I reach back, unclasping my bra, and let it fall to my feet. I’m not sure how much of me Asher can see, but I hope he likes this view better than the last. I shimmy out of my jeans and stand there in my matching lace panties. I crave the feel of Asher’s hands. I want him to hold me and let that fire that comes from his hands spread throughout my body. “I don’t know. Aren’t you supposed to want to see your girlfriend naked?”
He’s quiet for a long minute, then finally says, “Fake girlfriend.”
“Oh.” I'm gutted. It dawns on me that what I’m feeling is one-sided and everything that happened between Asher and me tonight was for show. I guess I can say we’ve officially crossed the line into friendship, but aren’t going any further. Friend Zoned. “Right.”
I pull Asher’s shirt over my head and slip my arms through the holes. It smells like what I assume he smells like first thing in the morning, before sweat and deodorant changes his scent, not that that's a bad fragrance. This shirt smells like fresh laundry detergent and a hint of spicy cologne. I take a second to sniff it again, then pull his gym shorts over my hips. They hang loose, so I roll the waistband a few times to keep them from falling off. “Done.”
Asher turns around. He stares at me, eyes trailing over my body, down to my toes, then up to my face again. I’ve slipped into Liam’s shirt a few times after sex. He’d always get the same goofy expression Asher has, one that says he likes what he sees. I smirk, then step backward until I feel the edge of his bed behind my knees.
“I’ll… uh,” Asher stammers as a flush of pink colors his cheeks. I bite my bottom lip to keep from grinning. I’ve never seen Asher like this before. He seems nervous, which is crazy, because I know he’s been with other women. Besides, it’s not like we’re about to have sex. He wouldn’t even look at me when I gave him the chance. “I’ll take the floor. You can have the bed.”
I scoot across the mattress, closer to the wall, then cross my legs in a sitting position. “It’s a big bed. You don’t have to sleep down there.”
Asher sighs and rubs the back of his neck. He looks pained and I can’t for the life of me figure out why. “I told you I’d keep my hands to myself tonight. I don’t know if I’ll be able to keep that promise sleeping next to you.”
“Is that such a bad thing?” Ellie queries.
I run my hand across my jaw and groan. I’ve never brought a girl home. I’m not embarrassed about where I live. A house, even if it is falling apart, is still a house. If some bitch is going to dump me because I live on the shit side of the tracks in a crappy trailer, then she can go fuck herself. No, the reason I’ve never brought anyone around is because of that Thing of a stepfather I have. He’s a piece of shit and I don’t trust him. Ellie will be safe though because he’s a long-distance truck driver and out on a job until late tomorrow.
Ellie tugs the edge of the blanket back and pats the mattress. I want to curl up beside her, drape my arm over her waist, and back her up until her ass is pressed against my thighs. I’ve wanted this girl since we were kids. Back then, I thought teasing a girl was how you showed them you were interested. Where I got that fucked up idea, I don’t know, but I inadvertently made Ellie’s life miserable throughout middle school. In my mind, how often I poked at her equated to how much I liked her. Turns out, girls don't like to be made fun of. All I did was drive a wedge between us I’ve never been able to budge. Until now.
I don’t know how I did it, but I convinced Ellie to be my fake girlfriend. Not exactly what I want, but I hope that if I do a good job, she’ll realize that Liam was never the guy for her. It’s always been me. My piece of shit half-brother has never cared about Ellie. He used her, let people talk shit about her, and never once thought about how his other relationships were breaking her heart.
Every time he laid claim to a new girl at school, I watched Ellie fall apart.
When Liam and that chick would break up, because he has never wanted to keep a girl longer than a few weeks lest they get attached, he’d run back to Ellie and she would glow. I may hate seeing those two together, but for those few days, Ellie being filled with such joy was worth the knot in my stomach.
“Are you scared, Asher?” she taunts.
Yes, I want to say—I’m fucking terrified. I’ve hooked up with girls but never slept beside them. That’s a level of intimacy I only want with Ellie. Now, we’re here with her stupid over the clothes rule and I’m scared I’m going to fuck it up in my sleep and lose the girl of my dreams before I’ve really got her.
I take a tentative step forward, my jeans feeling too tight, and stop at the edge of my bed. I force a chuckle to let Ellie know the idea of being scared is ridiculous, then stare her down. “You should be the one who's scared.”
“You ain’t shit, Anderson.” She huffs. “I’m more scared of a butterfly than I am of you.”
Ellie loves butterflies. Monarchs to be precise. In the second grade, we had a life cycle unit where we grew the damn things from a worm. Ellie was fascinated.
Back then, I used to go over to her house after school. She would grab her tablet and we’d look at pictures for hours, talking about the different wing colors and patterns. She said once I must have been a butterfly in a past life because my eyes are so unique. I laughed and shoved her shoulder because that’s what kids do.
Eight years later, on my sixteenth birthday, I got a butterfly tattooed on my arm. It’s interwoven within the half sleeve I’m working to turn into a full, so if you weren’t looking you’d miss it, but it’s there.
I reach for the button on my jeans and Ellie’s eyes widen. I fight back a laugh as I unbutton and step out of them. I watch her, taking in every micro reaction, committing it to memory, because If I fuck things up tonight, at least I’ll have the image of her in my bed, wearing my shirt, for the rest of my life. I pull my shirt over my head and toss it by my feet.
“I usually sleep nude.” That’s a lie. I like to sleep in the shorts she’s wearing, just in case I have to run out of my room in the middle of the night, but I love seeing Ellie’s cheeks flush pink. “But I’ll keep my boxers on tonight.”
“Well, aren’t you a gentleman.” She rolls her eyes but chews her bottom lip as I crawl under the covers.
I turn my back to her and face the other side of the room. I hear Ellie shift to do the same. My bed isn’t big. It’s a full, which means there’s enough room for two, but only just. Her butt presses against my backside. I hold my breath for as long as I can stand it and think about everything but her. Cars. My new work schedule. The money I owe Bane McCarron for running my nei
ghbor's piece of shit stepbrother out of town. Statistics.
I try everything not to notice Ellie’s shallow breathing. Or how she smells sweet like candy but also a little like beer. I do my best not to let myself get hard because that would make tonight awkward as fuck.
“Asher?” The mattress squeaks as she shifts. Her warm body molds against mine and we fit together like a fucking puzzle piece. I always knew we would. Even in this reverse spoon position, we were made for each other.
“El?” I look over my shoulder then decide to turn. I face her and drape my arm over her waist.
She wiggles closer until her stomach presses against mine. That bottom lip of hers slips between her teeth as she looks up at me. I can’t read her face but wish I could, because I know she can feel my hardness pressed against her. I can't help it. I’m a guy.