Jocelyn #3
“I’m going to kill you,” he mutters in my ear.
“I’m trying to get you laid.”
“I’m not fucking a twenty-two-year-old.”
“Why not, old man? Live a little.”
He turns to face me, excluding the girls from our private conversation. “If I wanted to screw strangers, I’d be on that app
you use.”
I bend closer to him. “Screwing strangers can be fun, Asher.”
“For you, maybe.”
Taken aback, I tilt my head. Was that a dig? “What’s that supposed to mean?”
If he’s commenting on my promiscuity, I’ll—
“Just that you’re not looking for a relationship. Makes sleeping around easier.” He raises a hand. “No judgment.”
Oh. Okay. That’s fair.
Man, my hackles just flew up. This is Asher. Of course he isn’t judging me.
But wait . . . Did he just imply— “And you are looking for a relationship?”
He stares at me with a strange expression. “Yeah, sweetheart. I thought that was obvious.”
Oh.
Oh.
It wasn’t obvious, actually. He’s so fun-loving that I didn’t think he was ready for anything serious. If he’s wanting serious, how has some woman not locked him down? He definitely hasn’t been looking long. If he had, he’d have a ring on his finger
by now.
The idea of him married to some stranger stalls every other thought in my brain, like I inserted a glitch into its code. It
won’t compute. Doesn’t consolidate. I try to picture a woman he might want long-term, but all I can come up with is Daisy
Duck, and that’s just—
The second the laugh bursts from me, I know it’s the exact wrong reaction. His eyes shutter and he pastes on a closed-lip
smile. “Didn’t know I made a joke.”
Uh-oh. I offended him.
Shit. How do I fix it?
“No,” I start. “It’s not—”
Yayoi leans toward us. “What’s funny?”
I shake my head at her, giving her a panicked look and, wide-eyed, she turns back to Geoff, allowing us a measure of privacy.
I set a hand on Asher’s arm. “I’m not laughing at you. It’s just—”
“Just what?” His eyes cut to mine. “Hard to take me seriously?”
What? What is this?
“I’m surprised is all,” I say. “You never talk about this. If you’re looking for a relationship, how come you don’t ever go
out with anyone?”
His head gestures subtly to the girls, who are clearly attempting to eavesdrop. “Like them?”
“Sure. Maybe you’ll find a relationship in—” I wiggle my fingers at the girls under the table “—all that.”
He gives me a flat stare. “Which of them do you think is ready to settle down?”
I shrug, trying to play off the sudden imbalance inside. “Hey, maybe we can find you someone at the wedding? Women at those
things are always thirsty.”
He gives me a halfhearted laugh. “Just what I need. A girlfriend in Florida.”
I nudge him with my elbow, grinning. “Long distance ain’t your thing?”
“No—”
“What’s your name, Doctor?” asks the brunette.
With a subtle sigh, Asher turns to the girls, thoroughly distracting them.
I exchange a brief look with Yayoi beside me. “I wasn’t laughing at him,” I whisper. “I was imagining him marrying a duck.”
In the middle of a long sip, Yayoi sprays water through her nose all over Geoff. He winces and wipes his face.
“Daisy Duck, to be specific,” I say.
“You are so weird,” she says, still laughing and mopping at Geoff’s cheeks. “But I’m glad you brought me out tonight.” She
nods toward Asher entertaining the girls and raises her volume a smidge. “This is going to be better than The Bachelorette.”
Asher throws an arm across me to stick a finger in Yayoi’s face. “Nothing is better than The Bachelorette.”
Yayoi shoves his hand away.
“So how was your shoot today?” I ask her while Asher’s busy. Last year, Yayoi gave up her day job with a home-building company to pursue her passion, and her budding photography gig has blossomed practically overnight. She’s into stylistic family photos with lots of golden light and lens flares.
I adore her work.
She shrugs. “The lighting was great, but the daughter wouldn’t behave, so I didn’t get as many candids as I’d hoped.”
Geoff snorts without looking at us. “The pictures are amazing. You’d never know she’s been doing this less than a year.”
I grin at the pride dripping through his words. He loves her so much.
“Shut up,” says Yayoi. “I’m still an amateur. But what I really want is to get into engagements and weddings.”
While Yayoi and I continue to chatter, Geoff looks up from his menu, observing the tableau at the other end of the table with
a mild glimmer in his eye. All four of the girls are now crowded around the brunette’s phone, whispering. Something scandalous
is happening. Dun dun duuuun.
“Asher, look at this!” one of them says.
“Dear Lord.” Geoff goes back to his menu. “This is like high school all over again.”
My insides light up. “What about high school? Tell me all about high school.”
“No, no!” Asher says a little sharply, turning toward us fast as lightning. “Don’t—”
“Oh, you know the stories,” Geoff says with a laugh. “All the girls wanted him, and he screwed them all.”
I gasp, utterly in love with any talk of Asher in high school. High school Asher was a player. An irresponsible reprobate.
Practically the opposite of who he is now. I adore how embarrassed he is of his past self.
“Man whore!” I say.
Asher scowls at Geoff. “Must you always bring this up? I was seventeen and hot. Was I supposed to not?”
Geoff shrugs. “I would have if I could.”
Yayoi punches his shoulder.
“Ow! It was hard not to be jealous, okay? But I won in the end, sweetie. I got you.”
Humor gleams in Yayoi’s eyes.
I giggle uncontrollably as I lean closer to Asher. “Are you ashamed of your sluttiness, Ash?”
He gives me a flat stare. “No. It’s just— That isn’t—”
“Isn’t what?”
“I . . . like women. I always have.” He lowers his voice. “The only part they ever want to give me is their bodies. I take
what I can get.”
The amusement dies as those words stab through me. What is he even talking about? He’s got some weird truths spilling out
tonight. What is up with him?
He wants serious, but he thinks women only want a physical relationship. That can’t be right. He’s so . . . perfect. I mean, that’s not the
right word, obviously. No one’s perfect. But I always imagined that when the time came for him to want to settle down, he’d
have his pick of women. He oozes confidence in that sexy, effortless way. Normal women—i.e. those who are capable of earnest
emotions—love that shit, right?
What am I missing here?
What other hang-ups is he hiding in there?
More importantly, how do I fix it?
“Asher—”
“Don’t.” He rubs his face. “I don’t even know why I told you that. Forget I said it. We’re just having fun tonight, right?”
Empathy is a bitch. Suddenly, I’m inundated by a need to take care of him, to put a smile back on his face. Despite all the safeguards I’ve installed to keep people at arm’s reach, Asher has snuck his way onto my People Who Matter list.
Nudging his arm, I shoot him a devious smile. “I like that we’re both a little slutty.”
His answering grin peeks through. “I’m not anymore.”
“That only means you’re not having as much fun as me.”
The server arrives, and I order sake bombs for the entire table and a fruity drink in a keepsake mug for Geoff. I deliver
on my promises. He’s gettin’ lit tonight, and Yayoi is getting lucky.
And then I order more water for us all.
Because responsibility.
The waitress leaves, and the girls yammer on about the coming drinks, name dropping bars where they’ve trashed themselves
on fancy libations.
Asher eyes me, suspicious. “Sake bombs. What are you doing?”
“Alcohol is the best lube, Asher.”
He lifts a finger. “As a gynecologist, I thoroughly disagree.”
“Oh, you’re a gynecologist?” asks the girl beside Asher, then touches his arm.
“Uh. Yeah.” In a skillful maneuver, he slides his entire body away from her.
Brunette giggles and flips her perfectly curled hair. “So, you’re like . . . a pussy expert?”
Oh, no. She didn’t, did she?
So hard not to laugh.
Geoff chokes on nothing. Yayoi abruptly announces she has to go to the bathroom and leaves the table.
Asher merely freezes, then turns to me. “Help me,” he says through his teeth.
Taking pity on the man, I throw my arms around him. “He is an expert. I know from personal experience.”
“That’s not helping,” he mumbles.
“I thought you weren’t his girlfriend,” says the feral blonde.
“I’m not. But we fuck like bunnies. Right, sugar duckling?”
Asher coughs. I smile, set my hand over his heart and rest my head on his shoulder.
Rolling their eyes, they go back to whispering among themselves, probably about how I’m a bitch or a whore or some other equally
misogynist thing.
Women really hate women sometimes. It’s a damn shame.
“You’re the worst,” Asher says.
“I saved you.” I release him, reaching for my water.
“Hmm.” His lips quirk, and he puts on the Olive Oyl voice I always use. “My hero.”
He has the best smile. I wish I could bottle it. Keep it in my pocket for a rainy day. It fizzles in my blood like Pop Rocks,
dazzling and sunny and just so Asher.
The doubts and tension are gone. He’s happy again, and I’m satisfied. Winning at life.
The chef arrives as sake bombs are placed in front of us. The free drinks perk the girls right up, and we’re all best friends
again. At some point, Yayoi returns to her seat beside me, still bright-eyed from the fit of laughter she likely succumbed
to in the bathroom.
The chef raises his hands. “You ready?”
The eight of us nod and chant, “Suki sake! Suki sake! Oi! Oi! Oi!” slamming our fists on the table three times. The shots of sake fall into the beer, and we chug.
It’s disgusting. It always is. But it’s part of the experience, so I do it anyway.
As usual, Asher and I race to finish.
As usual, he wins.
We trade smiles, and he leans close to my ear. “Are you done making trouble tonight, angelfish?”
“I’ll be making trouble for you for the rest of your life.” I tap his nose. “Pussy expert.”
“I hate you.”