Asher #4
Eyes closed. Mouth slightly parted. Tipped toward me like she can’t quite help it. It’s a visual representation of longing.
I can feel it through the picture.
“See what I mean? Scroll to the next one,” Geoff says.
So I do, my heart jolting at the photo of us nearly kissing, her bejeweled hand cupping my cheek. We’re smiling, nose to nose,
looking into each other’s eyes like we want to erase that distance.
One by one, I scroll through them. With each one, more of my composure frays.
Gnawing ache is back.
Hurts.
This hurts.
So maybe it wasn’t the posing with me that was so painful to her. Maybe she felt what I felt. The yearning. The confusion.
The panic.
I slide the phone back to him in silence.
“Just friends?” he says. “If you’re friends with Yayoi like that, then we need to have a conversation that ends in your death.”
Force out a laugh. Feels wrong. “I get it, okay? But don’t— You can’t say things like that. Even if you’re thinking them.
Joss has a thing about people thinking she’s slutty.”
Geoff’s face blanches. “That isn’t how I meant it.”
“You need to apologize to her.”
He curses under his breath and nods.
When the girls return, Joss has pasted on her fake smile. She waves off Geoff’s apology like it’s no big deal and keeps an
ample amount of space between us in the booth. The rest of the dinner is blissfully uneventful. Jocelyn, however, remains
more subdued than normal, despite many attempts to draw her out.
“So, when are you guys leaving for the wedding?” Yayoi asks once the plates are cleared away.
I peek a glance at Joss. “Couple weeks. It’s Labor Day weekend, so we’ll get there the Friday before.”
Yayoi smiles. “That’ll be fun. It’s on the beach, right?”
“Yeah. In Naples. A Ritz-Carlton.”
Geoff whistles.
Joss leans into me and finally offers her full grin. “We can be fancy rich folks for the weekend. I’ll get Rent the Runway
and tell everyone they simply must come to the country house this spring.”
“I’m sure it will be beautiful,” says Yayoi. “Romantic spot for a wedding.”
Joss raises a pert eyebrow. “I wouldn’t call the beach romantic.”
“Yeah, but you’re the only one,” Geoff says.
She toasts him, a silent touché. After a moment, she turns to me. “I’m tired. You mind if we go?”
Oh. Right. We rode together. “Sure.”
As agreed, she pays, and we do the typical goodbyes. Happy birthday. Congrats. Have a good night.
Darkness has crept over the city by the time we make it to the main roads. The cab is silent, Jocelyn settling deep into her
contemplative mood. It’s only a matter of time before she sees those photos. What will she think of them? A hundred bucks
says she outright panics.
I tap on my thigh. Radio might help this interminable quiet. I’m about to switch it on when she breaks the silence.
Her voice is dreamy, quiet. “Why do you think he said that?”
My hand flexes on the steering wheel. “I don’t know, Jocelyn. He was drunk. Wasn’t thinking.”
Head resting on the seat back, she stares out the passenger window. “He made it seem like I’m stringing you along.”
“That isn’t what he meant.”
“What other way could he have possibly meant?”
The blue glow in the truck cab casts her beauty in a sad light. She looks small again. Lost.
Fragile.
I’ve never really thought of her as fragile before, but I see it now. Could probably delineate all the delicate glass pieces
that hold her together. Wish she’d let me closer. I could hold her together on those days she thinks she’s coming apart.
Really shouldn’t think things like that. Quite disastrous for my psyche.
Deep inhale. Slow exhale.
Disobedient organ in my chest doesn’t care about the oxygen, though. Riotous heart-pounding refuses to calm.
I pull my truck to the side of the road and shift to Park. We’re on a neighborhood street, so I turn off the headlights. A
few houses have glowing front porch lights, but mostly the road is shrouded in darkness. Joss looks around, brow creased.
I grip both hands tight on the steering wheel. “He was being stupid, okay? Just forget about it.”
She cocks her head. Blond curls frame her pretty face. “Does he think I eventually sleep with everyone, then? Or does he think
I just hold out on you for fun?”
“That isn’t—”
“Well, it’s got to be something, Asher. Why else would his mind even go there?”
“Because he thinks it’s inevitable that we’ll end up sleeping together.”
She jerks back. “Why?”
“Because we’re both single and we spend a lot of time together. He was just drunk. He didn’t think it through. It means nothing.”
Her posture eases slightly, so I turn in my seat to face her. Anxiety gathers at the core of my spine, branching outward. Hope this next part goes smoothly. Might be in for a lot of yelling. “You know how you said I need to focus on the good things that happen and not the bad ones?”
She nods, expression wary.
“I think you need to focus on what you have and not what you have the potential to lose.”
Silence answers me, but her gaze is unwavering. Bright eyes. Motionless chest.
“Loss is a part of the human condition, Joss. It’s natural to fear it, but this offense you take when you believe people are
judging you . . . I think you know you’re missing out on good things by pushing people away. I think you use your one-night
stands as a replacement for the intimacy you’re so afraid of. And I think you judge yourself because you know it isn’t what
you really want. And then you assume everyone else is judging you just as harshly as you’re judging you.”
She drops her head. “You sound like my therapist.” Her tone is all grumpy. Way better than the offended shriek I was expecting.
“Sounds more practical when you say it, though.”
Ha. I thought the same thing when she told me to take snapshots. We make a good team, Joss and I. “See? You just needed a
second opinion.”
She directs a playful scowl my way. “No. This doesn’t mean I’ll listen to you and magically undo years of diseased thinking.”
I laugh, soft and quiet. “You never told me you had a boyfriend who died.”
Her face closes up. “I don’t talk about that.”
“I know, but you can . . . if you want.”
She sighs. I reach across the console and take her hand. Her gaze falls on our joined hands and lingers there. “It was a car
wreck.”
“Did you love him?”
She nods once, choppily. “My first love.”
First and last. “That must have been really hard.”
“Yeah.” Her hand tightens on mine. “I’ve been running from the loss ever since.”
I brush a thumb over her soft knuckles. “You aren’t running, Joss. You’re hiding.”
She blows out a slow breath, jaw clenching. “Maybe.”
“Hey.” I jiggle her hand, so she’ll meet my gaze again. “I know it scares you to let people in, so . . . thank you for letting
me be one of them.”
She snorts. “I didn’t let you. You Jedi mind-tricked your way in there with charm and pineapple White Claws.”
“And ducks.”
She throws my hand back at me, smiling. “Not the ducks!”
With a smirk, I turn to the steering wheel and shift to Drive. “You can keep denying it, but we all know the truth. The ducks
are behind your walls.”
She laughs—incandescent and tinkly. Love that. The most wonderful music, really, her laughter. Feels like helium in my chest.
“Don’t be extra, Asher.”
Ah. There it is. Perfect. Status quo achieved.