'He's a good time cowboy Casanova

Leaning up against the record machine

He looks like a cool drink of water

But he's candy-coated misery.'

*ALTHEA'S POV*

October 11, 2016.

"Okay, I think we've reached the end of our tour. Don't hesitate to ask if you need help finding some rooms, and I've also put my number on the map I gave you, in case."

"Thanks, but I'll be fine. I have a good memory for these things," I replied before realizing it sounded ruder than intended, especially when the blond-haired guy was holding out the door for me.

So I quickly offered him a thankful smile. "I have another question, though, if you can help? It's about the clubs."

"Sure, tell me." Troy's friendly grin didn't waver at my previous rudeness, nor at the brightness as we stepped into the schoolyard.

He was surely used to the Californian sun, contrary to my eyes, which needed a few seconds to adjust to the dappled light seeping through one of the many palm trees around.

Palm trees and parasol pines bordering the whole concrete courtyard and further into the paths and squares of lawn, it would surely take me a few more days to get familiar with this sight. Though for now, I focused on the papers in my hands and not missing a step as we strolled around.

"Um, it's written here that there's an art club, but I couldn't find it on the website registration. Do you know why?"

I probably should have asked the homeroom teacher for this, but so far, Troy and his detailed documents had helped me more than the man who was too busy on his laptop.

It was clear Troy was taking his representative role seriously. Besides, his smile had stayed patient through all his explanations. At least, until this instant, as it strained into a wince.

"Yes, it's because there's no member since years. Mrs. Hearts is... well, everyone calls her the Queen of Hearts, if that can give you an idea."

Indeed, I'd watched Alice in Wonderland enough to get the image and even hear the 'off with her head'.

"And if I want to sign up, how do I do then?"

He stared at me as if I were mad, and maybe I was, though I preferred to call it 'passion'.

"You know we have other art clubs like music, literature, and origami?"

"Yes, I saw on the website, but origami won't add to my resume for the UCLA Fashion course. Arts is the closest to fashion design I can find, and if I have to paint roses for the queen, I will."

"You're really determined!" He chuckled with what looked like an impressive nod. "Well, then, I guess you just have to find another person as determined"—crazy, his eyes were saying louder—"before the 21st because that's the requirement."

Ten days to find someone as determined or crazy as me, that was the real challenge, and Troy must have noticed my steps faltering as he added,

"I would gladly help, but I already have activities every day between the newspaper, debate, literature, and my representative role."

"I understand, no worry."

Maybe origami dresses could count for college, after all?

"Hey, but I can post some kind of ad in the newspaper!"

"You would?" I lifted my head from the paper my fingers had already been folding to find back his grinning face.

"Yes, of course, but I don't promise you anything because even with the best slogan, it's still the Queen of— I mean, Mrs. Hearts. So if you've met some people already, don't hesitate to ask them and explain why it's important to you."

"Um... I haven't really met anyone except you so far..."

The second of silence that followed my words was loudly obvious, even more with the hubbub of the hundreds of people spread in the large schoolyard. But Troy's voice still rose above it.

"Come on, don't tell me you haven't spoken to even one other student since yesterday. People are quite friendly here."

"Um..."

I had spoken to some people, but a 'you're welcome' after handing a sheet of paper or 'sorry' when bumping into someone in the hallway weren't enough to invite people to get beheaded in an art club.

I hadn't even gotten any name, apart from one...

"There was that guy... Asher, I think."

Even if I wouldn't have called that lopsided grin 'friendly'. It was nothing like Troy's. Well, before he stopped in his tracks, and the corners of his lips crumbled down once again, this time, in a big O.

"Asher? As in Asher Rohan?!"

"I don't know. He didn't tell me his last name."

Troy's reaction seemed fitting for the dizzying jade eyes I remembered though: halting everything you've been doing, and then, shaking your head to try to come to your senses, while you couldn't find back your pace from before.

"There's only one Asher in this school, as far as I know, anyway. Really tall, messy mop of brown hair, and extremely cocky?"

"Yes, that's him, especially the last part—"

"Don't ask him," he cut off my light laugh with a flat and serious tone, his eyes still as wide. "The only art that would ever interest him would probably be nudes."

"That I don't doubt it..."

I could still sense the heat of his green gaze trying to burn down my clothes in the few seconds we'd talked, a lot like the Californian sun making my white top suffocating right now, and I quickly shook my head as Troy turned to me.

"I'm serious." It looked like it indeed, as his smile had disappeared into the straight line of his lips, which he was sucking on. "As your guide here, I feel like I gotta warn you."

"Don't worry. I know what jocks are."

I'd seen enough schools to know there were always jocks, and they were almost always players. As cliché as it was, it came with the package.

"What did he do to make you dislike him so much? Did he steal your girlfriend or something like this?"

I'd witnessed that cliché part a lot too.

However, Troy quickly broke it with a chuckle. "No, I'm happy with my boyfriend Michael. My big sister did get ditched by his brother over the phone, though."

"Ow, that's rude. I'm sorry."

"She's fine. It was a few years ago, and at least, his brother has the decency to date the girls for some time. Asher, he, has an 'only once' rule."

"Rule?" I widened my eyes, even if I shouldn't have been surprised.

After all, every dangerous ride had rules, didn't they?

"Yes, he takes the girls for only one night, just enough to get in their pants. I know it because I work at the Grill diner, and it's his 'spot'. The boss even added a green juice on the menu because of the high demand from his dates."

Okay, this was beyond the clichés I knew.

"Generally, they end up in his car or worse, in the bathroom, and when I have to clean up afterward... That's the reason why I'm not fond of him. If you saw—"

"I got the image, thank you!" I put my hands up like it could block the vision, but it was too late. They were already forming in my mind, even though I wasn't sure if 'they' meant the juices or well, him and his dates, and both possibilities turned my stomach.

"I'm just trying to warn you because you seem like a nice girl, and he..." He sighed, his gaze flickering to somewhere over my shoulder, where I didn't try glancing, as the sun was beating down on my back. "He's bad news. You deserve better."

"Thanks... but you really don't have to worry. I'm not interested, and I wasn't even going to ask him."

"Maybe, but he is."

"What? How do you—"

"He has his eyes on you." With an obvious lift of his eyebrows, he pointed his gaze in the direction from where the heat was coming from, and it wasn't in the sky above.

It was another kind of dangerous fire.

"Don't—"

More dazzling than the California sun, there was Asher Rohan, his tall figure standing out even from the other side of the wide schoolyard, while he leaned casually against a palm tree, surrounded by other jocks and of course, girls, probably cheerleaders, seeing how much they were cheering whatever the guys were saying.

Anyway, he wasn't looking at any of them, not even at the basketball spinning in his hands. His eyes were on me, smoldering and penetrating, as if he knew we were talking about him, and... he threw me a wink.

It barely lasted a second before I snapped my head around, but it was enough to send the same warmth to my front, particularly up my cheeks as I met Troy's lifted eyebrow.

"Look."

"Dates and all of that aren't my things." For one night or ever. "So he'll get tired before me."

"If you say so..." he muttered, the dubious intonation lingering like the burn of a gaze in my back, even as his smile came back. "Now, if you don't have any other question, I'll leave you because I have a meeting for the newspaper."

"Sure, thank you again... for everything."

"You're welcome, and I'll prepare your ad for the next publication." He tapped his index finger against his temple like to take a mental note before he disappeared towards the path on the right, not without one last smile and a call, though.

"And don't forget what I said."

I wasn't sure what he was referring to exactly, but I nodded anyway, and this whole conversation remained in my mind while I glanced around, avoiding a particular corner, yet searching for students who could be interested in the art club.

There were groups of people passing me by, complaining about algebra assignments or chatting about the latest Pretty Little Liars season, some even having the same thoughts as me about Mary Drake. A few feet away, three girls were checking their nails in this year's Pantone shade, and all the benches around were busy but remaining with at least a seat.

Thus, except for the few couples making out behind the trees, and the bookworms lost in their pages, I could surely try my luck without too much risk.

I just had to take a deep breath, walk up to them, and say...

My chest deflated before I even took a step, and I didn't even attempt to form a word, as my lips were too dry. Well, it was what I told myself as I rolled them together and folded the papers in my bag, walking back inside to the secluded corner where I'd spotted a vending machine.

However, when I inserted my last dollar into the machine, and the fresh drink I needed didn't move an inch, words did flow out of my lips. First, pleas when I pushed the cancel button, and the millimeter of the green paper came out, and soon, 'stupid' and 'idiot' variations as I ruined my rose quartz nails trying to pull it out.

The truth was that it had never been about the dryness of my lips; it was about the words.

When you did everything to forget the goodbyes, there came a point you didn't remember the hellos either. I didn't.

So where to even start then?

"Hey." The simple syllable my tongue had been twisting with sounded so naturally in a deep and smooth voice, and before I even turned around, I guessed the smirk it rolled out of.

Thus, I should have expected the rest of the cliché when my gaze lifted to take in the tall silhouette: the taut forearm leaning against the top of the vending machine, the opposite hand tucked in a jeans pocket, the large Nike tee-shirt that still managed to tease the muscles under, the musky fresh scent that went with it, the backpack strap resting casually on a strong shoulder like it weighed nothing, the pointed jaw, defined like a Greek sculpture, and even a dimple popping like the cherry on top of the high school player embodiment.

Yet I still lost shreds of my breath along the way, until it was completely knocked out of my chest when I met the pair of smoldering jade eyes.

"Need some help, Peachy?"

A cliché line too. Nevertheless, through Asher's crooked smile, it could have melted the strongest feminists a mile around back to their damsel in distress instincts.

"Why? You're repairman on top of tour guide?" I straightened, not even raising the last part. I didn't have enough breath for it, especially when he leaned down closer, and his intoxicating perfume invaded my lungs.

"I can be anything you want." Any fantasy you want.

The innuendo was underlying yet loud enough to be heard. Or maybe it was the proximity of his pale green eyes, letting me see images of him taking me for an 'interesting ride' and trying to 'fix me down there'. His fantasies, well, a glimpse of them because the woodland of his gaze appeared deeper and more dangerous than you could see.

"Which one?"

"What?" I quickly blinked away before his dirty mind could seep into my brain, but it was too late as his smile stretched, slow and satisfied, as if he'd caught the images that had crossed my mind at his question.

"The snack you paid for?"

"Oh, um, the flavored water."

They said you realized how much you needed something when you lost it, and I did as I licked my dry lips. Though his confident grin told me I would get the fresh drink, and then, I would need it even more.

"Anything you want." He stepped away to face the machine, easily reaching the top and farther, where he pulled out a key, and I wasn't sure whether to be disappointed or impressed.

It was almost too easy for the 'heroic' moment his grand entrance had promised, but at the same time, the simple movement turned into a glorious performance as his tee-shirt lifted slightly to expose an inch of his tanned lower back, and then, the turn of the rusted key tensed every muscle of his arm.

Anyway, that daze of hesitation didn't last long, and when he grabbed a plastic bottle, along with one of the small yellow bags above, and his long fingers proceeded towards the money compartment, my gasp was solely shocked.

"What are you doing?" It wasn't even a question. My eyes were wide enough to take everything in as he slid my bill out and closed the glass door again, with the bottle under his arm, the bag of sweets hanging by his lips, and the dollar in his hand. "It's theft."

"Believe me, with all the money this machine has eaten, we're not the thieves. Your little guide didn't warn you this machine doesn't work half the time?" He cocked an eyebrow, popping open the bag of chocolates before holding it out for me, with the bottle and the dollar.

"No, he warned me about other scams selling sugarcoating."

And I had to remind myself of Troy's words as my hand hovered over the open packet of sweets, the sugary scent already tickling my nose, along with Asher's Axe.

That boy was bad news, just another cliché player, although he pulled it off so well as he chuckled, not even offended by my innuendo. On the contrary, it made his chest puff more as he ran his tongue along the bottom of his smile, his dimple deepening, and it looked like the cliché had been made for him.

No, in fact, it was as if he'd created it himself, and all the other cocky jocks were just pale copies.

"You know my offer is still standing."

"And I'm still not interested. You should keep it for your old customers." I grabbed the water bottle to prove my point, and in reply, he tugged on the other end, the crack of plastic announcing a disaster, just like the flicker of his gaze to my pinched lips.

"Let me give you my number, just in case you need a guide, a repairman, or something else. Do you have your—" He stopped, probably remembering phones were forbidden here, and thus, I didn't have mine on me, even though I wouldn't have been surprised if he'd pulled a shiny iPhone 7 out of his back pocket.

But instead, he let go of the bottle, so abruptly I almost lost balance, and he rummaged through his backpack.

It was the moment I should have walked away. His penetrating green eyes weren't on me. I had my bottle of water.

And yet, I didn't move, not even an eyelid as I watched him grab a red marker, put the bag of chocolates on top of the machine, press the bill on the glass door, lift his right hand, and...

He wouldn't? He couldn't?

He did it.

He wrote on the green paper, and he held it out to me with a smug grin like no other player could have. "Here, for you, Peachy."

"You're calling me by a stripper name, and now, you're giving me a bill for a date?"

Once more, I didn't know how to react. Should I've been offended? Flattered? Amused?

He didn't hesitate, his eyes and his smile widening for barely a second before he burst into laughter.

"Beautiful and funny. I like that!"

At first, it hadn't been a joke, yet something about his laugh was contagious, the baritone sound filling every inch of the empty hallway, including my insides, and the sparkles in his eyes tickling my lips until I breathed out a smile, shaking my head.

"It's not just a bill, if you keep it treasured. Look beyond that." He tapped lightly on my glasses, adjusting them in front of my eyes and letting his finger trace the frames. Without touching me directly, though.

Despite the current that seemed to travel through the thin plastic, I felt the difference when he pushed the dollar in my hand, his skin finally brushing mine with nothing in the way, no pen, no bottle, no insulating plastic, and the cracking tension between our two entities sparked into electricity.

A static shock exactly, as he'd fiddled with the vending machine before, and we both jumped at the contact.

Yet even this simple physical phenomenon, with him, was more, more than expected, more than a simple zing as the warmth of his hand melted it into a sweet tingling, and his touch lingered more than necessary to close my fingers around the green paper.

And as if the trail of goosebumps climbing up my fingertips, my wrist, and higher up my arm hadn't been enough, he leaned closer to whisper above my ear,

"Peachy."

That single word, along with the brush of his lips against the shell of my ear, sent an electroshock through all my nerves, making me jerk away more than the ear-piercing bell above us, while he watched me with a seemingly great amusement.

The sparkle in his pale gaze didn't even dim when I pulled out my map and rushed away. If possible, it was brighter from the other end of the hallway, when I glanced over my shoulder and found him winking at me before he put a handful of M&M's in his mouth with the same smugness.

Maybe because I was still gripping the dollar in my hand and the bottle of water—peach flavored— and he knew it had been the first thing he'd been right about.

Asher is always right... 😏

Now, you understand Althea's reaction in front of George Washington's face!

What do you think of this Casanova by the vending machine? Too much sugar or you're hungry for more? 😜 2016 Asher was something else, wasn't he?

What about his 'only once' rule? I think we all know how it will end. 😏

I hope you liked this chapter as much as I loved writing it, and if so, don't forget to vote ⭐ and comment! 😘

Personally, I find these flashbacks so fun to write, and they're the lightness we need to contrast with the heavier chapters, so there will definitely be more! 

I love you, my little peaches!! 😘