“Mornin’, Sam.”

“Good morning, Mr. Williams.”

Mr. Williams’ gaze was steely over the top of the newspaper. “Would it kill you to call me Bruce for once? I think we’ve known each other long enough to give up the formality.” Sam pursed his lips, considering the ramifications and potential repercussions of such an event. Ash called his mom Alice, after all, and the man had basically been his surrogate father for over ten years…

“I wouldn’t want to risk it, Mr. Williams.”

The older man shook his head and returned to the paper, but not before Sam caught the grin pulling at the corner of his mouth.

“Tragic news today,” he said a moment later.

“What’s up?”

Mr. Williams’ voice was somber from the other side of the paper. “English teacher up at the high school is in a coma.”

A pang of concern jolted through Sam. “Oh man, was it Mr. Pinkett?”

“Ms. Cornell. You know her?”

“She teaches freshman English. She started when we were sophomores, so we never had her.” Relief flooded through him that one of his favorite teachers wasn’t hurt, guilt hot on its heels that he was relieved someone else was in a coma. “Do they know what happened?”

He was silent for a minute, his eyes scanning the article. “Her adult daughter found her late yesterday afternoon, asleep in a chair. When she couldn’t wake her up, she called 9-1-1.” He folded the paper and set it on the table beside his plate. “Doesn’t say what happened. Just that she’s stable.”

Ash’s heavy footsteps sounded on the stairs. “Morning, Pop.” She strolled into the kitchen and poured herself a box of Frosted Flutes.

“Mornin’, pumpkin.” He tipped a large thermos of steaming coffee down his gullet and did a double-take, nearly choking on it. When he finally caught his breath, he exclaimed, “You’re dressed!”

Ash was sporting a miniskirt and a top that said Nip & Suck It, a gray hoodie zipped over it. “Um, yeah. They kinda frown at going to school naked.”

“You know what I mean.” His eyes bounced to Sam and back. “You’re not prancing around in your underwear.”

Sam pulled the paper over and glued his eyes to the story about Ms. Cornell, his ears pinking. Usually, Sam didn’t notice what Ash was wearing, whether she was prancing around in her undies and a baggy shirt or a skintight miniskirt that drew attention to her ass like his eyes were magnets.

That morning, he spotted her outfit as soon as she walked into the kitchen. All he could think about, even as he scanned the article about the teacher’s tragic accident, was how badly he wanted to see her in her panties again, disheveled hair all mussed up from sleeping. He shook his head and forced his attention to the newspaper article.

Stupid, traitorous hormones…

“First off, I’ve never pranced anywhere. Second, Randy will be here in a few minutes to pick me up.” Through an overflowing bite of Frosted Flutes, she said to Sam, “I thought I texted you he was giving me a ride?”

“Nope, but it’s no big deal.” If Randy was about to show up he wanted to get out of there. He saw enough of the guy already. Unfortunately, standing up right then was a non-starter. If he did, he’d give everyone a front-row seat to what was going on in his pants.

It’s like puberty all over again!

Ash brushed past him, balancing the almost overflowing bowl. “Grab some grub before you go. You know how Dad gets if he doesn’t get to feed anyone for a while.”

“No, it’s fine, really.”

“C’mon, Sammy. I made breakfast pizza.” Bruce jumped to his feet and hurried into the kitchen. He really did love cooking for people, and with Ash’s busy social life, he didn’t get the chance that often. A steaming casserole dish emerged from the oven, and the aroma of sausage and potatoes blanketed the room.

If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

Ash disappeared upstairs, and a few minutes later, her footsteps descended the steps again. “Bye, Pops. Love ya!”

“Ashley Williams, I know you didn’t leave that bowl in your room!” The sound of the door slamming was the only response. Shaking his head, he placed a plate heaping with layers of Pillsbury pie crust, cheese, sausage, and potato in front of Sam. He dropped a similarly laden plate on the other side of the table and then two cups filled with orange juice.

“Thanks, Mr. Williams. This smells great.”

The man nodded through a bite of the piping hot casserole. He wiped a stream of grease from his chin. “Everything okay with you and Ash?”

Sam’s fork paused halfway to his mouth. Memories of last night flitted through his head like a highlight reel of his most embarrassing moments. “What do you mean?”

Bruce swallowed a long drink of coffee. He’d save the orange juice for last, as usual. “She’s been dating that…boy all school year, and I can only think of a couple times he’s driven her to school.” The words “that boy” came out of his mouth like he was chewing on broken glass.

Unbidden, images flash through Sam’s mind. Ash sitting astride him, her knees pinning his arms down. How her breasts pressed against his chest, the warm taste of her lips on his.

And then some not-so-great memories. How he had to hide his raging boner behind that stupid painting. How she noticed him checking her out in her pajamas. How she wrapped herself around that pillow like she was using it as a shield.

“Um, yeah. Everything’s fine. I think she just wants to spend time with Randy before he leaves for Spring Break.”

Mr. Williams finished his breakfast, looking for all the world like he was being forced to eat manure. The food was too hot by half for Sam, but he scarfed it down regardless. A burnt tongue was a cheap price to pay to get out of answering more questions.

“Let your mom know I’ll be around tomorrow morning sometime to take a look at that leaky faucet.”

“Will do. Thanks, Mr. Williams.”

Sam and Ash didn’t normally hang out much at school. They had their own cliques, which were drastically different from each other’s. They chatted in between classes, and in the one class they shared—third period Econ—they sat next to each other, but most of their interaction at school was via text.

When Sam got to school, he saw Randy’s car in the parking lot, but he didn’t see either of them before the bell rang for first period. Normally, he’d run into Ash on her way from second to third period, but he didn’t he didn’t see her then, either.

Randy was in second period, though, which wasn’t weird in itself. The really weird thing was that Randy was there before the bell rang. It was also strange that he looked like he’d just rolled out of bed. Randy was many things—douchebag, vapid socialite, spoiled rich boy—but one thing he wasn’t was messy. He was always put together. Clothes, hair, everything in immaculate order. Today, however, he was a mess. Rumpled clothes and dry, disheveled hair. Not wet like it normally was after his post-workout shower. Despite that, a shit-eating grin split his face nearly in two.

Sam didn’t try to hide the surprise on his face as he slipped into his desk. He opened his mouth to ask Randy where Ash was, but the bell rang, and Mr. Pinkett started talking.

Sam wasn’t the only one who noticed the change in Randy’s appearance. Veronica twisted in her seat the first chance she got. “What happened to you? You look like you just got your d—” she cut her words off with a glance toward the front of the room. “Like the cat who caught the canary.”

Scott’s brows furrowed, and his gaze bounced from Veronica to Randy and back. Finally, his eyes lit up with a dawning epiphany. Probably the first epiphany he’d ever experienced. “Daaaamn, bro. Did you finally tap that?”

Before Randy could respond, Mr. Pinkett interrupted, “Anything you’d like to share with the class?” The three students fell silent and turned their attention to the teacher.

Sam’s stomach dropped, and he looked at Randy from the corner of his eye. Was Veronica right? Did Ash finally let Randy take her to the old locker room?

God, he hoped not.

Not just because he despised Randy. Not just because Sam hadn’t been able to stop thinking about her since she’d kissed him. But because he knew Ash wasn’t ready to lose her virginity. She talked about it all the time, so Sam was well aware how nervous she was to go past third base with Randy.

The idea of her fucking Randy was bad enough. But Sam had to wonder if somehow he was responsible for the turn of events. The idea of her fucking Randy because of something he did made him sick to his stomach. He remembered her expression when Sam ogled her, how she’d hid behind the pillow.

She came downstairs today fully dressed. That she was ready that early was a miracle. And then she’d asked Randy to pick take her to school. Was it all a coincidence, or had his attention skeeved her out?

It was bad enough dredging up all these feelings that he thought he’d killed and buried. But if he was somehow responsible for her and Randy finally hooking up…he didn’t know how he could handle that.

His long-buried feelings were resurfacing like some kind of zombie. His lecherous attention could have repulsed his best friend. Not only that, but it could have been the reason she finally slept with Randy.

Everything is coming apart.

This was exactly why he’d tried so hard to bury these feelings in the first place. When she started paying attention to other boys and made it clear she wasn’t interested in him romantically, he knew he had to do something to maintain their friendship. Ash was basically family, and he wasn’t going to let his unrequited feelings drive someone else out of his life.

He needed to fix this. But how?