Page 23 of The Influencer

“About whether he likes dick?”

“I don’t know.” I shrug, as lost as Aven. “I kind of get the idea he’s confused about everything.”

“Wait—what’s that tone?” they ask suspiciously. “Do you like him?”

My scowl deepens, and I try to smooth the lines between my eyes away with my fingers. Do I have to answer that? I wasn’t very nice to Asher at the bar, and I feel sort of bad about it, but this feels like a bigger question. “Sort of,” I hedge. I sort of like Asher. In a way. Like he said when we were messaging the other day: he’s easy to talk to. And I made him laugh once. And he said he liked my boots.

Actually, I think he might have been making fun of my boots, but he at least noticed them.

To clarify for Aven, I add, “I don’t mean I like him in a want-to-date-him way. He’s just a nice guy.”

“What’s wrong with a nice guy?” Aven asks.

“Nothing! Nice guys are great. They’re just—not my type. And I believe I mentioned he’s straight with a girlfriend.”

“You didn’t mention the girlfriend.”

“Probably because he doesn’t seem to be too interested in her. I don’t know. How did we get on this subject?”

“Micah.”

“Right.” I go back to scouring the walls for defects. Finding none, Aven and I re-enter the bedroom where I take a closer look at the construction there. “I should set up Micah and Kyle. Get both of them off my jock.”

“You wouldn’t give away Kyle, would you?”

“He keeps wanting more.”

“Is he the problem there, or are you the issue?”

“Me. Duh. Although—If I’m going to seriously date someone—which—maybe when I’m thirty or something, they’ll have to want more than a snuggle and a fuck. Kyle’s no fun. We have nothing to say to each other besides ‘mmm, feels good.’”

“Then why do you keep posting videos with him?”

That one’s a no-brainer. “Because he’s always available, and he has a nice cock. It’s not that deep,” I say. “I’m hoping with all this,” I sweep my hand around to indicate the bedroom, “I might bring in some bigger fish. More fun fish.”

Aven leans against the window with the view of Hollywood. “I want you to have fun, but I want you to be happy, too.”

I look at them in surprise and make a slow turn around the place I’m standing in. “Who in the world says I’m not happy?”

Aven opens their mouth to say something, but they end up snapping it shut. “Of course you’re happy. You have me, we have a huge tour coming up, and you look fabulous.”

I clasp my hands behind my back and preen for them, ready for more compliments.

“Your skin is glowing, your abs are sick, and your hair has never looked better,” they continue.

“You’re too much,” I laugh. “Go on.”

“But there’s nothing wrong with nice men who want to spend more time with you.”

I immediately deflate. Buzzkill. “I fuck men for a living, Aven. That doesn’t exactly attract the marrying kind. Not that I would want it to.” I give a shudder to emphasize my point. “The idea of monogamy makes my pores clog. So suffocating.”

“So, you’d rather be wanted than loved?”

“Of course. Take that guy Asher for example. His girlfriend probably loves him, but she’s been freezing him out of her bedroom for more than a year hoping to strong-arm a proposal. You think he’s loving being loved right now? Or would he much rather be wanted?”

Aven seems to ponder this because it’s a damn good point. Love hurts, but want? It’s the gift that keeps on giving. “I guess you always have me and your mom if you ever need to feel some love.”

Ugh. Why’d they have to drag my mom into this? “Anyway, speaking of Asher, I have an appointment with him at six to get my nose ring put back in, so I need to freshen up. Are you free?”

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