Chapter 21

Asher was waiting for an answer on how I noticed him following me, but I couldn’t tell him the truth. The emergence of my wolf was not a secret I was ready to tell him yet.

“I saw you turning at the streetlight,” I said. It wasn’t entirely a lie. That had been when I spotted him, but only because Lilith had mentioned it. “I just happened to be looking that way.”

His disapproval was apparent through the quiet on the line. I wracked my brain for a more believable excuse, until he surprised me.

“This isn’t why I called,” he said, voice low, like he was chastising himself. He huffed a breath, then asked, “Are you free tonight?”

“Tonight? I think so.” I couldn’t imagine why it would matter to him, unless he was trying to keep tabs on me again. “…Why?”

“Have dinner with me.”

Dinner? Was this…? No, it couldn’t be. But the way he said it made it sound like a date.

He seemed to take my stunned silence as acceptance. “Come to my dorm room at six.”

I found my voice, but only enough to whisper, “Okay.”

“Good.” He hung up.

It wasn’t a date, I knew that. Still, my heart raced and I wondered, What should I wear?

Date or no, I wanted to look good. I rushed the rest of the way back to my room to pick out an outfit.

I spent way too much time deciding on a short cocktail dress to show off my legs.

The time wasted was well worth it when Asher opened his door at six. His gaze trailed down the length of my entire body. His jaw clenched as he looked at my exposed legs.

A group starting chatting in the hallway behind us. They weren’t talking to us. I’m not even sure they were looking at us. But the next thing I knew, Asher grabbed me by the elbow and tugged me into his room.

He closed the door behind us with more force than was necessary. Then he looked at my legs again, frowning this time.

“You don’t like my dress?” I tugged at my skirt, trying to add length. He was making me feel self-conscious.

“I didn’t say that.”

He softened his gaze toward me, but the glare he shot the closed door a moment later could have lit it on fire.

“But you should be careful around others,” he said. “They’ll get the wrong idea.”

I didn’t understand why he was worried. I hadn’t even glanced at those other guys. While my skirt was short, it wasn’t the shortest I’d seen around campus.

Asher looked at me again, heat lingering in his eyes. It wasn’t an angry heat now, though. It had become something else, something that made my skin burn with want.

I swallowed it down, reminding myself, This isn’t a date.

If anything, this was only an extension of Asher’s earlier almost-apology.

The moment broken, Asher turned and walked toward the kitchenette in the corner of his room.

I watched over Asher’s shoulder as he sautéed a pan of vegetables like a professional chef. Two chicken breasts cooked in the oven. I had no idea the small kitchenette could be so functional.

“Where did you learn to do all this?” I asked, amazed.

“I’ve picked up a few things, taking care of myself.” He pulled the pan away from the heat, and divided the vegetables onto two plates on the nearby counter.

With the hot pan safely deposited into the sink, he turned to look at me. “I’m a fast learner.”

After retrieving the chicken, we sat down at his two-person table to eat. The food tasted so delicious, I couldn’t hold back a moan as I chewed.

His fork froze halfway up to his mouth. A strange, strained look pinched his features.

I swallowed. “Asher?”

He shook himself out of his stupor. “I’m glad you are enjoying it.”

“How couldn’t I? This is wonderful!” I continued digging into my meal.

“It’s good to see you eating,” he said.

Not this again. “I eat,” I insisted.

Asher finished his food, then pushed away his plate. I hurried to finish my own. With the way he held his hands together on the table-top, I knew the true meaning of this dinner was about to come out.

I really hoped I wasn’t in for another lecture.

“I’m trying, Cynthia. I want to accept your decision to keep the baby and stay at the academy, but… it is difficult for me.”

“I know,” I said quietly. I placed my empty plate on top of his.

“It would help if we had regular meals together,” he said.

I startled. He wanted to keep seeing me like this, with more of these almost dates?

Unsure how to process that, I deflected with humor.

“Are you going to keep cooking for me?” I teased, expecting some pushback, or even an eye roll. Surely he didn’t intend to cook for me every day.

Instead, he simply said, “Yes.”

My breath caught.

He frowned at me, but his eyes were earnest. “Someone has to look after you.”

I released my caught breath in a frustrated huff. “I can cook for myself, you know.”

“Can you?”

“Of course.” Irritation prickled across my skin. Maybe I wasn’t as good as Asher at most things, but that didn’t make me helpless.

“Fine,” he said, giving me a flat, disbelieving look. “Then one of these nights, you can cook for me.”

I supposed if he was going to regularly cook for me, it was only right to return the favor. Though, compared to what I had just ate, I doubted anything I would make would be near so good.

“Or I can continue to cook,” he said, smirking.

He was a smug, impossible jerk. But to see him smiling in any capacity, and knowing I put it there, felt like a victory. He was usually so stoic.

“Sometimes I think you say stuff like that just to get a rise out of me,” I grumbled, secretly pleased.

Standing, he gathered the plates and went to the sink. He didn’t deny it.

I gave myself only a moment more to both sulk and admire his small smile. Then I offered, “Let me help with the dishes.”

“You can dry.” He tossed me a towel.

As I rose to join him in the kitchenette, my phone chimed with an incoming text.

“One second,” I said. “Let me check who that is.” It could be about cheerleading practice, or be a message from Nancy.

It could also be Joseph, I realized too late, as I dug my phone from my purse. Tonight with Asher, I had been so relaxed that I had forgotten all about Joseph’s reappearance in my life.

Steeling myself for another round of begging, I was surprised to find the text was from an unknown number. Curious, I opened it.

It read, Hey. Do you remember me? From the party? I asked you for your number and you gave it.

The nervous boy who had passed me his phone at the hockey after-party.

I replied, I remember.

His next text came in an instant, like he had it typed out already and was just waiting for my response.

Great! Do you want to go out on a date this weekend?

The blood drained from my face.

It made sense that he would ask, I supposed, since that’s why he wanted my number in the first place. But it was still a shock to read, especially here in Asher’s dorm room.

“Who is it?” Asher asked, suddenly beside me.

I jumped so hard that my phone slipped from my hands.

Asher caught it before it fell to the floor. He looked at the screen. The hint of a smile I had worked so hard to see on his face disappeared in an instant.

“That boy from the party,” he said, voice a low rumble. His hand clenched around my phone. His eyes froze over, and chills ran up my spine as he gazed at me. “You gave him your real number.”

Did he think I had given him a fake one? Why would I have done that?

“I did,” I said.

Asher stood up straighter. He shoved the phone back at me.

“Tell him no.”