Page 9

Chapter Eight

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I hadn’t expected this to be the way Asher would end up in my house for the first time. Not like this. Not in the middle of a party, under the pretense of "exposure therapy." But here he was, and I couldn’t pretend it didn’t make me feel something, something tight and tangled just beneath my skin.

He looked good. Not in his usual camera-ready way, either. He was quieter than usual, brows pinched with unease as he circled the dessert table like he was trying not to be noticed. There was a small pout on his lips when he skipped past the chocolate options. I watched him quietly.

He doesn’t like chocolate. I didn’t know that. And I hate that I didn’t know.

Still, he was here. In my house. Not with his so-called boyfriend. He gave that up so quickly when I told him to create distance, it was almost too easy. He didn’t argue. Didn’t resist. That small compliance sparked something deep in my chest, a sick satisfaction I didn’t care to examine too closely.

Wendy was clinging to my arm, her voice in my ear like static. She was smiling and talking and laughing at all the right cues, but I couldn’t concentrate. I kept watching Asher.

I needed to get him alone before he slipped away and ruined the entire evening.

“Asher,” I said, cutting through Wendy’s endless chatter. I turned to her with a polite smile. “I’m going to show him around a bit, alright?”

She smiled back, too easily. “Of course.”

Finally, she let go of my arm, and I made my way toward Asher just in time to catch the moment he bit into a deviled egg, and immediately spat it out, grimacing, napkin in hand. I almost laughed, but more than that, I was grateful to see him react like himself for once. A little drama, a little flair. Something familiar.

I approached from behind, close enough that my elbow brushed against his side as I reached for a drink beside him. His body tensed slightly. His brown eyes flicked up toward me, less guarded than I’d expected, but dimmer than I liked.

“Would you like me to show you around?” I asked smoothly, offering a practiced smile. “I can start with my bedroom.”

He flushed slightly but covered it with a smirk. “Sure. I’ve always wanted to see how the other half lives.”

I smiled back, suppressing the urge to reach for his hand. I didn’t. But the urge was there.

I guided him through the crowd, ignoring every lingering glance and idle conversation around us. None of it mattered now. He was here. Following me.

If only he knew what it had taken for me to get this house. I moved here for him. Changed my life for him. He didn’t know that. Not yet. But one day, he would.

“This is my bedroom,” I said as I opened the door. The space was clean, almost pristine. A king-sized bed with firm pillows and dark sheets. A walk-in closet. A full en-suite bathroom, complete with a jetted tub.

He wandered around the space with wide eyes. It was obvious how different this was from his apartment. I watched his face closely, wondering if he could ever feel at home here. If he could imagine this space as ours.

He paused by the closet, then popped his head into the bathroom.

“You have a jacuzzi?” he asked, disbelief written all over his face. “That’s… a bit much. How do you even afford this?”

I chuckled softly. “Well, I do own my own practice.”

He rolled his eyes. “Yeah, but still. A jacuzzi? That’s kind of lame.”

The comment hit me harder than it should have. I froze for a second. “You wouldn’t want one?”

He shrugged. “Wouldn’t fit in my place.”

Then, like it meant nothing, he strolled over to the bed and sat down. He bounced once, testing the mattress. “Comfy,” he muttered, then looked up at me and bit his lip.

I didn’t miss the look.

This was it. Not the ideal moment, maybe not even the right one. But he was here. Sitting on my bed. Wearing that shirt. Biting that lip. I couldn’t ignore it.

I turned and quietly locked the door.

The click echoed.

Asher sat up straight, his brows pulling together. “What was that?”

“I locked it,” I said, keeping my tone even. Letting the words hang in the air.

He stood up quickly, clearly uneasy. “Why?”

He knew why. I stepped toward him, and he stepped back, instinctively, until the backs of his knees hit the bed and he sat down hard.

“I—what are you doing?” he asked, voice thin, brittle. There was fear in it. But not just fear.

“Asher,” I said gently, lifting his chin with one hand. His skin was warm, soft beneath my fingers. “Why did you come here?”

He avoided my gaze, mumbling, “I don’t know. I didn’t… I don’t have anything else going on.”

I tilted his chin back toward me.

“Why do you think I invited you?”

His eyes darted toward the door. Something shifted in his face, and then he just… collapsed. Emotion drained from him all at once, like someone pulled the plug.

“…Because I’m fuckable.”

He didn’t say it like it was a compliment. His voice was small. Defeated. Like it was something he’d been told a hundred times and finally believed.

I let go of his chin. “Why would you say that?”

“Because that’s what men think,” he snapped. “You think you can lock me in a room and treat me like your fuckable little fantasy.”

His voice shook. But instead of running, he started tearing back the covers. His hands went to the buttons of his shirt.

“Fine.”

I stood frozen. “Asher, what are you doing?”

He looked at me, eyes glassy with unshed tears. “Don’t play dumb. I know what this is.”

He snapped his wrist out of my reach when I tried to stop him.

I grabbed him again, this time gently, cupping his face with both hands. He tensed, but didn’t pull away.

His chest heaved. He wasn’t crying yet, but he was close.

“Asher,” I whispered, “what’s wrong?”

He shoved me weakly. “You locked the door! What do you think is wrong? Do you think I’m new to this?”

“I just wanted privacy. To talk.”

He wasn’t listening. His eyes were wild, lips trembling.

Then something broke. He stopped resisting. His arms wrapped around my neck, legs curling around my waist as if on instinct. Like a reflex.

He buried his face in my shoulder and clung to me.

“Shh,” I whispered, holding him tighter. “You’re okay. I’ve got you.”

He weighed nothing in my arms. A boy who had been hurt too many times. A boy who still didn’t know what safety looked like.

There was a knock at the door, but I ignored it. Whoever it was, they could wait.

Asher needed me.

And I wasn’t letting him go.