Chapter 9- Another Version Of Him

Asher's pov.

I lay flat on my back, staring up at the ceiling as I held the silver bracelet directly above my face.

The metal was cool against my skin, catching the dull light filtering through my bedroom window.

A nagging knot twisted in my stomach. Was I being completely selfish? I had the perfect opportunity to just hand it over to Leonard at the café, yet I had frozen and kept it hidden away in my bag.

I shook my head, trying to clear the guilt. No, I had made the right call. With that cranky bodyguard staring holes through me, pulling it out after lying about it before would have looked incredibly suspicious.

My thoughts drifted back to the moment Leonard's mask had slipped.

The second Marcus mentioned his brother, Leonard's face had gone completely pale, his eyes fluttering with a sudden, hidden panic.

Why had he reacted like that?

Whenever I think about my sisters, all I felt was annoyance.

Was it even possible to be genuinely scared of your own sibling?

I looked back down at the silver links in my hand and let out a heavy sigh.

The longer it stayed in my pocket, the harder returning it was going to get.

If I ran into him at the café today, I just had to get it over with and give it back.

The door to my room suddenly swung open without a knock. Alina stood in the doorway, leaning against the frame. "Trevor is downstairs," she said carelessly. "Mom is calling you."

I arched a brow and sat up straight. That was weird. Whenever Trevor came over, he never waited downstairs.

He always walked right up to my room to hang out. The only reason he’d be stuck on the ground floor was if my mother had intercepted him.

I got out of bed and walked downstairs, my chest tightening slightly with every step. When I reached the dining room, I found Trevor sitting at the table. My mother was hovering over him, placing a steaming dish of food right in front of him.

She looked up as I entered, a bright smile on her face. "Asher, look who came to hang out with you today. Sit down and eat with him before you two go upstairs."

Trevor looked at me from across the table, flashing a tight, deeply awkward smile.

Every instinct told me to turn around and walk right back up to my room, but I knew better.

If I refused, my mother would start an argument right there in front of my friend. It was a ugly side of our household that I desperately preferred to keep hidden.

I pulled out a chair and sat down in silence. A plate was set in front of me, but the smell of the food did nothing to make me hungry.

My mother sat down at the head of the table, leaning forward as she poured a glass of water and pushed it toward Trevor. "How is your mother doing, Trevor?"

"She's doing really well, ma'am," Trevor replied, shifting slightly in his seat.

He took a small bite of the food and nodded politely. "This is really delicious."

"Isn't it?" my mother beamed, her eyes fixed on him with a warmth she rarely used at home.

I picked up my fork and moved the food around my plate, keeping my eyes down. I could feel the heavy fondness radiating from her as she watched him eat.

"I heard from the department chair that you're going to be representing the school in the upcoming engineering competition," she continued, her voice practically dripping with pride.

Trevor rubbed the back of his neck, chuckling nervously. "Oh, yes, ma'am. That's right."

"I knew it," she said, clasping her hands together. "I just know you're going to win the whole thing. You've always been so incredibly smart. Your mother must be so proud to have a son like you."

Trevor glanced at me quickly before looking back at her. "Oh, not at all, ma'am."

"What mother wouldn't be proud of a brilliant son?" she insisted.

The food in my mouth suddenly tasted like ash.

My throat constricted, making it hard to swallow the single bite I had taken.

I slowly lowered my fork, the metal clicking quietly against the ceramic plate.

My appetite vanished completely, replaced by a cold, familiar weight in my chest.

"I really wish Asher was as smart as you," she added, her voice dropping into a disappointed sigh.

Trevor’s polite grin faded instantly.

He cleared his throat, letting out a forced, highly uncomfortable laugh. "Asher is really smart too, ma'am. He doesn't have any carryovers or failed classes."

"I am still not satisfied with his grades," she countered, completely ignoring his defense.

She turned her sharp gaze toward me for a split second before looking back at Trevor. "Can you start giving Asher some lessons sometimes? It would be so nice if he could actually get excellent grades like yours for once."

The chair scraped loudly against the floorboards as I stood up.

I dropped my napkin onto the table, my knuckles turning white against the wood. "I'm done eating," I said, keeping my voice as flat and emotionless as possible.

Without waiting for her reaction, I turned on my heel and walked straight back upstairs.

My bedroom door shut behind me, but the sting behind my eyes lingered all the same.

Was it physically impossible for a single day to pass without her comparing me to someone else?

I didn't want to wait around for Trevor to come upstairs, and I definitely didn't want to face my mother again.

I grabbed my backpack, unlatched my bedroom window, and climbed out onto the low roof, sliding down the side until my feet hit the ground.

Minutes later, I was in the back of a cab, watching the city pass by through a blur.

When the taxi pulled up to the café, I hurried inside to escape the suffocating weight of my own head.

I ordered my usual black coffee, paid the barista without making eye contact, and retreated to a quiet table in the corner, staring blankly at the dark liquid as I tried to calm my head.

I sat in that corner for hours, feeling so small and hollow that I couldn't even bring myself to unzip my bag and pull out my sketchbook.

The creative spark was completely gone.

I just kept staring blankly out the window, watching the regular city traffic pass by the glass.

Even after the last drop of my black coffee went empty, I walked back to the counter and ordered a second cup, desperate for any excuse to just let the time pass before I had to face my house again.

Eventually, the exhaustion from the morning caught up with me.

I folded my arms on the wooden table, rested my forehead against my sleeves, and closed my eyes just to rest them for a few seconds.

The next time I opened my eyes, the world had shifted. The bright afternoon light was gone, replaced by the deep, dark shadows of evening.

I blinked, rubbing my blurry eyes as I sat up straight but then I completely froze.

Leonard was sitting right across from me.

He was leaning back in the chair, his unreadable gaze fixed on the window.

A single cup of caramel macchiato sat on the table between us, a small wisp of steam still rising from the lid.

I quickly wiped the corner of my mouth with the back of my hand, praying I hadn't been drooling while sleeping right in front of him.

The slight movement made Leonard turn his head. His dark eyes locked onto mine, his low, calm voice cutting through the quiet. "You're awake?"

"Yes," I said. My voice came out slightly rougher than I intended. I cleared my throat. "How long have you been here?"

"For a little over two hours," Leonard replied smoothly, his face entirely relaxed.

I gasped quietly, my cheeks burning with a sudden wave of heat. I had been asleep with my face on my arms in a café for two hours and not once had I stirred.

I shifted uncomfortably in my seat. Leonard’s eyes drifted back to the dark window, giving me a moment to breathe.

I glanced towards the entrance and noticed Marcus. He stood near the door with two other guards, his posture the same as it always was, rigid, watchful, and specifically unimpressed with my existence. I moved my eyes away from him before he could make it into a staring contest.

I looked down at Leonard’s drink, a small thought popping into my head.

"Caramel macchiato seems to be your favorite," I said, trying to break the heavy silence. "You always order it whenever you're here."

"Yes," Leonard said simply.

"I have a friend who really likes caramel macchiatos too," I offered, thinking of Trevor’s overly sweet coffee orders.

Leonard turned his head back toward me, his expression perfectly calm, though a faint curiosity flickered in his eyes. "You have friends?"

I blinked. "Of course I do."

"You are always sitting by yourself," Leonard murmured, adjusting his cuffs. "I assumed you didn't have any."

"I just prefer my own company most of the time," I explained, shrugging a shoulder.

I looked down at my empty black coffee mug and let out a small, dry huff. "Besides, humans are exhausting. Most days, I like my drawings way better than real people. They don't talk back, they don't judge you, and if they start annoying you, you can just erase their face and start over."

I didn't think anything of the comment, but the silence that followed made me look up.

Leonard was staring at me. Then, slowly, the hard, rigid lines around his mouth softened. His lips curved upward, and a low, quiet chuckle rumbled in his chest. It was small and faint, but it was a genuine smile.

I stiffened slightly in my chair. I had just been speaking my mind, but the physical shift in his face was startling. The untouchable, corporate wall he usually carried around completely vanished, leaving him looking surprisingly human.