(Chapter 7: https://saragawde.com/chapter-7/)
Olivia
Olivia was speechless. How was she supposed to reply? She wished she could say ‘no’. Of course her answer would be a ‘no’, she hadn’t known the man for a week. And, she wasn’t the type of person to surf dating apps, was she? What if she didn’t want to say ‘no’? Asher wasn’t exactly, unappealing.
She wanted to slap herself then. HE was the enemy. What was wrong with her?
“Please.” He said, tilting his head down as he looked at her with doe eyes.
What was he planning? What would happen if she said ‘no’? Would it raise suspicion? Would it be that surprising for someone like Asher Jackson, with his perfect dark curls, grey eyes, and perfect smile to be rejected? Forget about whether she wanted to reject him or not, what would it cost her alibi if she did?
He gave her a nervous pout, while taking a step towards her, his hands behind his back. His grey eyes like distant clouds she couldn’t see through for the life of her as he leaned, still maintaining reasonable distance between them. God, did he have to be so beautiful? “Ok.” She muttered fast. “I-I’ll go. On a, uh, date? With you.” Her voice came out more breathy than she’d intended, the most she was hoping for was that her cheeks wouldn’t turn red. This was not how people ought to react to being asked out. From all the TV shows she’d watched, and the books she’d read, she should’ve been calm, flirty even. But no, she was trying to catch her breath while trying to seem like she wasn’t trying to catch her breath.
He didn’t even know her, though. Why would he ask her out?
Asher was grinning madly now. “Thankyou.” He said softly, before turning around to Liam, like he had just accomplished something huge. Liam stood at the back of the kitchen, trying to hold in a laugh every time he looked at Olivia’s confused face- resembling a deer in headlights.
Olivia’s gaze softened when she realized the answer to her question.
To Asher, she wasn’t Olivia Wright. To him, she wasn’t someone who had been locked up in a mansion for almost 2 decades, someone who could hardly put up a conversation with anyone, with most people, without being overwhelmed by the things she heard. For Asher, she was Avery Jones. A blonde, blue eyed journalist with an impressive education and an un-understandable personality.
“It’s settled then!” Asher said, smiling wide as he clapped his hands together, turning back to her. She attempted to lift her lips into the hint of a crescent to hide her disappointment.
“Tomorrow morning? 8. Can I see you in the, uh, what was it again? Danbury’s Cafe?”
It was either that he had really taken a liking to Avery Jones; or this gave him some benefit towards the case. Olivia looked behind him, catching a mug, raised to Liam’s eyes, with writing in small letters she couldn’t make out from this far. A simple but striking mug that made her blink twice just to allow her to believe it was there. Hadn’t she cleared out the cabinets of evidence? Every plate, every mug, everything that had anything to do with her? Why did that mug seem, familiar? Had she missed something?
“Avery?” Asher asked, stepping between her and the mug.
Unsurprisingly, she almost lost her train of thought when she looked at him. His bouncy dark curls and glassy white skin, like the Moon had sent him.
“Yeah, totally.” Olivia brushed him off, looking at the ground as she shook her head. “I don’t see why not, it’s just a breakfast, right?”
Asher nodded. “I hope I can get to know you better. I can’t remember the last journalist whose company I liked, doubt I can forget you though.”
She tried not to roll her eyes, instead blinking to look behind her instead, her hand rubbing the hairs standing up on the back of her neck.
“Besides, I don’t want to take up your time after the case, not unless you want me to.”
Her stomach felt weird. She hated it.
***
The next morning, she arrived at the cafe at 8:06. She had brushed out her blonde wig, put it on with her ocean blue lenses, and paired her seemingly gifted appearance with a blue sundress. She seriously regretted the choice now, with how cold it was that morning. Sitting at a table with her legs crossed over one another, her palms rubbing her arms to keep them warm, and her teeth chattering; she regretted everything.
She’d hardly got enough sleep last night, procrastinating about what this ‘date’ would bring, what it wanted from her, what she was willing to offer. If it was going to be a personal interview, to check her character’s integrity, she was ready- after giving a lot of thoughts to notes about her character sketch.
The nightmares of those shadow figures dancing and wailing like a grieving ballroom had painted her mind every time she had closed her eyes. There was no sleeping if she shared her bed with thoughts of them, and vague thoughts of Asher.
At one point, maybe when she was 16 or 15, all she’d wanted was to feel butterflies. The ones you get in your stomach when you talk to that certain someone. The ones that make you all giggly and delusional like you’re drunk. Now, all she wanted to was to get rid of those butterflies so she could think straight again- and not be at risk of acting drunken. If she got carried away, he would get exactly the information he wanted, and she could not let that happen, but if she didn’t act innocent, he would keep doubting her and test her in some other way- maybe, a worse way.
Olivia’s eyes switched back to the man sitting across the table.
Asher leaned against a sage green cushioned chair, identical to hers. His head was buried in half a menu which he shared with the waiter. Their discussion of breakfast seemed to be quite intense.
It ended with the waiter tugging at the menu to pull it away from Asher who continued making demands on how he wanted his sausages grilled.
“And the yolk MUST be runny, please! Thankyou!” Asher yelled, just as the waiter scurried away from him like a let off prey.
He turned to her, giving her a small excited smile. She hadn’t wanted to read his thoughts ever as much as she did now, ironically- this was the one person whose mind she couldn’t intrude on.
His expression calmed when he saw her. “You look beautiful.” He said, his hands on the table as his eyebrows arched upwards. Before he stared out of the Sun lit window, while still glimpsing her from his peripheral vision. She wanted to mention how glassy and readable his eyes looked then, enchanting, like domes of lightning, but, “Thank you,” is what she said.
Did the Sun hate her or something? There wasn’t an inch of skin that she wasn’t cold in.
She rubbed her arms harder, causing Asher to break concentration from her and the cobblestone street outside. He took off his trench coat in one fast swipe, and placed it on her shoulders, ignoring her flinching twice in surprise. She eventually warmed into it, letting its warmth engulf her. This time when he settled into his seat, he didn’t break focus off of her face.
Olivia noticed his royal blue shirt, rolled up to his elbows for some reason. This was the first time she was seeing him without his trench coat. She liked the way his forearms lifted veins to his fair skin, the way they grew and disappeared under his sleeves which seemed too tight near his biceps. Everything about him seemed so majestic then. His grey eyes, cute smile, and lean yet muscular figure, much more noticeable without his coat.
She’d never really thought of Asher as someone who worked out, or someone who could have such a perfect blend of lean and muscular. She suddenly understood why he was called ‘the dreamboat’. He was like a picture to look at, perfect in every apparent way.
“What’s wrong?” He asked her, his eyebrows furrowing in concern, his hand extending further towards hers on the table. She had to resist the urge to pull her palm onto her lap. “Nothing.” Olivia quickly replied.
“You can tell me if something’s wrong Avery, seriously. Are you ok?” He tilted his head.
“Your forearms, they’re toned.” She said. What the hell was toned? “I mean, they look, good. Like you workout. You don’t seem like the type ot workout though. Working out is good though. It keeps you fit and all, and healthy, more importantly.” If this conversation steered to fitness, she was dead. She did not know fitness, sport, let alone, working out. What was working out? Her mind buffered a thousand responses while Asher just gave he a soft smile.
“Thank you. I do go to the gym every once in a while, its a calm place for me. Tell you what, there hasn’t been a single person I’ve played against that’s defeated me in an arm wrestling match over the past 3 years. You want to give it a try?” He raised his eyebrows, his smile veering to playful.
Olivia’s heart lifted, she didn’t realize she was grinning from ear to ear. “No harm in trying.” She placed her elbow on the table, her palm lifted up in the air, facing the window in anticipation. She slid it to the centre of the table. “There’s a first time for everything, isn’t there Asher?”
His hand clasped hers firmly. “3,2…” She began. “1.” He completed her sentence. Their grip tightened, Olivia could feel tension instantly building up in her biceps, tremors ran up her arm in rapid waves. She couldn’t hold ground against him for longer, and he was smiling- while she gritted her teeth.
Her arm hurt now, she couldn’t take it any longer, the force, unless she wanted a sore arm for the rest of the day. She was just about to give up when his hand slammed down onto the table, hers above his.
Olivia blinked at Asher in surprise, apparent shock on his face. She knew what he’d done, and it made her feel so many things. “Real funny, Jackson.” Asher’s face contorted between maintaining shock and laughing. “Are you kidding me? I’m sitting next to a monster here. Strong and breathtakingly beautiful.” He said, leaning back into his chair as he folded his arms with a smug face.
Olivia had to try her hardest to not let her eyebrows go flat at his comment. He’d lost to her on purpose. Why did he do that?
Red soaked up in her cheeks, until they looked like ripe cherry tomatoes.
Just then, a plate slid in infront of her, a varying repeat of the one that entered Asher’s side of the table. The smell of baked beans and sausage made her stomach growl. Without giving it a second thought, she stabbed a fork that had arrived with the plate into her sausage.
She munched it, feeling hot juices run down her tongue as she closed her eyes while groaning in satisfaction. “This, is, suspiciously, GREAT!” She growled, grumbling as she spoke with her mouth full.
“Thankyou!” She yelled, turning back to see the back of the waiter as he walked towards the kitchen. He didn’t turn around, but she hoped he’d heard her.
She turned to Asher. From the looks of it, he was a slow eater- and a horrifyingly elegant one at that. He cut his food like he was sculpting something, chewing continuously after every bite. She noticed mushrooms, a boiled egg, a runny egg, and a toast with baked beans on his plate. Her plate resembled the same things, missing the tiny sausages she’d gobbled down.
***
Olivia was the first to finish her food, so she’d spent some time only watching Asher eat. She remembered Rebecca, telling her to eat slower, with more grace, or atleast something that didn’t make her seem like a bear cub. Asher had that thing, whatever it was. Class?
She eyed his sausage, and then her own plate. So she was a voracious eater, in the mornings at least, how was that a bad thing?
It didn’t really fit Avery Jones though, did it?
“Sausage?” Asher asked, putting up a sausage on his fork infront of her. She blinked rapidly in surprise.
He only smiled at her, before pushing the sausage off of his fork and onto her plate with his knife. He repeated the same for the other 2 mini sausages in his plate; and she did not object.
She felt so loved, she thought her heart might blow up in her chest with how much it was filling up with that warm gooey feeling.
“Do you read?” She blurted excitedly.
Asher kept his eyes on his food. “Yes, but I haven’t really gotten down to picking up a book in about a year- so, no.”
Her heart sunk. What a shame.
“Why, do you?”
She looked at him, at his eyes, as they glimpsed hers. He snickered, like he’d seen the sparkle behind her blue lenses.
“Yes! Absolutely! I love to, actually. This is going to come off weird, but lately, I’ve been getting into sportspeople’s autobiographies. Tell you what- it is so extreme, the way their careers can swing. That life, I would never want it for myself really, but it’s just so exhilarating to experience what they have.”
Olivia prattled on about every genre and sub genre she’d ever read, only scratching the surface and never diving into the nuances, but her list just never seemed to end. She would read what she would find, so she had some knowledge on about everything, useless added up because it was divided knowledge- incomplete and not really something she could use on a daily basis. Her interests mostly veered towards modern fantasy though, and when she spoke about that, well, she seemed to run out of breath.
Asher stayed silent throughout her talking, but every time she looked at him, he’d show a hint of interest to power her through more babble. When he finished eating, and was patting his lips with a tissue, he interrupted her. “One question, Avery, do you ever read detective stories?”
“Of course, I do. Like I said, I’ve read a bit of everything. Detective stories were always all over my house. Especially because Rebecca used to write-“
Shit.
She panicked, her eyes focused on Asher who was the spirit of serenity, nodding as he beckoned her to continue. “Write, great stories. She was such a great, writer. I- my mum, was a huge fan.” She explained carefully.
“That’s nice. How is your mum?” He asked.
“Well, she’s dead.” Olivia stuttered.
“And the rest of your family?”
“I’m an only child. My dad’s dead too.” She wasn’t lying. “They were old.” She pouted, nodding in submission.
“May their souls rest in peace.” Asher added.
‘Unlikely’, she wanted to say. Rebecca must hate her, so much, and her dad, she didn’t even know him. Yeah, he would probably be happier dead than alive, finally with the woman he loved.
“What about your family?” She asked
“My mum died when I was a teenager, my dad disappeared right after. My grumpy old grandfather took over, which eventually caused my sister to leave because she couldn’t put up with him- much like everyone else I know. Well, that sums it up quite well, doesn’t it?” He asked, seemingly amused.
“Ah. So your grandfather, he raised you? Is he-“
“He’s still alive. I think he’s immortal at this point. He lives with me and my team, in the same house atleast- we try to keep up the distance where we can, for however long we have to. He’s alright though, not too, horrid. Old age has made him, submissive, I suppose.” Asher said monotonously, reviewing his nails.
Olivia snuggled into the jacket, enveloped with a fuzzy feeling. “That’s nice.” She said. Truthfully, she didn’t know how to feel about the information he’d provided her. It made her somewhat uncomfortable yet made him seem more alluring- probably because of how curious she felt now, as the Asher Jackson in her head began growing more dimensions than ever before. What must the man who raised him be like anyway? Also, team? She had thought it was just him and George on these missions, the duo, one overshadowed by another, but if she asked him, wouldn’t it seem like she was just trying to get material for an article?
A deadly silence filled the room, nothing but the quiet chirps of birds and doors and windows being wiped down. A few shops opened later than others.
“Who’s on this ‘team’, by the way? I thought it was just you and Liam.” She couldn’t hold it, she wanted to know. Maybe it was curiosity, and to some extent, panic.
Asher blinked at her before giving her a small smile. “There’s this girl, Melissa. She’s our housekeeper, but she also takes care of my grandfather, and Liam’s little sister, Aurora, on the weekends. You know what, I really think you’d get along with Melissa, she’s really nice and she loves to read too.”
Olivia tried not to grimace when she saw Asher nod in approval to what he’d said. She couldn’t seriously be jealous of his housekeeper because he’d said something nice about her. Would he tell her nice things about her too? Had she even given him a reason to?
He caught her eyes, pulling her gaze towards his face. “She’s a good friend, but that’s about it.” He said, his eyes going flat. “Blue eyes have me trapped.”
Olivia’s stomach flipped, until she was forced to looked down.
“Avery, I-uh.” He stuttered, his hands going down to his pockets as he pat them with a confused expression. His face switched to realization. “I got you something.”
He pulled out a small gold keychain of the Eiffel tower, its plastic scrunching. He placed it on the table with a smile that resembled a happy puppy’s face.
Olivia was terrifed of touching it. It was so pretty.
She eventually swept it into her lap, still noticing the small glint it displayed. “Thank you so much.” She said.
“City of love.” Asher said, tilting his head innocently. “Have you ever been there?”
She wanted to laugh at that question, but she stifled herself. “No.”
“Do you plan on going there?”
“Not really-“
“Then I hope I can be your tour guide when you do. It was a family favorite vacation spot in the past. I swear, you’ll fall in love with the place.” Asher said, eager eyed.
Olivia sighed, her heart sinking down into her stomach under her ribs. Paris? Was he joking?
She could never, would never, be able to see Asher after this case. She knew that, he didn’t. This case was the only thing keeping them together and it would always be that way.
“I hope we meet again Avery.” He blinked.
Olivia couldn’t meet his eye, not unless she wanted to reveal the disappointment she felt about the fact that he didn’t even know her name.
How did it matter anyway? None of it was real.
The thought was like a stab to her chest.
“Are you alright?” Asher asked. Olivia looked up at him, noticing a concern that hadn’t been present earlier.
Had she been too distant to his prospects?
She looked out the window, the streets running a few locals and foreigners with large backpacks.
Olivia didn’t want it to end. She didn’t want to leave him. She wished she could get to know him better, sooner.
“I’m sorry. I just don’t think today was a good day for, this. I wish I could’ve been more involved in our conversation than just my own side of it, but, I really wasn’t feeling great today. I’m sorry Asher, I really am.”
She could feel her eyes burning now. Olivia wanted to stay. She wanted to be, with him.
Olivia stared at the ebony table, just as a bill fold slid onto it, and Asher pulled it towards himself. Olivia closed her eyes in dismay, before getting up, her chair scraping against the floor. She ignored the sound. But just as she was off her seat, she got pulled down again, by Asher’s hand around her wrist. His eyes were panicked and purely terrified.
“Avery, please.” He retracted his hand in surprise. “Apologies. I didn’t mean to grab your hand like that, but,” He looked at the window, either at his own pained grey eyes or the children running on the street, giggling and amused. “I really want to try with this, with us. Can we please meet again some time, whenever you would like to. I’ll wait, if it’s next week, next month, or in a year. Whenever you feel like it. Here.” He flipped the bill, writing something down on it using a pen he’d produced from his pocket. He tore the bill in half, passing her both parts, and the pen. One had writing on it that said, ‘Asher Jackson’ and read his number.
“Give me your number. So I can atleast try and remind you of me in the future. You can pick up if you want to, but at least you’ll see my name there, waiting for you.” He said, hurt and begging.
Olivia grabbed the pen in shaky breaths.
She was just about to write ‘Avery’ when something clicked in her mind.
Something that almost made tears spill from her eyes.
He’s just using you for the case. He needs your handwriting to match the one on the cup.
The stupid cup.
Her hands were shaky as she turned her cursive to print, her number to random unfamiliar figures, and above it the words ‘Avery Jones’, before she dropped the pen back onto the table and left her seat, almost running out of the cafe as the first tear drops drew down her cheeks.
From the corner of her eye, she saw Asher, his hand on his chin, raising to his lips as he looked from the paper with her writing to something in his lap- a bright phone screen displaying the mug.
He rubbed his forehead in disappointment while she only held herself together until she could reach her hotel room.
(Chapter 9: https://saragawde.com/chapter-9/)