Matches | √

Chapter Twelve

I turn my head slightly to take in Asher Lawton. Take in his tall frame, lean body, and permanent smirk that resides on his handsome face. He looks like he does every single day, and yet every time I see him butterflies erupt from within me as if I'm seeing him for the first time half naked and frazzled in his bathroom.

"Hi," I respond slowly, letting my lips turn up in a small smile. I hate that I smile because I should hate him. He went on a date with my best friend two nights ago. After messing around with me all week. He went on the date he promised her at the party.

And after the date he snuck into my room, high, and he kissed away all my anger. His body took all my anger and turned it into flaming desire instead.

"Shopping for a dress?" he asks with a small tilt of his head motioning to the bustling store next to us.

"Yeah, why not?" I tell him not wanting to show the weakness and slight fear that fills me about having to go alone to the biggest event of my high school career. But in front of Asher I never want to appear soft, never show that I can't handle his attitude and serve it right back in waves.

"Didn't know someone asked you already," he says casually though the way his eyes flare with a jealous fire make me know it's anything but casual. His gaze sparks the need to not show any faults once again. His dark flame filled eyes raise a flickering heat within me that only awakens when he's around. When he's jealous. When he wants me.

"You don't know a lot about me," I tell him as I cross my arms across my chest. I don't have anything to show off, but the small movement does draw his eyes to my chest causing a glimmer of power to fill my bones and make me feel strong. Empowered. Desired.

"So someone's asked you?" he questions with a raised brow. His dark eyes now locked intently on me.

"Not yet," I admit slowly putting just enough importance on the words to allude to something that isn't there. Isn't going to happen. But Asher makes me want to fight back, stand tall, and seem like I know what I'm doing when I don't have a clue.

"Yet?" he asks with a slight emphasis.

"Who knows who will ask me," I push forward. Letting myself pause before taking the plunge I know will drive him over the edge. "Maybe Brooks," I say with a shrug and slight smirk that mimics the devilish one that seems to always coat his perfect lips.

His dark eyes narrow at my words. His jaw hardens, and his fingers clench and unclench at his sides. I pushed the right buttons. Dark glittering excitement rushes through my veins almost intoxicating me on the feeling of making Asher feel this way. "Brooks, really," he spits with a hardened tone.

"Yeah," I breathe with sparkling eyes locked on his stormy ones.

A hand pushes through his dark locks with an untamed energy. The same one that seems to always course through the air whenever we're around each other. But this time it's different, it's darker, and I want more. "Is that supposed to bother me?" he questions harshly.

I chew on the inside of my cheek to hold in the smile that wants to break out across my pink lips. "I don't know," I state truthfully. "Does it?" I question with a slight push and narrowed eyes as I lean away from the wall and stand up straighter. I want it to bother him the same way it bothered me when he went on the date with Francesca.

Asher takes a small step towards me as if he can't help himself. As if gravity herself has written it into our bones, our souls. His tongue darts out to wet his lips, lips that I'm at perfect height to watch, love, and worship.

His mouth opens to speak, to say something snarky or dirty or both rolled up into a witty statement that will turn me into mush at his feet.

But before he can even get a word out another voice cuts him off. A woman's voice.