Page 151 of The Influencer

He shakes his head.

I rub his hair, trying my best not to mess it up.

“I’m so confused,” he moans.

Join the club, I want to tell him. “You don’t have to do it, Jade.”

“But I want to want to do it. I just don’t.”

“Then cancel,” I say.

“You’ll be pissed if I cancel. He’ll be pissed. I’ll be pissed at myself.”

“I will not be pissed.” Concerned, yes, more confused, for sure, but pissed would not come into play. What bothers me is that I might actually be relieved, and maybe that’s one of the answers I’ve been looking for. It doesn’t solve the overall problem of this whole fling being temporary, but it does solve the immediate problem of trying to figure out how I feel about “sharing” my “boyfriend” with other men. Maybe sharing is the wrong word—lending? But he’s not mine to lend or give—fuck. How did I wind up here exactly? Nipple fetish? Shit… now look at me.

“Come here,” I say.

He lifts his head, and I kiss him. It starts off hard and borderline possessive but goes soft when I feel him melt in my mouth.

I scoot my chair away from the table and haul him onto my lap. He straddles me, and I run my hands up his back, sealing my mouth tightly to his.

After several minutes, I finally break away, drawing in a deep breath. “I don’t like feeling like I’m pressuring you.”

He blinks, staring down at my mouth but not meeting my eyes. “I think the pressure’s coming from both of us if I’m being honest.”

“I just don’t want there to be any regrets.”

Jade looks into my eyes like he’s trying to translate volumes from what I’ve just said. He cups my face and presses his forehead to mine, speaking softly. “We’ll figure it out,” he says, and it mystifies me the same way it always does when he says stuff like that.

Figure what out? How to co-exist for the next three months and not screw each other’s lives up too much in the process? It’s not like he’s not about to go off on a tour. He’ll fuck other people. I might do the same thing. For all intents and purposes, we’ll be breaking up—whatever this is—and he’ll be gone. And I’m not gonna stop him from leaving even though I feel more and more like it’s gonna fucking suck.

We have a plan. We’re implementing the plan, but I’m now on the verge of saying wait—pump the brakes on the plan. Because the plan sucks, too. What if it puts distance between us I don’t want? We already wasted an entire day barely speaking to each other.

“Jade, I am so fucked up,” I whisper.

His thumb strokes my eyebrow. “How are you fucked up?”

I grab his ass and shift him closer, holding him in place. “Because I want you right here. All the time. Just like this. I want to sew us together. I want to read your mind and feel all the things you feel. I just fucking want you.”

“You’ve got me, Asher. Where have I gone?”

“You’re going, though. And I can’t keep you, and it fucks me up.”

Another smooth gentle stroke. “Why does it fuck you up?”

“I just said.” Now I’m the one pouting.

“Say more.”

I shake my head. “No, it’ll just fuck me up worse.”

“Wanna hear something funny?” he asks.

“Sure.”

“Being with you is the only time I don’t feel fucked up.”

I sigh. “How is that funny? Or helpful? At all?”

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