“That’s different. We can sit on the hood if you want.”
I bit my lip and nodded. What started as an escape now sort of felt like a first date. I mean, I’d never been on a date before, but it felt a whole lot like what I’d imagined it would, even down to the boy I’d imagined it being with.
Asher effortlessly hopped onto the hood while I climbed up, using the bumper. I sat next to him, hugging my knees while he opted to lie back against the windshield with one arm behind his head.
“You can’t see the stars in the city,” he said quietly. I lay back next to him and gazed up into the star-filled sky.
“You’re right,” I said, lying stock-still next to him. The hood of the truck was hot on my exposed thighs. Our hands were just centimeters from each other, not quite touching.
My phone buzzed with a text, and I checked it on the off chance it was Dash or my mom wondering where I was. It ended up being a text from a girl from school, so I ignored it, setting the phone on my stomach.
Ash reached over, and I held my breath as his fingers brushed against the thin material of my tank top to grab my phone. My entire body prickled with goose bumps, and I hoped he couldn’t see my nipples harden beneath my shirt.
“What are you doing?” I asked, breathless.
“We need music,” he answered simply. After a few clicks, it started. A haunting song about love and dysfunction and heartbreak. A song about the right love at the wrong time. I decided right then and there, it was my new favorite.
“What is this song called?”
“‘Glycerine’ by Bush. It’s the one song I’ll never get sick of.”
“I love it,” I whispered. It was raw, beautiful.
After asking him to play it for me again, we lay in comfortable silence once more. Halfway through the third time, I felt his pinky finger graze mine. My pulse sped up, and I tried not to move while I wondered if it was on purpose. As casually as I could, I turned my palm skyward, waiting to see what he’d do. I couldn’t breathe as Asher laced his much-larger fingers with mine.
I didn’t know what to say. What to do. I was too afraid to move in fear of ruining this moment. His thumb rubbed against mine, and I squeezed a little bit tighter.
“What does your name mean?” he asked out of nowhere. Ash wasn’t one for small talk, so the question took me by surprise.
“It’s a type of bush,” I said anticlimactically, and he rubbed at his mouth with his other hand to hide his smile. “But my name is from Sleeping Beauty,” I explained. “Princess Aurora’s real name is Briar Rose.”
“Your parents don’t strike me as Disney fans,” he deadpanned, and I laughed because it was true.
“I guess my mom was once upon a time.”
“But you do look like a princess,” he teased.
“Tell me about your mom?” I asked after a beat of silence. He inhaled deeply, returning his gaze to the stars. “Her name was Isabel. She came from a wealthy family, but she met my dad and got pregnant with me shortly after. She was beautiful. And she gave good hugs. She beat me at every video game we ever played.”
I laughed, never having expected that.
“She died saving me,” he explained, wiping the lingering smile clear off my face. “I had been working on a ramp for my bike all day. I decided to try it out in front of my house. We never had a lot of traffic, so I didn’t think anything of it.”
I held my breath, knowing where the story was going.
“My mom pulled into the driveway with a trunk full of groceries. She waved and smiled at me, but I didn’t smile back. I was frustrated because I couldn’t land this trick. I tried over and over, with my headphones blasting in my ears. Each time, I got sloppier and hit the jump harder. On the last try, I don’t know what happened, but it sent me flying. I landed right in the middle of the street. I didn’t hear it coming, but I saw the car, a big, white Dodge Durango. I couldn’t move quickly enough. I hurt my leg so I couldn’t stand up. I saw the car try to swerve, and then I saw my mom rushing toward me. I remember her dark hair blowing behind her as she ran. For some reason, that’s what stood out the most. She was able to push me out of the way in time, but the car hit her instead.”
“I’m sorry,” I said quietly, brushing a tear away. Because what else could you say to something like that? That’s a kid’s worst nightmare.
“My dad blamed me. I blamed me. And that’s when everything changed.”
“You were just a kid, Ash. It wasn’t your fault.”
“Yeah,” he said noncommittally, and I knew he didn’t believe it.
“I think I would have liked her,” I said, referring to his mom. “She sounds like the opposite of mine.”
“She would’ve loved you.”