Page 159 of The Influencer

“Did that not sound like love to you?”

I turn my back on him and look around for my clothes. They’re stacked on the dresser, right where I left them. I grab my pants. “It sounded nice. Relatable.”

“But?”

“But I don’t know,” I say. “Love’s a feeling, right? Are there words for it?”

“Maybe not, but I’m pretty sure it starts with giving a shit,” he snaps.

I glance back at him. He’s got his arms crossed and a pissy glare on his face. “I give a shit,” I mumble.

“And then there’s caring,” he goes on. “Do you care about me at all?”

“I think you know I do,” I say as I pull up and fasten my jeans.

“Attraction, then? Where do you stand on that?”

“Ten out of ten,” I grumble.

“Jealousy?”

“Jealousy is the opposite of love.”

“Are you then? Jealous?”

“Of what?” I bite. “Devon? Jackson? Gage? Henry?” A dismissive noise escapes me. “No.”

“Anyone?”

As I whip on my t-shirt, one name does spring to mind. “Actually, yeah. How about this one? Gideon York.”

Jade scowls. “I have never so much as touched Gideon. Or vice versa.”

“But he’s got you. He’s the reason we met. He’s the reason you’re one of the top twenty-five most wanted gay men in America. He’s the reason you fucking smell so good. He’s also the reason you’re leaving because he’s the one you’d be nothing without. It’s his air you’re breathing. Not mine. He’s your context.”

“Fuck that,” Jade says with a look of pure disgust. “Gideon is leverage. He is not my life.”

“Then what is?” I ask.

Jade shuts his mouth, and I think the conversation’s over. That we’re over.

I sit down on the floor to put on my socks and boots, too unsteady to even attempt doing it standing up.

Jade takes a few steps over and plops right down in front of me. With both hands, he reaches out and grabs hold of my thighs just above my knees. “Look at me.”

I lift my gaze, but not my head.

“I am not the type of person to let some man define me. Mega pop star, trending tattoo artist, or an adult film actor with the biggest dick. When my father rejected me and kicked me out on the street, I told myself I would never, ever let anyone hurt me like that again, which meant I had to lock up my heart and throw away the key.”

“You must not have thrown it very far,” I mumble, trying to work around his arms and lace up my boots.

“Well, it’s not actually possible. That’s what I’m saying. Hearts don’t have locks.”

He’s making very little sense, and it’s cute, but I am nowhere near in the mood to smile. Still, one almost comes out. It’s too hard, though. My whole face feels too heavy. “I’m not ready for a relationship, Jade.”

He sighs. His hands loosen their grip, but he doesn’t pull them away. “I know, Ash. You practically have that tattooed on your chest.”

“You didn’t want one either, as I recall,” I say.

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