He’d destroy me in a physical fight. Not only was I smaller, but I’d never even thrown a punch. I had no clue how to fight, while Ash did. Just ask Ben Webster, who’d gotten in Ash’s face at a school dance our junior year and walked away with a bloody nose and two black eyes.
We spent the next hour dragging our stuff upstairs and putting it away in our rooms.
We didn’t have desks, only the kitchen table. Where were we supposed to study?
I’d left my desktop at home and packed up my laptop, monitors, and PS5 but had no place to set them up in my tiny-ass room. I put them on top of my footlocker until I could figure out what I was going to do.
My room was so small I could barely fit all my shit in it. My clothes filled the dresser, and the footlocker was filled by the time I’d emptied my last bag. At least we’d both used oversized duffle bags to move our stuff. They could be shoved into the tiny linen closet. We’d have been fucked if we’d had suitcases to store.
The room was stifling hot by the time I’d put the last of my books in the footlocker. I’d have to get a lock for it because I didn’t trust Ash not to go through my stuff.
Some fresh air would be nice. I went to the window and tried to open it.
“Of fucking course.”
It had been nailed closed and the seal painted over.
I left my sauna-like closet and looked around the main room. It was empty.
“Asher?” I called as I headed into the kitchen.
Silence was my only answer.
“Fuck.”
I raced out the door and down the five flights of stairs to the cracked and uneven parking lot.
The van was gone.
“Fucking asshole.” I stomped back upstairs.
I didn’t have anything to eat in the apartment, and it was past dinner time.
How was I supposed to get food?
The closest store was a thirty-minute walk away, and it wasn’t like I knew how to cook. I’d had a meal plan for the past three years.
Grumbling, I pulled out my phone and Googled the nearest pizza place that delivered. My food budget was pathetically small, but I needed to eat.
Mom and Ken gave me some money each month because I wasn’t allowed to work on my scholarship. This year they’d told me they’d give me a weekly food budget, but it wouldn’t go far if I kept buying takeout.
I’d have to find a way to get the keys to the van away from Ash so I could go to the store later. And we’d have to figure out a schedule for driving to school.
I snorted as I closed the door to the apartment behind me. Yeah, something told me that Ash wasn’t going to be all that cooperative when it came to sharing the van.
4
ASH
“Your parents suck.”
I leaned back in the oversized bean bag chair on the floor of Tripp’s bedroom and swirled the contents of my cup.
“They do.” I took a swig of the screwdriver, the alcohol burning a trail down my throat. “Especially my dad. Fuck him. He can pay for the brat’s private preschool and nannies but won’t pay for my room in mysenior year?” I snorted. “And fuck my mom too. And Ken. And Jules.”
“I can’t believe you have to share an apartment with that nerd.” Tripp put the half-empty bottle of blueberry vodka to his lips and took a swig.
“You’re going to regret that in the morning.”