Steve left them alone and Elliot awkwardly sat on the seat of the butterfly press. “Where’d you get all this stuff?”
Asher unscrewed the new bottle of water Steve left and took a swig. Easing into a seated position he faced his friend. “I had Steve order it.”
Elliot laughed. “I can’t believe you’re actually going through with this. Seems a little extreme.”
Maybe it was, but it was also necessary. “Don’t you ever get tired of it?”
“Of what?” Elliot asked.
“The looks, the sense that we don’t count as much as everyone else.”
Elliot’s face twisted with disagreement. “No. Who are we supposed to be like? Those idiots on reality TV everyone’s obsessed with? Look at the people being idolized by society, Ash. I’d rather be me.”
“You say that because you’ve never been given the opportunity to be someone else.”
“No, I say that because I don’t care what other people think. I put on a tie every day because I like to. I don’t do those things to meet some standard. I own my own company. I could come to work in footy pajamas if I wanted to.”
“Please tell me you don’t still wear footy pajamas.”
“Whatever. Your mom buys your underwear.”
“She does not!” He’d put a stop to that. He just hadn’t told her yet. “I have a stylist coming by this week. You and Hunter should come over, get yourself some new ties.”
“Maybe. You’re investing an awful lot into a plan that might not even get off the ground. Who says she’ll even talk to you?”
He grinned. “I do. I talked to her last night.”
Elliot’s eyes went wide behind his glasses. “You did? Where? How?”
Wincing, he pushed himself off the ground. His limbs throbbed, but the pain was giving way to a pleasurable burn. “On the phone. Her number was listed on her GP profile.”
“What did she say?”
He shrugged and chucked his water bottle in the recycling. “Come eat.”
Elliot followed him out of the gym and through the house. “I don’t understand. You just called her?”
“Yup. We talked a little bit online first, but that was getting old.”
“What…what’s she like? I mean, now that she’s older.”
He peeked over his shoulder, assessing his friend. There was hope in his expression that wasn’t there two minutes ago. No matter how much he denied it, Asher knew Elliot’s life was lonely hell. There was no need to beat a dead horse. He’d raise the bar for all of them. Elliot would eventually appreciate Asher’s hard work, especially if it proved women weren’t always their kryptonite.
They were all lonely and—aside from Jet—overdue to get laid. But prior to his finding out about Scarlet, those topics were off limits, even with his closest friends. Elliot did a good job at pretending indifference, and Asher could sympathize with his fear of the opposite sex. He didn’t harp on the subject, because too much attention given to his friend’s non-existent love life could make Elliot snap.
All of their lives people had doubted their abilities. If not for having such supportive parents, none of them would have believed in themselves.
There were plenty of people in their past that swore they’d never amount to anything, but they proved them wrong and accomplished the impossible. While people accepted the world as it was and close mindedly refused to imagine anything better, he, Hunter, and Elliot invented the next best thing.
How was improving his body and health any different?
They settled in at the table where Carla, his personal chef, had laid out a spread of fruit, eggs, and protein shakes. Asher answered Elliot’s question. “She was normal, I guess. More mature, kind of vulnerable.”
“What did you talk about?”
Asher smiled, thinking back on their conversation. “School, believe it or not.”
Elliot’s eyes, again, widened. “Does she know who you are?”
“No. I told her my name’s Mr. Stone.”
“Mr. Stone? No first name?”
He shrugged. “It wasn’t necessary.”
“Sounds a little impersonal. How did you talk about school without her figuring out who you were?”
He swallowed a bite of eggs. “I asked questions, she talked. I didn’t mention that we attended the same high school.” He chuckled. “Remember the beaver head in the locker room? Her and her friend stole it.”
“Seriously?”
He laughed. “Yeah, totally by accident, but yeah.”
“Man, high school must’ve been a completely different experience for people like her.”
“You aren’t kidding. She described it as fun.”
Elliot snorted. “Definitely different. You know, I heard Westerman lost his job at the steel mill.”
“Good.” Asher typically didn’t wish people to fall on hard times. Devon, although a foe from their past, had actually become somewhat of a friend over the years. But Bobby Westerman was different. He’d tortured every single one of them and made their lives a living hell. Not to mention he’d dated Scarlet, something he still couldn’t fathom. Every time he imagined their dates, Asher lost his appetite, so he didn’t entertain such imagery now.
As they ate, he told Elliot a bit more about his discussion the night before, but kept a good amount of personal detail out of his synopsis. For some reason, he felt the need to protect her confessions.
After brunch, Elliot left. Asher wished he could convince him to share some of the modifications he was making in his own personal life. It was work, but it was the kind of work that came with great personal rewards, things money couldn’t buy, like confidence and pride.
Maybe his friend needed to see that the physical transformation was possible first. If that were the case, Ash would gladly be the prototype. He wanted to be happy with himself, but he also wanted that same level of contentment for his friends.
Who knew? Maybe after this whole thing with Scarlet was over, he’d actually be secure enough to attempt dating someone in a traditional sense. He’d always wanted a family and children, but most of the women he met were either way out of his league or too weird for even him. Time would tell, but he certainly was experiencing the dawn of a new hope.
Cue Star Wars score.
****
“Tell me something from your childhood that changed you.”
Her voice was soft and he imagined her reclining on a bed or a sofa. They’d been on the phone for over an hour and Asher’s heart hadn’t slowed down once. He was quickly becoming addicted to the excitement that preceded everything she said.
“When I was in high school I dated someone who wasn’t very nice. I don’t know why I went with him, but I did. Peer pressure I guess. We dated on and off throughout my senior year, mostly for dances and stuff. I don’t think I was ever the same after dating him.”
His mind immediately recalled Westerman, his arm draped around Scarlet’s freckled shoulders peeking from her purple homecoming dress. “What did he do that made him not nice?”
She sighed, the sound soft and seemingly tired. “He was a jerk, always obnoxious and garish. I hung around with a lot of athletes, so no one was really quiet, but he never quit with the high energy. He was also a big guy, so he had no problem demanding everyone’s full attention.”
It had to be Bobby. “Was he ever not nice to you?”
“Sometimes.” Pressure built in his chest as he awaited her answer, a true glimpse of the girl he loved many years ago.
He wasn’t sure which side of the coin he favored. So many times she’d stood there, allowing Westerman to humiliate him. Perhaps she’d earned a share of his cruelty because she allowed it to continue, even when he’d taken things too far—far enough to cause a seventeen year old to piss his pants, far enough to disgrace them until they begged with tears in their eyes. All while she simply stood there.
But to imagine Scarlet being victimized by that same tyrant filled him with a sort of impotent rage. She
was a girl. It was one thing for Westerman to brutalize them, but not her. Never her. He couldn’t understand why Westerman would be mean to her. She was his girlfriend and better than he ever deserved.
Because some people are just bad people.
Trying not to lose himself in unpleasant flashbacks, he whispered, “How did dating him change you?”
“I lost my virginity to him.”
Whoa. All recollections stopped as he gave her his full attention. Scarlet. Scarlet Farrow having sex. All good images. Scarlet Farrow having sex with Bobby Westerman. Oh, dear God, no. He cleared his mind. “Was he a disappointment in that aspect?” Please say yes.
She laughed, but without humor. “I think he was exactly what I should have anticipated.”
What did that mean? She’d dated him, so there had to be some redeeming qualities to the guy that Asher and the rest of the world had missed. “What do you remember feeling, emotionally speaking?”
“Scared.”
His stomach plummeted and his jaw went slack. Her confession was raw, her disquiet contagious. “Why scared?”
“I always assumed we’d eventually do it. I just didn’t expect it to be that night. I wasn’t ready, but that didn’t seem to matter to him.”
Oh, God. Why had she ever involved herself with that asshole? “Did you tell him no?”
“Not the way I should have. We were at our senior homecoming dance.”
The story suddenly turned personal. He recalled exactly what she was wearing, even how she had her hair.
“All night he’d been acting a little more possessive than usual. After the dance we went to the cliffs to drink with some friends and I ended up in the backseat of his car. I remember thinking it wasn’t supposed to happen that way, in a car with our friends only a few feet away. I didn’t want to make a scene, so I wasn’t really firm when I told him to slow down.”
His stomach hurt, unexpected nausea forcing him to breathe through his mouth. Imagining that sweaty animal touching her was grotesque. “Did he hurt you?” He wanted to ask if she remembered anything from earlier in the night, but this was more significant.
She laughed, the sound hollow and cold. “It hurt. It was my first time and we weren’t in the most comfortable place. But most of the pain came afterward. When he was done, my dress, that I had so painstakingly chosen, was wrinkled and split at the seam. He left the car as soon as he’d finished and I could hear him bragging to everyone. I just sat there and cried for the rest of the night. Never once did he come check on me. I felt so used and the worst part was…”
He’d warned her. He’d told her Westerman was only using her. The culmination of his prophecy brought no comfort in the end. He hated knowing she’d been hurt, which was exactly why he had warned her in the first place. “I’m sorry, Scarlet.” She’d never know how true his sentiment was in that moment.
She drew in an audible breath and released it slowly on what sounded like a cleansing sigh. “It was a long time ago.” He gave her a moment to recover. “Wow. I haven’t thought about that night in years.”
“Some days are just all around bad.” That day had been a defining nightmare for him as well. “Why didn’t you—” His words abruptly cut off as he’d almost slipped. Rephrasing his question, he said, “Did you break up with him?” He knew full well she hadn’t, but wanted to know why.
“Yes.”
He frowned. That was a lie.
But then she said, “It didn’t stick. We were always with the same friends and he’d never let anyone else speak to me. If he saw another guy flirt with me, he… It just wasn’t worth it.”
Asher swallowed, never imagining she might have been with him against her will. “I assume there were other times. Did it get better?”
“No. Sometimes it got worse. Graduating was my only escape. Sometimes I think back to how much I endured and I wonder how I did it.” She was quiet for a moment. “Are you still there?”
“Yeah. Sorry. I was…thinking.” He’d been so wrong. His perspective was suddenly skewed in a way he couldn’t grasp.
She distracted him again as she said, “Tell me a moment from your childhood that changed you.”
Jarred by her request, he took a moment to regroup. She’d earned some of his empathy, which was unexpected. Having no intention of sharing his personal business, he quickly scrambled for a defining moment in his life, searching for one that could be generalized without giving away too much.
“My mother had breast cancer.”
“Oh, I’m so sorry.”
Her compassion tempted softer emotions, but failed. It had been a terrible time for all of them. “I’ve always been extremely close to my mother.” Still am. “When she was diagnosed I thought my world would end.”
“That’s terrible.”
He nodded, even though she couldn’t see him. Swallowing, he confessed, “I didn’t have a lot of friends growing up, but my mom always acted like they were waiting just around the corner. No matter my shortcomings, she’d always assured me things would get better. She always believed that too. She was my best friend for most of my childhood. Every dream I had, I never had to worry that she might mock me for it. She was always right there, supporting my goals.”
“She sounds like an incredible mom.”
“She is.” Stifling the surge of relevance, he said, “It took her three years, but she eventually beat it. She had a mastectomy and came back like a prizefighter. She’s incredible.”
“How did your dad handle it?”
His dad was incredible too. “It was difficult. We all feared losing her. He stuck by her side and never lost faith she’d overcome that just like she overcame every other challenge dropped at her door. You’d never know she had a mastectomy. She’d lost her hair, her breasts, and half her body weight, but to us she was always beautiful.”
“Wow. I can’t imagine being loved so unconditionally.”
They fell into a weighted silence. He was losing himself. Asher was surfacing when he should be performing as the impenetrable Mr. Stone. He turned the conversation back on her. “Did your parents have a pleasant marriage?”
“Yes, but nothing like that. My parents aren’t very expressive when it comes to affection. I don’t think I’ve ever even seen them kiss.”
“Really?”
She laughed. “Yeah. It’s kind of sad. I mean, they love each other, but with a quiet commitment instead of a lurid passion. I’ve never seen them fight either, that I can remember. They’ve always been sort of private, I guess.”
Things were getting very comfortable. The progression of their relationship was moving faster than he’d expected. Things either had to slow down or he needed a back up plan, because she wasn’t the only one getting lost in their connection.
“Would you like to grab a drink this week?” she surprised him by asking. “I mean… we don’t have to. I don’t want to rush things. It’s just… I feel—”
“Scarlet.” He said her name because she sounded flustered. “Take a breath.” The sound of her drawing air into her lungs echoed softly over the line.
“Sorry. I just thought…I’m really enjoying talking to you.”
God, me too. Maybe too much.“I’m enjoying it as well, Ms. Farrow, but I’m not sure we’re there yet.” He needed to protect himself.
“Oh.”
Her evident disappointment filled him with regret, but he had to play this smart. She couldn’t discover who he was, especially after talking so much about a school they’d both attended. It would be a betrayal of trust for her to figure out who he was, something he wasn’t sure he wanted her to know, but the temptation was there, begging for him to have faith in their chemistry and come clean. Yet, he lacked the courage, fearing her reincarnated rejection. “We’ll give it a little more time.”
“Okay. That’s probably wise.”
Smart or stupid, he needed more time. Her willingness to meet him was a shock. He never earned this sort of reaction from women. He needed to
think. “I’m going to say goodnight now.”
“Is…is it because I asked you out?”
Was she insane? He kept his tone even. “No. It’s because we’ve spent a lot of time discussing some heavy topics and I think we should both sleep. I’ll call you in the morning around nine.”
“Okay.” Her voice was tinged with relief. “Oh, wait. I have work.”
“What time do you get home?”
“Four.”
“I’ll call you at four-thirty.”
“Okay.” He detected a smile in her voice.
“Goodnight, Ms. Farrow.”
“Goodnight, Mr. Stone.”
Ending the call he fell back on his bed. How the hell was he going to meet her when he was still the lightweight waif he’d always been? She’d recognize him—unless that was putting too much emphasis on the impression he’d left over a decade ago. Still, he knew enough about women to know that his appearance was lacking, especially in the light of her beauty.
Steve was doing the best he could. Monday was the appointment with the stylist, but new attire and a fresh haircut wouldn’t be enough to transform him from geek to god.
He glanced down at his shirt. It had the binomial theorem printed on it. Dear lord, he was a mess.
Chapter Six
Anticipation
Asher decided it was time to see Scarlet. However, he still wasn’t ready for her to see him. He’d laid out a fair plan and the truth was she would either go for it or tell him to get lost.
He didn’t want to end their relationship, but he had nothing if he didn’t maintain control. After further research, and compiling an ongoing list of traits he hoped to portray, an idea took shape.
First, he always said goodbye before she had the chance. This added to the mystique and left her curious. When they spoke it was according to his decision. Telling her when to expect him stimulated anticipation. Anticipation was one element her letter claimed she was lacking in her day-to-day life.
So far, she hadn’t objected to any of his stipulations. On the contrary, she seemed to get a thrill from the formal way they interacted under his direction.