I sigh. At least it’s not something super obvious. I angle my face down and focus on this email, letting the shift sort itself out.
As I stepout of the building for my lunch break, a hand snatches my wrist and I shriek as I collide with a hard chest.
“Did you miss me, sunshine?”
The familiar rumble of Asher’s voice reaches my ears, and I punch my fist against his pec where both hands have landed.
“Asher, ugh. Don’t do that, you scared me," I grumble as I pull away from him.
When I look up, his face morphs into concern and confusionas his eyebrows draw together, the sides of his lips turning down.
“What’s wrong?” he asks, voice rough.
I fold my arms tight around myself, hugging my jacket to my chest as I walk down the sidewalk.
“Nothing. Just a stupid Monday," I say, then continue when I hear him following me. “Where were you this morning, anyway?”
“I had something to do.”
I huff and quicken my stride.
Typical male response.
Asher catches up and matches my pace, then softly asks if he can walk with me. Glancing up, I see the concern lingering in the tightness of his shoulders.
I shrug.
He walks next to me in silence for a few blocks, and I appreciate the quiet support.
“Do you want to talk about it?” he asks, voice tentative.
I shrug again, and hear him sigh. Placing a gentle hand on my arm, he slows us both to a stop.
“Look, Raya.” Asher swipes a hand across the back of his neck. “I’m not good at this. I don’t know how to talk about emotions or, I don’t know, the real things. Deep things. But I’m trying. I want to give you what you need, I just don’t know what that is. Can you tell me?”
My frustration dissipates as his earnestness seeps in.
“I’m sorry. It’s me, I don’t get angry that often, but when I do.” I shake my head. “It’s hard to stop. I don’t know why.”
“If you want to talk about it, we can. Or we don’t have to. We can keep walking.”
I turn to keep walking, but then stop and hold out my hand in a peace offering. The stress visibly falls from his body as his hand envelopes mine and he tucks them both into hisjacket pocket for warmth. We walk in silence for a couple more minutes until I feel ready to talk.
“Zuri is giving me a hard time,” I say, “about us.”
“What about us?” His voice is careful, neutral.
“She doesn’t like your family, which means she doesn’t like or trust you, and she doesn’t want me around you.” I peek up at him, but his face is set in an unreadable mask.
“You’ve mentioned her before, I’m assuming she comes from a progressive family.”
I nod, and he silently returns it.
“I know you don’t want to talk about them, but…” I trail off, and he sighs.
“They’re not good people. Zuri is right, but I’m not like them, Raya.”
I nod again, silent as I wait to see if he’ll say more.
