Elvie
They say nothing makes you feel more alive than pure anticipation. That fluttering, breathless feeling in your chest when you’re on your way to see your crush.
That was exactly how I felt as I walked through the arena doors. Excited was an understatement for how my heart was racing.
I peeked inside the paper bag in my hand. It smelled like fresh lavender detergent, clean steam from the iron, and a hint of his familiar cedar cologne. Seventeen—Asher’s lucky number was pressed neatly across the jersey.
My mind raced with silly, embarrassing daydreams. Would Asher be waiting behind the door? Would he be shirtless, pulling the jersey over his broad shoulders right in front of me? Maybe he’d give me that crooked, boyish grin that always melted my knees.
Stop it, Elvie, I scolded myself, feeling my face grow hot. You’re being ridiculous. You see him every morning.
I lived under the same roof, made his bed, heard his heavy footsteps down the hall, and poured his juice before morning practice.
I turned the corner down the hallway toward the training arena, humming a quiet tune to myself.
A sudden whimper cut through the hall, and my legs froze, a cold, sickening knot twisting violently in my stomach.
"Fuck... you feel so damn good," The familiar voice of Asher gravelly groaned from inside the slightly ajar door. "So fucking tight!"
"Harder... please. Fuck me, Asher!"
"Always," Asher grunted, the heavy thuds against the lockers quickening.
My heart slammed frantically against my ribs. No... no. I stretched my trembling hands on autopilot and pushed the door open just a few inches wider.
My eyes widened in horror. Asher was pressed against the row of gray lockers, his hockey pants pushed down around his knees. In his arms was a girl with long platinum-blonde hair, her bare legs wrapped tightly around his waist, her head thrown back as he drove into her with rough force.
My gaze dropped to the floor, where a blue and gold cheer top lay shredded and torn in half near a pile of hockey gear.
Then I looked back up at the familiar face. Lexi Montgomery, the golden girl and leader of the varsity cheer team.
My fingers lost all their strength. The white paper bag slipped from my grip, hitting the hard concrete floor with a loud rustle.
The sound sliced right through the heavy air, making them both freeze.
Lexi slowly lowered her head, looking over Asher’s broad shoulder. When her blue eyes landed on me standing in the doorway, there was no panic. Just a smug grin that spread across her lips.
Asher didn’t scramble to pull away. Instead, he leaned down and kissed Lexi deeply right before my eyes, his tongue sliding into her mouth while his hands gripped her bare thighs. Lexi let out a soft giggle against his lips, her eyes locked onto mine with pure mockery.
He slowly set Lexi down on her feet, pulled up his pants, completely unbothered, and turned his head in my direction with a cold, arrogant smirk.
"Well, well," he drawled, his voice flat and devoid of warmth. "Look who finally showed up."
A painful lump formed in my throat, choking off my voice. Hot tears rushed to my eyes, blurring his face into a sickening smear. "What... what is going on?"
Asher scoffed flippantly, crossing his arms over his broad chest. "We got a little carried away and I tore her top."
He took a slow step forward, leaning in close as his gaze raked down my body from head to toe with blatant disgust.
"A girl with a body like Lexi’s would turn way too many heads walking across campus half-naked," he drawled, his tone dripping with mockery. "She’s actually got curves worth looking at, and I can’t have other guys staring at what’s mine."
The words struck me like a physical blow to the chest, knocking whatever air was left right out of my lungs. I hadn’t rushed here to save his game day. I had dropped everything, skipped my homework, and spent twenty minutes carefully ironing his jersey just so I could be met with this.
"Asher... how could you?" I choked out, the tears spilling over my cheek. "You told me—"
"I told you whatever I needed to say so you’d keep doing my laundry and cooking my meals," he snapped coldly, taking a step toward the doorway to tower over me. "Did you honestly think we would ever be a thing, Elvie? Did you really convince yourself that a guy like me would ever want someone like you?"
"Look at yourself," he scoffed, his eyes raking over me with pure disgust. "You’re a plain, boring charity case my family took in out of pity. You’re nothing more than a convenient, live-in maid who exists to do whatever the hell I tell you to do."
"Aww, look at her face, Ash," Lexi chimed in, stepping up beside him and resting her chin on his bare shoulder with a venomous grin, not bothering to cover her breast poking out of her lace bra. "She actually thought she had a chance. Did you really think you could compete with me, maid girl? You’re completely lifeless. You don’t even know how to touch a real man."
"She isn’t even attractive," Asher added with a cruel laugh, driving the knife deeper into my shattered chest. "You’re an ice sculpture, Elvie. Beautiful to look at, but completely lifeless. Now wipe off your tears and get the hell out of my face."
**
The cold night wind bit into my skin, but I barely felt it. My chest ached with a pain so deep it made every breath feel like inhaling glass. The image of Asher and Lexi kept circling in my head.
I didn’t know where my feet were taking me until I finally slowed to a stop.
When I looked up, the warm glow of Mrs. Eleanor’s bookstore was shining through the glass.
Walking out of the only home I had known since my parents died felt terrifying and reckless. But the only person I had stayed for. The boy I had always loved made it brutally clear that I was nothing more than a convenient maid.
The little brass bell chimed softly above the door as I stepped inside.
Mrs. Eleanor looked up from behind the wooden counter. The moment her gaze dropped to my face, deep concern etched across her features. She immediately set her book down and rushed around the counter. "Elvie? Sweetheart, what happened? Are you okay?"
I had found Mrs. Eleanor’s bookstore two years ago while looking for art supplies. Since then, whenever the mansion felt suffocating, I would hide between Eleanor’s dusty bookshelves for hours to sketch and study.
Over time, the gentle, gray-haired woman had become the only person in town who ever asked how my day was. I couldn’t believe my feet had dragged me here in my most vulnerable moment.
I swallowed hard, biting the inside of my cheek to keep from breaking down completely. "I’m fine," I lied, looking down at the floor. "I was just wondering... can I sit in the corner and study for an hour?"
Mrs. Eleanor looked at me with soft, knowing eyes, seeing straight through my lie. She gently placed a warm hand on my shoulder.
"You don’t have to pretend with me, Elvie," she said softly. "Come on. You can stay for as long as you need. The spare room upstairs is completely vacant."
"Mrs. Eleanor, I can’t impose—"
"Hush," she said gently. "I am not complaining."
She led me up to a small, cozy room above the shop. It had a warm quilt on a single bed, a wooden desk by the window, and a comforting scent of vanilla and old paper.
"Thank you so much, Mrs. Eleanor," I whispered, my voice cracking.
"It’s completely fine, sweetheart. I understand."
As she turned toward the door, I hesitated. "Mrs. Eleanor? I’m sorry to ask for more, but... can I borrow your laptop for a little while?"
"Of course." she said with a smile and left.
A minute later, she returned with an old silver laptop and charger. "Take all the time you need. Try to get some sleep tonight."
"Thank you, Mrs. Eleanor," I whispered.
She nodded and left. Once the door clicked shut, the heavy silence of the room wrapped around me.
I looked around the room one more time before reaching into the pockets of my jeans, pulling out everything I had on me.
A lip balm, a hair tie, and eight crumpled dollar bills.
I couldn’t impose on Mrs. Eleanor’s kindness for free while she struggled to keep an independent shop afloat, but eight dollars wouldn’t even buy me breakfast tomorrow.
Suddenly, my phone vibrated sharply in my hand. My heart skipped a beat. A part of me warned me not to look, but curiosity kept me on edge. With shaking fingers, I turned the phone and unlocked the screen.
Asher: I see you never came home after the arena. Did you really run off like a crybaby over what happened? Stop being so pathetic, Elvie. If you’re that desperate for attention, come back to the house tonight. I’ll do you a favor and fuck you once. Lights off, though. I wouldn’t want to have to look at your face.
I stared at the glowing screen as fresh, scorching tears blurred the words. I had thought catching him with Lexi had hurt as much as humanly possible, but this cruel, casual message tore whatever dignity I had left into dust.
A suffocating ache clamped around my throat. No. I was never going back there.
Wiping the tears furiously from my cheeks, I sat down and flipped open the laptop Mrs Eleanor handed to me. I typed local job listings into the search bar.
Fifteen minutes into scrolling through page after page of student jobs, but my heart sank with every click. Part-time barista. Library assistant. Campus desk clerk. None of them paid enough to cover rent.
I was about to exit out of the tab when a listing at the very top of the board caught my eye:
URGENT: Live-in Housekeeper Needed for Private Residence.
Secluded villa outside town. Private bedroom and bathroom, all meals covered, with generous weekly pay. Must be quiet, reliable, and available immediately.
My fingers froze over the keyboard. A sharp, familiar pain twisted in my gut. A housekeeper.
Asher’s cruel sneer echoed right back in my head: You’re nothing more than a convenient, live-in maid.
The last thing my pride wanted was to clean someone else’s house again. I wanted a fresh start. I wanted to prove that I was capable of more. But the harsh reality was staring me right in the face: cleaning, cooking, and maintaining a large estate was practically all I had done for years. I had the experience, I was good at it, and this job came with a private room and food.
I swallowed my pride. Survival came first. Taking a deep breath, I quickly filled in my details, listed my years of estate maintenance experience, and hit sbmit.
I let out a long, shaky exhale, leaning back against the chair. Normal job applications took days, sometimes weeks, to get a reply. At least I had taken the first step.
Whatever happens tomorrow I will figure it out.
A bright notification banner popped up at the top of the screen making my breath hitch. Nobody answered job applications at nine o’clock at night within thirty seconds of submitting, right?
Slowly, with cold fingers, I clicked the notification and my heart stopped dead in my chest. What?