My breath temporarily abandons me, whooshing out and not returning, as the sentiment of what he says hits somewhere deep in my chest, the impact affecting me permanently.
No partner, or potential partner, has ever spoken about me like that. Not even close. I’ve always felt like I was the smart choice for the men in my life, never the one theyneeded, the one they couldn’t be without.
The ideas this man is putting in my head, they’re not just raising the bar. They’re setting it impossibly high for the only guys I’ve had any experience with. Had I been treated like this, wooed like this, when I was younger, I don’t think David would ever have won me over in the first place.
Asher brings one of those hands up, touches a couple fingers to my cheek, then pulls it back again. “I don’t want to live my life knowing that I didn’t give this the due diligence it deserves, to see if we could be something amazing.” I smile even brighter at that, knowing that’s a phrase he’s learned on his apprenticeship. “Despite what society might fucking think,” he tacks on, with a roll of his eyes, like that’s all the attention we should give anyone who isn’t us, that’s as much consideration as they’re due.
“That’s fair,” I tell him, “but societywillhave something to say.”
“Nick Jonas & Priyanka Chopra made it work. Jason Momoa and his wife had a good run of it, too,” he tells me, eyes twinkling, before his face hardens, he gets more serious. “And what? We’re going to risk not finding out what’s here because of some other assholes who aren’t even us? Who aren’t in our shoes and won’t live with the consequences either way? Fuck that. No one else should get a say in what you know to be true. That’s yours alone. And I know what my truth is when it comes to you. I’m willing to do whatever it takes to convince you that I want to try this out and make it work. However slow you need me to go. Whatever steps you want to take. But do you really want to fight this instead of explore what could be there? Whatever that looks like to you?”
My jaw is agape, I can feel it hanging open there, but holy shit, this man is whittling down my defenses until I’ve got nothing left. So I throw some of the last weapons in my arsenal at him.
“I’m a serial monogamist, Asher. I’ve dated two men.” I hold up my fingers. “Two. One was for two years, the other for five. And that one just ended a few weeks ago. I don’t do casual relationships or hookups. That’s not me.”
He shrugs a shoulder, not caring in the least, so I keep going, make sure he gets my point. “You’re barely into your twenties. You don’t need to be wrapped up in my world, weighed down in some commitment.”
His eyes go all soft, he gives me a little smile. “As much as I appreciate how seriously you’re taking my welfare, this entire conversation and debate, I’m not asking you to marry me, Ell. Just to give me a chance. Get to know one another on a deeper level. Find out if it’s worth trying out beyond that. I think it will be, and when you’re comfortable with that, we can go from there then.”
He’s right. I’m treating this like the prospect of a single date means there’s no turning back. Like hanging out a couple times equates long-term commitment. But in my defense, for me, it always has. I’ve never had one without the other. I tilt my head from side to side, giving in on that one.
“And what about when you were twenty-one?” he prompts me, nudging me playfully with his leg.
“What do you mean?”
“When was your first serious relationship, Ellie?”
I pause, but don’t have an escape route from the question. “I was twenty.”
“Exactly,” he nods, satisfied with himself.
“You’re forgetting that the end of that relationship destroyed me for years, Ash.” I shake my head. “I don’t want to force something heavy on you, you should be living your best life right now, isn’t that what y’all call it?”
He rolls his eyes at me. “Can you stop pushing me away, and let me speak for myself, please?”
Oh. I fold my lips in between my teeth and stare at him silently. I realize that this is what he’s been trying to escape from the others in his life, his own mother, holding him in some mold from his childhood. I know a thing or two about how that feels, and it’s exactly the opposite of what I would want for myself, what I want for him, so I let him tell me himself.
“I don’t plan on fucking this up, okay? Hurting either of us with this little experiment. But I can say that I feel the furthest thing from heavy when I’m with you. I never knew you could feel light with someone before, but I’m practically fucking floating when we’re together. So don’t go talking about you weighing me down with something heavy.”
Oh.
“And if we’re going to get to know each other better, now’s as good a time as any to tell you that I spent the last eight years ‘living my best life.’” I give her the air quotes on those words. “I wasn’t a good kid, Ellie. I started partying hard and sleeping around at thirteen, and trust me, I’ve sowed plenty of my oats.” He makes this face that’s somewhere between a sarcastic smile and a grimace. “Enough to know that this thing between us is different than some bullshit fling. And that I’ve had absolutely no interest in any other girl since we started talking. Since before that, even. All I’m asking is for you to spend some time with me, outside of here. Let’s hang out, have a drink, watch Netflix, whatever. Just see where this could go.”
“Isn’t that called Netflix and chill?” I pop in, proud that I’m not a total old lady.
One side of his mouth tilts up dangerously. “That doesn’t mean what you think it means. But if you wanna Netflix and chill, I’m down for that, too.”
My face scrunches, puzzled. “Wait—that’s not where you hang out and binge a series? I thought it’s what we’ve been doing at night, just in person.”
He shakes his head back and forth, side to side, slowly.
“So then, what does it mean?” I ask.
He pauses deliberately. His tongue touches that tooth again, and my eyes follow it. “That’s what I hope we’ll be doing in another week or two, when you give in and let this thing between us go where it should.” He smirks, and my insidesflamewhen I catch his meaning, that intention in his eyes, his tone, clear.
Oh.Starting to think that’s the only word in my mental vocabulary. Or maybe just a promising sign that’s what he makes me say, over and over again?Oh, oh, oh.More than David ever did, at least. I snort at my own mental joke.
“Why don’t we start with actual Netflix, Romeo. I’m not interested in doinganythingphysical unless we decide there’s an actual future for us. Not trying to tie you down here, but I’m not a casual gal. If we can see something real between us that’s worth pursuing, a future that isn’t hidden in the shadows and ridden with shame or stigma like a couple fucking pariahs with scarlet letters on our chest, then we can talk about more.”
