“My god.” I rub my temples. “You are so frustrating.”
“You’re the one who asked me to be here.”
Out of the corner of my eye I see someone walk back into the room, a very pregnant someone. “Sorry to keep you waiting,” she says, walking around the desk. “Thought I was having contractions but we’re good!” It’s Kate, and she’s pregnant. She settles into her chair and looks up at me. Her cheerful expression immediately sours. “You.”
“I just need to talk to you—” I start.
“Get out,” she says, standing back up. “Get out of my office. I don’t want to hear anything you have to say.”
I stand too. “Just five minutes, please, it’s important.”
“You think I don’t know what this is about? I’ve talked to the police twice now. I have zero involvement with Miles, or you, or whatever is going on here. I am eight months pregnant and in a happy relationship. You’re delusional if you think I’d even waste a second of my time thinking of you. Now get out or I’ll call that detective.”
Asher and I walk out of the office in defeat. When we’re back in front of the building Asher says, “I’m starting to think it wasn’t her in the hotel.”
“I mean, Holland was at the gallery with Adrienne. Maybe he put her up to it.” Maybe I was too quick to take her off my suspect board.
“Maybe,” he says, walking back to his car.
“Wait, you’re just leaving?” I ask after him.
“What else is there to discuss?”
“Maybe how you were a total jerk in there?”
Asher doesn’t respond, only gets in the car and shuts the door, turning on the engine. I stand on the sidewalk with my arms crossed as he pulls out of the spot and drives away. But this conversation isn’t done.
“We weren’t done talking,” I say, getting out of my car as he’s about to walk into the house.
“When I got in the car and drove away, that meant the conversation was over.” He walks in and I go after him. The lack of other cars in their driveway tells me none of the other boys are home. It’s just me and him.
“What is your deal lately?” I say. “You’re being so difficult, and don’t even say this is usually how you are because it’s not. I thought we were becoming friends at the very least.”
“Well, you thought wrong.” Asher turns to go up the stairs.
“And another thing,” I yell, following after him.
“Look out, everyone, there’s another thing!” he shouts from the top of the stairs.
“I think you’re mad at me for being with Wes.” I push openthe door to his room, which he shut in my face. “I think you’re jealous!”
“Jealous?” He gives a dry laugh.
“Yeah, I think you are! I think that’s why you’re not speaking to me and bringing around that girl.” I stand in his room with my arms crossed. He takes off the jacket, tossing it on his bed, and turns back to face me. There’s something in his eyes that makes me want to push him further. I want to argue with him.
“Look who sounds jealous now.” He walks over to his piano bench, sitting down and taking off his shoes.
“I’m not.” I walk over to him. “I told you from the start that I wanted Wes. Now I have him, so what do I need to be jealous about?”
Asher stands and now we’re face-to-face. “Then what are you doing in here trying to fight with me? Go fight with your boyfriend.”
Wes isn’t my boyfriend, but the point feels moot.
“I don’t need to fight with him. He would never do the things you do. The way you blatantly embarrassed me in front of that girl for no reason. You’re arrogant, and selfish,” I say up at him, and I notice the way his eyes darken and how he looks at my mouth when I call him names. “And you’re jealous.”
He doesn’t say anything, and the scent of his cologne is overwhelming, almost arousing. And the way he’s looking at me right now...
“What if I am?”
