Malia I watched Asher as he sat on my bed, his gaze drifting over my room with a quiet curiosity. His eyes lingered on the pale blue walls, softened by the amber glow of the bedside lamp, and he gave a slight nod. “I like the color,” he murmured. “Thanks,” I replied, sitting down beside him, aware of the closeness that made the air between us feel charged. For a moment, I was lost, studying him in the warm light. He looked tired with faint bruises tracing shadows on his skin. But it didn’t make him any less striking. If anything, the exhaustion gave him a realness I rarely saw, as if all the guarded layers he kept around him had finally slipped away. When his eyes found mine, he tilted his mouth in a small, lopsided smile. “Nice view, huh?” he teased, his voice soft but teasing. “Jerk.” I looked away, feeling a blush rise to my cheeks. Clearing my throat, I steadied my breathing. “I, um… I heard about your father’s attack. Is he… okay?” The teasing glint in Asher’s eyes fad
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