Destructively Oblivious

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If you’ve made it to this point, it means you finished Destructively Oblivious and I am incredibly grateful for you. I hope you enjoyed reading my story as much as I enjoyed writing it.

I enjoyed writing it so much that I didn’t want to let Asher and Chloe’s story end just yet. So, regardless of my laziness and my motivation that wans more and more every year, I’m going to continue their story in my second book, Destructively Devoted. I’m quite excited to spend all my time writing this story. And I hope you’re patient enough to let me finish and read it when it’s ready.

If you would like a sneak peak of this new story, continue on reading, and if not, well... keep reading anyway.

Thanks for reading my hot-trash-can-on-fire-story! Hope you enjoyed yourself.



With Chloe and Asher’s up and coming relationship, the brand new couple pledged never to inflict the destructive pain that came along with their friendship, hurting both of them in the process. Just like their friendship, their relationship is far from perfect, constant pressures and overwhelming obstacles thrown into their heavenish-hell. And with both the couple’s painful pasts catching up with them, the mistakes, memories, and secrets all play a part in igniting the hardships. Returning parents, past loves, and rigid jealousy are only some of the difficulties catapulted into the lives of the two. For every duo, life offers new challenges around every corner, and the pair has never been good at challenges.


The story contains violent scenes, strong language, scenes of questionable appropriateness, and will make you angry, sad, happy, in love, irritated, along with numerous other emotions that I take no account for. :)


© 2018 Wriiter

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, without the prior written permission of the publisher. For permission requests, write to the publisher.



*Chloe’s Point of View*

Sunday, February 17th

The morning breeze came fast, in a single gust of wind, right through the open window and onto my quite freezing (and quite naked) body. The cool air loosened my spine with a chill, waking me suddenly, and I opened my eyes, one exhausted lid at a time. Lying on my side, I noticed that, though the previously warm room had grown cold from the chilled air, the sun was shining brightly through the cabin window.

I internally cursed Asher for opening it the night before when he’d complained, with a scowl, that the temperature of our room reminded him of the hottest day of the summer the year prior. I had laughed, asking the reason behind his annoyed expression and overdramatic comparison.

Reminiscing on the past summer, he explained that his mother had wanted to kill him that day when she realized he’d forgotten to put sunscreen on his younger sister, Prim, after taking her to the park on such a hot day. He frowned when talking about how bad he’d felt about being at fault for Prim’s sunburn, then rolled his eyes as he said something about how Amy yelled at him about it for weeks afterward.

He told me this story all while getting out of bed and opening said window because, long story short, the room was too hot.

And as he recited the memory to me, I watched him from under the covers with a small smile, uncaring as to if the window was open or closed as long as he returned to the bed, and my arms, as quickly as possible.

The memory of Asher the night before led me to my third observation of the morning, besides the brutal breeze and the radiant sun. The arm, gently relaxing across my waist, reminded me of Asher’s presence behind me and was doing an even better job at keeping me warm than the expensive quilt I was underneath. That warm arm was connected to an equally warm chest that was nestled against my back, and I’d never in my life felt so comfortable.

Gradually, I turned in his embrace, facing my sleeping boyfriend who looked about as peaceful as I felt. It had been less than twelve hours since we’d started dating but lying there in his arms, it felt more natural than anything else I’d become accustomed to.

Our friendship hadn’t started out nor ended in the simplest of ways. It had begun over my inability to check both ways before crossing the street (not to mention Asher’s failure to notice when something was in his path) and ended with rain-soaked confessions about how we each felt. I found extreme comfort in the fact I had fallen in love with one of my best friends and that he, crazily, felt the same way about me.

With a smile still cemented to my lips, I reached forward, setting my hand in his thick, dark brown hair, allowing my fingers to get lost in the strands. He was beautiful. Perfect, really. His strong jaw. The angle of his nose. His soft lips. The sun’s rays had cast directly onto his face and I was envious of the way the warmth was kissing his skin.

Stroking my thumb against his cheek, I hoped I wouldn’t wake him. I was sure no excuse would be sufficient enough if he were to open his eyes and see me watching him in his sleep. And yet, a part of me wished he would wake as I craved to see his light, toffee-colored irises. The ones that reminded me of the perfect shade of coffee...

“Coffee,” I breathed, suddenly wishing for a cup in my hands, then winced at my own outburst as I stared at Asher’s sleeping face through squinted eyes.

When the seconds passing proved I hadn’t woken him, I removed my hand from his face, stretching my sore limbs insignificantly, drawing myself up. I caught a glimpse of my hair through the vanity mirror that sat right across from the bed and cringed. I looked like I needed a shower.

Forgetting about my cup of coffee and my boyfriend’s cup-of-coffee-colored eyes, I leaned over the bed, reaching those still sore limbs towards the ground in search of any clothing. Singling in on the black piece of cloth in my reach, I snapped it from the wood floor, tossing it over my head. I quickly noticed the oversized shirt undoubtedly belonged to Asher, but that much didn’t matter.

I regretfully pulled myself from the mattress and made my way into the hall, achingly. My body felt overworked and I knew that last night’s overindulgence would have every inch of me sore for at least a week.

I shut the bedroom door behind me as I entered the hallway, the floor creaking beneath my feet. Letting out a yawn, I glimpsed around the wood cabin, taking in the cozy, yet unfamiliar place. Two steps from the bathroom door, a noise from behind startled me from my shower-trance, and I flipped around, watching a curly-haired head exit the room beside mine.

Andy, whose parents owned the cabin we were shacking up in for the weekend, rubbed his eyes tiredly, muttering a few quiet words to whoever was still inside the room he was leaving. I assumed he was talking to his girlfriend, Jamie, who was more commonly known as my best friend.

He shut the door behind himself, locking eyes with me from across the hall. With a weak smile, he lifted a finger in a greeting. “Mornin’ Chlo.”

I set my hand on the knob of the bathroom door as I returned his regards. “Good morning, Andy.”

He yawned as he made his way over to me. “Jamie wants to go to the lake today, cool?”

I nodded, deciding against informing him the water was probably freezing. If my stubborn best friend wanted to go to the lake, it wouldn’t be up for discussion. I would probably be relaxing out of the water anyway. I took in the sight of Andy’s year-round olive skin, glimpsing down at my own. Being half Columbian helped me tan slightly but I still wished I’d gotten more sun.

Andy stepped past me and headed in the direction of the kitchen. With his back to me, he asked, “Did you have fun last night?”

I couldn’t see his expression, but his tone was packed with an amusement that I couldn’t understand. Not sure which part of my night he was referring to — the part where I’d obtained a boyfriend or when Asher and I had shut ourselves in the bedroom for the rest of the night — I answered, “Very much so.”

He abruptly faced me, chucking. “Yeah, I could tell.”

He turned the corner into the kitchen after that, but I could still hear his amusement. I swiftly stepped into the bathroom, shutting the door behind me and praying that his question had been as innocent as my answer had been, but knowing it hadn’t.

Steam filled the room as I cut the shower on, and the water was piping hot when I placed my hand inside to test it. I tugged at the bottom of the large black shirt I had on before stepping leisurely onto the shower’s ceramically tiled floor. I allowed the water to trail onto my head, altering the color of my brown hair to black as each drop fell onto the fibers.

I let it hammer over my head in clouded rivulets. The water soaked my skin in a matter of seconds, the hot steamed rivers massaging cramped muscles. As I relaxed in the steam, my mind wandered to other places besides the cold tiles and piping H20.

My thoughts landed where they usually did, which was on the subject of Asher. I thought back on the previous night: the way he looked in the rain, his soft voice, his desperation, how his lips formed the words I love you. Then, I thought back on the last few months I’d shared with him. I couldn’t wipe the smile off my face. Despite the hot water, I might have been frozen that way.

My mom was the second person to enter my train of thought. I would have to call and tell her about me and Asher. Still in Utah, only three months into her four-month-long business trip (the one that left me bunking at Asher’s house), she’d be excited to hear the news about the person I constantly talked to her about over the phone. She’d always liked Asher.

Asher’s mom, Amy, was the next person to invade my thoughts. I didn’t know how Amy, who was kind enough to let me stay at her house while my mom was away, would react to Asher and my relationship. From the way things looked to me, she didn’t exactly seem thrilled after she’d walked in on the two of us... misbehaving, or at least that was how I’d put it. Although I don’t know how else I could have expected her to react, given the circumstances.

I pushed that humiliating incident from my brain and internally agreed to cross that bridge when I got to it. My brain wandered elsewhere, thankfully, and ten minutes and a hundred thoughts later, I stepped from the bathroom back into the hallway. Once again dolled up in Asher’s shirt, I entered my temporary room, walking towards the vanity and mirror to dig through my bag on top of it. I peaked upwards and watched Asher’s sleeping body on the bed through the mirror before I continued my search.

*Asher’s Point Of View*

Why the hell did I open that window last night? It’s fucking freezing.

Cinching my eyes shut, I forced them open, cringing at the intense sun blaring through the blinds. Had it not been seven in the morning and too bright to function, I would have appreciated the view of the lake from the window. I heard shuffling towards the end of the bed and looked down, my eyes landing on an even better view.

Chloe, digging through her bag, was wearing my shirt from the day before, which ended right below her ass. My mind abruptly wandered to what she had on underneath it and, dying to find out, I ached to have her back in my arms.

Her freshly washed hair was soaking the back of said shirt, and my tilting lips dropped into a frown. She was going to steal that shirt from me. In fact, as my girlfriend, I probably didn’t have a thing in my closet that she wouldn’t claim as her own.

My grin was back a second later as I mulled over what I had said: my girlfriend.

That same girlfriend lifted something from the bag swiftly, only for it to slip from her fingers and slam against the wooden floor, which resulted in a loud sound. She scowled. I chuckled, watching her intensely.

She was clumsy as hell, which was part of the reason we’d met in the first place. My erratic driving had caused her inept ass to drop her dolphin keychain, leading to my returning it, which explained the nickname I’d given her.

Dolphin’s eyes found mine as she hastily shifted to face me, afraid the loud thwack of her lotion bottle hitting the floor had woken me up. It hadn’t. No, my consciousness was my own fault, and the window I had stupidly opened. Not yet knowing that, her face turned guilty.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you.” She winced. I pulled my drained-of-energy-self onto my elbow, my sore muscles flexing as I did. Rubbing one of my eyes to summon it awake, I shook my head at the adorable-natured girl.

“You didn’t wake me.” I snapped my eyes toward the open curtain. “The stupid window did.”

Her guilt melded into a sneer as she crossed her arms over her chest. “And whose idea was it to open the stupid window?”

Rubbing my other eye, I smiled and waved her attention away. She bent down to pick up the bottle as I once again took in the sight of her damp hair. My mind finally connected the pieces and I made my way into a seated position, the blanket falling from my bare chest to my lap.

“Did I miss the shower?” I whined. Dol giggled at my inquiry, the sound music to my ears, and nodded, watching my expression descend into a frown as I grumbled, “I would have gladly gotten up if I knew I was missing such an event.”

The honest comment awarded me with another laugh as she turned swiftly, her elbow knocking my wallet from the vanity. She really was clumsy. The leather echoed as it hit the floor, and whatever had fallen out of it spilled in all directions. Dol wrinkled her nose towards the ground, instantly annoyed.

“Goddammit, Ash. Your stupid condoms fell everywhere... again.” She bent down to pick up her own mess. “Who needs this many condoms?”

I laughed gently from the bed, watching her stand from the ground, wallet in hand. I wrinkled my nose and let a cocky smile grow on my face. “I didn’t hear you complaining about the obscene amount of condoms last night.”

That was true; she had definitely not been complaining. I let my gaze flicker over the bed, noting the jumbled mess of the comforter and sheets. Chloe and I had made pretty good use of this bed last night. I had spent the hours before alternating between making her cry out repeatedly and listening to her reminisce while she laid on me.

Sometimes in the sparse bits of silence, as she nestled against me, she would ask me questions about myself that I wouldn’t know how to answer. I tried to tell her stories about things I’d done, but they were all either more infamous or more personal than her own accounts. I loved listening to her speak, so letting her do most of the talking was easy.

Each time we finished, she would comfortably snuggle against me in some way and I would offer another question or make an observation with the intent of hearing her voice, and though her stories were random and the memories were scattered throughout her years, I listened intently to each word that fell from her lips.

On her stomach, she laid across me with her chin gently resting on my chest and told me about the day she’d met Jamie, which was prompted by my asking about her moving to San Francisco. She left out all the parts of the story about what it was like to actually move cities and instead explained that during her first week of high school, and subsequently her first week of track, she’d met her best friend. According to Chloe, a previous leg injury had forced her to walk the track during practice and Jamie stayed behind to walk with her.

Later in the night, when she was laying perpendicular to me with her head against my ribs, I ran my fingers slowly through her hair and asked about the diner where she worked. She told me about the summer when her brother had gone to college in LA when she was 17, and how devastated she’d been when he left. She explained she took over his job as a distraction for the lonely house, and because she wanted the pocket money.

And when she was beneath me and my lips were wandering over the crook of her neck, she whispered how much she’d missed me during our weeks without one another, how she loved me, how every painful second apart had been worth it to be here with me.

I returned the affectionate words as I kissed every square inch of her face and when she was ready, I slid inside of her again, making up for lost time over the course of many hours before she fell asleep in my arms, where she belonged.

“You are hilarious,” Chloe deadpanned, tossing the wallet into my lap, which pulled me out of the memory of the most significant night I’d ever spent with anyone and back into the present. Almost. I was still a little caught in the past few hours, remembering the night again in detail, then remembering it a third time.

The sounds of her pleasure from the hours prior reverberated through my brain and, from the memory alone, I could feel myself rising to the occasion, so to speak.

Flinging the leather onto the nightstand beside me, I smiled at the agitated girl. Abruptly, my body pleaded to have her in my arms and I motioned her closer to me, happy when she obliged with a knee on the end of the bed. Not nearly as close as I wanted her, I slid my fingertips from her thigh to her hip, securing my grasp and drawing her up and onto my blanket-covered lap.

When she straddled the sides of me, I realized she was not wearing anything underneath the shirt which cast a smile on my face, while her expression of fraudulent annoyance morphed into bliss once she was atop me. I set my hands, the ones that had been throbbing to hold her, on her waist, staring into her oceanic blue eyes that had had me hooked for months.

“I’m your boyfriend?” I asked her. She giggled at my abrupt inquiry, then nodded. “And you’re my girlfriend?” I added. Playfully pushing a palm against my shoulder, she tilted her head to the side.

“That’s kind of how this works,” she mocked, repeating the words I had said to her the previous night when she asked me a similar question. Continuing her ridicule, her face fell into a soft expression. “We’ll be together for as long as you want me.”

I leaned in, very anxious to place a kiss on her entertained lips. I knew I probably seemed crazed by how enthusiastic I was about touching her this morning but I couldn’t help it. I’d spent too many sleepless nights without her in my arms to abandon the opportunity in front of me— longest three months of my life.


Sneak peak? Finished.

Destructively Oblivious? Finished.

Asher and Chloe’s story? Just beginning. Thanks for reading! :)

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