Asher’s POV
I showed up at Ryan's door the next morning.
Sober and perfectly showered. I had two coffees from the good place downtown balanced in my hands. An apology sitting heavy on my tongue that I actually mean this time.
He opens the door looking exhausted. Dark circles bruise the skin under his eyes. Hair mussed like he ran his hands through it a hundred times.
Like he didn't sleep at all after I passed out on his couch.
"I was an asshole," I say before he can speak. "A complete and total asshole. Let me make it up to you."
Ryan blinks. Opens his mouth. Closes it again. Confusion wars with something else on his face.
"Coffee?" I extend one cup toward him. "It's that Brazilian blend you like. The expensive one you mentioned last month."
He takes it slowly. Fingers brushing mine. Suspicion and hope warring in his expression.
"Ash, you don't have to…"
"Yeah, I do." I step past him into the apartment. "Get dressed. We're going out. My treat. The whole day. Whatever you want."
"Whole day?" He sounds skeptical. Like he's waiting for the catch.
"Whatever you want to do." I settle onto his couch like I belong there. "Arcade. Movies. Food. Your call, Ry."
Ryan stares at me for a long moment. I watch the suspicion fade. Watch the hope win.
"There's this arcade downtown," he says finally. Something lighter entering his voice. "Old school. Pinball machines and everything."
"Perfect. Get dressed."
The arcade is exactly what I need. Dark and loud. Neon lights flashing everywhere. The smell of popcorn and teenage desperation hanging thick in the air.
Anonymous. No one here cares about hockey captains or tabloid articles. Just kids and nostalgic adults chasing high scores.
We play everything. Racing games where I crash spectacularly on every turn. Ryan howls with laughter each time my car flips into a virtual wall.
Shooting games where his aim puts mine to shame. I blame the controls. He calls bullshit.
A fighting game where he absolutely destroys me three rounds straight. I demand a rematch. Lose again. Demand another.
"Just accept defeat gracefully," Ryan grins. "It's embarrassing at this point."
"Never." I crack my knuckles dramatically. "One more round."
He beats me again. I finally concede.
Then there's the claw machine. Tucked in a corner near the bathrooms. Ryan pauses by it, eyeing a stuffed penguin trapped behind the glass.
"Don't even think about it," he says. "Those things are rigged."
I'm already feeding dollars into the slot. "Watch and learn."
Twelve dollars later, I finally snag the penguin. Ryan laughs when I present it with a dramatic bow.
"You're ridiculous." His eyes are bright. Warm. "Twelve dollars for a three-dollar toy."
"It's about the principle." I grin back. "The machine doesn't get to win."
His laugh is genuine and unguarded. It does something to my chest I don't want to examine too closely.
We move to the pinball machines in the back corner. Side by side. Competing for high scores while talking shit.
For the first time in weeks, I'm not thinking about Blaze.
Not thinking about anonymous texts or Instagram posts or goodbye kisses in the rain. Just here. Present. Laughing at Ryan's exaggerated victory dance when he beats my score.
The weight on my chest lifts. Just a little. Just enough to breathe properly.
Lunch is a dive restaurant Ryan swears has the best burgers in Boston. The kind of place with sticky menus and a health rating I deliberately don't examine.
Cracked vinyl booths. A jukebox that only plays eighties hits. Grease stains on the ceiling tiles.
He's right though. The burger is incredible. Juice dripping down my chin. Cheese perfectly melted. Bun toasted just right.
"Told you." Ryan grins around a mouthful of fries. "Best kept secret in the city."
"How did you even find this place?"
"Rookie year." He shrugs, stealing one of my onion rings. "Got lost after practice. Ended up here by accident."
He pauses. Something thoughtful crossing his face.
"Sometimes the best things happen when you're not looking for them."
The words land differently than he probably intended. Heavier. I look away. Focus on my burger instead of the meaning underneath.
We eat in comfortable silence. No pressure to fill every moment with conversation. No expectations hanging in the air.
Ryan is easy to be around. Patient. Warm. He doesn't demand anything. Doesn't push for more than I can give.
Just exists beside me like that's enough. Like I'm enough, even broken.
After lunch, we walk along the harbor. The sun sinks toward the horizon. Paints everything gold and orange.
Tourists crowd the main paths, but we find quieter spots. Benches overlooking the water where the noise fades.
I catch myself laughing at something Ryan says. Actually laughing. The sound surprises me.
When did I last laugh like this? Really laugh, without performance or pretense? I can't remember. Months, maybe. Longer.
We settle on a bench as the sun touches the water. Silence stretches between us. Comfortable at first. Then something shifts. Ryan's posture changes. His jaw tightens.
"I need to ask you something." His voice is careful. Measured. "Directly."
My stomach clenches. "Okay."
"Are you just using me to numb the pain?"
The question lands like a punch. Direct. Honest. Exactly what I deserve after everything I've put him through.
My first instinct is denial. Deflection. The same walls I always throw up when someone gets too close.
But I promised myself changes need to be made. Promised I'd stop destroying everything with lies.
"Partly," I admit quietly. "Yeah. That's part of it."
Ryan flinches. Hurt flashes across his face before he can hide it. The sight makes my chest ache.
"But not because you're just a tool." I force myself to hold eye contact. To give him honesty. "I like you, Ry. As a person. As a friend. And I can see... potential. I just…"
I exhale. Run a hand through my hair. Search for words that won't hurt.
"Don't push me. Don't rush this. I'll give you an answer when I'm ready. A real one. You deserve that."
Silence stretches between us. The harbor laps against the pier below. Seagulls cry somewhere distant.
Ryan looks out at the water. Something conflicted moves behind his eyes. Guilt, maybe. Something I can't name.
Something that doesn't fit the conversation we're having.
"Okay," he finally says. Voice rough. "That's fair. For both of us."
"Both of us?"
He keeps his eyes fixed on the horizon. Won't look at me.
"I've got my own shit to figure out too." His smile doesn't reach his eyes. "So yeah. We take our time. No pressure."
Relief floods through me. He's not walking away. Not demanding more than I can give.
"Thank you," I say. Mean it completely.
"Don't thank me yet." His laugh sounds hollow. Wrong somehow. "We've both got a long way to go."
I nod. Look out at the water beside him. Let silence settle around us.
The sun disappears. The sky shifts from gold to purple to deep blue. Stars emerge faint against city lights.
I don't notice the weight Ryan's still carrying.
Don't see his hands clench in his lap. His jaw working on words he can't speak. His eyes holding secrets that would shatter everything.
I just sit beside him. Watching stars emerge. Feeling lighter than I have in weeks.
Grateful for someone who won't push. I have no idea what that patience is costing him.