Page 26 of Bad Reputation

I’ve texted her a few times, asking when she would be back and inviting her to do stuff. She just texts back with vague excuses. I’m pretty sure she is going to move out soon. I’m bracing myself for it.

So I’m sitting in the mid-morning sun, reading an old copy of the Stanford Law Review on the front porch. I am thinking about food, vaguely dreaming of omelets.

I glance up to find Asher coming into the yard, a box of pastries and a couple cups of coffee balanced precariously in his arms. My eyebrows go up; I didn’t expect him here.

“Evie isn’t here,” I call to him as he climbs the stairs to the porch. “I would’ve thought you’d know that, though.”

He gives me a look. “I’m here to see you.”

I’m instantly suspicious. “What? Why?”

Asher sets the box down on the little table between the two wicker chairs.

“Can’t a guy hang out with his little sister every now and then?”

He hands me a cup of coffee, which I take with narrowed eyes. I sip the coffee experimentally. It’s actually pretty good.

“Mmm. It depends. I feel like you have ulterior motives.” I put the Law Review down.

“Nah, I just have a big box of croissants.” He smiles innocently, opening the lid to the box of pastries.

“You are just making me more and more suspicious,” I tell him, reaching for a croissant. “I think you should tell me why you’re here.”

“Just relax,” he says, waving a hand at me.

Nothing about Asher has ever made me relaxed. Since we were kids, I have always been running at a full out sprint to catch up to him. Our parents set us up as competitors from the get go.

I realize that, but I’m still put on edge by Asher, just a little bit.

Still, I take him at his word, figuring that whatever he has to tell me must be pretty important. He’s showing his hand a little, obfuscating his true intentions too much for it be anything else.

I bite into the croissant, enjoying the flaky and butteriness. “Mmmm.”

“Right?” Asher says, smiling. “I got the croissants from Bennett’s. They are basically the perfect food.”

“Uh huh.” I watch him out of the corner of my eye, waiting for him to reveal why he’s here. He takes a sip of his coffee, fidgeting.

I have no idea what he’s about to say, but I can tell that it’s a pretty big deal. He seems to be choosing his words while I sit here, munching on a croissant.

“Hey, do you remember why I made the rule about my friends not being allowed to date you?” he asks.

I arch a brow. “Mmm… not specifically, no.”

Asher sits back in his seat, the wicker chair groaning a little beneath him.

“Do you remember Corey Helm?”

I picture Corey immediately. Blonde hair, a weak chin, and overly touchy. “Yeah, unfortunately.”

He nods. “Corey was all right, as far as friends go. But he was really weird and creepy around women. He was so desperate, and I think that women just… like, they could tell. They were turned off by it.”

“Yeah, he was skeezy.” I sip my coffee placidly, wondering what this could possibly have to do with whatever Asher came here to tell me.

“So it wasn’t until you had that summer, the one where you sort of… grew up?”

I smile. “You must mean when I was fifteen. The summer that I got boobs?”

He shifts, obviously a little uncomfortable. “Yeah, okay.”