Touched by Corrine Jackson

tug on the end of the crimson and pink-striped knit scarf wrapped around my neck. Asher walked away with my scarf wrapped around his hand, and I rushed after him to avoid strangulation. Admiring the muscles shifting in his back as he towed me to an empty table and pulled out a plastic chair for me was a bonus. His stubborn expression made it clear I could sit or be seated, but I paused as long as I dared before complying.
    He sat across from me, not his usual superior and amused self. In the last couple weeks, I’d learned he could be charming—a favorite with the puck bunnies and the teachers. I’d thought Asher basked in their adoration, but lately I was convinced there was more to him. For all his admirers, he seemed lonely. This speechless Asher was new.
    A waitress slammed a soda and a basket containing my cheeseburger and fries on the table. I popped a fry in my mouth while I stared, fascinated, and waiting to see what Asher would do next.
    One hand shoved through his hair, and he said, “So, here’s the thing . . .”
    I wondered if his frustration meant his control could slip. My own ability felt tied to my emotions at times, so I reinforced my mental barricade to be safe.
    With a groan, he rolled his eyes, his hair a gorgeous mess from his impatient hand. “Could you stop that, please?”
    “Stop what?” I asked, in confusion.
    “The wall thing. It’s distracting the way you’re always raising and lowering it. Keep it up, and we’ll both be okay.”
    “Shh!” I looked both ways to ensure our conversation remained private. “Keep your voice down, okay?”
    Despite my irritation, I couldn’t deny any longer that I was drawn to him. I yearned to know what he knew about my abilities and why he didn’t seem to think me a freak for having them. And then there were his talents and my desire to know more about why he was constantly testing my walls.
    “We need to talk. I wish we had more privacy, but . . .” He indicated someone behind me.
    When I shifted in my seat to see whom he’d gestured to, five sets of inquisitive eyes stared at me, waiting for me to call their bet. I waved at Lucy and nodded once in answer to her silent question. She punched a fist in the air and turned to a disgruntled Greg with her palm up and a smug smile. Susan gave a loud whoop as he pulled out his wallet to pay off the bet.
    Asher watched the whole thing with bemusement, while I dumped ketchup on my fries.
    “You owe me ten bucks.” I chewed a fry with slow deliberation. “Although, to be fair, Lucy did offer to split the pot with me.”
    Dark eyebrows rose. “What was that about?” he asked.
    “Trust me. You don’t want to know.” I brushed salt off my hands with a napkin. “You were saying?”
    Instead of answering, Asher swiped my cheeseburger and took a huge bite.
    I eyed him as I sipped my soda. “You’re playing with fire, Blackwell.” When he reached for a fry, he barely missed getting stabbed by my fork. “I’m hungry.”
    Asher grinned and returned my cheeseburger. “So am I. I saw you when I walked in and forgot to order dinner.” His expression sobered. “You can’t keep ignoring this.” He waved a hand between us, daring me to deny the truth.
    Having come to the same realization, I nodded in reluctant acceptance.
    Asher studied me for a moment, his gaze tracing over my face and neck. “You remember the day we met on the beach?”
    My response came hesitantly as I wondered where this was going. “Yes.”
    “You never asked why I took your picture.”
    “I figured it was obvious.” I gestured to where bruises had colored my face that day.
    His angry frown didn’t mar his good looks in the least. “You thought I was taking pictures of your bruises?”
    “What else?”
    “Remy, that’s ridiculous.”
    “Right. It must’ve been my astounding beauty in all its glorious high-def clarity that caught your attention.”
    Asher leaned forward and slid a hand across the table until his hand