Tip Eighteen; Explore their body. Run your finger up their side, over their back, search and learn everything about their body.

There's a slight knock at my door and I pause, fingers pulling my pajama top further down my body, hair still slightly wet from where it got hit with the shower spray. 

I debate if I even want to open it, if I even want to see the other person on the other side. 

If it is Leon, I don't really feel like speaking right now and if its who I think it is, then that's worse.

The knock comes again, lighter this time and I breathe out a sigh, moving towards the door and pulling it open, filling the space it makes with my body so the person can't come in. 

My heart pounds in my chest, hard and fast like a galloping horse and I smile softly at Asher, staring past his shoulder. 

His eyes move between mine, curiosity lighting the depths and i look away 

"Where's Leon?" 

Asher shrugs, "He was on the phone so thought I'd come up here." 

 I nod, awkwardness filling me. "Why?" 

He opens his mouth to say something but pauses and shakes his head, lifting a hand to scratch the back of his neck. "Since I cut our tutoring session short today, was wondering if we could postpone it to next week?" He tilts his head and grins, charming to the bone. "I need my little tutor if I'm going to pass my exams and stay in hockey." 

My heart drops and I wet my lips, "Yeah, how about Tuesday?" I can feel my eyes stinging at the sudden realization that this is all we'll ever be. 

He straitens, stepping forward slightly but I don't let him in the room, and he pauses, his eyes moving between mine in mild curiosity and he open his mouth to speak but i cut him off. 

"I'm really tired, Asher." 

He steps back, shoulder tensing then dropping and nods. "Yeah, Tuesday works. I'll see you at the campus library around one?" 

I nod, "Yep. see you then." And move to shut the door but he stops me, staring down at me. "Ivy-" 

"Goodnight Asher." 

"Night, Ivy." 

The door shuts with a click behind me and I lean against it, lifting a hand to place it against my beating heart and tell myself I have to stop, that I can't like Asher Hudson. 

• • •

I lie in bed, listening to the muffled sounds of my brother's teammates arriving for their game night. The voices are loud, playful, mixed with the familiar clinks of soda cans and the unmistakable hum of video games. It's a usual scene around here—Leon's team hanging out, blowing off steam, and catching up—but tonight, the noise grates at me more than usual.

It feels like half the team's here, not the full crew, but enough that their presence is hard to ignore. I roll over, staring up at the ceiling, debating whether I should just stay in my room or get up. My throat feels dry, and the thought of sneaking downstairs for water seems like a good enough excuse to get away from my swirling thoughts, even for a moment.

I throw off the covers, grabbing a hoodie to throw over my tank top before quietly slipping out of my room. The hallway is dimly lit, the house settling into its evening rhythm. As I pad down the stairs, I can hear their voices more clearly - boisterous laughter, someone cursing at a bad play, the usual banter I've overheard a million times before.

When I hit the bottom step, I slow my pace, not wanting to draw attention to myself. I creep toward the kitchen, slipping inside without anyone noticing. As I open the fridge and grab a water bottle, I lean against the counter, just listening to the conversation.

They're talking about girls. Nothing out of the ordinary. It's a conversation I've overheard plenty of times—who's dating who, who's hot, who's single. I roll my eyes and try not to listen too hard. It's just the usual locker-room talk, and none of it's ever really fazed me before.

I unscrew the cap of the water bottle, taking a sip, about to head back upstairs when I hear something that makes me freeze.

"So, Asher," one of the guys calls out. "Who've you been spending all your time with lately, man? We hardly see you outside of games or practice."

I pause, one foot on the first step, my heart skipping a beat. I don't know why, but I suddenly need to hear what he says. Asher's been spending a lot of time with me, but no one else knows that. We've been careful—at least, I thought we had and the only one that knows that is Justin. Had he told someone?

There's a short silence before someone else chimes in, "What, you still hanging around Harlowe? Didn't you guys break up like forever ago?"

I grip the railing tighter, my stomach twisting at the mention of Harlowe, Asher's ex. I haven't thought about her since that day at campus when she cornered me, but hearing her name now makes something ugly and sharp twist inside me.

I wait, my breath shallow, as Asher finally speaks up.

"Nah," he says, his voice casual. "We broke up a while ago."

Relief washes over me, but it's short-lived because then someone else pipes up, "You thinking of getting back with her? You guys were good together, man. She was cool, easy to deal with."

The ugly twist in my stomach tightens. I swallow, hoping—praying—Asher will brush it off, say something, anything that makes it clear he's not interested in Harlowe anymore. That she's not even on his radar.

But instead, I hear him laugh, low and easy, the kind of laugh he uses with me. "Yeah, maybe. It was easy, you know? No drama, no complications. We had a good thing."

The words hit me like a punch to the gut. I can feel my throat tightening, my chest aching as I stand frozen on the stairs. I don't hear the rest of the conversation, too stunned by what he just said. My hand tightens around the bottle of water, my fingers numb.

He's talking about getting back with her. He's talking about how easy it was, how uncomplicated.

And then it hits me—that's not us. What Asher and I have is complicated. It's secret, messy, full of tension and unresolved feelings. Nothing about us is easy. Nothing about us is simple.

I feel my heart crack, just a little.

I blink back the stinging in my eyes, turning quickly on my heel and heading back up the stairs before anyone can see me. I barely make it to my room before the tears start to blur my vision. I shut the door behind me, leaning against it, trying to make sense of what I just heard.

Asher's thinking of getting back with Harlowe. After everything between us, after the nights we spent talking, the stolen moments we've had... he's thinking about her. About how easy it was with her.

I feel like I can't breathe.

I stumble over to my bed, sitting down on the edge, trying to calm the storm of emotions swirling inside me. Part of me wants to scream, wants to confront him and ask him what the hell he's doing. But another part of me remembers what he said. 

We couldn't fall in love; this was nothing more than a transaction. 

He told me from the beginning, it's not his fault my stupid heart didn't listen. 

I'm in love with Asher Hudson.

And I was never going to be an option.

Tears spill over, and I swipe them away angrily, feeling stupid for letting myself get so invested. I told myself this was just a fling, that it didn't mean anything—that it couldn't mean anything. But deep down, I knew I was lying to myself. I knew it meant more.

Now, I'm paying the price for letting myself believe it could be something real.

I stare at the wall, the laughter and voices from downstairs a distant echo, a reminder of everything I can't have. Asher's words replay in my head, over and over, like a cruel reminder that I was never going to be enough for him. Not when he had someone like Harlowe—someone who was easy to be with, uncomplicated.

And me? I'm just the girl who made things messy. The girl he was hiding.

I lie back on the bed, staring up at the ceiling, feeling like the world has shifted underneath me, leaving me lost and unsure of where to go next.

He doesn't even know I heard. 

And maybe it's better that way.

Because the last thing I want is for him to know how much it hurts.

The worst part? I can't even talk to my best friend about it because as soon as I do, I will lose her too. 

If I haven't already.