'Baby, I think about you
And I feel it, deep in my heart
Maybe we just ain't meant to be something
Maybe we are, ooh?'
*ALTHEA'S POV*
November 5, 2016.
"Peachy, you came finally!"
Funny how every time I heard these words, it was my heart that jumped, while Asher wasn't even the slightest bit surprised.
He never lost, and my heart shouldn't have leaped again as he grabbed my hand.
"Come on, I saved you a seat front row."
"What? No, I... You don't have to." I pulled my arm back before he could move towards the seat, which I already spotted in the distance.
It was impossible to miss it, as it was one of the rare chairs remaining empty in the bleachers teeming with people, and the only one in the front row. If it hadn't been for the 'reserved' note and the blue and white varsity jacket I recognized there, it would have probably been taken already by someone who wanted the best view of the game.
To give an idea, it was the same row as the substitutes' bench and the principal's seat. The only ones closer to the court were the referee and the cheerleaders currently doing their pregame dance, and it was surely from there that I sensed a glare, even if I didn't get to check when Asher tugged me closer, his tall figure blocking my view.
"I know, but I need you close." He dived his head down until all I could see was pale green, all I could hear was his smooth whisper in the hubbub around. "So I can get my good luck kisses."
"I thought you didn't need luck?" I raised an eyebrow, the only movement of protest in my body while my lips were already parting under his warm breath, closer and closer.
"I don't. I just really want to kiss you."
Once again, my heart shouldn't have reacted so sharply at these words vibrating against my lips, as by now, I was becoming all too familiar with the inevitable force pulling me to his smug smile, the heat of his palm finding its place under my jaw, the sparking touch of his smooth lips, and the peppermint taste still burning on the tip of my tongue from the good luck kisses we'd shared yesterday.
Yet every time, it felt more intense, as if my nerves were becoming more and more aware of each sensation, of each part of him, from the twitch of his smirk as he left me one more second to pull away to the pressure of his fingertips in the back of my hair when my eyes fluttered closed, and when his mouth grazed mine, the searing adrenaline was also heightened.
Every tingle from the caresses of his lips was becoming electricity, and every spark of his tongue meeting mine was turning into fire, both dangerous elements surging through my veins and raising my alarms, almost as loudly as the roars of the crowd around, and I wasn't sure which one made me lean away from the kiss, breathless.
Anyway, it was just in time, as I adjusted my glasses on my nose to watch the guest team entering the court, the school players ready to step in on the other side. Well, except for their captain whose breathy chuckle still tickled my skin.
"That's why I need you front row."
I didn't dare protest this time because first, I didn't fully trust my legs, and second, it would have only lost more time, and I already sensed too many glares on us as he walked me to my seat, although my mind was still too blurry to see from whom.
It already took me a few seconds to process the voice coming from behind me as Asher ran towards his teammates.
"So it's you who stole my reserved seat?"
"Paxton?" I blinked at the pair of green eyes, too similar to the ones still making my head spin, yet with fewer twinkles of bad intentions in them. "I'm sorry. We can switch if you want."
"No, I don't think Ash would be happy with it." He nodded somewhere over my shoulder, from where another type of glare was now burning me. "I'm better here anyway, 'cause I don't have the principal's eyes on me, so I can look at my phone."
Oh yes, another con of this seat I hadn't thought of: I was exposed to everyone's eyes, including the principal's and Asher's. Thus, I wouldn't be able to pull out my phone, nor the sketchbook I'd packed in my bag to occupy myself.
Watching sports wasn't my thing, and according to the few Google searches I'd done last night, a basketball game lasted about one hour in total. What would I do during all this time? Apart from peeking at Paxton's lighting phone screen apparently.
"Is it Kylie from Asher's birthday party?" Lifting my gaze from the name on the screen, I instantly realized how indiscreet I was. "Sorry, I didn't mean—"
"No, it's okay. It's not a secret." Paxton didn't lose his smile. On the contrary, it stretched brighter as he continued, "And yes, it's her. We've kept in touch since then, and she's actually asked news about you when I saw her yesterday."
"Oh, well, tell her I say hi when you see her again." Because he would probably see her again, if I read right the name lighting up his screen again and the twinkle that instantly followed in his eyes. "How is she doing?"
"She's fine I think. I offered to beat her ex's ass, but she refused, saying he's not worth it." He shrugged, though his face was fully serious now. "So I'll probably stick to telling everyone about the disgusting cheater he is."
"Good," I said, not sure what to reply, and I didn't get to add anything else when a loud whistle blow resonated from the court, attracting everyone's attention, including mine.
One player was winning my attention more exactly, his tall figure standing out, as much as the orange sweatband at his wrist and his athletic skills.
I didn't know anything about basketball, except for what Asher had explained to me yesterday; however, his talents were obvious from passing the ball and dribbling to doing steals and every other move he made that was not shooting, as he followed the collective tactic, leaving everyone confused, especially his opponents who started dropping their guard on him by the third quarter.
It was when he switched tactics, swiftly taking the lead and scoring a basket from the farthest line.
Yet the other team still had two points over them, while they only had a few minutes left, and time passed quickly—for the players, but also for me, I realized.
The possibility of getting bored was completely forgotten, and I didn't get to twiddle my thumbs with how tight my fists were clenching around the thick fabric of Asher's varsity jacket as he did another steal, nor did a yawn leave my lips as I held my breath until the last seconds of the game, where he scored three more points with another basket.
In fact, the first thing that escaped my mouth was a shout of joy as the end of the game rang, and I stood up, swept in the energy of the crowd on our side.
Though no matter how lively the claps, cheers, and hoorays were, they were nothing in comparison with Asher's victory roar as he pumped his fist high in the air—the one with the orange wristband—before taking a victory lap around the court, running, jumping, and high-fiving all his teammates and anyone who was on his way, even the principal.
His energy was infectious, the adrenaline fizzing out of him like a shaken bottle of champagne splashing everyone around, and if it was already reaching me from afar, it completely swept me away when he reached my extended hand, and instead of giving me a high-five, he pulled me into his chest, lifting my feet off the ground.
"It worked, Peachy!" he exclaimed in my ear, while I clung to his neck, getting dizzy already, and I wasn't sure if it was from him spinning me around or his overflowing excitement seeping into my veins. Probably the latter as I didn't think about the words slipping out of my grin.
"What? The good luck kiss?"
And when he slowly put me down again, focusing his smoldering gaze on mine, my head was spinning even more.
"No, even if I still really want to kiss you." His lips stretched into a smooth smirk before, just like he'd done on the court, he abruptly switched tactics, going straight for a kiss.
He didn't even wait to catch his breath, stealing mine instead with the fierce caresses of his lips, while in exchange, he sent more of his adrenaline into my veins until it was buzzing through every part of me, and my heart was thrumming as fast as if I'd won the game.
As fast as the thumps I felt through the damp fabric of his jersey when the kiss ended, and I steadied myself with a hand on his chest for a second, finding back my bearings. Well, the best I could through the loud music of the marching band, the crowd's hubbub, and the many voices congratulating Asher from right, left, behind, and in front...
In no time, a circle had already formed around us, as everyone wanted a piece of the victorious captain, and yet, he kept his left hand on my hips, his index finger hooking into the belt loop of my jeans so naturally. Like it'd always been there as he announced proudly that he'd used the 'peachy tactic'. Like it would always be there, and I could have almost believed it.
Almost. However, Christina's glare was there to bring me down from my cloudy daze and back to earth. It was merely a pair of daggers thrown at me through a glance with a hidden smirk, as fast as a stroke of lightning, but the thunder was Asher's words following instantly as he explained to his friends,
"Of course, it was planned. I calculate every move to win a game, and I never lose."
He never lost... He was a player, and... I was his new plaything...
He might have been talking about basketball, but all I could feel were the mindless shapes he was drawing on the exposed part of my waist that suddenly weren't as warm, and I put my fingers on his to stop them as if burned.
"I-I need to go to the bathroom," I stammered, not waiting for his answer as I rushed out of here, and surprisingly, getting out of his tight hold was harder than pushing my way through the crowd and finding an empty bathroom, even if I ended up in a locker room finally.
At least, the yellow slippery-floor sign in front of the door would prevent anyone else from entering, and it wasn't the team locker room, seeing as there were no bags or clothes on the benches, only a slightly dubious smell of sweat and musty.
I didn't plan on staying long anyway. I just needed some fresh water and quietness, the hubbub from the main room vanishing as soon as I closed the door. But not Christina's words.
He was a player, and... I was his new plaything...
It had been one week ago, and if I'd tried to push them to the back of my mind, they always reappeared more deafening every time I saw Asher, which meant every passing day.
In a week, I'd seen him every day, whether it was the few minutes he'd stolen over my midnight curfew at his birthday party last Saturday or each of the school days.
Since I'd arrived in Lotus Bay, he was the person I'd spent the most time with, more than any of my foster family members if we counted all the classes we had together where he always managed to slip me a word or a wink.
The last person with whom I'd shared so much time was probably my mom, and even then she hadn't been with me completely.
Whereas he gave me all his attention, which often was too much, but I was getting used to it, to the point that I wasn't sure I remembered what my days had been before.
In less than a month, he'd taken such a big part in my life. At first, he'd held the pass for my dream with the art club, but quickly, I hadn't only been looking forward to the Friday lunch times to see if he kept his promise.
With every innuendo, he stole my breath. With every talk, he captured more of my interest, and soon, it had been his kisses catching each of my nerves; his touches, too. Minutes ago, all my senses had been hanging to the mindless shapes he'd been drawing on my waist. With every moment, he won more parts of me.
So what would happen if—when he would get what he wanted and leave me stranded? Because he would. He was a player, and... I was his new plaything... Even if he'd become so much more for me.
The realization made my heart crash against my tight ribcage more than the door opening sharply, yet less than the two green eyes my aghast reflection met in the mirror.
"Peachy?"
Asher stopped in his tracks, and judging by his slow blinks he was as surprised as I was to find me here, although his lips quickly stretched into a crooked grin, while mine stayed in a frozen O.
"I thought you left. That's awesome. Give me three minutes. I'm gonna take a shower, and then we can head out," he added, as if the white towel and the shower gel bottle in his hand wasn't obvious enough, along with the fact that he was very shirtless, and my gaze made the mistake to slide down lower than his taut shoulders, which he caught immediately. "Unless you wanna join?"
I was still staring at him through the mirror, and a part of me wanted to believe the image was distorted. Yet the reflection showed perfectly my flustered face when I licked my dry lips and the arch of his cocked eyebrow as my eyes were unable to get out of the maze of lines and edges of his six-packs—and I didn't even dare wander lower than the birthmark near his navel.
He had the body of a model. No, actually the body of an athlete, his muscles still buzzing with sweat, adrenaline, and victory.
He was a player in every meaning of the word, and all my instincts were screaming at me to run as I slowly turned around.
It would be useless though. He would catch up with me later, like he'd done with his opponents. He calculated every move to win a game, and he never lost. So why wait for the last quarter for him to give him his victory?
"There's warm water, contrary to our locker room 'cause that fuck—"
My muscles pulled into movement before I could think too much, and before he could finish it, the curse word ended in a gasp on my lips as I pulled him down by the neck, for the first time being the one taking his breath and initiating a kiss.
He was quick to reply, nonetheless, and the push and pull theory didn't work with him.
With him, it was a pull and tug. The tug of his hands bringing me closer by the waist, the tug on my lower lip as he wasted no time deepening the kiss, and the tug deep in my core as his tongue invited mine in a dangerous waltz, and I realized that all the heated kisses we'd shared before had been nothing in comparison to the blaze between our mouths.
Now, it wasn't only our breaths burning in between, but also faint moans fusing with each stroke of our lips. His intoxicating taste was seeping much farther than the tip of my tongue, and he wasn't only taking control of the kiss; he was guiding my whole body as he walked us backward, his hands traveling along my sides. All while we were still kissing, although messily, our tongues, teeth, and panting breaths clashing together—and my glasses against his nose. Yet it didn't stop us.
Only when my back hit a wall, did I gasp out of the kiss, and even so, his lips were so quick to trail down my jaw that the wet path he traced there sent more shivers down my spine than the contact of the cold surface against my feverish skin.
"Mhm, so soft... so sweet... so peachy..." he rasped through the kisses, his mouth not pausing for a second.
How did he even have breath to talk or to think?
Surely because he stole every last shred of mine when he dragged his teeth past the line of my jaw, towards the unexplored skin of my neck. Though oxygen suddenly felt overrated as I tilted my head back, the erratic throbbing of my heart craving something else.
I needed more, more of the burning electricity his lips rushed through my veins, more of his tongue lapping my sensitive skin, more of his heavy exhales tickling this one spot under my ear, and maybe even more as my body arched closer, and my hands ventured to his bare chest.
Was this what I'd planned when I'd jumped at his lips? I wasn't sure anymore as the banging rumble under my fingertips was leading me quickly down his tensed muscles.
Too quickly, and with the sweat remaining on his skin and the deepening heaves of his ribcage, it resembled a free fall. Except I didn't crash on the floor, even if the impact was even stronger when my fingers landed on... the bulge of his shorts.
I instantly jumped away. At least, my hands, as the rest of my body was pressed into the wall, and it seemed I had no control over my heart and gaze when I glanced down there, as if the polyester fabric of his shorts could have deceived me.
I wasn't reckless enough to look up at his face however, picturing too well the ardent green of his eyes and the smug grin on his swollen lips—I could feel both searing my skin, even as he pulled away with a hoarse chuckle.
"Guess I need a cold shower finally."
To be honest, I would have expected a sharper innuendo, or some 'unless you wanna join?'; I had an answer ready for this.
Nevertheless, it wasn't the invitation he offered as his shadow on the tile disappeared towards one of the shower stalls.
"And maybe five minutes. But you stay here. The guys are throwing a party to celebrate, and I'm not going without my Peachy."
His Peachy, the possessive sounded so casual in his raspy voice, like it'd always been there, like it would always be there. Yet barely a moment ago, I'd just been 'Peachy'.
Everything was going too fast, including the loud beats of my heart as he continued talking from inside his stall about how victory parties were the best. I wouldn't know; I wouldn't go and risk spending more moments with him, today or any other day.
So for this, there was only one possibility, well, maybe two, but since moving on to the other side of the country wasn't on my agenda at the moment, I resolved to the most sensible one as I crossed the few feet separating me from the door of his stall.
"Wait... maybe you don't need a cold shower."
At least, it had sounded sensible until I heard my voice resonate in the thick atmosphere with an echo as scratchy as the creak of his stall door opening.
"What did you say?" His head peeked out of the door, the rest of his body still hidden behind, although the marks of my nails on his bare shoulder were enough to make my throat dry.
"I said..." I licked my parched lips, not sure I could still find the words there. I still had the same indelible taste, however, seeping from the tip of my tongue to somewhere deep inside my veins, and it was what pushed me to continue, "You don't need a cold shower. Maybe... maybe I can help."
"Help with what?"
Was he doing it on purpose? Because usually, he tugged at the line, even when there was no bait.
"Help with your... well, you know."
"No, I don't. Gotta be more clear," he pushed, and there was no doubt left: he was doing it on purpose, his smirk stretching so wide I could hear it until his voice. "Help me with what?"
"Your... I can—we can... have sex," I blurted out the last two words louder than I'd meant, yet it was nothing in comparison with the sound of his laugh echoing from the walls around to my tight ribcage and reverberating against the stall door he closed again with a 'yeah, sure'.
"I am serious."
Before he could lock it, I pushed the door open, using all my determination and frustration, and there was a lot, judging by the clothes flying down with it as I stumbled into the narrow stall, almost crashing into his back. But maybe I should have saved some for the moment he turned around, picking up his shorts on the floor.
At least, he still had his boxers on, even if I didn't try wandering beyond the V-lines, where the elastic band was hanging too low.
"No, you're not." He chuckled, and I realized the sound wasn't mocking, on the contrary. "Because the serious Peachy I know wouldn't offer me to pop her cherry right here and right now."
"You don't know me. What even tells you I'm a virgin?" I crossed my arms over my chest, as he was the one almost naked, and yet, I'd never felt more exposed.
"Um, I don't know, maybe the way you jumped higher than if you'd seen a snake when you touched my dick." He emphasized the word, as if it wasn't already hard enough to swallow it through my parched throat, and he undoubtedly caught my harsh gulp as he leaned closer. "Or the fact that you haven't looked me in the eyes since."
I did as he ducked his head down in front of my face, leaving me no choice but to meet his blown-out pupils darkening the jade shades in a duality of penetrating seriousness and inviting wickedness, and if I'd felt exposed before, now it was like he was stripping me bare of my clothes and all my barriers at the same time.
Like he could see the goosebumps he created along my spine and the skip of my heart as I dragged my hand down his chest, my eyes following the movement until the elastic of his boxers.
"Well, I've never seen one that big..."
"Mhm, I love when you stroke my ego, baby..." he groaned, the raw sound vibrating from the tip of my fingers to my ear as his nose grazed along my left cheek. "Too bad you only do it when you're lying, like that little twitch in your jaw."
He leaned away on those words, his jaw twitching too, although it was a different kind of tension that seemed to tighten from beyond his V-lines as his large hand wrapped around my wrist, stopping my fingers before they could hook instinctively into the elastic band of his boxers.
"What if I'm a virgin? Do you only accept girls with field experience or something like that?"
If so, I would have told him sooner to save us both time, wouldn't I?
"No, I really couldn't care less." He shrugged casually, and yet, his grip around my wrist didn't loosen, staying firm and soft against my erratic pulse. "But I know losing your V-card is kind of a big deal for you, girls, and look around."
I followed his nod around the shower stall, gladly avoiding his shadowed green eyes that looked more and more like... a wonderland forest. It was the only image coming to my dazed mind as my gaze fell back onto the white tile and the black clog of hairs and indeterminate foam on the drain, the sticks of gum holding the shower head together, and the variety of obscene drawings on the wall next to me.
"As much as I can make it unforgettable, do you really wanna remember your first time here? A locker room isn't the most romantic."
He was right; I could grant him this.
Even if losing my virginity had never been something important to me, and it appeared like a small sacrifice to offer him rather than other untouched parts of me, this locker room didn't appear like the most practical, at least, from the too-precise step-by-step drawings I glimpsed on the wall. Were these positions even possible?
Maybe I just wasn't ready... to have sex or for him to let me go afterward, seeing how all my nerves stretched and jumped when he released my wrist, his fingers sliding down my hand, as slowly as his lips stretched into a mischievous grin.
"But it could be a nice memory for the first orgasm I give you..."
Do you think she accepted? 😏
And did you expect it would be Asher tempering her passion? 🔥👀
This chapter took me so long to write because there were so many mixed feelings from Althea, and I really hope I got it right! Tell me all your thoughts in the comments, and don't forget to vote ⭐ if you liked it 😘!
As always, your support is my biggest motivation and inspiration! This, and the new Taylor Swift's albums! Who else is obsessed? 🤩
I love you, my little Peaches!! 🥰😘❤️🍑