Page 81 of Asher

***

After he had church two days ago, I was informed that when he got back from his run, he was taking me out on a proper date. And I couldn’t wait.

Stella and I had even gone out and bought me a new dress.

I wasn’t lying as I said I had been smiling from ear to ear these days.

And I was getting asked about it at work.

When I told them that Asher and I had finally gotten together, two of the women had been happy for me, one of them had huffed and mumbled about being closer to age to him than I was. But I snickered.

And told her that age was just a number.

And it was.

That fact was further proved as I recalled what he told me over the phone just last night.

He was on a run with Rome, Coal, and Priest.

“Whenever you’re ready to give me all of you, all you gotta do is tell me. We are taking this at your pace. Long as I have you, I don’t give a damn.”

And I knew that he meant it.

Because Asher Samuel Hendrix didn’t say anything he didn’t mean.

We had been out back by the fire pit, and I had a few things I wanted to know about him.

One of them was his full name. He already knew mine because Stella thought it was funny.

I was named Chloe Britt Whitman. And seeing as CBW stood for Chemical and biological warfare. She told me I needed to come with a warning label.

Unlike her name, Stella Bell Hendrix, which was cool.

And I wanted to know about his parents, his life, and I wanted to know basically everything.

And under a sheet of stars, we talked well into the pre-dawn hours.

But I missed something I treasured.

When I fell asleep, he had carried me into the clubhouse, up the stairs, and up to his bed.

And I couldn’t even begin to explain the feeling when I woke up the next morning to his lips on my forehead as he whispered, “Good Morning, Doll Baby.”

***

But now was now.

I was in my bedroom, curling my hair while my parents were making dinner in my kitchen. Since their stove had gone out this morning, I had offered up the use of my kitchen.

I had just finished curling my hair when my mama called out, “Your young man is here.”

I snickered, young man. He was closer to my parent’s age than mine. But after the whole Marco ordeal, my parents had accepted our relationship without saying a word.

Have I ever mentioned that my parents were cool?

Because they were that. Indeed cool.

I smiled at my reflection as I turned off the curling iron in my bathroom.