Filed to story: Penny and Navy Brother Asher
I grin, kicking my foot lightly against the dashboard. “Favorite movie?”
He grunts actual verbal acknowledgment.
We are making progress.
But before he can answer, I hold up my hand dramatically.
“Wait. No. I already know all the answers.”
I drop my voice into the lowest, gruffest tone I can manage, trying to mimic him..
“Favorite color: black. Favorite food: sand. Favorite hobby: brooding in dark corners. Favorite music: the sound of suffering.”
A tiny, almost imperceptible noise escapes from his side of the car like he tried to smother a snort and failed.
I freeze, whip my head around to look at him.
And there it is.
The tiniest smirk. Barely there.
But enough..
And holy crap is that a dimple?
I blink, stunned, mouth falling open slightly.
Because no. No.
This tall, scowling, grumpy, terrifying man should not have a dimple.
It’s unfair.
Illegal, probably.
I stare at him for a beat too long, realizing with horror that I’m gawking at him like he’s a particularly dangerous piece of art.
Heat floods my face.
I clear my throat loudly and yank my gaze out the window, pretending the passing trees are fascinating.
Smooth, Penny. Really smooth.
The car hums under us, tires whispering over the pavement, and I do my best to look composed, like I didn’t just have a minor existential crisis over a single half-smile.
A few seconds later, my stomach betrays me.
It growls loudly.
Loud enough that Asher flicks his eyes toward me, one eyebrow lifting in silent judgment.
I pull my hoodie tighter around me,
“I’m fine,” I say quickly.
Asher says nothing. mortified.
Instead, he turns sharply onto a side street not the way toward my house.
I sit up straighter, frowning. “Uh…where are we going?”
“Getting you food,” he says simply, like it’s obvious.
“I said I’m fine!”
He gives me a look – flat; unimpressed, cutting right through my lies.
Right. Because clearly my stomach had other ideas.
I huff, crossing my arms.
He shakes his head, lips twitching like he’s fighting another smile.
“You’re a real piece of work,” he mutters.
I grin, victorious,
“Pizza okay?” he asks.
“Perfect,” I say.
Because honestly? I could eat literal sand at this point if it meant avoiding going home alone.
A few minutes later, he pulls into a small lot in front of a no-frills pizza joint the kind with neon signs and peeling paint and a hand painted banner that says Best Pizza in Town! in questionable handwriting.
We get out of the car and head for the door.
And that’s when I notice it.
The way people turn to look as we walk in.
I don’t know if it’s because Asher’s tall-like, really tall fight. if i f it’s the way he carries himself, coiled and ready, like he’s always waiting for a
Or maybe it’s just because he’s…
Well.
Striking.
Not in a polished, model kind of way.
In a dangerous, sharp-edged, holy-hell-who-let-this-walking-sin-out-in-public kind of way.
I ´straighten my spine instinctively, hyper-aware of how small I am next to him, how different.
We make our way toward the counter or we try to
“Penny! Asher!”
We both turn automatically.
Asher’s body shifts without thought – angling slightly in front of me like a shield.
It’s so fast, so instinctive, it makes my heart hiccup in my chest.
But it’s just Tyler.
Ay
He’s bounding across the restaurant like a golden retriever who just saw his favorite people at the park.
“I’m so happy you guys are still here!” he says, grinning. “Come sit with us!”
I glance over his shoulder and see a table full of familiar faces – just not ones I want to look at right now.
Every part of me screams no.
Asher must be thinking the same thing, because he deadpans, “No.”
At the same time, I start rambling.
“Um, we actually- I mean, we were just-well, I think we were gonna grab something and-“
Tyler’s already grabbing my arm lightly and steering me toward the table like I didn’t say anything at all.
I glance back desperately at Asher, who stands there for a beat too long, looking like he’s calculating whether murder charges are worth a
Then he sighs.
The longest, most suffering sigh I’ve ever heard.
And he follows.
Sitting at this overcrowded circular booth with a bunch of people I don’t know is probably the last thing I’d rather be doing right now.
But here I am, arms crossed over my chest, back pressed tight against the worn leather, counting down the seconds until I can get the hell out of here.
Because I had to be a fucking idiot.
Had to want to feed her instead of just er off at home like I was supposed to.
Simple. Clean. Easy.
Instead, I’m crammed in here, one wrong from flipping this whole table.
Penny’s to my left, squeezed between me and Tyler, her knee brushing mine every time she shifts. And Tyler – God bless his idiot heart locked in a heated, full-blown debate with some it.
I glance sideways.