Our Song (14 page)

“You were angry? If you hadn’t grabbed my hand and pulled me out of the store, I would have punched that girl in the jaw!”

A huge grin spreads across Asher’s face. “Dang. I should have waited a minute longer—I would have loved to see you knock that look off of her face!” I shove him in the shoulder, and he starts to laugh. “What? You totally could have taken her.”

This
is why Asher is my best friend. Or at least, he was my best friend, before I went and screwed things up so royally because of Trip that I was pretty much left with
no
best friends.

All week, Asher has been the one to reach out to me, helping me, comforting me…so I decide, with my big girl bikini on, to reach out to him. I place my hand on top of his, wrapping my fingers around the side of his palm. He quickly inhales, looking a little surprised, but not unhappy. “Thank you, Asher, for doing everything you’ve done for me this week. It really means a lot to me.”

He squeezes my fingers with his hand, putting that Cheshire’s grin back on his face. “Oh, I’m not done doing things for you. Not by a long shot.”

***

I can’t believe that Asher remembered all these things about me! He even remembered that my favorite lunch meat was honey glazed turkey. Who knows that kind of thing about somebody else? Apparently Asher, because it didn’t stop there. He had all sorts of goodness buried in that picnic basket: my favorite fruits, fantastic bread and cheese to make sandwiches with my turkey, a chess board…he is amazing.

As we start setting up the chess board on the floor of the boat, I ask, “So what are you playing for this time?”

“Hmm…” He ponders this for a while, tapping his index fingers against his closed lips, reminding me how much I enjoyed having his lips on mine yesterday. “You know what? I don’t think we should make any bets on this game.”

“Really? There’s nothing you want? Or is it that you are scared you won’t win?”

He smirks at me. “Oh, I’m not worried about losing, and there are
definitely
a few things I want. But I think we should just play this game for the sake of enjoying it. No strings attached to winning or losing.” I wonder what those few things are…

Chapter Nineteen

Becca

“Alrighty then. This isn’t exactly the Mr. Competitive I’m used to, but I’ll go with it. And you should
absolutely
be worried about not winning.”

Since I am white, I make the first move, sending one of my pawns forward two spaces, starting to draw my line of defense. Asher’s move is a mirror reflection of mine. The same with our second moves. Is he just copying my moves? Or is he already working on a defense of his own?

The further into the game we get, the longer each of us seems to think before making our next move. While waiting during one of those long moments, Asher grabs his guitar from next to the captain’s chair, and starts fiddling around with the strings. Picking out a few bars of a melody here, strumming a few chords there, as he waits for me to take each of my turns.

During one of my
epically
long decision-making moments, Asher starts to play a song that I recognize. It’s from one of my favorite albums, but I’m kind of shocked that he’s ever even heard it. I stop thinking about whether I should move my knight or my queen, and look up at him. He stops playing. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Asher, how do you know that song?”

“Oh. That? Umm…” He puts his guitar pick in between his lips, and starts rubbing the back of his neck, looking away from me. I can tell he’s trying to find a way to get out of answering this question, but I am
so
not letting him off the hook.

“Asher. Look at me.” When his eyes meet mine again, I repeat my question: “How do you know that song? It’s from an album based on a book. A book that I love, don’t get me wrong, but a book that most dudes wouldn’t touch with a ten-foot pole.”

He pulls the pick from between his lips, and starts scratching his arm with it. He lets out a long sigh before finally answering me. “Well, it all sort of started by accident. Do you remember, umm, almost a year ago I think, when you left your paperback copy of
Maybe Someday
in my car after I drove you home from that church lock-in?” I had forgotten all about it, but thinking back, I begin to recall what happened.

“Oh yeah. It must have been in your car for
months
before you gave it back to me.” In fact, I’m pretty sure Asher returning that book was the thing that had triggered Trip’s request (more like demand) that I stop hanging out with other guys. I’m not really sure where this is going, but I am officially intrigued.

“Like two months after you left it in my car, I had to bring said car into the shop to have it worked on. I found it when I was trying to clear off my seats before the mechanic got into my car to pull it into the garage. You had been gushing about how much you had loved the book the day you left it in my car, and since I had at least an hour to wait while my car was worked on, I brought it in with me to take a peek, and figure out what it was you enjoyed so much about it.” He takes a deep breath, lets it out, and then blurts, “Except I didn’t just take a peek at it.”

Whoa. Asher had read
Maybe Someday
? Colleen Hoover is a genius writer, but Asher reading the whole book? “I can’t believe you even looked at it in the first place. What made you actually read it?”

“It was shortly after you and Trip had started seeing each other. When I saw the book on my seat, I thought maybe if I could get inside your head a bit, figure out why you liked it so much, I would be able to figure out what you saw in Trip. Maybe he had something this Ridge guy had, that I didn’t.”

Wait. He wanted to know if Trip had something that he didn’t have? But, that would mean—
“Why did you want to know that, Asher?”

He looks away from me again, staring out at the lake around us. He stays silent for a minute, so to lighten the mood, I throw one of his bishops that I killed at him.

“Hey!” he shouts. But then he softly chuckles. “Sorry, lost in thought I guess. If you really must know, I had been thinking about asking you out on a real date. Not just hanging out together as friends. But then you started telling me about how Trip had started talking to you…and by the time I got the balls to ask you, it was too late.”

Okay, then. That was not an answer I would have expected before this week. And as much as this is kind of making me giddy, I still want to know more about the book, and the song. “So, you started reading the book, and…”

“And, I may or may not have gotten hooked on the story. I was so engrossed reading it that when the mechanic came to tell me my car was done, he had to shake my shoulder before I realized he was trying to get my attention. When he asked me what book I was reading that could keep me that captivated, I told him it was nothing, and held the front cover against my body so he couldn’t see it.”

This makes me giggle. “That is so adorable!”

He swats his hand through the air. “Oh hush, you.” But he’s smiling. “Anyway, I went home and finished reading it that night. Then I went online to see what else the author had written. While digging around on Google, I discovered there had been actual music recorded using those awesome lyrics. I downloaded the album, and ordered paperbacks of the other books she wrote—”

“You didn’t!” I squealed. Probably not very attractive, but this is too amazing to not get excited. He’s read
multiple
Hoover books?!

“I did. You can check under my bed when we get home. Every last one of them is there. Anyway, after I listened to the album, I started learning how to play the songs…which is why I brought my guitar out here on the pontoon.” Before I can ask what he means, he leans over his guitar, and starts playing the opening chords to “Let it Begin” again. His eyes are closed, and when he starts singing, I am entranced by his voice. I don’t hear the birds anymore, or the waves lapping against the pontoon. It’s just Asher, and his guitar, and me. As the lyrics start penetrating my brain, I realize Asher has been thinking about our relationship as much as I have this week.

He finishes the last few lines of the song, and as he’s strumming the last few chords, I make a decision. I’m done holding back. And apparently he is too, after offering up his heart on a silver platter by singing me this song. I get up on my knees, and move toward Asher, all but forgetting the chess board is on the floor between us as black and white pieces start rolling away. I don’t care if they all end up in the lake, and I have to buy my great-aunt a whole new chess game.

Asher still isn’t looking at me, even when my knees touch his shins, so I slowly move his guitar around until it’s hanging from his back instead of in his lap. Then I take both my hands, and put one on each side of his face, turning his eyes toward mine.

Practically whispering, I say, “Did you really mean what you just sang, Asher?”

I search his cerulean eyes, waiting for his answer, and it seems he is doing the same to me. Finally he answers: “Every. Last. Word.”

Well, okay then. “I’m in.”

His eyes widen in apparent shock, but then he’s smiling. “Really?”

“Is this answer enough?” I pull his face toward mine, and rather than tentatively seeking out his lips like I did last time, I immediately pour my feelings from my lips to his.

His hands move from his lap to my hips, pulling me closer to him, until I’m sitting in his lap. He wraps his arms around me, holding me to his body, the side of my chest pressing against his. I move my hands into Asher’s hair, keeping his lips sealed on mine.

Everywhere he touches me, I feel like I’ve been burned, but in the most delectable way; like when your skin first starts turning pink from being kissed by the sun. And his hands are everywhere, moving up and down my spine.

Asher’s tongue lightly runs along the length of my lips, and I only hesitate for a millisecond before letting him in. I move my hands down to his shoulders, then slowly run them down his arms. His hands move under my cover up, and as his fingers touch my bare skin, I let out a delicious sigh. He breaks our kiss, but only to move his lips to my jaw, and then he kisses his way to my neck. But as amazing as this feels…

“Asher?”

“Yes?” he replies in between kisses.

“I am thoroughly enjoying this, but I think we need to stop.”

He freezes, then pulls away, just far enough for me to see his widened eyes. “I’m so sorry Becca, I didn’t think—”

“Asher. There’s nothing for you to be sorry for! It’s just, I made a promise, as you know, and if I don’t cool off, it will be
extremely
difficult for me to stop.”

He lets out a sigh of relief, and a small smile forms. “Don’t forget, I made that same promise too. See?” He leans his torso away from me, and pulls his tank top off. Around his neck is a silver chain, and his purity ring is hanging on it in the middle of his chest. “And speaking of cooling off…” Asher puts one of his arms under my knees, and the other around my back, standing up with me in his arms.

“Asher what are you—”

“Bazinga!” he shouts, as he jumps off the side of the pontoon into the water, with me in his arms.

Well, that’s one way to cool off.

I’m glad my binoculars were still in my trunk from the last time I used them. I hadn’t thought to pack them before I left home for UW. Finding their cabin was not easy. I stayed as far behind them as I could when I followed them back, and I drove past the turn they made off the main road so they wouldn’t notice me following them. When I came back, I drove about a half mile in, then parked my car a few feet off the road and walked the rest of the way in. Of course, once I found their vehicles, the rest was a piece of cake. There are only
two
windows on this side of the cabin, making it difficult to gauge who is home and who isn’t. But there are no boats at the dock, so somebody is out on the lake. I’ll just keep watching a while longer. I can be patient.

Chapter Twenty

Becca

I think this grin is permanently etched into my face; it hurts I’ve been doing it so much today. It still seems sort of surreal, Asher and I, together. The funny thing is, nobody is even around to see me smiling right now. When we got back from our afternoon on the pontoon, I banished Asher to the game room so I could change clothes and get back upstairs. I even made him shut the door so he couldn’t see what I chose to wear for this evening.

As soon as I get to the top of the stairs, I can hear my sauce is bubbling in the crock pot, so I make a run for it to lower the temperature. When I take the cover off, I can smell the glorious scents of tomatoes, garlic, and other yummy vegetables all mingled together. I stir it up well, thankful that the sauce hasn’t started burning to the sides. I definitely had not been expecting to be gone for so long when Asher took me out for his surprise.

And now, I hope my surprise will live up to his. I want everything to be absolutely perfect, especially now that this is technically a date. Which makes the butterflies start fluttering their wings in my belly all over again.

Focus, Becca.
I have a lot to get done still. I turn on the smaller crock pot and start scooping part of the sauce into it for myself…there is no way in heck I am eating mushrooms in mine! Thankfully I already chopped the mushrooms before we went, so I dump them into Asher’s sauce. I’ll have to remember to mark the containers of leftovers; that is, if there are any leftovers.

When that’s ready to go, I dig a pot for the pasta out of the cupboard and fill it with water, putting a few dashes of salt into the water as I turn on the burner. Then I grab the Parmesan, garlic, and the stick of butter I left on the counter to make the garlic spread. After slicing the French bread and putting the spread on it, I turn the broiler on in the oven and pop the bread in. When I stand back up, I see the water is boiling.
Perfect timing.

Just as I finish setting the table, laying out all of the food just right, I remember that I bought two taper candles. I grab them from the counter, then run to the top of the stairs. “Asher?”

He cracks the door of the game room open. “Is it safe to come up now?”

And that grin comes right back to my face. “Just follow your nose!”

-----

Asher

Well, it’s no wonder Becca made me plug my nose earlier so I wouldn’t smell what she was cooking. I’m only half way up the stairs and I’m pretty sure I know
exactly
what she made. I can’t believe she is making my absolute favorite meal, or that she knows that it’s my favorite, for that matter.

As I reach the top of the stairs, I don’t see Becca anywhere in the kitchen, where I expected her to be. But when my eyes finally find her, lighting a candle on the dinner table, all I can say is: “Ho-ly day-um.”

I have seen Becca in all different types of clothing, from sweats to formal dress, but I have
never
seen her look this amazing. She’s wearing a simple black dress that comes down to her knees. It has one of those criss-cross thingies in the front, that ties around her neck. And her beautiful, dark-chocolate brown hair is all down in loose ringlets around her shoulders from our dip in the lake. No makeup, and bare feet…
this
is
my
Becca.

“Watch your tongue, you!” Becca’s words are scolding me, but her rosy cheeks, and slow-to-come smile are saying she liked my compliment, even if she doesn’t approve of how I said it. Good. Because I am sensing a whole lot more where that came from.

I walk towards her, saying, “I’m sorry, Becca, but you are absolutely stunning this evening. There were no other words to describe what I was feeling!”

When I reach her, she shoves my shoulder. “How about,” she takes on her fake man voice, “Becca, you are absolutely stunning this evening. There are no words to describe what I’m feeling.”

I chuckle. The lady does have a point. “Touche, Becca.” I take both of her hands into mine, and she smiles up at me. “Did you really make me my most favoritest meal in the whole entire world?”

She looks away from me, and that gorgeous blush I love so much comes to her face. “Maybe.”

I put my finger under her chin and lift it until her mocha eyes are looking into mine. “My dear, sweet Rebecca Haines, why do you take those pretty brown eyes away from me?” She tries to look down again, but I gently hold her face in place.

She takes a deep breath in, closes her eyes, but then opens them again. “I guess I’m just kind of used to feeling worried, and inferior.” And now I want to hurt that stupid guy all over again. But before I can respond, she jumps back in. “I know, I’m not inferior, and I probably shouldn’t be worried. But it’s going to take a little time for me to re-learn how to act in a relationship, I think. To know, deep down, that I can just be me, without wondering if
just me
is good enough for you.”

“Well, there’s no need to walk on eggshells around me. If we’re being honest here, I am nowhere near worthy of you, and there is nothing you could do to make me want to hurt you. Ever. You are a beautiful, kind, amazing woman. And I will continue to remind you of that, every day.”

Becca gets on her tip toes and brushes her lips against mine. I want so much more of that right now, but we can’t let Becca’s fantastic cooking go to waste. And to pointedly remind us both why we’re here right now, my stomach grumbles. Loudly. Becca starts to giggle. “Shall we?”

I grin at her. “We shall.”

***

I stretch my legs out under the table, and pat my belly. “Man, you sure know how to make a boy’s stomach happy.”

“I’m just glad you enjoyed it, and that I didn’t screw up what your favorite food was.”

Becca is spinning her purity ring around her finger for the third time since we started eating, and I can’t help but wonder aloud, “Becca? What’s on your mind?”

She sighs, then asks, “How did you know something was on my mind?”

“Every time you’re worried about something, you turn your ring over and over around your finger. And you’ve done it multiple times in the last half hour.”

“Oh. I didn’t even realize I was doing it. Well, ever since I told you about everything that happened with Trip, I can’t stop thinking about what I’m going to do for college now. I’ve been doubting that teaching music is the right thing for me to do for so long, that I’m not sure what I want anymore. Trip was constantly telling me that I could make so much more money doing other things I’m good at, and—”

“Stop right there, babe. First, anything that came out of Trip’s mouth should be considered null and void.
Nobody
can, or should, tell you who you are but you. Not me, not your parents, and most definitely not that d-bag Trip.”

Tears start to pool in Becca’s eyes, and I immediately feel like a jerk. I hate seeing her cry, and I hate it even more that I’m the reason she’s crying. I sit up in my chair, and pick her hands up out of her lap with mine. “I’m sorry Becca. I didn’t mean to be—”

“No. You’re right. I kind of needed to hear that. And I’m glad you said it.” She sniffs, then lets out her breath slowly. “I don’t want you to take this the wrong way, but I think it’s time you took your own advice.”

My brows come together, and I ask, “What do you mean?” I’m not really sure where she’s going with this, but I am more than willing to hear her out.

“I mean, no one can tell you who
you
are. And maybe it’s time you told your parents what you really want to do for college. What you’d like to major in, and where you’d like to go. If Syracuse and architecture are not what you want, and journalism, or something else is what’s going to make you happy, they need to know that. I know your parents, and they just want you to be happy. I think they just don’t know that being an architect isn’t what is going to do that for you.”

Wow. I tug on Becca’s hands to get her out of her chair. “Come here you.” I pull her into my lap, putting her left hand into my left, and doing the same with the right, wrapping our arms around her. I kiss her on the crown of her head. “When did you get so smart?”

“I’m not that smart. I just took the words you said to me, and rearranged them to fit your situation. You’re the one who’s smart.”

“Maybe we’re just smarter together,” I say, lifting her hand to my lips. And since we seem to be smarter together, “How do you think I should bring it up to them?”

She takes a moment to ponder my question. “I think you need to come right out and say it, don’t beat around the bush. And I think the sooner you do it the better. It will give them plenty of time to get used to the idea before we actually leave for college. But you need to be kind; don’t get angry or frustrated, even if they get angry or frustrated at first. I really think if they get mad, it won’t be because they’re upset you don’t want to be an architect, or don’t want to go to Syracuse, but that you didn’t feel you could tell them before now. I know that’s sort-of how my parents felt when I finally told them what had happened between Trip and me. They weren’t mad at me, they were sad that I didn’t feel like I could come to either of them with my problems.”

“I guess I can understand that.” I take a deep breath, then blow it out forcefully. “I won’t lie, I kind of felt the same way when you first broke up with Trip, and you didn’t let me just be your best friend again. It made me sad that you didn’t feel like you could just come talk to me about it. Of course, I understand all of that now, but at the time…well, I guess I’m a little more mature than I was even just a few months ago.”

“I’m sorry that I didn’t just come to you when it was all said and done. Even if I couldn’t have made myself give you the details at the time, I at least could have made an effort to really be your friend again.”

“There’s no need to apologize. I didn’t want to push you at the time, but I could have made a better effort to show that I was here for you when you were ready.”

“Wow. I feel like such a grown-up all of a sudden. Since when do we have such adult conversations?”

I laugh at her. “I don’t know. But I am glad we had this one.” I stop laughing, and use our hands to tilt her face so I can look right into her eyes. “Seriously Becca. Thank you for your help. And maybe after we get back home, we could start looking at colleges together?”

Her smile slowly grows into a full-force grin. “I’d like that.”

I lean in and kiss her softly. “But before we finish getting all adult, how about a rowdy game of Monopoly before we hit the hay for the night?”

Becca almost instantaneously lets go of both my hands, jumps out of my lap, and starts running toward the stairs. “I call the shoe!”

I take off after her. Normally, I would argue for the shoe. But now that Becca is mine?

If it’s something within my power to give her, that girl can have
whatever
she wants.