at her joke, but when our eyes clashed, I could tell from the grim line her lips made that she was serious. I shut up real fast, swallowing my laugh.
 

"I'm sorry." I didn't mean for my words to sound like a question, but my stomach was flipping, my social skills not up to par with people my own age.

"It's just my parents. They're a tad non-existent. Nothing serious," she brushed me off, quirking her upper lip to the side and winking.

"I know the feeling."

"Your parents making you come here?" Without meaning to, June brought up something I wasn't ready to talk about. I'm sure she heard anyway, but I didn't like to talk about my past.

"No, they aren't around." I kept it as impersonal as possible, shaking my head from side to side. My nervous twitch surfaced as my fingers found the hem of my tee, and I longed for just a single drag of a cigarette. I looked towards the click above the door and saw that class was supposed to start five minutes ago. The teacher still hadn't showed, but I knew I didn't have time to run out.

"Relax. I won't push," June said sincerely, turning back to her desk. I was about to respond and thank her for letting it go when our teacher waltzed into the room, introducing himself as Mr. Manka as his arms overflowed with papers that fell to the floor.
 

Chapter Four

Maggie

My last class of the day approached faster than I ever would have hoped. My butt ached from sitting in hard desk chairs all day. I felt my eyes drooping as I got out of my chair and went into the hallway. Between seeing Asher off to school, dealing with classes, and driving everywhere, I was a dead girl walking.

I chain smoked during the fast fifteen minute break. One kid bummed a cigarette from me. I hated that. They cost enough as it was, and I couldn't afford to lose a single one. I sort of day-dreamed and decompressed before I flicked the butt and stood. I walked back up the stairs in West and found my last class. Only two desks were empty, chatter filling up the room. I wished I hadn't taken so long outside.
 

Another student stepped behind me, and I rushed in the room, taking the first seat. I glanced back to let the next student get around me and saw a black hood but not much else. The figure loomed over me despite the fact that he was behind me. My nerves tingled. I sat in my desk, right in front of the other empty and relaxed my shoulders.

The hooded guy plopped down behind me—he didn't have much of a choice. I wanted to turn around and tell him that I could relate to the want of being invisible, but I wasn't the kind of person who just struck up conversations with random people. I leaned back in the seat, adjusting so I was sitting just on my left cheek. I pulled out my phone to check in.

Me
: How is Asher?

Lisa was a great babysitter, and Asher really liked to hang out with her. She was only seventeen but very responsible for her age. She got straight A's, and luckily, she was old for her grade. She was a junior this year, so I had her for a full two more years. She had expressed interest in going to Stanford, which was half way across the country, so when she left I'd have to figure something new out.

Lisa
: We r good! C u l8r, Mags!

Lisa responded almost immediately, and I felt my stress melt away. I had to admit I loved how fast kids responded to texts now. I never had to worry too long. Whenever Lisa texted me, it made me feel like an old lady. I was only twenty-three, decent with technology and social networking, but when I texted, I actually wrote a word out.
 

How much harder was it to type 'see' instead of 'c'? Whatever. That was just a pet peeve of mine that would never get resolved. I clicked the top button, shutting the light off, and tucked my phone into my jeans pocket.

I turned to see the clock on the side of the wall, just above the doorway. When I looked back down, I was smashed in the head from behind with an errant hand. I could hear the guy in the seat behind me moving around, a paper shuffling and fabric swishing. I saw his arm raised from the corner of my eye. I leaned forward to get out of the way of his flailing hand. I glanced back at him.

"Sorry," he mumbled. I was rendered mute.

First thing I saw was his shirt riding up over his hips, revealing his perfectly toned skin. I leaned forward and craned my neck down, trying to catch a glimpse of his abs, when a low rumble emitted from his mouth, making me whip fully around. My face lit up on fire.

"You like what you see, Sunshine?" His voice took me off guard. The low rumble sounded like he had just woken up from a night of heavy sleeping. It was sexy and daring and dark.

"Not really," I said, trying to mask my instant attraction to him. His eyes captured me when I looked up at him. They were deep gray, almost like a storm cloud rolling with the wind. His light brownish-blond hair complimented his tanned skin, making his appearance even more appealing.

At the tip of his hoodie, black lines curved along his collar bone, hinting at a larger tattoo somewhere beneath his shirt. I tried to focus elsewhere, but this guy was fucking perfection. His thick bottom lip, his nose that was a little crooked at the bridge. He had a fucking dimple!
 

"Luke," he said. He smirked, showing off his dimple as if daring me to lick it. Strangely enough, he had on khaki pants, tailored so well they looked professional. The khaki and hoodie combo was bizarre, and the difference in top and bottom was not lost on me.

"Excuse me?" I asked back, remembering that he spoke, the fog dissipating, replaced with confusion.
 

"My name is Luke." His voice was light, not condescending or rude like I would've thought it to be. I frowned, glared, and then turned around in my seat without uttering a single word. He was being nice?

A year ago, I would have jumped on this guy, dragged him to my bed and fucked him. I would have used my master manipulation skills to woo him, buttering him up so he could butter me up. But a lot had changed in a year. I found myself taking mental notes on how to make sure Asher didn't end up like him. I was so out of my league; I didn't even know where to begin with raising him so he didn't turn out of be a player or use women.

I pulled out a pen from my black and red bag and started to doodle on my piece of paper. I stared at the front of the room and tried to pay attention to our teacher, but the more I stewed in my seat, the more I felt his hot searing gaze on me.
 

"What are you drawing, Sunny?" Luke breathed right into my ear, causing goose bumps to trickle down my back. I caught the scent of his breath, and it was minty fresh, evergreen if my senses were on point. Mental note: Don't let Ash breathe down girls' necks and flirt relentlessly. Ash would not become an aggressive male that toyed with girls who were clearly not interested. I'd have to make sure his breath is stinky at all points of his teenage years.

"Stop calling me that," I bit out, wishing this professor would notice the nagging behind me. But his back was to us students, and he didn't even hear. Although I doubt he could anyway. He was ancient.
 

"Then tell me your name."

"I'd prefer you not call me at all." I smiled to myself. I still had a little kick to me. It was good to know, since I thought I had lost all my spunk.

"Whatever you say, Sunny." Mental note: Never let Asher give a female a nickname. It was way too sexy and flattering but wrong, nonetheless.

I heard the seat squeak as he sat back, out of sight. I tuned most of the class out, focusing on my little drawing. I didn't want to think of Luke. I didn't want to imagine his lips on mine, or his eyes on me. When I looked down at my piece of paper, I saw that I was drawing a sun.
 

"Okay class, we have about ten minutes left. What do you say we do some ice breakers?" Dr. Atwater clapped his hands excitedly. Dr. Atwater tried really hard to be the "fun" teacher. I could tell from his overly smiling face and bounce to his step. But he was so old that I think he spent most of the class thinking he was talking to himself.
 

"Circle up!" he said, waving his arms in a circle and directing us where to go. People groaned as they stood from their seats and moved, chairs squeaking and tables scraping against the tiled floor. I rolled my eyes as I dragged my desk into the formation Dr. Atwater asked for.
 

"The name of the game is sausage."
 

I sat back in my seat and had to hold back my whine. I had to play this game at college orientation four years ago, and I hated it. It was even worse being done by this old guy. At least at orientation it was led by other students. "Who wants to be the first person?"

Nobody responded. Shocker.

Dr. Atwater's eyes surveyed the crowd, and I could tell from the mischievous grin on his face that he was going to pick someone at random. He was mostly focused on the other side of the room, so I felt safe. I grabbed my pencil from the desk and started twirling it around my middle finger.

"I bet I could make you laugh," Luke said from the seat next to me. I turned in the seat and glared at him, crossing my arms over my chest again.
 

"I'm not going up."

"I guess you lose then." I didn't like to be challenged, especially by a stranger. On the same note, I hated talking in front of a class. But what the hell? For some reason, this guy's games made me feel like I wasn't carrying the weight of a life in my hands.
 

"Try me," I dared with a glint in my eyes as I raised my arm. Luke sat back in his seat, smiling from ear to ear, his white teeth perfectly straight like he'd had years of dental work.
 

"Perfect. What's your name, miss?" I was busted. Dr. Atwater smiled at me, happy that I was volunteering for his stupid game. Little did he know, this was all a scam.

"Oh um—I." I was going to back out and say that it was just a mistake, but then I risked a glance at Luke, who was still smiling, and gave in "Maggie," I said finally.

"Please stand in the middle." I slid out of my seat and walked towards the center of the desks, awkwardly pulling on the bottom of my shirt. "Okay, so Maggie, people are going to ask you questions, and you can only respond with
sausage
. Their goal is to get you to laugh. Your goal is to keep a straight face." I already knew the name of the game.