Page 101 of The Influencer

He wraps an arm over my shoulders and rests his palm on my arm, just above my elbow.

“How’s your brother?” I ask politely.

“He’s good. Still happy.”

“That’s wonderful. And Sawyer?”

“Sawyer’s Sawyer,” Asher says.

I laugh lightly. It only sounds a little bit as fake as it is. “And you? How are you?”

“Better now,” he says, “Sort of.”

I smile secretly. “Oh? What’s the matter?”

“You’re not naked yet—that’s an issue.”

“I’m on my period,” I tell him without missing a beat.

His exhalation screams frustration, and I’m living for it. “You seem to be trying to make a point,” he says. “Mind cluing me in? Because I’ve had enough of being manipulated, Jade.”

Ouch. Maybe this won’t be as fun as I thought it would be. I sit up and look at him. The expression on his face is guarded and tight. “You want me to be honest?” I ask.

“That’d be nice, yeah.”

“I’ve already had sex today. This morning.” I swallow hard. “It was rough, and I’m sore. I don’t want to have sex with you tonight. So, if that’s what you’re here for, it’s not a good time for me.”

“Who did you have sex with?” he asks, like he’s merely curious.

His bland question bothers me so much, I feel my cheeks redden. “His name was Henry. He’s a swimwear model. I didn’t film it, but I got a couple of pictures if you want to see.”

“Sure,” he says.

My eyes widen. “Seriously?”

“Yeah.” He holds out a hand for me to give him my phone. “I want to know who wrecked your ass so bad this morning that I can’t have it. Show me.”

Flustered, I pull up the selfie I took this morning and shove my phone at him. “Happy?”

“He’s hot,” Asher says, examining the picture so long I have to snatch back the phone.

“Do you want his number?”

“No.” He frowns at me. “What’s wrong?”

“I don’t know,” I sigh, scooting away from him and turning to face the television.

“Look, we’re not together, Jade. I’m not gonna get all bent out of shape if you hook up with someone else.”

What if I want him to? Would that be so fucking terrible? “No, that’s great. Fabulous. Same to you, I guess.” I immediately regret saying that—giving him permission to sleep with anyone. Not that it’s my permission to give…

“I’m only interested in you at the moment,” he says.

Internally I sigh with relief, on the outside I quip, “How flattering.”

Drily, he replies, “It seems like it should be, but I’m sensing some sarcasm.”

“I think I liked the dumb model better,” I mumble.

---