The Victim (Book #1)

Chapter 56

The door shut behind him with a click and Asher sat on the bed, grinning at me.

"What's so funny!" I asked, utterly infuriated.

"Nothing." He said with a smile. "I just haven't seen many girls at this party wearing pajamas."

I looked down and my face flushed bright red as I realized I had thrown on Dominic's jacket over a tight-fitting tank top and my favorite pair of grey sweats.

"Well... I didn't plan to confront a big jerk face tonight." I said in a mocking voice. I hated myself almost immediately. The boys had completely conditioned me out of using curse words, and this was the effect. Terrible. 

The side of his mouth twitched up and he sat down on the bed near the door, patting the spot beside him. I shook my head and crossed my arms over my chest.

"You've got to be impressed with our school. Only took a day for the rumor to reach you." He said, changing the subject. My lack of a clever insult definitely warranted this.

"Yes, I'm so impressed," I said dryly, before walking over and sitting on the bed beside him. As annoying as he was, as frustratingly confident, I couldn't help myself from feeling somewhat comfortable beside him. A part of me was in awe at his persistence and determination. A minor part of me was envious of his lack of anxiety. He made choices based on his values and he followed through, regardless of consequence.

I scanned him as I sat and realized that he looked the most comfortable I'd ever seen him. He had traded his button-up for a tight black hoodie and jeans and even his posture was more relaxed. I wondered if he had any alcohol with his friend, or if he was too uptight to ever try something that would loosen him up.

"So, tell me what you want! Ten minutes and Damon is going to rip your head off!" I said piqued, in both meanings of the word.

"Okay." He said, dropping the act, and looking into my eyes. "I wanted to say I'm sorry."

"You're sorry??" I questioned in utter astonishment.

"Yes."

"Why?" I asked.

"I didn't mean to be such a... jerk face." He inserted my insult back to me wryly. "I never wanted to be your enemy. I was just worried."

"Worried about what?"

"Worried about you! Who you were and what you wanted, what you did." He said, honestly. "The people my dad interrogates aren't normally the nicest."

"Okay..." I said, taking in this new information and trying to process. "But what's changed? You don't know anything about me still. I could be a monster." Ironically enough, I truly believed that I was.

"You're not." He said as if he heard my unspoken thought.

"How do you know?" I asked in an almost angry tone. I tore my eyes away from the clouds in his and looked at my hands, which were fidgeting. Monster. Slut. Whore.

"I've been watching you." He said in a low, husky voice. I looked up at him to catch his cheeks flush a little pink and his face turn down, letting his eyelashes block the mysteries in his eyes. Was Asher Kelly actually embarrassed?

"I see you in class. I see you with your brothers, and your friends, and your teachers. I see you helping strangers and making genuine conversations with unpopular people. It's like you notice everyone." He said, stupefied.

"I don't know what you are or where you've been. But you're not bad. You're so good, Maya." He said, looking into my eyes once more.

"Why are you telling me this?" I asked. "It's not that I hate to hear it, but I don't understand why." And the compliments he gave me were making me uncomfortable. I didn't believe those nice things about myself. They clashed with my mental image like waves against unyielding rocks.

"You notice everyone." He said again, intensely. "And I started to wonder why that is. I was curious about it, and I started thinking. M-maybe you act that way because... because not enough people have truly noticed you." His words spilled over each other, but I caught every single one like they were drops of water and I was parched.

His eyes were genuine, and his lips curved up, and although my instincts were screaming at me to get away from this boy and this house and anyone who ever tried to figure me out, I stayed put.

I wanted to make a joke, but the alcohol in my system encouraged me to be brave.

"I don't think anybody really knows me." I disclosed in a hushed whisper. He didn't answer. He didn't try to say that he knew me or tell me that my friends or family knew me. He didn't give me lies to make me happy, he just stayed quiet. His silence was honest, and I appreciated that so much more than fraudulent niceties.

We waited for a second like that and our breathing deepened as we sat there, considering the other. How did Asher notice so much about me? Why did he try? How much did he know about me? Could he tell I had been hurt? Did he want to hurt me too?

"I'm sorry I told people we were dating. But was there really any other way to get you to talk to me, without your bodyguards?" he lifted an eyebrow and seemed smug. His plan had worked. Here I was.

"Damon could've killed you." I teased back. "You were a minute away from breaking your pretty face." I tried to keep looking at him in the eye so he wouldn't realize the compliment I'd just given him.

"I knew the meaner I was to you, the better chance I had of talking to you tonight." He said with a smirk.

I shoved him and realized he was completely right.

"You wouldn't let me get away with that without a chance to confront me yourself, alone. A fair fight." He suggested. "Just you and me."

Dammit, he was right.

"I'm right, aren't I?" he asked with a smile that wasn't arrogant or rude like before, but simply pleased.

"Maybe."

"Well don't worry Maya. I'll take it back. I'll tell everyone I made it up. On one condition..." he suggested, and I let out a breathy laugh at his overconfidence once more. Any of the Anders could be here in a second, this was his first time being truly nice to me, and here he sat asking for conditions.

"What's your condition?" I inquired with a smile, rolling my eyes at his boldness. He smiled back and sat up, holding out his hand as if we were making a business deal.

"Do you think we could be friends?" he asked, grey eyes shining.

"What?" I almost choked out.

"Friends!" he explained. "I want to know you, Maya Rogers."

I was stunned into silence by the use of my real name, and he seemed to notice that I felt this way.

"I'm sorry." He said, fumbling over his words and dropping his hand awkwardly. "I haven't told anyone your real name! And I won't say it again, I just..."

"No." I interrupted him, borrowing some of the confidence that he wore so proudly. "I don't ever get to hear it. It's okay if you say it. Just don't tell anyone else, please."

He nodded and it was a relief to hear that he was still the only one who knew my real name, besides Charlotte and the boys. Especially because he appeared to be determined to protect it now.

He smiled at this and held out his hand anew, biting his lip to shield his smile. I grabbed his hand and shook without fear of the future.

"Friends." I agreed, doubtfully. He seemed to hear the hesitation in my voice and took it as a challenge. He gave me a smirk as if to say, 'we will be friends. I will make sure of it.'

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