Page 173 of The Influencer

Not like I’m some delicate flower and can’t handle an odd comment about my job as a sex worker here or there, but it pisses Asher off, and Adam gets anxious when Asher gets agitated, and it’s this whole silly vicious cycle that makes me laugh later but feel super awkward in the moment.

Belinda helps. She’s an adorable icebreaker.

The quick flight to Utah is followed by an hour-long car drive into the mountains where the sunlight glints off snow-covered evergreens tall enough to touch the sky. I snuggle close to Asher on the ride up the mountain and make him look at the pictures I took on the jet. He picks his favorite, and I prepare to post it. My letter of the month is A.

“Asher’s sweet ass,” he suggests.

I snort. “Next.”

“We both already know what you’re gonna put,” he says.

He’s right. He’s the best kind of mind reader. I type out “Aerial aesthetic” and turn off the phone.

He pulls me up against him, and I do my best to wrap myself around him without squishing Belinda. His arm is a tight band down my back while his hand cups my ass.

“So, it’s time to spill,” I say, addressing Adam and Sawyer. “What really goes on at these things?”

The two of them share a look, and I wait patiently. “Why?” Adam asks after a moment. “What do you think goes on?”

“Group stuff,” I say. “That’s what I think.”

“We do like to play cards together,” Sawyer says.

“That’s not what I mean…” I sing-song.

“You know, Vince, Elio, and Race are a group, technically,” Adam says.

“Full disclosure,” Asher demands because we both have questions. “What are we walking into?”

“We’re just friends, bro. Jesus.”

“Look,” I say, “I’ve been on three of Gideon’s tours. And just because he found a perfect Dom doesn’t mean he’s any less of a brat.”

The couple is suspiciously silent.

“What?” my boyfriend asks.

It takes a few long, loaded moments, but Adam finally says, “There was this solstice thing we did last year…”

My eyes widen, and I look up at Asher, who’s scowling. “Go on,” he says.

“Jesus, Adam,” Sawyer whispers, mortified.

“Edibles were involved.”

Asher stiffens, “You did drugs?”

“I didn’t,” Adam says, “but everyone else did.”

I have to hear this. “And?”

“It was late,” Adam says, rushing his answer like if he gets the words out as quickly as possible we’ll drop the subject. “We turned off all the lights in the basement, and we might have…taken turns at the glory hole.”

Hold. The. Phone. I gasp, sitting up so fast Belinda barks. “Glory hole? Taken turns? How?”

“Vince likes to come up with games,” Adam mumbles. “And Elio films movies there—so there’s—yeah—a glory hole situation.”

“Whose dick did you suck?” I ask, jumping straight to the good stuff.

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