Page 91 of The Influencer

“Honestly, I don’t know.”

“Asher. We talked about this last night. You’re staying here.”

“I don’t think I should.”

I make a noise of frustration. “Why not?” I’m dangerously close to pouting.

He gives me a look. “You know why not.”

“No,” I shake my head. “Explain.”

“Your life’s not really compatible with having a roommate who wants to fuck you more than once a day.”

And how exactly am I supposed to let him leave now? But once again, I do the exact opposite of what I want to do and exactly what I should do. “Fair enough. That’s fine.” I give him a firm nod. “I get it. You know where I am if you need anything.”

“I do,” he says.

“Okay.” I put my hands on his forearms to give myself some leverage to balance on my tiptoes and give him a quick kiss. “Good luck, Ash.”

Leaving him in the kitchen, I pass through the open living area, continue down the hall to my room, and close the door behind me. I lean back back on it, my trembling hand on my chest, trying way too hard to breathe through the sudden, suffocating constriction in my chest.

At some point after that, he leaves.

26

asher

Leaving Jade’s that morning felt like shit. I could sense his disappointment, but it was no match for my own bitter feelings toward myself. Throughout that day as I worked, I could barely stand the sensation of being in my own skin. Like every tattoo on my body was itching the same way they had when they were once fresh and healing. I felt tight and trapped, my hands barely capable of performing my work at the level I aspire to.

I needed to get out of there. Not just out of the shop, or out of my relationship—but out of town. Remove myself from temptation. From mind control. From the life I’d fucked up with too many bad decisions to count. Guilt comes at me from every side. Cheating on Liv, staying with her for so long in the first place—leading her to believe we had a future because the idea of being alone made me feel too much like the miserable hermit I’d been in college who never thought anyone could love him—not once they found out how little there was about him to love—how underdeveloped his personality was—he barely had a personality at all.

And maybe that’s why Liv had been able to consume me. She’d become my personality, which at the time, felt better than being defined by Adam.

I even feel guilty for wanting to take a break from work. It would just be for a couple of days, and I only have one big tattoo I would need to reschedule, but I’ve never taken a single day off. I just can’t find another workaround for this overwhelming need to escape.

And then, of course, there’s Jade. The guilt with him started the second I kicked him out of my bed. I’d slept like shit after that because I could see how much he’d wanted to stay. And I can talk whatever big talk I want to about how his job is no big deal because I know it has nothing to do with whatever’s going on between him and me, but the truth is, if I let him get any closer, I could be in some deep shit.

He’s impossible not to want. Not to touch. Not to talk to, even. But getting any closer to a man who sleeps with other men for a living? While his work doesn’t bother me in theory, I’m not sure how I’d do with it in reality. I wouldn’t call myself the possessive type—I’ve never really had anything or anyone I’d bother to fight for, and I’m easy-going under most circumstances, but I’m pretty sure anyone on earth would tell me to steer clear of a man like Jade. Of Jade himself if they knew him.

Or thought they knew him.

I get the feeling not many people know him all that well.

I spend half the time I’m with him wanting him, and the other half talking myself out of wanting him. This morning, once I realized he’d rather talk than fuck, the latter half won out. Talking is what people do when they’re in a relationship, and Jade doesn’t do relationships. Not only that, but I’ve got no business in being in another one anytime soon, either.

With no bags to pack, because I refuse to step foot in my apartment, I lock up the shop for the day and call Tiana. She agrees to open and close the tattoo parlor while I’m gone, deal with any shipments, and make sure everyone who leases space from me has what they need. Once that’s all settled, I take off to LAX to buy a ticket to Seattle.

It’s cool and rainy when I get into the car Sawyer and Adam sent for me, which is a nice change of pace. When they say it’s always sunny in Los Angeles, they’re not actually joking. What rain we do get there generally doesn’t last long, and I’m not saying I hate the constant good weather, but Seattle, on first impression, is a better fit for my mood.

This is my first time visiting Adam here. He’s in LA too often for me to have bothered before. Unsurprisingly, he and Sawyer live in the penthouse of a high-rise downtown. From the outside, the building doesn’t look like much, but once I arrive inside, it’s obvious the place is made to cater to billionaires like my brother’s mogul fiancé.

The elevator ride to the top is long, makes my ears pop, and requires a special key card. When the doors slide open, I take in my surroundings. The penthouse encompasses the entire top floor of the building. Views come at me from all sides, the elevator having dropped me off in the center of the apartment. What I notice first is the wraparound terrace full of greenery, but the view of the Sound beyond it is breathtaking. “Adam?” I call out.

Rushing steps turn my attention to a nearby staircase. My brother is jogging down, wearing a team t-shirt and athletic shorts. “Hey!” he says, excited to see me. We greet each other with a long, swaying bear hug as he laughs. Happiness radiates from him. Sobriety, love, success, friends, this place—he’s got it all now. It’s hard to imagine what could ever get him down these days.

He pulls away, holding me at arm’s length and looks me over. “No bags?”

“Just the shirt on my back.”

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