“Come on, Kier,” I muttered. “Give a guy some space.”
“Fine, fine. I’ll let it go—for now.”
“What did you come in here for, anyway?”
“I’m starving, that’s why. I thought you might be, too. What’s for lunch? You want to go somewhere, or grab takeout?”
We agreed on the takeout—I wasn’t in any shape to sit in a restaurant and try not to confess what was on my mind—and less than a half hour later, we were back to the trailer, settled in with burritos from the Mexican restaurant up the street.
Kieran unwrapped his burrito carefully and put it down on the plate in front of him. I frowned, not sure what he was doing, but before I took a single bite, Kieran cleared his throat. “Now tell me what’s going on.”
I exhaled slowly before deliberately taking a bite of burrito to avoid answering. Kieran raised his eyebrows but otherwise waited patiently, not even touching his lunch. He just kept his gaze locked on me and drummed his fingers on the desk. When I had finished chewing and swallowing, I couldn’t avoid it any longer. I put my lunch down and recounted my problems matter-of-factly. “It’s nothing. Last night, when I was helping him get to bed, Asher kissed me. Then he apologized. And then this morning, he said he wanted to do it again. So yeah.”
“Wow.”
“I know.”
“No. I meant, wow, you managed to tell that story as dryly as if you were reading the phone book. How do you feel about it?”
“Feel?”
“Yeah. How do you feel?”
“Alright, what are you, my therapist?”
He snorted. “I’m your best friend.”
“Right.” I was silent for a moment. “I don’t know.” The word liar screamed through my mind. I did know, I knew exactly how I felt, but I wasn’t sure I could admit it out loud. “Conflicted,” I hedged.
“Why?”
I scowled at him. I knew what he was getting at and I hated that he was going to make me admit it out loud. “God, you’re the worst. Because I like him. I liked it. But, you know, I’m his friend. I’m just there to make sure he heals well. Not to take advantage of him.”
Another snort. “You’re not exactly taking advantage if he initiated it and you both want it.”
I closed my eyes for a second, my chest and shoulders tight. “Remember Alan?”
He nodded slowly. “I do remember Alan, the straight guy who burned you. Do you honestly think Asher is going to do that?”
“No,” I said very quietly, shaking my head.
“So what’s the problem?”
“What if he decides he doesn’t want to be friends after this?”
“You just said you didn’t think he’d do that. But let’s play that out. What if? Friendships end for all sorts of reasons. Nothing is guaranteed. Wouldn’t you rather go for it and see what happens? The risk is worth the reward, don’t you think?”
I hated it when Kieran got all wise on me. “But…”
“No. No buts. You go home tonight and you tell him how you feel. Get another kiss from that man.”
“I—” I cut myself off and let out a long exhale. “You’re right. There’s no good reason. Risk versus reward and all that. I’m going to tell him how I feel.”
Kierna nodded triumphantly. “Good. Now, eat your burrito before we have to get back to set.”
The rest of the day went relatively smoothly. I did my best to keep focused on my work, shoving thoughts of Asher aside every time they popped up, which was often. Every time someone climbed a ladder, every time I saw Tyler, his apprentice, hell, even watching Jake instruct someone on how to properly remove trim without damaging it—all of those things and more brought thoughts of Asher back to the surface. And every thought of Asher made my stomach do somersaults and my heart flutter.
Finally, the workday ended. Kieran gave me a grin and a thumbs-up as I got into the car. On the way home, in an effort to stall, I stopped by the grocery store to grab something for dinner, even though there were plenty of groceries still at his house. I paced the aisles for a while, trying to decide what to cook, listlessly tossing junk food into the basket. Finally, I settled on a rotisserie chicken, which meant less effort on my part, and hopefully meant more time for figuring out whatever was going on. When I thought about what to say and tried to imagine how he’d react, I anticipated a long conversation unfolding in the living room, TV playing softly in the background. I didn’t want to try to focus on having a serious, heartfelt conversation and cooking a meal at the same time. I was bound to use sugar instead of salt or something. I knew this conversation would take all of my brainpower.
