Page 24 of The Influencer

“No. I’m meeting Barb and Hannah for drinks on Melrose, but thanks for letting me check the place out.” They take one final look around my newly fabulous condo. “Maybe one day when you’re not making content you could throw a little housewarming.”

My eyes light up. “I’d love that!”

“We’ll plan it then.”

“Housewarmings make great content, too, you know,” I say.

“Of course.” Aven rolls their eyes, and I walk them out. I don’t require understanding from my friends. Only their unconditional acceptance.

Acceptance is more important, by far, than love. And the lack of it feels exactly like being unwanted, which is the worst feeling in the world.

The tattoo shop is not nearly as empty when I come in, septum ring in hand, for round two. Asher must’ve cleared his day because of Gideon the last time, which makes sense. This evening, the parlor is buzzing, literally. Several artists in different areas work on a wide array of clientele, and instead of Asher at the front counter, a heavily tatted and pierced woman is perched on a stool with a smile on her face.

“Jade Sloane,” she says.

I cock my head to the side and give her a small frown. “Do I know you?”

“No. But I’m Tiana. I looked you up, so I feel like I know you,” she says, raising one triple pierced brow at me. “Ash mentioned you were an influencer, so I couldn’t help myself. I needed to know if you’d ever influenced me, and it turns out, now you have.”

I’m not sure why her attention has me all flustered, but I admit—it’s weird. Maybe I’m too used to having men fawn all over my feed. I actually don’t have many close female-identifying friends at all.

“I followed you on IG,” Tiana says.

“Oh. Thanks for the follow.”

“Thank you for being so hot.”

Jesus. Sometimes my life choices feel extremely sus, and this is one of those times.

“Asher is finishing up with a client. He’ll be out in just a few if you want to have a seat.”

I do take a seat and immediately open my phone to look busy. It’s not like I have nothing I can be doing. But I can’t focus, so what I end up doing is scrolling through my own grid, wondering why this random woman finds it so interesting. It’s one thing to have a lot of followers, but you want them to be the right kind of followers, too.

My most recent post was on the day I went back to the gym after being sick. I’d captioned it Renaissance Regimen because every month I use a new letter for two-word captions and this month it’s R. My next post, once I move back into the condo, will be Renovated Reboot or something along those lines. I’m hoping to find some good content to use for Revel, Relish, and Ravished, but the month has not provided me with those happenings yet.

“Jade.”

His low voice snaps my gaze up from my phone and fuck. My heart skips a beat. Swear to God. Asher is dressed head to toe in black, a tank top showcasing both sleeves of tattoos over lean, muscled arms, and a pair of black shorts revealing scattered ink on his legs as well. He’s got his hair mostly contained except for that one cowlick strand that always seems to be falling over his right brow and threatening to tangle in his long eyelashes. So hairy. I wish that repulsed me as much as it should.

“Hello again,” I say, trying to be cool but maybe that’s the thing about Asher. He out-cools me by about a million percent. I’m cute and all, but cool? Pretty sure no one’s ever used that word to describe me. Cold, maybe. The thought makes me grin.

“Come on back,” he says, leaning his head in the opposite direction. “This should just take a second.”

7

asher

For the first time ever, Jade is dressed nearly like an average person. He’s wearing a thin, tattered green thermal, very similar to the shade of his eyes, and baggy khakis. They hang low in front, revealing his Calvin Klein waistband, but they’ve got a lot more work to do if they want to try to fall off his ass. That thing is round and tight as hell. It’s practically a shelf. He looks…

So cute.

I was glad to see his name on the books this morning when I came in. We made it pretty weird the other night at the club, and I’m relieved that he can at least look me in the eyes and let me fix this one thing for him. “So, how’s your week going?” I ask, as I lead him back to my work area.

“Good. Moving back home tomorrow. The place looks great, just a few finishing touches, and I’ll have it all.”

“What’s the first thing you’re gonna do when you get back?” I ask.

“Unpack my clothes. Fill the closet. Order from my favorite sushi place.”

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