Page 77 of The Influencer

“Bet you wouldn’t say that if you saw me with fifty extra pounds.”

“Look, you’ve got a great body, Jade, but your confidence is the most attractive thing about you. That and your piercing.”

He blushes before he dips his head to hide his face. When he looks up again, his gaze drifts to the sandwich, and he picks it up to take a bite.

22

asher

While I waited all damn day for Olivia to get back to town on Saturday, she texted me around eight saying she was planning to stay in San Diego one more night. I was so furious I nearly threw out all her things.

The only thing that saved her shit was a well-timed call from my brother where I got to vent all my frustrations to him. It was annoying to have to listen to him slam Olivia for half an hour and gloat about being right about her from the beginning, but I was so exhausted by the time we got off the phone, I crashed hard.

Sunday, I wake up thinking of Jade. I check his Instagram and zoom in on all the photos he’s been posting. There’s one where he’s soaking wet in a shower with white briefs on—hiding nothing—that I jerk off to. I’m not proud of it, but seeing his body, the outline of his cock—I got hard quick, and the need to come was too strong to ignore. I consider sending him a picture of my abs covered with cum but decide I’m not that guy, and I’m fine with that.

No need to become some crazy exhibitionist just because he is. Although, I can’t help but think he’d have been flattered if I’d gone through with it. Shyness won out, but the urge to see him again, and soon, builds. He hasn’t posted a new video on OnlyFans since I saw him last, but that might be normal for him. I haven’t known him long enough to get a feel for his schedule.

If it sounds like I’m obsessing—well—you got me there.

After the gym, I have nothing better to do than wait around for Liv. I already cleaned the apartment yesterday while I was doing the same thing, so I go into detail mode. Grout scrubbing and vacuuming the couch and shit. A little after five in the afternoon, she finally shows up.

I’m chugging a kombucha when I hear her key in the lock, and I quickly swallow the rest down, wiping my mouth as her luggage rolls in followed by her—my soon-to-be ex-girlfriend. The relief I feel just thinking the words says everything I need to know about our relationship. I guess I’ve been in denial about a lot of things lately.

She’s not an intrinsically bad person. She was there for me during one of the hardest times in my life—when Adam and Sawyer moved to Philadelphia—but I don’t love her. Over the last year, I think I’ve even stopped liking her. But I’ve never, ever wanted to hurt her, even if she’s hurt me more than I think she understands.

“Hey,” I say.

She smiles at me then looks over the squeaky-clean apartment. “Hi! Someone’s been busy! I should leave town more often.”

I fake a laugh, but I make no move to approach her. She notices and gives me an admonishing look. “You’re mad I was gone so long. Is that why I don’t even get a welcome home hug?”

“Something like that,” I say.

“Just because you can’t spend time with your family doesn’t mean I can’t spend time with mine. Are you seriously that pissed about it?”

I shake my head. “It’s not that.”

She lets go of her suitcase and approaches me in the small kitchen. “Then what? Hug me, Ash.”

I take a step back. “We need to talk.”

Her eyes narrow. “Oh. Do we?”

I have to rip the Band-Aid off. This is going to be hard no matter what, and I’m already scared, so I just need to get right into it before I chicken out again. “This isn’t working for me anymore, Liv.”

Her shock flashes briefly across her face, but her pretty features harden soon enough. “What isn’t working for you? Exactly.”

“This.” I gesture at the apartment. “Us.”

She gives a heavy sigh through her nose. The sound grates on my already frayed nerves. I hate confrontation, in case no one noticed. “I see. Would it help if I spread my legs and let you have your way with me while I lie there and pray for God’s forgiveness?”

I make a face. “That won’t be necessary.”

“Then what?” she snaps. “What do you want? A hand job? A blow job? You want to fuck my tits?”

“Jesus, stop,” I say in disgust. “I don’t want to fuck you, Olivia. I’m breaking up with you.”

“No,” she says firmly. “You’re not.”

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