Page 11 of Age of Shade

Or, Iwasa hot mess, until I caught sight of the man I am supposed to be pretending to be attracted to.

Yeah… Pretending is not necessary.

I don’t know what I expected, but coming face-to-face with Doctor Asher Roth was definitely not it.

I’m pretty proud of myself for not passing out on the spot. I mean,what are the chances? There have to be millions of men in this city, and I end up sitting beside the one I’ve been trying to convince myself I’m not in love with for the better part of three years.

At first I thought it had to be some weird, exhaustion-induced hallucination. The only time I’ve ever seen his face, apart from the night we met, has been during some lightinternet stalking. There’s a picture of him on the practice’s website, grinning at the camera with his bright-blue eyes standing out brilliantly against the white background. I knew he was handsome, obviously, but I had no way of knowing that a professional headshotdoes notdo Asher Roth justice.

His hair is more gray than light brown, and the wire-framed glasses balanced on his nose are too big to be considered fashionable. Even the clothes he’s wearing, from his vest and bow tie down to the scuffed dress shoes, are buttoned up and practical. If I didn’t know better, I’d have put him down as a high school chemistry teacher or the owner of a bookshop. He’s… nerdy. And it’s adorable.

Is adorable the right word?

Probably not, considering the things I’m feeling for him areaggressivelynon-platonic.

Holy crap.I can’t believe this is actually happening.

For as long as I can remember, I’ve carefully keep a ten-foot concrete wall planted between myself and any kind of romantic relationship.

I have enough self-awareness to know that the constant, hollow yearning I have to be loved is the most dangerous thing about myself. It doesn’t take a therapist to figure out why, either, or to know what might happen to me if I ever let myself forget it: The damaged, forgotten girl who was overlooked and tossed through her childhood like a lost toy grows up and clings to stability wherever she can get it… Even if it’s toxic. Even if it’s abusive. Even if it’s the opposite of everything she’s ever wanted.

I won’t let that happen. There’s no safe place for me to land if my life goes belly up. Letting someone in would be tantamount to handing over my entire future on a silver platter and blindly trusting them to take care of it. Right now, falling in love isn’t a risk I can take.

Having a crush on the one man on the planet that Idotrust, my kind, handsome boss—who happens to be so wildly out of my league it isn’t even funny and thinks my name is Allison—was safe. He’s a dentist, an actual professional who owns his own business and has his crap together. Meanwhile, I’m struggling just to keep my head above water and not drop dead of exhaustion and/or caffeine overconsumption.

Asher was never going to catch feelings for me, so what did it matter if I pined away from a distance?

All those daydreams I’ve had about meeting him—they were so far down the road. I wanted us to be equals. I wanted to actually stand a chance with him. Never in a million years would I have expected him to be interested in me right now, and even in my wildest dreams, I never thought my attraction to him would be so intense.

It’s too soon. I’m not ready for this.

Asher Roth has had a piece of my heart for three years, a piece that’s seemed to get bigger with every messy note I found waiting for me on his desk. What would he say if he knew the beautiful, elegantly dressed woman beside him was the same girl he practically pulled out of the trash three years ago?

Would he still want to pretend he’s only here for the weekend?

Would he be horrified?

Would he be stunned by the incredible coincidence that threw us together not just once, but twice?

I feel like I’m being torn apart, but walking away isn’t an option. From the moment I spotted him across the room, it’s like my heart has been attached to a string and the other end is tied to Asher Roth. I can feel it, tugging gently whenever I try to shy away from him or pretend I’m absorbed in the contents of my wine glass. Even if he only wants me for the night, even if this ruins whatever flimsy hopes I had forsomeday… I can’t leave.

Peeking over my wine glass, I gaze at the beautiful man sitting beside me. Every time he reaches for his drink, revealing a few more inches of lean, muscular forearm, my thighs press a little tighter together. Whenever he leans slightly toward me, his button-up shirt stretches tight across his broad shoulders and heat seems to prickle beneath my skin now that we’re alone.

Before they left, Ruby’s eyes had found mine, silently questioning what I thought about Ash’s proposed change of plans. My slight smile and nod were obviously a surprise to her. After all, I hadn’t exactly made it a secret that I didn’t want to do this and that she was forbidden from leaving me alone with him for even a minute. Asher exudes good-guy energy, though, and I’m pretty sure that even if I didn’t know him and I wasn’t actively fantasizing about sucking his dick, I’d still feel comfortable.

The irony that I’m now turning down a gourmet dinner—previously believed to be the only upside to this evening apart from the paycheck—in favor of sipping wine while talking to my date isn’t lost on me.

It’s pretty unfortunate timing that the moment they’re gone, my stomach growls loudly enough to be heard over the clammer of the restaurant. Mortified, I glance at Asher to make sure he didn’t catch it, but find him staring back at me, eyes glinting in amusement. “I might be hungry,” I admit, my cheeks heating. The only thing I’ve eaten all day is coffee and a two-day-old bran muffin that tasted like cardboard.

“I am too,” he confesses with a sheepish, crooked grin that makes my heart flutter. A silent understanding passes between us, a confirmation that he wanted to be alone with me and I wanted to be alone with him. He’s interested, I’m interested, and now Ruby and Liam are gone. The night is ours.

Like he’s thinking the same thing I am, Asher clears his throat, shifting slightly. “What,um,kind of food do you like?”

“Anything. I’m not picky,” I say, probably too quickly. It’s not terribly feminist of me to hope he pays, but I can’t imagine myself being able to afford the kind of restaurants that Asher probably frequents. The hotdog stand I spotted on the corner when Ruby and I got off the subway is probably the closest to fine dining I can afford right now.

He hesitates, like he’s steeling himself for whatever it is he wants to say. “I’d like to buy you dinner. Something you’ll love.”

Oh.

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