Page 13 of Age of Shade

“Sweet,” I answer promptly, my voice barely above a whisper. “Funny. Charming. You must,you know, date a lot.” I say the last bit sheepishly, because I have absolutely no business quizzing this man, who is clearly only here for a good time, about his dating habits. He isn’t wearing a wedding ring, and I’ve never seen any evidence of a wife around his office… I have to trust that my instincts aren’t completely off about him being a good guy, but still. This whole situation proves that guys can be dangerous too.

In fact, for me, good guys might be the most dangerous.

Asher draws me closer. “No. I don’t date a lot,” he clarifies calmly, and I suck in a shallow gasp as his thumb begins to move, tracing back and forth over the curve of my waist. “I was in a long-term relationship which ended a while back, and there’s been no one since then.”

Heat pools in my core, and shifting slightly, I can feel wetness spreading over my new lace panties. When I find the courage to look up and meet his gaze, those pale-blue eyes seem darker than they were only a few minutes ago. “I wasn’t trying to pry.”

He ignores my clumsy attempt to pass my non-question off as something other than what it was. “I’m probably too old for you to consider sweet or funny or charming.” There’s a low warning in his voice that doesnothelp the panties situation. This is his way of testing the waters, of making it clear that this is not a platonic chat, and seeing if I’m bothered by the age difference.

Something low in my belly tightens, like there’s a hook trying to tug me right into him.

Yeah, no. Not bothered.

I exhale raggedly, staring up at him from beneath my eyelashes. I’m so far out of my depth here. Aside from a sloppy, uncomfortable first kiss in the ninth grade, I’ve never even put my lips on a man’s. Nobody wants to ask out the girl in the ratty clothes and hair that smells of lice shampoo. Guys have asked me out before, mostly in the last year or so, but I’m usually so shocked that I say no before even considering it properly.

That, and I’ve been quietly pining for the man currently standing beside me for years now. A man who clearly isn’t looking for anything long term, as he’s pretending he doesn’t live a subway ride away from here.

This whole situation is a recipe for heartbreak, but my body doesn’t seem to have the same qualms as the rest of me. At the very first opportunity, all those hormones I’ve been bottling up have come rushing to the surface. I’m a hot mess. If he asked, I’d probably strip naked and lay on top of the take-out counter.

Right about now, Ruby would be calling me a thirsty bitch, and she wouldn’t be wrong.

Emboldened, I curl closer to him, pressing myself into his side. “I don’t mind. Do you?”

The heat that flares in Asher’s eyes makes it clear he knows exactly what I’m doing. Ahead of us, the line moves up, and as he speaks in a low hush to the woman taking our order, the hand wrapped around my waist doesn’t relax for even a second.

My whole world has tilted on its axis, and I don’t think I breathe properly until we’re back outside. The cold air clears my head of the daze I’d been in inside the cozy, incredible-smelling restaurant, with the warmth of Asher’s body bleeding into mine. Everything feels so much more real when you’re cold.

Asher’s stubble scrapes over the sensitive skin beside my ear as he leans down to speak quietly, an edge to his voice. “Two down.” We set off again, just as snowflakes begin to fall, swirling like golden stars beneath the street lights. “Four to go.”

It’s probably the setting—a dark street in New York with the scent of a storm filling my lungs and icy air biting at my cheeks—but just for a moment, my mind wanders to the night we met. Over the years, whenever I’ve stopped to consider the sheer improbability of our chance encounter, it’s made me feel a little optimistic about the universe. Maybe that’s what’s happening again, and for the second time in my life I should give in and trust my instincts. Maybe—just maybe—meeting Asher Roth will change everything twice.

CHAPTER SIX

ASHER

I didn’t think this through.

I didn’t think this through.

I really fucking didn’t think this through.

This woman is incredible. We’ve barely spent a few hours together, and already I would pull out my own molars just to spend more time with her.

She’s too young for me—waytoo young for me—but every time I catch a glimpse of her little smile when she looks at me, it gets harder to remember that. It’s not only the physical attraction either, though that’s certainly present in abundance. She’s… uncommonly kind. Guarded, certainly, but some things can’t be hidden. Her goodness radiates through whatever or whoever hurt her, warming every single person we come in contact with.

The woman who took our order for pad thai beamed when Adina complimented her hair.

Waiting in line for barbecue, the stressed-looking mother with two toddlers in line behind us sagged in relief when my beautiful date offered to step aside for her to go first. Then, a few minutes later, looked close to tears when Adina knelt down and sang a song about a duck for the entertainment of her kids so she could order dinner uninterrupted.

This is one night,it has to be, but I’m not thinking about fucking her. Or, at least, I’m notonlythinking about fucking her. She’s gorgeous, a miraculous combination of every physical feature I find most attractive in a woman, but that’s only the half of it. I find myself obsessed with the gentle curve of her smile and the way her hand fits in mine.

She’s perfect.

Even in my limited experience, I know attraction like this doesn’t happen every day. All evening, I’ve felt like I’m floating, somehow able to ditch the million pounds of self-inflicted guilt and pressure normally weighing me down. For once, I'm not thinking about the practice, or my breakup with Lindsey, or any of the other shit I find to heap guilt on myself. I’m having fun, and this is the most effortless interaction I’ve ever had with a member of the opposite sex.

As the hostess at the bar and grill hands us our sixth take-out bag, I find myself suddenly and brutally plummeting back to Earth.

“This is an insane amount of food.” Adina laughs as we retreat onto the street, oblivious to my sudden panic. Both of us are holding a jumble of bags, each containing a dish or two from the random assortment of restaurants we passed. We stop just outside the bright neon-lit window of the bar and grill, looking at each other.

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