the time bomb.

Pride month. One day, maybe Claude could feel the same kind of sense of security and eagerness to celebrate with the others. That wasn't today. They almost decided to hide out at the record shop to miss everything entirely, because walking the streets with parades and what have you going on, made them feel as if eyes were on the back of their neck. Like anyone that happened to notice them, knew already, that they were exactly the kind of misfit that belonged in these crowds. But by a certain hour, their stomach had begun to growl and made them slip outside and get something to satisfy. They blended right in, despite whatever they thought, only they couldn't shake the sense of shame if anyone in their family had spotted them. Abuela would have words and opinions, and those would drag them back.

was she a victim, villain, silly girl? tricked by what precisely? did what to whom? i heard; she did; you know that family! she could feel it questioned in some of the lingering eyes that recognized her. but, she wasn’t going to sit at home until the next end of her world. it wouldn't have done anyone any good. she still had work, to some end. a life, for some living.

her container of takeout from one of the food stands waited in burning hand for her to stop watching the remnants of a crowd drift by. she hadn’t been paying attention to see claude come up to her and talk. “okay?” what an odd way to start. she supposed she'd never been one for hellos. giving a small shrug, she'd also never been one for feelings. “are you okay?”

he tossed it once, caught it in his palm, and nodded like she’d made an excellent point. “you’re right.” then he pulled his arm back anyway and threw the apple out into the orchard. it did not go far. asher watched it land with a dull little thump in the grass, then took another drink, his eyes staying on it for a beat longer than necessary. “okay,” he said, mostly to himself. “so not my sport.”

he looked back at hattie, a small grin tugging at his mouth, and leaned his shoulder against the nearest tree. she had taken the out he gave her. he had asked if she wanted to talk and she had chosen cider and throwing apples instead. that was an answer in its own way, or at least enough of one for now. asher could push and ask about the photo, about the tea drop, about gus reynolds, about the kiss that still lived in him like a song he couldn’t stop hearing.

but he didn’t. he had spent too much of his life trying to pull meaning out of harriet before she was ready to hand it over. tonight, she had called, and he had come. maybe that had to be enough. his gaze drifted from her to the rows of trees stretching out around them, quiet and dark and heavy with summer. for all his years of knowing hattie, he’d only ever been here when the christmas tree lot was open, bundled up with his family while they picked out their carroll-grown tree. the orchard felt different now. warmer. stranger. more hers.

“i’ve never been here in the summer,” he said after a moment. “only for christmas trees.” he looked out at the rows again, letting the peace of it settle over him. “i like it,” he admitted. “it’s has a hum of it's own.” then his eyes dropped to the apples between them, and his smile softened into something easier. “are you going to throw one, or am i the only one embarrassing myself tonight?”

“some years they allowed apple picking but—” she tossed the notion away with a sip of her own drink. the products had slipped out of usefulness when a family dropped half their apples on the ground, the christmas trees were enough of a novelty. she’d been taught to consider it her own empire anyways, not fit for the public to trample in. she went out, they stayed out.

a hum of its own, she knew what he meant. the music of their surroundings was not just his own invention, it was the buzz of the insects, the breeze that rustled through, shaking leaves and dropping the unwanted at their trunks. it was the background to her entire life. a good day or bad day, it was there. "it stays like this," she didn't know what sort of invite she was offering. the knowledge that something existed, it could for so long that someone could come back. "until august."

she wouldn't have thrown one. it was a useless endeavor, as she said. but, he'd asked. it was a simple trade. so i'm not the only one, so i'm not alone out here at the edge of the universe. so there's nothing between us. she nudged a small green apple with the toe of her shoe, checking it before she picked it up to make sure it wasn't completely hollow. it would do, given the limited options around them.

her arc was perfect, sailing through the air until it hit the leaves of a tree a few paces away, sending the leaves shaking. harriet was not athletic, not in the way so many other were. she hadn't participated in sports; this was the throw of practice. well-worn routines of summers entertaining herself by any means necessary. the biggest splash! "come back in october, that's their time."

the tea drop had already thrown the day sideways. asher hadn’t even had time to sit with his own feelings about it before he was sending it to aspen, checking on her, making sure she wasn’t alone with whatever the town had decided to make public. then he’d gotten ready for birch’s opening, met ezra there, spent the night orbiting around something new and complicated, and kissed the man goodnight like that wouldn’t add another layer to everything already crowding his chest.

and now he is here at hattie’s orchard.

asher kills the engine and sits there for a second, helmet still on, the quiet rushing in around him. the trees stretch out in the dark, neat rows and shadows, the air carrying that crisp sweetness of apples and earth. he pulls off his helmet, runs a hand through his hair, and tries to tell himself he is fine. he is not fine, but he goes in anyway.

he finds her between the rows next to a tree and the sight of her steals the breath right out of his lungs. had it really been almost a month since they stood on the hawkins’ front porch? since she kissed him first? since he kissed her back like he’d been waiting his whole life and then watched her leave anyway? she speaks, and his brow furrows slightly not at her words, exactly, but at the fact that she sounds and looks like this. frazzled around the edges in a way hattie rarely lets anyone see. “you called,” he says automatic and honest. like it explains everything because, for him, it does: asher stone will always come if harriet mclaughlin calls.

he steps closer, shoving his hands into his pockets before they can do something stupid, like reach for her. his gaze moves over her face, and despite the silence, despite ezra, despite the kiss he still hasn’t figured out how to name—his expression softens. this is not the woman from a month ago, sharp and glittering in the dark outside a party. this is something less arranged. less armored. and asher feels the old instinct rise in him immediately: stay. help. make it easier if he can. so he gives her the choice.

all the sanctimoniousness of people who knew what they were acting in the whole time. but it was she who played as pariah. it always was. none of them pieced together the extent of it, even asher couldn't guess at half the things she still hadn't told a single person. would she stoop so low? did she tell the truth? an eye for an eye for an eye, and around again they would go. do unto emily powell what might not be done to you. kiss brothers but never fathers. she took a breath, her expression never quite so neutral when she was home, it hadn't had to be.

his tone made her stop the spiral, the odd way that he pushed around the issue. it wasn’t a question for a question, it was redirect entirely. why discuss the less than obvious, when the ground was scattered with the the dead and distracting. she almost hated the calm that came with it, the way he was able to ignore everything and gives her the choice of living in a different world. she swallowed down the urge to immediately fire back, talk about what? it would do nothing. she had asked him to be here. of all the people she could have called, she had chosen the one who came.

“these ciders are terrible." she disparaged finally, as though they weren't the oft donated contribution to any event in town. the stability of her lifestyle in shining glass and twist-off caps. it didn't mean she had to like them— it did mean they were the only drink ever lined neatly in the fridge. would one prefer the original or the original. she gestured to the bottles, five unopened ones patiently waiting to be picked! "after you."

SPOTTED!

"Who’s that wandering the Reynold’s Ranch at a late hour? Why it’s none other than Harriet McLaughlin! And it looks like she was there with one goal in mind: a steamy liplock with Gus Reynolds, which someone was kind enough to finally capture! No surprises here, as yours truly announced this relationship during the Hawkins wedding. Aspen Reynolds had all that time to get her bestie in check, and yet here we are with proof fresh from Saturday night! Thank you to our anonymous tipsters, as always— you really are doing all of us voters in the upcoming election a big favor by giving us a peek behind the curtain of Carroll’s elites. Seriously, Grace Reynolds, at what point are you going to get your husband’s affair under control? Even Sada Vang and Charles Payne have managed to make their relationship more official than whatever you’ve got going on now. A real congrats to that happy couple and their new mansion! I’m just saying, if we had to vote based on loyalty, Grace, you’ve got some serious issues! And who’s going to tell Asher Stone that he was waiting that long to kiss a taken girl? Oof, talk about too little, too late.

Also congrats to Miss Birch Rose on her restaurant opening today, at least now there's plenty for all your customers to talk about."

until she scrolled and saw the photo. blurry, but her. other people might mistake it, but she knew that. she knew where she was standing, the smell of hay and the dust that clung to her shoes every time she was on that property. and she looked up at grace reynolds across the room, the expression on her face that said it would be believed.

even if right now, she denied all of it, piled on to that stupid libel britney talked of. it was too late. the fact that people assumed it was true was enough. forget that it was, that was always just a matter of spin. there was never supposed to be a photo. whoever had done that, would find themselves in quite the predicament. but for the moment, she only had herself to blame, to console, to escort away from the eyes gazing so curiously at her. so, without a word, harriet picked up her purse, stood, and walked out of the restaurant.

Then again, they would have avoided it on any other day and time, too. So when, then, was the appropriate moment?

With a considering glance around at the opulent home, at the sheer scale and detail that went into this night all for their guests' benefit, Claudio had to agree. "Maybe not," they nodded, with a small shrug of their slender shoulders, "but.. it still feels appropriate to bring something.. Maybe they would have liked a more sentimental gift than just something of monetary value? Then the problem there is I don't know either of them well enough to personalize it." Hattie didn't say much, and they were noticing it made them say more. Some strange pull to fill the awkward silences and yet, they got the distinct impression she wouldn't have minded the silence, either.

"send a thank you card." she offered finally, the difference between sentiment and money split right down the middle. given the hosts' fondness for the saccharine, if the stories from other guests were to be believed, that would be more than enough. they might even frame it if the inscription was sweet enough. or, included a taylor swift lyric it seemed.

"no, i don't dance." she didn't want to start practicing here with all of the town to watch. she wasn't deluded into thinking that all eyes were on her, but she wanted to keep it that way. there was nothing wrong with the edge of the party, it was where one could keep a fair distance from the issues that might arise. she didn't explain her choices, she merely let claude continue to drive the conversation.

Things seemed tense lately with Teddy and Jack wasn't exactly sure why. True he had gone and gotten himself wasted at Joel's wedding reception bash while his boyfriend socialized like the butterfly that he was. But they hadn't fought over that. They hadn't argued when they got home that Theodore had to help Joaquin into a change of clothes. He hadn't gotten yelled at over only making it out of his jacket and pants and into the skimpy crop top he found on Teddy's floor, barely pulling it on over his dress shirt before passing out on the bed. No, it hadn't been a perfect first date, but it hadn't been the worst one he's ever been on either.

But still things seemed just a tad off and Jack needed the one thing that always settled his nerves - best friend therapy with Harriet. And she had a scandalous story that she refused to tell Jack involving her lips and one Asher-who-meant-nothing-to-her. He intended to get all the details of the escapade as well as solving the puzzle of how the cheer up Teddy and get him back to his usual happy, chatty Kathy self.

"maybe he's trying to earn it." asking someone to move in was serious enough to inspire those kinds of committed discussions. could two people share drawers, figure out how to move around each other in a shared space. it was possible, it had to be if this debate was going to find an end.

"or are you waiting to see him in person?" she knew that she was the one who requested he free up his evening for her. so, she didn't push the idea too much further. she wasn't teddy, she knew very little about him besides his last name, his sisters' insecurities. a first impression was just that, the first. "to ask?"

she said it again, and that was what finally snapped asher out of the daze. not completely. not enough. he could still feel her mouth on his, still feel the shape of her in his arms, still feel the impossible fact of it moving through him like a song he didn’t know how to stop. but the word landed anyway.

home.

it was such a normal word for a moment that felt anything but normal. people said it at the end of parties all the time. they found their coats, called their rides, complained about their shoes hurting, promised to text when they made it back. asher had heard it a hundred times before, but from harriet, standing this close, after that kiss, it felt like a door closing before he’d even realized they’d stepped through one.

she pulled back enough to call for a car, and asher’s arms were still around her for a second too long. his fingers flexed at her waist on instinct, some helpless part of him trying to keep her there before his brain could remind his hands that they didn’t get to do that. they never got to do that not unless she stayed because she wanted to. and he would have offered to take her home. of course, he would have. that was the asher answer. he cared about his friends that way. he cared about people that way. he’d make sure anyone got home safe if they needed him to, but that wasn’t the whole truth, and he knew it.

there was a selfish part of him that wanted to see her home. to sit beside her in the back of the car with the whole night pressed between them and walk her to her door to stand with her under whatever porch light waited there and ask, without asking, if she was going to kiss him again. if the world might be generous twice in one night. the offer sat right on the tip of his tongue. then his gaze caught hers, and his heart stumbled all over again.

harriet had kissed him.

she had reached for him. she had put her arms around his neck and pulled him down and kissed him like something in her had finally decided to move and asher had kissed her back like restraint was something that happened to other people. was that it? was that the whole story? one kiss, then another, then a car pulling up to take her away before either of them had to say what it meant?

harriet slipped out of his grasp easily. he couldn’t keep her there. he wouldn’t want to, not like that. asher let his hands fall away and watched her go, his body still buzzing with the effort it took not to follow. by the time she got into the town car, his hands had found the keys in his pocket. his fingers worried over the metal edges, then started tapping against them softly—one, two, three, one, two, three—like he was trying to find a rhythm steady enough to stand on. the car door shut.

asher stayed where he was.

for years, he had watched harriet. cataloged her looks, her silences, the small ways she gave herself away when she thought no one noticed. he’d told himself it was one-sided. he’d told himself he was the only one keeping score, the only one remembering, the only one turning tiny moments into something larger than they probably were. but as the town car pulled away from the house, its taillights disappearing into the dark, asher wasn’t so sure anymore. maybe he hadn’t been the only one paying attention. maybe she had been watching too.

and maybe that was the part that would ruin him most of all.

whatever they had been arguing about—friendship, rejection, him leaving, her wanting someone on her side—still hung in the air between them. asher could feel the shape of it, could feel the ache of every word he’d said and every one he hadn’t. he’d been trying so hard to hold the line. to be careful. to be her friend because being anything to harriet felt better than being nothing at all. and then her arms went around his neck.

for half a second, asher didn’t move. he just stared at her, close enough now to see the flicker of fireworks reflected in her eyes, close enough to smell champagne and smoke on her breath, close enough to understand that something was happening before his mind could put a name to it. his heart knocked once, hard and brutal, like it had been waiting years for this exact cue.

then she pulled him down and kissed him.

his mind didn’t catch up right away. it couldn’t. harriet’s mouth was on his. harriet, who had always felt just out of reach no matter how close she stood. harriet, who had looked through him and past him and sometimes at him in ways that made him feel sixteen again. harriet, who had said no. harriet, who had somehow still ended up here with her hands at his neck and her mouth against his like she’d finally decided to answer a question he had stopped letting himself ask. asher made a soft, broken sound against her lips, almost swallowed by the night.

his hands found her waist because they had to go somewhere because if he didn’t hold onto her he wasn’t sure he’d stay standing. he pulled her in carefully at first, afraid of startling the moment, afraid if he moved too quickly it would vanish. his chest tightened so painfully it almost felt like grief, except it wasn’t grief. not exactly. it was want. it was relief. it was every stupid, stubborn feeling he’d tried to bury coming alive at once. she was hesitant for only a breath or maybe that was him, maybe that was the last shred of restraint trying to remind him this could hurt, but then her hands caught his face and the kiss deepened.

and asher was gone.

completely.

the world narrowed to the shape of her mouth, the press of her fingers against his skin, the warmth of her body against his. the fireworks overhead bloomed and cracked in gold and silver, but they felt distant now, like they belonged to somebody else’s night. all asher knew was harriet. the taste of champagne. the faint smoke on her lips. kissing other people had always been sparks that were bright, fun, easy to let go of. this was not a spark. this was a match dropped into a room full of paper.

he kissed her back like he had been trying not to for years. like every coffee he bought her, every look he pretended not to hope for, every joke he made just to see if her mouth would twitch, every time he came back to town and wondered where she was had led him here. his hands tightened at her waist, not trapping her, but holding on like the feeling might tear through him if he didn’t give it somewhere to go. she was warm. real. there.

the kiss would ruin him. he knew it with absolute certainty.

he did not care.

when harriet pulled back, asher followed her without thinking, chasing her lips for one dizzy second before reality dragged him back by the collar. his eyes opened slowly, unfocused and heavy, his breathing uneven. his hands were still on her waist. hers were against his chest. she said she should go home. it took him a moment to understand the word. “home?” he repeated, dumbly, like she’d said something in another language. they were outside someone else’s house, standing on the edge of a party near the driveway where cars waited to take people away from the night. home made sense. leaving made sense. all of this made sense, technically. except nothing made sense anymore because harriet had kissed him. he had been trying to be her friend. friends. he kissed his friends. this was fine. except it wasn’t fine.

his gaze dropped to her mouth, to the smudge of lipstick there. had he done that? the thought sent something hot and helpless through him. his hand slid up from her waist before he could stop himself, thumb brushing carefully over the corner of her lip, trying to clean the evidence of him from her skin and failing to do anything except touch her again. his thumb lingered and his breath caught. life went on, didn’t it? even after hurricanes. even after grief. even after no. even after the thing you wanted most finally put its hands on you in the dark.

his gaze lifted back to hers, and whatever he saw there finished him. his palm cupped her cheek, gentle despite the ruin of him. “hattie,” he breathed, her name barely more than a confession. and then he pulled her in and kissed her again.

not careful this time. desperate, aching, all the restraint he’d been clinging to finally snapping in his hands. he kissed her like he was already lost, like she had opened a door in him and he had no intention of closing it. like if this was the only kiss he was ever going to get from harriet mclaughlin, then he was going to make sure she felt every year of wanting in it.

his hand slid from her cheek into her hair, the other arm wrapping more firmly around her waist as he drew her closer, closer, until there was no space left for doubt or pride or old hurt to stand between them. he kissed her like a song finally breaking open after holding back the chorus too long. messy with feeling, reverent with it, almost unbearable in how much he meant it. like he wanted to ruin himself properly and he wanted to ruin her a little too.

this time it was him who drew her close, firm and decisive. the hesitation from her actions had been wiped out entirely by his reinterpretation. gentleness was a quality that evaded her at every turn. she didn't court it, there was no use for it in her life. she couldn't name the last time she'd been touched and hadn't wondered if it would leave a bruise. she'd wanted that, it'd been the clearest path forward. here were fingers which would tangle in her hair, pull through the carefully sprayed curls. here would be regret, something to ignore come morning, it always was.

no— it all was more tender now. here he pulled her closer to him as though she might slip away at any moment. pressed together, no space between them but the fabric of their clothing to keep the heat at bay. for the first time, she could feel the world slowing. it narrowed down to a singular point which started with the syllables of her name and ended staring at asher stone with a small gasp of air burning in her lungs.

"home, i am going home." she said finally, the words jagged from catching her breath. she might have added more, the thought of asking him to come with flashed across her mind. it was bright white hot, the sudden bad idea that she would have immediately given into if it were anyone else, any time else. she stared at him, waiting to for those words to materialize in her mouth. but, she was left staring up at him still. she could feel the smile on her face, small but certain it was there all the same.

could she do things differently? did she want to, was it asked of her?

hearing the party start back up with its bright lights and chatter was enough to pause such inquiry. she didn't want to walk back in and have another drink, she didn't want to dance or talk to anyone else. so, she took a step back, his arms still weighted around her and raised her hand to signal for one of the drivers, the sleek black town car that was waiting idly by to take her to the orchard.

she didn't know how to live this moment. she rarely ended things peacefully, she still couldn't find the cure for the way she spun so entirely out of control given a wrong turn in their conversations. was there anything she could have said that would have come close to how asher had kissed her back? she swallowed, trying to find words which couldn't maim or hurt, or be turned inside out. finally, she sighed, lingering just a little longer in his grasp before she could slip away, "enjoy your dj."

At the mention of a dress code, they took a glance about the room. She was right, of course, everyone seemed to have gone off in their own way of how to dress and express themselves tonight. Despite there being an obvious baby blue theme throughout. And yet, Claudio didn't feel it detracted from anything. "Honestly, I was always going to show up in this whether there was a theme or not," they giggled to themselves, glancing down and giving their collar an awkward little tug, as if they weren't exactly comfortable. They weren't. "These are the only kind of quasi-formal clothes I own, usually for church, and I didn't think it'd be appropriate to show up in my street clothes. I already couldn't get them a gift." They only had themselves, to show up in support of a couple they only knew more in a friend of a friend kind of way.

she hadn't thought about such a topic one way or another in a long time, besides the odd appearance of a man in a collar floating through the party. it was a part of some peoples' lives, but so rarely hers that the sentiment caught her off guard. "i didn't realize you were religious." she wouldn't have dressed for church, certainly not in the same style that she attended a wedding. she was almost interested, before the topic slid away from them and back to the mundane.

"i doubt they want gifts from us." every frivolous detail had been planned for here, leaving the impression that ingrid and joel hawkins had plenty of money and time for each other. if they wanted something, they would simply buy it. the orchard would be sending a thank you, the formality of the ultra-rich, detached from anything she felt about the situation. "i wouldn't worry."

claude's own question caught her off guard, a breath of a laugh until she saw the seriousness in their expression. it was a genuine offer, though she wasn't sure what provoked it. the surprise faded from her face, "no." she knew they weren't asking on her behalf. she wasn't sure claude cared about her in the slightest, it was simply the thing to do at these events. and, much like every other event in her life, she didn't much feel like it. "i don't want to dance."

asher blinked, like the word didn’t fit. he’d always felt like he lived on the outskirts of her friendships like he orbited the people she actually chose. he was there, sure. close enough to see, never close enough to be included. he’d tried anyway. he’d wanted to be seen. he’d wanted to be wanted, even just a little. so hearing her say it like it was obvious made heat rise in his chest before he could stop it. “since when, harriet?” his voice came out sharper than he meant still calm, but edged. “since when have we ever been friends?”

he took a step back and dragged a hand through his hair, trying to slow himself down before he said something he couldn’t take back. his fingers found a rhythm against his thigh—tap, tap, tap—like he needed a beat to keep from shaking. “back then,” he said, careful but honest, “you didn’t treat me like a friend. you treated me like… background.” he swallowed, jaw working once. “and now i come back and suddenly i’m what? convenient?” his eyes lifted to hers, hurt flashing and then being shoved down. “was i only interesting because you thought i had a reason you could solve? a secret you could pull out of me?” he shook his head, disbelief in it. “and this—” he gestured between them. “you think this is my only option? you think i came crawling back because i ran out of people?”

asher let out a breath that sounded like a laugh, but wasn't. “i didn’t ask you out because i had no one else. i asked because i wanted to.” he held her gaze, voice tightening around the truth. “and hearing you talk like i’m not good enough for you, or saffron, or anyone you think is ‘worth’ something—” he cut himself off, swallowed hard, then tried again, softer. “that hurts, harriet.”

his hands lifted, then fell, the frustration turning inward. “i’ve always been on your side,” he said, and the sentence came out like a confession more than a defense. “i’ve never judged you. i’ve never tried to make you smaller. i’ve met your coldness with warmth because i thought… i don’t know. i thought maybe eventually you’d believe i wasn’t doing it to win.” his mouth twitched at the bitter amusement at himself. “when i heard the stupid rumor about you, i didn’t even ask if it was true. i laughed in people's faces when they stated it because i knew you wouldn’t. because i know you.” his eyes softened for a beat, then sharpened again. “so don’t tell me i haven’t tried.”

and then she mentioned him walking away and something in him finally tipped. “i walked away because my feelings were hurt,” he said, voice low, and the hurt flashed in his eyes again before he could hide it. he exhaled through his nose, steadying. “you wanted me to fight you? to beg? to stand there and convince you to choose me?” he shook his head, incredulous, but there was no cruelty in it just disbelief. “harriet, i heard your no and i respected it. i didn’t turn it into a negotiation because i’m not doing that. not with you.”

his jaw clenched, not from anger at her, but from how much this mattered. “i wanted to explore us,” he admitted. “i put myself out there. maybe the moment wasn’t perfect—” he huffed a breath, glancing at the wreckage of the night like proof. “how could it be? with the debris and people looking for missing bodies, but i asked anyway. because life goes on.” the words tasted familiar. the words they repeated back to each other then.

"so what?" you did this, you did that. only now, into the evening of a party that was neither of theirs did it bubble up. she could feel her hands, waiting to be thrown up with exasperation, held to the standard of the choices that she made when she was sixteen. the reasons why she might have kept walking into his record shop were neither a. his only option; b. her only game. the third choice couldn't present itself here, her frustration clear, "it's all background."

there it was, that she was cold, unfeeling, she thought she was better than him. the same old tired words that breezed through her, never pausing for assessment. saffron asked him out— she'd been right, but that tone of voice! "i never said better." she'd changed the topic before it'd gotten out of hand. another sidestep into the injuries that he'd been keeping record of for her. was it all for this moment, to learn the cascade of ways that she'd failed his idea of harriet?

"and what if the rumor is true! what then?" it wasn’t, but she held on to the idea like a weapon, something that she could use as a last resort the more this conversation spun out of control. how often was it needed to when begging and negotiating were off the table, and she was left with respect that laced its way through the hurt and insisted that she should have seen something too among the rubble and the endless days of work. even if she had, she couldn't scream why not fight for it!

so, she blinked away whatever stupid tears had begun to form at his insistence on an us, whatever it could mean. what did she want? it was a question without answer, there was nothing she could puzzle through in the moment. the only word which still stood out was the ringing phrase: it'll ruin me. that sounded right for the evening, the tempo this conversation had, the answers that kept misaligning.

her thoughts couldn’t pass ruin, leaving her nothing but action. she reached out, finally, fingers lacing around his neck and pulling him down to her height. despite the fervor, the immediacy which she pulled his lips to hers, the kiss was slow at first, a question answered with another question. she was not an experienced kisser, finding her way through the smallest of corrections. her hands loosened their grasp, finding a softer placement near his jaw, her face tipped up further towards the moonlight to deepen the kiss.

she pulled away for a flash of moment, taking a breath. her thoughts were all unordered, and she could only manage, “i—" before the headlights of a designated car flashed on to the driveway, the party starting to ease back into its prior rhythm of chatter and dancing. it was enough of a distraction for her to let him go, though the space between them remained closed off. she looked up, hands hovering at his chest, unsure what to do with the sudden pulse she could feel in her throat.

it didn’t show up. he dropped his hand and met her eyes again. harriet looked composed, but asher knew her well enough to see the hairline fracture under it the way she’d yanked her hand back like she needed control more than she needed him. “hattie,” he said quietly, and there was that thin thread of exasperation in it. “are you serious?” he paused not really sure if she was messing with him. “if i kiss you, it’ll ruin me.” he let it sit there, plain and unpretty. then he added because it was the truest point: “because with you, it wouldn’t be just a kiss.” it wasn’t like kissing other people. those kisses were sparks, bright and quick and gone. he could laugh after them. he could move on. they didn’t live in him. but harriet would.

asher exhaled through his nose, a sound that almost wanted to be a laugh and failed. his hands lifted in a helpless, brief gesture and dropped again. “i’ll think about it for the rest of my life,” he admitted. “i’ll replay it. i’ll carry it around.” his jaw worked once, frustration turned inward. his gaze flicked away for a second, like he was trying not to step too far into honesty.

but the words were already there, pressing. “all i ever wanted was for you to notice me,” he said, and this time it wasn’t accusation. it was just old truth, worn smooth from being kept too long. “and you didn’t.” he swallowed, then softened it, because he couldn’t help himself. “not back then. not until i disappeared for two years.” asher breathed in again, steadying. “and i asked you,” he continued, voice calmer now. “i tried to see if there was something here with whatever this is between us and you said no.”

he nodded once, like he was reaffirming it to himself as much as her. “and i took that no,” he said. “i told myself i’d get over it. that it was just rejection. i’ve been rejected before.” his mouth twitched, not quite a smile, soft with the shame of realizing he hadn’t gotten over it as neatly as he’d told himself. “so i tried to do the next best thing. i tried to be your friend.”

his eyes drifted to the side toward the muffled party noise, toward anywhere that wasn’t her, and then came back. earnest in a way that made him feel exposed. “because i want you in my life, hattie,” he said simply. “i’m just… figuring out what that looks like now.”

she almost turned away then, her sentence enough of a knife to drive in and leave him there. someone else would find the body, they'd take care. but, strung up with the last of her liquid courage, she couldn't leave well enough alone. "you're only saying all of this because you came back and i'm—"

still here, her hands clenched in a fist. she tried to steady herself, as though the slightest of breezes might knock her into a different emotion altogether. she felt lightheaded at the confessions which kept pouring in. "you disappear for two years, and what? this is your option left?" her, standing at the edges of a party where she had no one left to talk, and nothing left to see. she, who must want something.

what did she want from asher? in all of his eager optimism, the tapping, the humming, spinning around the room with everyone waiting for a word or two. did it make a difference at all that when he said words like ruin, handing her so much unsettled power. was she serious? she'd tried to be, holding her ground, which seemed to be slipping away from her by the second.

he'd answered her question with a poem, some great idea about how she might kiss him. no matter how awkward and fumbling it could be in reality, that it would be enough to sustain a lifetime. she answered his with an inhale, sharp and sudden with a rush before she could think of her words.

"i want someone on my side!" she wished she could take it back the moment she said it. it sounded so desperate, so fragile. the betrayal of whatever exterior she put up around other people. where was ira? jack? aspen? each person picked up and left, he'd done the same, he said so himself.

she'd run from a relationship at every corner, keeping everything at an arms length, or trying to. she could feel the tightness in her throat as he explained how he'd felt her response. she wished he had just kissed her, spared her the drunken rambling that tumbled free. "you didn't even try." he'd taken the single sentence without so much as a fight. so much for years of wishing, for carrying something the rest of his life. "you walked away."

he lifted his shoulders in a small shrug, like he was trying not to overstate it. “it’s like music. everybody has a tempo. some people are soft, some are impatient, some are careful, some are bold. and i can meet people there without it meaning i’m promising them everything.” asher’s eyes stayed on hers as he added, quieter, “but the other stuff with dating and sex, that’s not automatic for me.” he swallowed. “that only shows up when i actually… feel something real. when i know someone. trust them. otherwise it just feels wrong. like i’m pretending.” he held her gaze, honest and unguarded in the dark. “so,” he finished softly. “i can kiss someone and still not be trying to go further. for me, those are different doors.”

he didn’t look away as she flipped her lighter open and closed. there was a shift in her like something loosening. asher tried to tell himself it was just the alcohol, maybe the late hour and the fireworks—anything simple. but then she confessed. and it startled him, but it also clicked into place in a way that made his chest go tight. because asher didn’t know all of harriet’s secrets, but he’d always known she had them. she carried them like she carried everything: neatly, quietly, like no one was supposed to notice the weight. and here she was, handing him one.

asher should’ve been scared. should’ve been worried. instead, he felt something dangerous because it wasn’t fear. he liked her devil-may-care edge. he liked that she trusted him with it. and the fact that he liked it… worried him more than the confession did. he didn’t say anything at first, because she didn’t need him to fill the space. she kept talking, and the flame was so casual in her hand it made the whole moment feel unreal like she’d lit a match and taken an entire story with it.

he watched her lighter click open and shut, open and shut like she needed the motion to keep herself together. his hand lifted on instinct, hovering near hers then gently wrapping his hand around hers holding the lighter. he could have made a joke and smoothed the whole moment back into friends at a party. instead he took a small step closer. just enough to bring the world down to the space between them. he could smell champagne on her breath, smoke in the air, something clean and expensive on her skin. he could see the way her lashes cast shadows under the fireworks, the way her mouth looked when she wasn’t using it like a weapon.

his gaze dropped to it. just for a second. and he leaned in. not fast. not hungry. the way you do when you’re asking the universe a question you already know will ruin you. his breath brushed her cheek—

and then he stopped himself.

asher exhaled through his nose, the smallest sound of frustration, and forced his feet to stay where they were instead of closing the last inch. his hand fell back to his side like it had been burned.

all of it was in good fun. except for that one moment he'd looked at her across the debris of the ferris wheel. her words recast again and again, no matter how carelessly she'd phrased them at the time. a truth for a truth, one sharp and one heavy. neither did much of them any good now. the cards were down on the table revealing even hands. she had nothing she could say, she wasn't going to apologize that she hadn't asked before about the difference. she'd done it all regardless, hadn't she?

his hand finally found hers, closing around the lighter, still warm from her admission. the remnants of nicotine hung in the space between them, which seemed to close with a deliberate force which punctuated what he'd said. there was nothing serious here— what an easy way to spend the time. if he was searching her face for something, she couldn't see in the shadow of how close they were. she doubted it was as simple as this, though she'd tipped her chin up anyways, waiting, expecting what came with shared secrets and honest explanations.

whether it was a good idea or not hadn't yet surfaced. as so much she'd done, or hadn't, she couldn't imagine how this could end. that surprise was enough to keep her in place, before asher pulled away at the last second, taking the opportunity to find out with him. her own surprise was shaded with displeasure, the interaction predicted wrong again. she knew it flashed in her eyes before something more neutral could settle, everything catching up with her at once.