Matches | √

Chapter Thirteen

My fingers tap against the table as nerves overflow my body. "Why would you ask that?" I ask my friend with furrowed brows.

His shoulders lift lightly as his brown eyes wash over my face as if they are trying to get a read on me. "I didn't mean anything by it," he tells me earnestly before running a hand through his mess of curls. "I was just making an observation."

"Franny is my best friend Brooks," I tell him with a harsh edge to my words. "She is into Asher, not me, that's why we go there," I say, setting him straight. It's a touch of the truth mixed together with lies that fill my bones and make me feel dirty.

"Sorry," he whispers, dropping his gaze. "I didn't mean to make you mad," he says gently and I instantly feel bad. For snapping when Brooklyn was asking a seamlessly innocent question, for lying to him, and for making him feel bad about questioning me. A question any friend would ask.

I sigh. "I'm not mad," I state truthfully. I'm more taken back by the way he noticed something no one else has, not even my best friend. How does he seem to read me so easily?

"He's an ass, remember?" I push out a laugh to lighten the mood. But as Brooklyn's gaze reaches mine I know he can see something is off with my laugh, maybe by the way it doesn't reach my eyes, or that that it sounds forced and fake.

But even if he notices something is off he plays along and cracks a grin. "He is an ass," he agrees. "Don't forget it," he adds softly as if he's warning me. But I don't need to be warned. Because I knew the moment I crashed into Asher's line of vision I would be playing with fire. And I'm playing stupid in thinking that he won't let the flames burn me. But he will, because weak and burned is how he wants all his women. And I'm no different.

I have to remember that. I am not special in his midnight eyes, I am just another in a long line of nobodies thinking they can have a chance to be with the king.

"Believe me, I won't," I murmur. But I already know that a part of me has. Because at night when my dreams take over they like to imagine the what if's. What it would be like to be with Asher out in the open. What it would be like to let myself fall for someone like him. What it would be like to not be afraid of him hurting me.

But those are dreams so far removed from reality. Nothing else. And dreams never last.

Brooklyn shifts in his seat before changing the topic. "Are you going to come to our next show?" he asks with bright eyes referring to his band.

"When is it?" I question with a small tilt of my head.

"Couple weeks, same venue," he tells me with a nod.

"They must've really liked you."

A faint blush warms his tanned cheeks making him even more adorable in my eyes. "Yeah, we ended up packing the place," he says. Most guys would brag about that, but Brooklyn's words are far from, he's more proud than anything.

"That's awesome," I tell him honestly.

"So you'll be there?" he asks, his eyes brightening at the idea of me coming to his show.

"Are you going to play any original songs?" I push with a raised brow. His songs are so beautiful and he deserves more credit. He's amazing at playing the drums, but his true craft is songwriting and his craft needs to be heard.

"I don't know..." he drawls with uncertainty.

"Come on," I pester. "They're amazing, you have to," I urge, letting my shoulder nudge against his playfully.

A small chuckle falls from his lips. "Maybe one," he agrees somewhat reluctantly.

"Two?" I push even more with a big cheesy grin.