Page 157 of The Influencer

My so-called “independence” came when Adam started seeing Sawyer, and I started seeing Olivia. He got lucky that his toxic codependency morphed into a mostly healthy relationship, but mine festered and ate away at me until I lost my entire sense of self for good, or what little I had of it to begin with.

Jade knows me. He, in so many ways, uncovered me. Or maybe he even made me. And because of this—because I know this, and my therapist has warned me about this—I can’t make Jade my world at the risk of losing myself again, not when I’m just starting to unearth me in the first place.

So, what am I supposed to say?

“Maybe you’re right.” The words come out of my mouth without a whole lot of thought behind them. I’m running on pure instinct right now. Fight or flight. “Maybe it’s better if we get a little space.”

He freezes. His hands cupping water that’s now spilling over his palms. Our eyes meet in the mirror again.

I clear my throat and continue. “I mean, it sounds like you might need a break from me. I know I can be a little, um…” Needy. “Kind of a drag.”

“Who told you that?” he asks sharply. “I never said that.”

“Basically everyone I’ve ever met.”

“Not me.”

“No,” I concede, “Not you, but you’re implying a few things tonight I’m not sure I want to delve into.”

“Asher.” He cuts off the tap, wipes off his face with one of the microfiber cloths I’m not allowed to touch, and whirls to face me. “You’re not a fucking drag, and I don’t know what you’re thinking right now, but it’s wrong.”

“What I’m thinking is that you want something from me that I can’t give you right now, and that’s hurting you, and I don’t want to be another person in your life who hurts you.”

He swallows hard, his Adam’s apple really having to work to accomplish it. “Okay, so maybe you’re mostly right, but if you didn’t want to hurt me, that train already left the station. I’m hurt. So there.”

I take a leaden breath and nod. I figured.

“And you?” he asks. “Are you hurt?”

“I’m… not happy.”

“I mean, that’s obvious.”

I think I might be shaking a little. My hands have this sudden need to clench and open, clench and open. Maybe it’s an earthquake. A mild one not everyone feels, but I’ve been super sensitive to them since I moved here. I forgot about “tough Jade.” The guy I met back in July who came off way shrewder and more calculating than the ditzy adorable version of himself he shows the world, and me in his unguarded moments. This is outside-the-club Jade who told me I had no business being in a gay bar. The Jade who takes no prisoners.

Okay, yeah, it’s not an earthquake. It’s my internal organs. They’re vibrating with anxiety and the bleak as fuck fear of loneliness I’ve spent my entire life trying to avoid.

He might not be telling me I don’t belong, but the effect is the same. I haven’t earned the right to stay with him. I wasn’t ready for him when we met, and I guess he can tell I’m still not. Especially not since he changed the rules of our arrangement and fell for me. And maybe he’s over that, too. He’s never really been one to waste his time on lost causes as far as I can tell. His whole life—what I know about it at least—he’s kept things moving.

“Is that what you want?” I ask. “Space?”

He shakes his head slowly. “I want you.”

“I’m like, not even a whole person,” I say.

“That’s ridiculous.”

“It’s how I feel.” My hand is on my heart now because that’s where the problem is. Where the shaking and aches are coming from.

He sighs. “I know.”

So, we do understand each other. Maybe too well. I want to say it’s refreshing, but at the moment—not so much.

“You know, it’s no rush,” he says, a twinge of anxiety thinning his voice. “It’s not like we’re not about to get a ton of space from each other. Maybe we can take some time—together—in the next couple of weeks and talk through what we want moving forward…”

I’m already shaking my head, and he falls silent.

He’s. Leaving.

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