CHAPTER 6: TOO FAST
1524 Words
A red car blasted its horn behind us. Asher didn't slow down.
“use your eyes. I'm not even in your lane.” Asher shouted.
His grip tightened on the wheel. The car surged forward,and headlights slicing through the dark. My stomach clenched, as I gripped the seatbelt tighter, trying not to show how much the speed scared me.
“Asher, you're going too fast.” The words slipped out tight and shaky.
He didn't answer. The engine roared louder, his foot pressing harder, as if her voice hadn't even reached him.
When he finally spoke, his tone was flat. “Relax, I know what I'm doing.”
The roar of the engine swallowed the silence. I kept telling myself not to blink, not to let the speed close my eyes. But the leather of the seat cradled me too well, and the weight of exhaustion pressed down harder than fear.
“Asher…” I meant to say more, but the word slipped into a yawn. My lashes fluttered shut before I could fight it.
Her breathing evened out, soft and steady against the roar of the car. For the first time all night she was quiet.
She's knocked out so soon? Lips parted, hair messy against the seat.
She slipped her hand over mine on the wheel, holding on, as if that would steady me.
Doesn't she realise how dangerous this is?
He adjusted the wheel. Just a ride back to the dorm . That's all this was supposed to be. So why does it feel like the start of something I can't control?
The car rolled to a stop in front of the dorm.
The streetlights washed everything in a soft gold haze.
“Lala.” he muttered, reaching over. No response. Just a quiet sigh, lips still parted.
I brushed her shoulders. “We're here.”
For a while, silence filled the car — steady, heavy, louder than anything he could have said.
Asher’s voice finally broke through, low, and controlled. “You should go in.”
I blinked. “That’s it?”
His finger drummed once against the wheel before he got out, walked around, and opened my door.
I stepped out. The night air felt sharp against my skin. I followed him, steps unsteady, my mind blur between what had happened, and what i didn't want to think about.
Inside the hallway, quiet followed us in, pressing between each step.
His hand rested slightly at the small of my back, guiding me down the hall.
When we reached the room, he swiped his card against the door. The lock clicked, and he pushed it open, gesturing for me to go in.
“Drink this.” His voice was quiet as he handed me a glass of water.
“Thanks.” I sat on my bed, holding the glass of water between my palms, pretending to drink just so I'd have something to focus on.
He leaned against the wall, eyes on me in silence. The air felt strange, suspended, like it was holding its breath, waiting for one of us to break it.
“Why are you looking at me like that?” I asked finally, tired of pretending not to notice.
His jaw shifted, the muscle ticking once. “You shouldn't drink with people you don't know.”
I crossed my arms. “Why do you care?” It came out sharper than I meant, but I didn't take it back.
That made him look away. His hands slid into his pockets. For a second, I thought he'd Ignore me.
“I don't.” He snapped, jaw tight. “But you shouldn't be comfortable with strangers.”
He lied. I could hear it in his shortness of breath, see it in the way his fingers flexed before curling into a fist.
I wanted to press him on it, to make him say what he felt, but maybe I didn't want to hear the answer, not tonight.
“Goodnight, Asher.”
He didn't reply. He only nodded once, and walked to his desk.
He sat on the chair, book open but unread. Every page blurred. Every small sound from her side of the room – a quiet breath, the rustle of the sheets, pulled his attention like a thread he can't cut.
Why do I care so much?
He exhales sharply, dragging a hand through his hair, and his elbow resting on the table. She's just another girl. That's what he keeps telling himself.
But the words taste like a lie. She shouldn't get to me this way. Not her. Not anyone.
He turned off the lamp. Darkness pressed in. He lays on his bed, staring at the ceiling, fist curled.
He could feel her presence– soft, unbothered, too close.
The space between their beds feels smaller than it should.
And he hates that a part of him doesn't want to close his eyes, but keeps staring at her.
Sunlight spilled through the blinds, across the room, tugging me out of sleep.
My head felt heavy, my body sore, but the first thing I noticed wasn't the room — it was his shirt clinging to me. His shirt.
Last night actually happened.
My phone lit up on the nightstand, I reached for it, pulse quickening before I even saw the name.
Notifications stacked: Freshman group chat still trending.
Memes of I and Jaden dancing – tagged with hashtags she couldn't stand to read.
“Omg! what have I done?” I pressed my palm to my forehead, hitting it once like that could knock the regret out of me. A shaky breath left my lips, “I'm so stupid.”
Before I could scroll any further, the doorknob rattled – someone was trying to get in after swiping the keycard.
“Asher?” My voice came out small, uncertain.
“Yes Lala, it's me.”
I took a deep breath before unlocking the door. As it swung open, the faint smell of weed hit me first. Asher stood there, eyes red, shoulders slumped, a paper bag in one hand.
“I brought breakfast,” he muttered, holding it out. The scent of warm bagels and coffee filled the air.
“You… brought me breakfast ?” she asked, pointing at herself, surprise flickering across her face.
He shrugged. “Don't read into it. You look like you might pass out.”
She frowned. “You look like you already did.”
A small smirk tugged at his lips. “Touché.”
“C'mon” she said, slipping my arm under his. “Let's get you in before you fall over.”
Once he was on his bed, I dropped the brown bag on my bed. “Thanks for the breakfast.”
He looked at me , eyes softer. “You're welcome.”
“About last night –” I started.
“We're not talking about it.” He cut me off, sharp.
My brows lifted. “Why?”
“Because nothing happened.”
“Nothing? you kissed me.”
His jaw flexed, eyes hard. “That was a mistake.”
“A mistake?” My voice wavered – soft, but sharp, enough to sting.
“Yeah.” He looked away, fist clenching once at his sides.
“You don't know me, Lala. You don't want to.”
Silence followed – heavy and uneven.
For a second, she thought she saw something flicker behind his eyes – regret, maybe– but he'd already turned away.
Why push me away if you were the one who kissed me first?
Minutes dragged. The morning light crept across the floor, pale and cold.
My stomach growled. Right — I hadn't eaten the breakfast he brought. I opened it slowly; the bagel was still warm, the coffee lukewarm but drinkable.
I tore a piece of the bagel and brought it to my lips.
The first bite eased the hollow feeling in my chest, a slow kind of relief that almost felt undeserved.
But halfway through, it turned heavy – the kind of comfort that reminded you what hurt in the first place.
Funny how kindness can turn into regret.
Across the room, Asher hadn't moved. He sat on his bed, unreadable, watching me like he couldn't decide whether to apologise – or run.
I washed my hands and stared at my reflection a bit – puffy eyes, his shirt, regret curling in my stomach.
Then I shut the water off. Maybe a nap would help.
Just a few minutes before my first class.
Maybe then I'll stop replaying the way he'd looked at me.
I drew the curtains halfway, and laid down.
From his bed, Asher's voice broke the silence.
“Don't you have class today?”
“I don't know.” I said, voice flat, pulling the blanket up to my chin as I turned towards the wall.
He stared at her back, a muscle ticked at the corner of his mouth. The words he wanted to say caught behind his teeth.
He laid on his bed facing the wall telling himself to let it go, and hated that he couldn't .
- Writer
