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19
ASHER
Isit on a blanket on the beach as the chilly wind surrounds me. The fire I built roars to life, the air causing the hot flames to blaze through the dry wood faster than I expected. Luckily, I gathered enough supplies to last me through the bottle of whiskey I’ve been nursing since the sun set an hour ago. I shake my head as “When a Man Loves a Woman” starts playing on my phone, the familiar tune pulling me deeper into my thoughts.
Drinking alone while the waves crash in the distance while listening to music from a different time refreshes my soul. I can’t deny that memories of Billie occupy my mind like a stubborn shadow. This feud between us is fueled by a mix of annoyance and admiration, and it’s hard to untangle one from the other.
Lifting the bottle to my lips, I take several gulps. It goes down smooth, like water on a hot day, and I can feel the warmth spreading through me.
The stars are out, even if the glow from the city still lingers behind me. Being here is an escape for me, a sanctuary where I hid for months after Eden tragically passed away. When I’m lost, I always find my true self here.
A chill travels over my skin, and I pull my hoodie tighter overmy baseball hat to cover my ears. I’m barefoot, still in shorts, completely unguarded. Alone.
I let out a deep breath, and when I look up from the flames, I notice a figure walking toward me. My eyes stay locked until they move closer, and I’m convinced I’m imagining things. I’ve drunk so much that I’m starting to hallucinate, believing Billie’s really here. I have it so fucking bad.
“Didn’t expect to see the angel of death tonight,” I say, trying to keep my voice light, but the weight of my words lingers in the air.
Billie stands across the fire, the flames casting a warm glow around her, like a halo. I stare up at her, the whiskey still tight in my grip, as my heart pounds in my chest.
I might befinallylosing it.
Her dark hair dances in the breeze, and her eyes lock on to mine with an intensity that sends a thrill down my spine. I take another swig of whiskey and set the bottle beside me on the blanket, my focus solely on her.
“Are you wasted?” she asks, moving closer, her gaze daring and teasing, like she’s challenging me.
“Come here.” My voice is low and gravelly, filled with a yearning that surprises even me.
“No,” she says, crossing her arms over her chest.
“Now,” I say as I reach my hand out to her.
Though she wants to act like a brat, she does what I asked, gliding across the sand toward me. I pull her down onto the blanket with me, and she settles on my lap.
“Why the fuck are you here?” I ask, desperate to touch her, needing to know she’s real, that this moment is real.
“Because I have a fucking bone to pick with you,” she says, her voice barely above a whisper. “Nick told me you were here.”
I chuckle, shaking my head. “He’s a bastard.”
Electricity swarms between us as I lean in, breathing her in. I want her so fucking bad that it hurts.
“You smell good.”
“I’m really mad at you,” she admits, her mouth set in a firm line.
“Aww, what else is new, Ice Queen?” I lift an eyebrow, smirking.
She turns her head to glare at me.
“Why did you post that picture? What’s wrong with you?” she snaps.
I laugh. “You have been the highlight of my day.”
“You’ve created a shitstorm,” she says desperately, her voice a mix of frustration and something else. “You are ruining my life!”
“No, I’m just forcing you to live a little,” I admit, tracing her bottom lip with my thumb, feeling the softness beneath my touch. “I have no fucking regrets.”
The wood crackles as the waves crash in the background. I’m feeling too vulnerable, and I shouldn’t be around her in this state. We shouldn’t be this close, but honestly, I don’t have the fucks to give to put any walls up as I wrap my arms around her. She places her hand on my cheek and turns her body until she’s straddling me, the heat radiating between us.