Chapter 13
938 Words
Ivy
I followed him to the elevator in stunned silence.
The doors slid shut, trapping us in the confined space. The hum of the elevator filled the silence between us.
After a moment, Asher spoke.
“You can have the bed.”
I looked at him suspiciously.
“I’ll take the floor.”
I snorted.
“How chivalrous.”
A crooked smile tugged at his lips.
He took one slow step toward me, close enough that I could catch the clean scent of his cologne. His eyes held mine, amusement dancing in them.
“Relax, CeeCee.”
His gaze deliberately swept over me before returning to my face.
“You’re not my spec.”
Heat rushed to my cheeks.
“I wasn’t worried. And for your information, you're not my type either.”
“Liar.”
“I’d rather sleep in the hallway than in the same room as you.”
His smirk only widened.
“Keep telling yourself that.”
The elevator chimed and the doors slid open before I could think of a comeback. He walked out first, carrying my suitcase as though he’d won the argument.
I hated that he probably thought he had.
I followed him down the hallway, my annoyance growing with every step until we reached room 412.
Asher tapped the key card against the reader. A soft beep sounded, and he pushed the door open.
I walked in behind him and stopped.
The room was far nicer than I expected.
A king-sized bed sat in the center, draped in crisp white sheets. Floor-to-ceiling windows overlooked the city, where thousands of lights glittered against the evening sky. A plush armchair rested in one corner beside a small coffee table, and a sleek desk occupied the opposite wall.
It would’ve been a beautiful room…
…if I weren’t sharing it with Asher.
He wheeled my suitcase inside before setting it beside the wardrobe.
“I’ll shower first,” he said, already shrugging off his varsity jacket.
“Suit yourself.”
He disappeared into the bathroom, leaving me alone with my thoughts.
I let out a long breath I’d been holding all evening.
This wasn’t how I’d imagined the trip starting.
I sat on the edge of the bed, absentmindedly running my fingers over the comforter before reaching for my phone.
No new messages.
I considered texting Lena, then realized I hadn't gotten her number yet.
The sound of running water echoed through the room.
I sighed and leaned back on my hands.
Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad.
As long as we stayed on opposite sides of the room.
As long as we barely spoke.
As long as—
The bathroom door opened.
Steam drifted out first.
Then Asher.
He emerged wearing nothing but a pair of gray sweatpants slung low on his hips, a white towel hanging loosely around his neck. Damp strands of black hair clung to his forehead, tiny droplets of water tracing slow paths down the defined lines of his chest before disappearing beneath the waistband.
I immediately looked away.
“What?” he asked, catching my reaction almost instantly.
“Nothing.”
“You’ve been staring.”
“I have not.”
A low chuckle escaped him.
“Relax, CeeCee.” He rubbed the towel through his damp hair. “Thought I wasn’t your type?”
I rolled my eyes so hard they almost hurt.
“Trust me,” I muttered, grabbing my toiletries and marching toward the bathroom. “You flatter yourself way too much.”
His laughter followed me all the way to the bathroom door.
Annoyingly…
It suited him.
I slammed the bathroom door shut behind me and leaned against it.
My heart was beating much faster than it had any right to.
“What is wrong with you?” I muttered.
I splashed cold water onto my face before looking up at my reflection.
It didn’t help.
Because all I could see was the image I’d just walked away from.
Broad shoulders.
A chest that looked like it had been sculpted by an artist with an unhealthy obsession for perfection.
Defined muscles that shifted effortlessly beneath bronzed skin, like he spent every waking hour in the gym.
Seriously…
How was someone’s body that perfectly sculpted?
Did hockey players all look like that?
Or was Asher just… unfairly blessed?
I groaned, gripping the edge of the sink.
“Get it together, Ivy.”
He was still the same arrogant, insufferable bully who’d made high school a nightmare.
The same ridiculously attractive bully…
…who also happened to be my fake boyfriend.
The realization made me bury my face in my hands.
No!
I jerked.
I was not going to spend this trip admiring Asher’s abs.
Absolutely not.
I took a deep breath, forcing the ridiculous thoughts out of my head.
Cold shower.
That was exactly what I needed.
Twenty minutes later, I emerged from the bathroom in an oversized T-shirt and a pair of loose pajama shorts, my damp hair gathered into a messy bun.
Asher was sitting in the armchair by the window.
Just as he'd promised.
One ankle rested on his knee while he scrolled through his phone, the city lights spilling across the side of his face.
He didn't even glance up.
For some reason, that annoyed me.
"I thought you'd be fighting for the bed."
He shrugged without looking away from his screen.
"I said you could have it."
"...You're actually serious?"
That finally made him lift his head.
"I usually am. But you sound like you want to share the bed with me so badly."
My lips parted.
“Shut up!”
- Writer
