I leave the office as soon as everyone goes to lunch. Mina drives me home, not asking a single question. Thank God, because there's no explaining. There really isn't. But I'd rather her see me like this than everyone on the subway.
"Are you okay?" she asks when I start to slide from her car outside my building.
"Yeah." I clear my throat and nod. "I'm good."
"Did he…do you…?" She trails off with her lip caught between her teeth, her expression rife with anxiety.
"I wanted every single second of it," I mutter, already knowing what she's trying to ask. I'd laugh if it weren't so fucking sad. But there's nothing funny about it, not really. Asher may hurt me, but never when he's inside me. Every bruise, every bite, every brutal moment is a kind of perfect I can't even explain. Even if I tried, I doubt a nice girl like Mina would understand that sometimes pain is the best kind of pleasure. Sometimes, it's the only kind that matters. "I always want it."
"Oh." She gulps. "Okay then."
I hesitate with my hand on the handle. "Please don't say anything," I whisper, the first time I've ever asked anything of anyone. I never let myself get close enough to need favors. But…I need this one.
What's between me and Asher is no one else's business. I'm sure the whole world will know far more than they should soon enough anyway. But even if he is a monster, I don't want them to judge him for it. I'm the only one who gets to measure his worth against the weight of a feather.
She nods. "I won't."
"Thank you."
I go straight to bed when I get upstairs, too exhausted to pretend I'm not a fucking wreck. It's not even what we did that's wrecking me, either. It's what he said and the meaning behind the words. They keep playing in my head like a fucking song.
He hasn't been with anyone else since he met me. For six years, he's been…what? Waiting for me? Dreaming about me? Neither word seems quite big enough to hold the monumentality of his confession.
I half expect him to call and demand that I come back to work, but my phone sits on the nightstand, mocking me. I stare at the ceiling, trying to hate him for making me feel this way, but it doesn't stick. It never does.
That's always been the problem. No matter how hard I hate him or how much I try to convince myself that he's a monster undeserving of love, it never fucking sticks. As soon as I see him again, all that work just…unravels, and I'm right back where I started: wanting something that may very well destroy me.
Around three, I call Liam, because I need to talk to someone before I go crazy.
He picks up on the third ring, wind in the background. "Hey, kid," he says. "Why are you calling in the middle of the workday? Is something wrong?"
"No," I lie. "I took the afternoon off. I just wanted to check on you. How's life on set?"
He gives me the highlights—a tantrum from the lead, a broken camera lens, a location change because the city's being difficult. The same chaos as always. I let his words roll over me, not really listening, just letting the familiar cadence scrape some of the confusion out of my brain.
After a few minutes, he clears his throat. "You okay, Brie?"
"Yeah," I lie again, and then bite my lip. "Asher had a meeting with Miles Andrews this morning. It didn't go well."
Liam laughs, like he isn't surprised at all. "Let me guess, Miles hit on you?"
"Something like that," I whisper.
"I'm not surprised. He saw your photo on our last movie. He was interested."
"Well, he isn't now."
"That bad, huh?"
"Worse." I pause. "Why is Asher so fucking difficult?"
There's a pause. "Because he's an unrepentant control freak who hates anyone getting too close. You know this."
I chew on my bruised bottom lip, picking at a thread on the bedspread. "Was he always like that?"
Liam snorts. "No. He used to be worse."
I snort, which almost sounds like a laugh.
