Asher's Impure Thoughts (Colebrook Academy Series)

by John Byrne

  In the silence that followed, Asher maintained a cowardly cringe, waiting any moment for Vivianne to smack his hands away and go for his jugular. He nearly toppled off the bench in shock when she gently pulled his hands down and looked him straight in the eye.

  “It’s okay, Asher,” she said, her blue eyes filled with more compassion than Asher could ever have imagined. It was the Vivianne he’d known before—back before they’d started dating. “I know all about wanting someone you can’t have.” She sighed. She turned her gaze from Asher to stare again at the paddock, where Audi was slowly trotting her horse. Something was slowly coming into focus for Asher. Something about Vivianne. And Audi. He looked at Vivianne. Then back at Audi. Then back at Vivianne and the unconcealed longing in her face. And he wanted to kick himself for being so blind.

  Then Vivianne’s lip curled. “I know I’ve been a shitty girlfriend. The truth is, you’re okay for a boy. Really, you are,” she insisted, as if she was handing out the best compliment. “But I’m not really into boys.”

  Asher pondered her words carefully. “I was convenient, though,” he said. “You used me.”

  ”You used me too,” Vivianne said quietly. “You liked the idea of me more than the actual girl. Come on, Asher, let’s be honest. You know you only dated me because it was the right thing to do. I’m the right pedigree for a Van der Bos.”

  “No, Viv, I really liked you.”

  “Like is a word you use for friends,” Vivianne snapped. “Not lovers. I liked you too, Asher. Still do. So let’s be friends.” She pressed her small palm into his. Asher felt light-headed, confused. Was this really be happening?

  Vivianne pursed her lips together. “I’m in love with Audi.”

  Unbidden, the image of Audi and Viv together snuck up on him. Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad. Maybe he could watch? It was on the tip of his tongue to ask, but, judging from the sad look on Vivianne’s face, now was not the time.

  Then she smacked him lightly on the arm. “Don’t be a boy right now. Be my friend. And I’ll be a friend to you.”

  “Fair enough,” he murmured. “But seriously…Audi’s cool and hot. You could do worse.”

  He jerked his thumb toward one of the teachers sitting down the row.

  Vivianne tried to smile, but her heart wasn’t in it.

  “Does she feel the same way?”

  Vivianne shook her head, her curls bouncing against her cheek. The sorrow on her face was enough to break even the most callous heart. But that’s all Asher felt. Not grief over his breakup, just compassion for this girl he’d known his whole life.

  And, anyway, another strange feeling was taking hold of him. It was almost like…relief. But that wasn’t right, was it? He’d wanted Vivianne for so long.

  But he hadn’t wanted her enough to stay away from Faith.

  As if he could summon her presence, Faith appeared in the corner of Asher’s vision. She was standing at the bottom of the bleachers. She met his gaze with her chin high in the air and her back straight, her whole body seeming to scream at Asher.

  “She’s pissed at me,” Asher said, covertly pointing at Faith. “See? She called me the day she found out she was pregnant. She wants to keep it. Can you believe that? What’s a high school girl going to do with a baby? Forget that…what would I do with a baby?” He shuddered at the thought. “She even wanted me to come to her doctor’s appointment today with her.”

  “You didn’t?” asked Vivianne, shock in her voice. Right away he knew it was the wrong thing to reveal.

  “I should have.” Asher’s voice dropped.

  “Of course you should have,” Vivianne snapped. “Asher, you’re acting like this is her baby, but it takes two to tango.”

  “I almost went,” Asher admitted. “But I panicked and we got in a huge fight. I blew it—I totally lost her.”

  Vivianne gazed thoughtfully at Faith. “I don’t think so.”

  “Huh?”

  “Look at her.”

  Faith’s hair was a mess from the wind and the cold turned her cheeks to a bright pink. She looked hot, Asher realized. Faith was the kind of girl who didn’t need perfectly groomed hair or make-up. While he watched, she lifted one hand and wiped the back of her eyes. Crying. It felt like someone had slammed a knife into his gut. He wanted to run to her and fold her in his arms. But he’d lost the right to do that, probably forever.

  “She’s beautiful, isn’t she?” Vivianne asked, echoing his thoughts. “She’s also jealous.”

  “Of what?”

  Vivianne snickered. “Honestly, Asher. Pull your head out of your ass. She’s jealous of me.”

  ”Seriously?”

  “Yes,” Vivianne said, the characteristic sharpness back in her tone. “So what are you waiting for?”

  Asher’s smile faded. “The baby. I can’t—Vivianne—I can’t have a baby. It would ruin my life.”

  Vivianne looked up at the sky, where the snow had started to fall faster. Almost lazily, she reached her hands out to catch a few flakes and watched them melt on her cashmere mitten. After a moment, she patted Asher’s knee four times and left her hand resting there. This time, there was nothing in it—it was the same soothing gesture Asher’s mother had done once when he was five and had fallen off his bike. Asher relaxed, letting the comfort of that touch flow over him.

  “Talk to Markham,” Vivianne said.

  “Why? What could he do?”

  “Everything,” she whispered cryptically. “He’ll help you.”

  On impulse, Asher scooped her up in a hug. “Thank you.”

  He turned and left, scanning the crowd for Faith’s tousled blond hair.

  But she was gone.

  ****

  Standing outside of Markham’s dorm room, Asher felt the same nervous excitement he always felt the morning before a regatta. But he had faith in Vivianne and her advice, which was surprising, really, considering they’d both just admitted to cheating on each other. So he raised his fist and pounded on the door.

  Nobody answered but he thought he heard a girl’s high-pitched giggle from beyond the door. Hope he uses a condom, Asher thought self-deprecatingly as he turned to go. Then again, Markham didn’t seem like the kind of guy who made careless mistakes. Asher was halfway down the hallway when the door swung open behind him. A girl scuttled out the door. She looked a little like Piper Harrington, a self-righteous sophomore who was could always be counted on to tell on you if you broke the rules. Funny person to be caught in Markham’s room. But as she came down the hallway, her hair disheveled, Asher could see that she was shorter than Piper, her face was thinner, and her rack was bigger.

  “Markham will see you now,” she said, sauntering past him.

  Asher retraced his steps. The door to Markham and Dane’s dorm room stood slightly ajar. Still, Asher hesitated. He had never trusted Markham. He couldn’t say why exactly but there was something so cold and calculating about the guy. Like he’s always up to something. Asher had spent a lot of time around him the past year because of Vivianne and yet he couldn’t say he knew anything about him other than his family was more connected than Asher’s and he had a younger sister, Hadley, who was now at Colebrook, too. But Vivianne seemed to like him and her concern for Asher had sent him here. So when a voice called out, “I don’t do engraved invitations. Waste of natural resources. I do normally require appointments, but I’ll make an exception. For Vivianne.”

  Asher just stood there, not really sure whether that was an invitation or a dismissal.

  Markham sighed. “Come in or leave,” he said.

  Asher obeyed.

  Markham stood at the far window, framed weak sunlight. He gestured to an armchair. “I’ve been expecting you.” At Asher’s confused look.

  That right there was what Asher didn’t like—how Markham always acted like nothing surprised him. Of course a drop-in visitor was expected.

  “Brandy?” Markham offered, waving a glass tumbler.

  “Nah.” Asher di
dn’t drink. His step-dad, Skip, did and he was possibly the biggest asshole Asher had ever had the misfortune to know. Skip didn’t work. He didn’t play any sports. He was just a slob who drank and burned through the money Asher’s father had made and had passed to his mother after he died. No way did Asher want to end up anything like him.

  An awkward silence followed as Markham settled in an opposite armchair and watched him. Asher cleared his throat. “Nice room,” he said more out of politeness than anything else since the only thing he noticed about the room was it was big and had a bunch of brown leather armchairs. It looked like the men’s lounge at the country club.

  Markham smiled…or was it a smirk? Asher couldn’t quite tell; the look was gone almost as soon as it came. “Asher, you’re here for a reason, right?”

  Asher nodded. He realized he was just standing in the middle of Markham’s room, staring blankly. He wasn’t sure how long he’d been doing that.

  Markham glanced at his watch. “You have half an hour till my next appointment.”

  Asher wiped his palms on his jeans. He blurted out, “I got someone pregnant.”

  Markham surveyed him silently. “Who?”

  “Faith.”

  “The abstinence girl?”

  Asher winced as, for once, Markham’s cold demeanor dropped. His eyebrows shot up in surprise as he steepled his fingers. “Fascinating. Who knew she had it in her. Or you.” he arched a brow. “Vivanne’s leash should have been shorter.”

  Asher bristled and rose. He should not have come here.

  “Sit.” Markham snapped.

  Asher stood there. He looked at the door. Looked back at Markham. Thought of Faith.

  He sat back down.

  “Now,” Markham said. “Tell me exactly what happened.”

  Asher’s words tumbled out of his mouth, telling Markham every detail he could think. Well, not every detail, Asher thought wryly. There were some things Markham didn’t need to know, like the way Faith felt molded to his body. Like she’d been custom built just for him.

  When he was finished, Markham said calmly, “I fail to see the problem.”

  Asher stared at him. He couldn’t believe he’d wasted his time like this. “Seriously, man? The problem is everything. What if Faith keeps the baby? What if she ruins her life? What if the baby ruins mine? What if she never speaks to me again?”

  Markham took a final sip of brandy and set his empty glass down on the table. “It’s Faith’s prerogative to keep the baby. It has nothing to do with you. If she gets a warrant for a paternity test, I know three defense attorneys in Manhattan alone who can rip the results to shreds. If she tells everyone at school it’ll boils down to her word versus yours. You’ll be fine. No one will take her side. Nobody likes her. She’s a joke,” Markham concluded with an eerily bland expression.

  Asher’s stomach clenched at his words. He tasted bile. He balled his hands into fists and kept them, shaking, at his side. He was itching to ram them into Markham’s face.

  Markham, apparently, hadn’t noticed. “Of course, you can always just pay her off. Let her disappear into the backwoods of Alabama or wherever she’s from.” Markham looked down at his watch and tapped it meaningfully. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, my next appointment is waiting.”

  “She’s from Georgia, you ass!” Asher exploded. He leapt to his feet, knocking the empty brandy snifter as he reached across the coffee table and hauled Markham out of his chair by the front of his shirt.

  “Faith would never accept money.” Asher spat out. “She’s better than that. She’s better than you could ever hope to be. She deserves someone who’ll stand by her—not some loser coward who’ll try to worm his way out of his responsibilities.”

  To his surprise, Markham smiled. “Yes, she does.”

  “Huh?”

  Markham calmly reached up and pulled Asher’s hands off his shirt. “Bespoke. Thousand thread count.” He smoothed the wrinkles out of his shirt and straightened his collar. “I had no idea you were so violent when provoked, Asher, or I would have changed first. I think we’re through pretending your dalliance with Faith was a mistake. You care about her.”

  Asher’s body slowly relaxed as the words sank in. “Yeah. I do.” He felt a lump in his throat and turned away, mortified. “I really do.”

  “So what are you doing here? Faith is terrified and alone while you’re running around like a headless chicken. She needs reassurance and support. And instead of being there for her, you’ve left her flapping in the wind.”

  Asher dropped back into his chair like a stone. He covered his face with his hands. “Oh, God. I’m the asshole. She’ll never forgive me. I ruined it. She was the best thing to ever happen to me. I mean, I loved Viv, but you know. Faith made me feel—made me feel cherished, wanted, for the first time in my life.” He shuddered and looked up at Markham. “And I’ve ruined her life.”

  Markham rolled his eyes. “No need to be fatalistic. Yeah, you fucked up. Royally. But the situation is salvageable.”

  Asher mulled the last few minutes over in his mind. “You did that on purpose, didn’t you?”

  “What?”

  “You deliberately pissed me off so I would realize how much I cared about Faith.”

  Markham shrugged. Asher felt a surge of gratitude—to both Markham and Vivianne.

  “How do I get her back?” Asher demanded. “Help me fix this.”

  Markham bent over to retrieve the glass from the carpet, moving leisurely, as if to prolong the suspense. “First, you have to support her decision. Unconditionally.”

  “But she’s not talking to me. She hates me.”

  Markham shook his head. “I doubt that. You’ll have to earn her trust back, but I think you can do it.”

  “How?” Asher repeated, more urgently this time. It was all good for Markham to spout off bullshit but he needed a definite course of action.

  “Be the fairytale,” Markham replied, like it was obvious.

  “Fairies?” Asher repeated doubtfully.

  Markham poured himself another brandy and swirled it absently. “Despite impressive feminist inroads, girls still want to be swept off their feet. You know, the whole knight in shining armor who slays dragons and heals wounded kittens.”

  “Kittens and dragons, huh.” Asher scratched the back of his head.

  “Be her hero, Asher. A grand, selfless gesture.”

  “What do I do?”

  Markham snorted. “How would I know? You’re the one who slept with her. I’m assuming there was some sort of preliminary conversation. Likes and dislikes, et cetera.”

  A vague thought began to form in his mind. “I think I know what to do.”

  “Good. So do it. And now, if you don’t mind, I really do have to get ready for my next appointment.”

  Asher stood up and clasped his hand. “I—I don’t know how to thank you.”

  “Don’t worry. You’ll find a way,” Markham said with a disturbingly sunny smile. “They always do.”