Asher ✓

59 | trepidation

JULY 22, 2020 / VILLA PAULA

"Fourth isn't bad at all. You were never going to be eliminated from the semi-finals," Tallulah comforted Asher. "You were always in the top five. I never had any doubts."

Tallulah, having grown up in Guangzhou, was impossibly unperturbed by hot, humid weather. 

She sipped Pinot Noir with a pleasant smile on her face, her cheeks slightly rosy to match her pink sundress, while Asher continued to perspire his body weight in sweat in the Arizona summer night.

Tallulah had a uni friend who lived in Phoenix, so she had planned to fly out to catch up with her during the day and watch Asher compete in the AMA Series Semi-Final race in the evening. Knowing this, Asher had reserved a table at a chic restaurant in the city center.

With grapevines growing through the thatched ceiling, Villa Paula was the sort of off-beat, indie location that Tallulah would adore. Bulb lights, live music, grew their own herbs. And, as expected, she was glancing around with unrestrained glee in her warm brown eyes. 

For Asher's part, he couldn't give a shit about the decor.

The fact that this restaurant was blissfully air-conditioned, however, already earned it five stars.

"It's impacted on my starting position for the final. It's going to bite me in the ass."

"Maybe it's the kick up the ass you'll need to pull through and win the whole thing," Tallulah calmly suggested. She was the only person Asher didn't have to keep a positive-thinking facade around. He could whine and complain as much as he liked around her, which was part of why he loved her.

"You're beautiful."

Tallulah quirked an eyebrow at the sudden change of topic, but readily accepted that Asher didn't want to talk motocross over dinner. "Aw, thanks, baby. You are beautiful, too."

"And you're talented, and so damn likable."

"I've already got Asian flush, Asher," she chastised him. "Do you want me to leave here looking like a tomato?"

"You'd be the cutest goddamn tomato I've ever seen. Probably win all the county fairs this side of the Atlantic."

"Eat your salmon."

Asher let an amused laugh bubble from his throat, never tiring of Tallulah's ravenous appetite and insistence on finishing meals. "I will, after."

"After what?"

Then Asher clicked his fingers, gesturing for the waiter — who'd been given explicit instructions — to bring over the iced bucket of champagne and two slim flutes.

Tallulah watched the tray be arranged on the table with wide, shell-shocked eyes.

"Asher . . . what's going on?" she asked after the waiter departed.

Gently taking her hands in his, Asher met the eyes of the woman who'd done so much for him since they met. He couldn't believe a year and eight months had passed that quickly, but then again, Tallulah had been supporting him, engaging him and pushing his comfort zones the whole while.