“No, but she could tell someone, and then they tell someone, and it goes on until they find my ass. Now I’ll have to go somewhere else. And I’ve got nowhere else. This is it.” He reaches out, poking the center of my chest with his index finger. And that one little jab freaking hurts. “You. Fucked. This. Up.”
He has a lot of nerve, blaming all of his problems on me. I guess he’s right that I shouldn’t have told Rylie anything. I should probably feel bad, but I also can’t help but think he’s acting like a complete asshole.
“The police will probably come here anyway, since everyone on the team saw you with my dad,” I point out, but he doesn’t even flinch. God, I hate him. “I was trying to help you.”
“You’re never a help. Ever. More like you’re a giant pain in my ass.”
“Fuck you!” I shove at him, and he goes stumbling backward, teetering on the edge of the pool deck. He’s about to fall, I know he is and I reach out, taking one of his hands, and instead of keeping him upright, he tugs me right along with him.
Straight into the water.
Oh, and it’s cold. Shockingly so. Once Labor Day passes, we usually stop using the pool for the year, with the exception of Beck, who’ll jump in when one of his little friends dare him to, which is basically every other weekend.
I pop up out of the water first, gasping, the water streaming down my face. Ash appears only a few seconds later, making these snorting sounds that concern me at first, until I realize…
He’s laughing.
“What the fuck, Callahan? You pushed me in the pool!” He sounds shocked. Maybe even a little…
Impressed?
“And you pulled me in right along with you,” I mutter, reaching up to push my hair out of my face. I never look good in a pool. Some girls can pull off the slicked hair, strutting around in a bikini look, but I’m not one of them. I’m short and a little pudgy in the middle, and my boobs are so damn big. My hair always goes everywhere, usually streaking across my face in a knotted mess, and I swear, I really do wear waterproof mascara, but I always end up looking like a raccoon with thick black rings under my eyes.
But I’m not in a bikini, and I scrubbed off what little makeup I wear to school right when I first got home, before I hopped in the shower. I’m wearing an old cheer team T-shirt that just so happens to be white, and a pair of sleep shorts with no freaking undies beneath them, meaning I am pretty much naked. The shirt will cling to me, as will the shorts, and while I keep myself mostly trim down there, I’m not shaved or waxed bare, so he’ll probably see my nipples and my freaking bush if I climb out of the pool right now.
No. Nope. Not going to happen.
“Get me a towel,” I demand, and he starts laughing even harder, shaking his head as he stares at me.
“Hell no. You’re the one who pushed me in the pool. Get your own damn towel.” He splashes me with water and I shift away from him.
He’s right. I should be glad he’s laughing now, considering only moments ago he was super pissed at me.
With an outraged growl I make my way toward the shallow end and hurriedly climb out of the pool, keeping my back to him as I stomp my way toward the deck box where we keep the towels. I fling the lid open and rummage around for my favorite one, pulling it out and wrapping it around my shoulders. The towel’s big enough that I’m pretty much covered except my legs, so I don’t feel as exposed.
I hear water splash, and I turn to watch Ash climb out of the pool, his soaked clothes clinging to his long, rangy body. He tears off his T-shirt, letting it fall to the ground with a wet plop, and my gaze greedily roams over his broad chest. Then he reaches for the waistband of his navy athletic shorts, shoving those off too, until he’s standing before me in nothing but his black boxer briefs.
My still greedy gaze drops to his front, and my cheeks grow warm. Not like he’s sporting a boner or anything, but I can tell it’s…
Impressive.
“Quit checking out my junk and get me a towel,” he demands.
“Get your own fucking towel,” I tell him, slamming the deck box lid closed with extra force.
“You’re not going to help me? Even after everything you did?” He raises his brows.
“I did nothing!” I throw my hands up as best I can, refusing to apologize for telling his girlfriend he’s, you know, alive. “So no, I’m not going to help you.”
“You leave me no choice then.” His hands rest on his hips, and then with one quick jerk, he sheds the briefs and kicks them off.
Oh I look. For a solid five seconds, which isn’t very long at all, before I turn away from him. I saw everything. Everything! I can’t believe he freaking did that!
I open the deck box once more and grab a towel, the biggest one we own, the one my dad always likes to use, and hold out my arm behind me, the towel dangling from my fingers. “Take it.”
Nothing happens for long, agonizing seconds, and I clutch my towel around me even tighter, waving my other hand so the fresh towel flips this way and that, like a giant flag dragging on the ground. “Take it!” I repeat a little louder.
Wet footsteps draw closer and then he’s tugging the towel from my grip, his fingers trailing across mine. That didn’t have to happen, it’s like he did it on purpose, and I bite back the curse that wants to escape when tingles erupt from the simple brush of our fingers.
I react to him no matter what. He’s yelling at me, I’m disgusted with him, we’re arguing, yet I still feel the spark.
I hate that stupid spark with everything I’ve got.
“Thanks,” he drawls, his confident voice grating on my nerves. “You can look now. Nothing to see.”
“You sure?”
“I don’t lie like you do,” he retorts, and my head whips toward him to find he’s smiling at me. Though his eyes are dark. Serious. “You act like you’ve never seen a dick before.”
“I’m looking at one right now,” I respond with a serene smile, making him chuckle under his breath.
“Good one, Callahan. You’re always good for a fight.”
“I’m sure that’s all I’m good for with you. Since, you know, you never liked me like that and your girlfriend was only seeing things.”
The second the words are out, I want them back. I want to stuff them down my throat and swallow them so they disappear.
Too late. Ash is studying me with seeming confusion, his head cocked, water dripping from his hair. He has the towel wrapped around his waist so his entire torso is on display, rivulets of water dripping across the stretch of muscles and taut skin, and I look away, hating how breathless I suddenly feel.
“What are you talking about?” he finally asks.
“Nothing,” I say too quickly, keeping my head averted. “I need to go inside.”
I start to walk away, but he grabs my hand, halting me. I turn to find him watching me, his gaze questioning. “What did Rylie say to you?”
“Nothing,” I repeat. “Let me go.”
He tugs me closer, until I almost collide with his chest. “I guess we’re alike after all.”
Now he’s just flat out confusing me. “What do you mean?”
“I’m a liar, just like you.”
Twenty
“What did you lie about?” I ask, my voice barely above a whisper. His fingers curl around my trembling fingers, entwining them, and he slowly presses his palm to mine, his thumb sweeping along the side of my hand. It’s a simple touch, really, yet I feel it all the way down to my toes—and in some other areas too.
When Ben touched me even more intimately than this, I didn’t feel even a tenth of what I’m experiencing now. My pulse is going haywire, my entire body trembling, and I know it’s not from the cold.
It’s from Ash.
“I lied to Rylie.” He hesitates, shaking his wet hair out of his eyes, and little droplets hit my face, making me wince. “About you. More like how I felt about you.”
“Felt?”
“Felt. Feel. Same difference.” He shrugs one bare shoulder and my gaze settles there, marveling at how muscular yet lean he is, and how tall. How attracted I am to him. It’s frustrating. He’s frustrating.
I should run. I don’t need to hear any of this. He has a girlfriend. One who must really care for him, considering her earlier behavior at school. Would I be that hysterical if I knew something terrible had happened to the boy I loved, but I couldn’t find him and he wouldn’t respond to me?