Page 168 of The Influencer

“Please, sleep on it,” he says.

“Asher, I don’t need to sleep on it.”

“This is the last thing I’ll ask of you, I promise, but don’t do anything that’s gonna make you hate me one day down the line.”

“Why are you always so worried about me turning around one day and hating you?”

He licks his lips as he drops his gaze. “PTSD?”

“Ah.” I sit back, and he lets my hand go. “Well, go on. Tell me everything about you I might end up hating. Let’s put it all out on the table. Then I can get a really good pros and cons list going.”

“I want to think you’re kidding, but you’re not, are you?” he asks.

“I’m not. I have a few things I’ll need to tell you, too.”

“Should we take turns?” he asks.

“If you want.”

He props an elbow on the back of the couch and plants his cheek on his palm, staring at me with narrow eyes. “You already know I’m bi. You know I have a hairy ass, and you know I cheated on my last girlfriend and watched a lot of gay porn.”

I try not to laugh, but a smile curls half my mouth. I love his mildly hairy ass, and I’m secretly relieved every time he declines to join me for a waxing appointment.

“Let’s see… what else is there? Oh. I have Bipolar Two disorder. So, I sometimes get pretty depressed, but I’ve never had a manic episode. I was planning to get back on meds once you left, just to make sure I didn’t spiral.”

I reach for his hand again, and he gets a firm grip on mine. My turn I guess. “My parents were both drug addicts,” I say. “My dad kicked me out when I came out. Like, within fifteen minutes. He made it clear that I wasn’t welcome in his home by pointing a Glock at my head. He overdosed less than a year later. I was still in New York. My mom somehow managed to track me down, and she was trying to get clean. It took her a few times, but she finally managed it. She lives in Santa Cruz. She’s very annoying and kind of toxic, but we get along okay now.”

“You never saw your dad again after that night?” Asher asks, gently squeezing my hand.

“Nope.”

“What an asshole,” he says.

“Such a complete asshole,” I agree. “So that’s one reason why it’s hard for me to trust people.”

“There are more reasons?”

“It’s your turn.”

He hesitates a moment before saying, “You really, really hurt my feelings that night at the club.”

I frown. “When?”

“When you said I didn’t belong.”

I squeeze his hand hard. “I’m a bitch. And I’m sorry. What I meant to say is you belong right here. Right where you’re sitting.”

Asher looks at me like I’m full of shit. “Uh, no you didn’t…”

“Well, I do now.”

He brushes his thumb over the back of my hand. “Obviously it’s where I wanted to be.”

“I really am sorry I talked to you like that,” I say, very much meaning it and promising myself to do better for bi-curious men in the future. “Trust issues.”

“That means it’s your turn.”

“Wait—do you forgive me?” I ask.

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