Chapter 9 Asher
The door closed behind me with a soft click, but it might as well have been a gunshot for how it echoed in my ears. I leaned back against the solid wood, my heart rabbiting in my chest, my lips still tingling with the ghost of Jared's kiss.
God, that kiss. It had been everything I'd ever wanted, ever dared to hope for in the deepest, most secret parts of myself. The heat of Jared's mouth, the hungry press of his body against mine. The way he'd looked at me, like I was something precious, something to be cherished.
But even as I savored the memory, the sweetness of it turned to ashes on my tongue. Because beneath the euphoria, beneath the disbelieving joy, the doubt crept in.
“He doesn't really want you” , whispered the voice in my head that sounded suspiciously like Carter. “ He's just curious, experimenting. And who could blame him? You're convenient. Available. But you're not worthy of love, Asher. You're too damaged, too broken. He'll see that soon enough, and then he'll leave. Just like everyone else.”
I squeezed my eyes shut, fighting against the sting of tears. I knew that voice, knew its cruelty intimately. It had been my constant companion for years, the soundtrack to every failure, every heartbreak.
With Jared, it was different. The way he looked at me, the way he kissed me. But the old fears still lingered. The nagging doubt that whispered I was misreading things, projecting my own desperate longing onto Jared's kindness. That he couldn't possibly want me, not really. Not when he knew how broken I was, how tainted.
A choked laugh bubbled out of me, edged with hysteria. God, I was a mess. I couldn't face Jared. Couldn't bear to see the regret, the pity in his eyes. The gentle rejection I knew was coming, the inevitable slow drift back to friendly professionalism.
I needed my best friend. I needed Dylan.
Scrubbing a hand over my face, I padded down the silent hallway to the next door over. I knocked softly, mindful of the late hour.
"Dylan," I called, leaning close to the door. "It's me, open up."
A muffled groan filtered through the wood, followed by the telltale thump of a body rolling out of bed. A moment later, the door cracked open, revealing Dylan's sleep-rumpled face.
"Ash?" He squinted at me, his hair sticking up in wild tufts. "What's going on? It’s late."
I shouldered past him into the room, my nerves jangling. "I kissed Jared."
That woke him up. His eyes went wide, his jaw dropping open. "You what? "
The whole sordid story came tumbling out of me in a rush. By the end of it, Dylan was gaping at me, his expression caught between glee and disbelief.
"So, let me get this straight. You finally lock lips with the hunky bodyguard of your dreams, and your first instinct is to run away and hide in my room? I'm flattered, but also deeply concerned for your romantic prospects."
I groaned, burying my face in a pillow. "I'm a mess. I don't know how to do this whole healthy relationship thing."
Dylan giggled. "Well, step one is probably not bolting like a startled gazelle every time someone shows genuine affection for you."
I peeked out from behind the pillow. "But how do I know if I can trust him, or myself?"
Dylan's expression softened. "Ash, I've seen the way Jared looks at you. That man would take a bullet for you, and not just because it's his job."
I leaned into him, letting his solid warmth ground me. "But what if Jared didn't really want it? What if I pushed him into something he's not ready for?"
Dylan chuckled. "Ash. My dude. From what you've told me, Jared is a grown-ass man who knows his own mind. If he kissed you back, it's because he wanted to."
I bit my lip, doubt still churning in my gut. "But he's straight. Or at least, he thought he was. What if this is just curiosity for him? Experimentation? I don't think I could handle being his bi-curious phase."
"Okay, first of all? Just because Jared's only dated women before doesn't mean he can't be genuinely attracted to you." Dylan gave me a gentle squeeze. "And second, Ash, the way you've described him looking at you, talking to you, that's not curiosity, babe. That's desire. Real, honest-to-god longing."
A tiny spark of hope flickered in my chest. I wanted so desperately to believe him. To trust that Jared could actually want me the way I wanted him. But the scars Carter had left ran deep.
Dylan seemed to sense the direction of my thoughts. He shifted to face me, his eyes unusually serious.
"Asher. I know your baggage with Carter did a number on you. I know it's hard to trust your own instincts, your own heart, after what that bastard put you through. But you can't let him win. You can't let his poison ruin your shot at something real, something good."
"I'm scared," I admitted in a whisper. "I'm scared of being hurt again. Of being... not enough."
"Oh, honey." Dylan pulled me into a tight hug, rocking me gently. "You are so much more than enough. You're fucking incredible. Anyone would be lucky to have you."
A wet laugh punched out of me. "You have to say that. You're my best friend."
"Damn right I am. And as your best friend, it's my sacred duty to tell you the truth, even when you're being a dumbass." He pulled back, giving me a crooked grin. "And the truth is, Jared would be an idiot not to want you. Now, here's what you're going to do. You're going to march your ass back to that room when you wake up tomorrow and talk to your man. Like adults do in healthy, communicative relationships."
I made a face. "Ugh. Adulting. Do I have to?"
"Yes, you have to." Dylan smirked. "And then, when you've used your words like a big boy, you're going to climb that gorgeous tree of a man like a koala and ride him into the sunset."
I choked, my face flushing hot. "Jesus, Dylan!"
He cackled, unrepentant. "What? Like you haven't thought about it. I've seen the way you ogle his bulge when you think no one's looking."
I sputtered, shoving at his shoulder. "I do not ogle ."
"Mm-hmm. Keep telling yourself that, babe." Dylan waggled his eyebrows. "Just promise you'll give me all the dirty details later. Spare no detail, no matter how sordid."
"I hate you so much." But I was laughing, the tightness in my chest easing with every shaking breath.
As we settled into his bed, the adrenaline of my confession began to wear off, replaced by a bone-deep exhaustion. But despite the late hour, Dylan was practically vibrating with excitement.
"Okay, but like, imagine this," he said, propping himself up on one elbow to face me. "You and Jared, on stage at Madison Square Garden. The crowd is going wild, screaming your name. And then, in the middle of your big power ballad, you just grab him and lay one on him. Full on, romance movie cover, dip-and-everything kiss."
I chuckled, shoving at his shoulder. "Right, because that wouldn't be a PR nightmare at all. I can see the headlines now: Asher Roth Mauls Bodyguard in Front of Thousands, Fans Traumatized ."
Dylan waved a dismissive hand. "Please, your fans would eat that shit up. They're all horny for you anyway, might as well give them a show."
I groaned, covering my face with my hands. "You're the worst. Why do I tell you anything?"
"Because I'm your best friend and you love me." he grinned, unrepentant. "Okay, but what about this. Candlelit dinner on the roof of some swanky hotel. Roses everywhere, champagne on ice. You slow dance under the stars, all romantic-like, and then, bam! Fireworks. Literally and figuratively."
"Dylan. My dude. Have you been reading Harlequin romances again?"
He sniffed primly. "I'll have you know that romance novels are a perfectly respectable form of literature. And they've taught me everything I know about grand gestures and wooing."
We lapsed into comfortable silence. As I felt myself starting to drift, Dylan's voice pulled me back from the edge of sleep.
"Hey, Ash? Remember that time in college, when you were freaking out about that showcase for the record label scouts?"
I groaned. "God, don't remind me. I was a mess."
"You really were." Dylan chuckled. "I found you hiding in the music room, practically hyperventilating. You were so convinced you were going to blow it, that you weren't good enough."
It had been one of the most important performances of my fledgling career, a chance to catch the attention of industry bigwigs. But instead of excitement, all I'd felt was overwhelming terror.
"You gave me that whole pep talk," I said slowly. "Sat with me for hours, running through all the reasons I was going to kick ass."
"Damn right I did." Dylan's grin was audible in the dark. "I believe my exact words were: 'Asher Roth, you are a goddamn supernova. You're going to go out on that stage and sing your fucking heart out, and those scouts are going to weep with joy at the sheer force of your talent. And then, when you're rich and famous and banging groupies on your tour bus, you're going to remember this moment and say 'Wow, Dylan was so right. I should've listened to his wise and all-knowing counsel.' And I will be magnanimous and refrain from saying 'I told you so,' because I am a benevolent god.'"
I burst out laughing, the memory washing over me in a wave of fondness and gratitude. "You literally called yourself a benevolent god."
"And was I wrong?" Dylan asked archly. "Did you or did you not crush that showcase?"
"I did," I admitted. "But only because I had you in my corner, believing in me."
"And you always will, babe." he reached out, finding my hand in the dark and linking our fingers. "No matter what happens with Jared, no matter what life throws at you, I will always be here to remind you how fucking incredible you are. Even when you forget it yourself."
I drifted off with a smile on my face, my heart full to bursting with the certainty of Dylan's love, his steadfast faith in me.
The next morning, I woke with lingering nerves. After a pep talk from Dylan and a promise to fill him in later, I made my way back to the room Jared and I shared.
I found him awake, dressed for the day and reviewing something on his tablet. He looked up as I entered, his expression unreadable.
"You're back."
I swallowed hard, my mouth suddenly dry. "Yeah, I crashed with Dylan last night. I needed some time to think."
Jared nodded slowly. "I figured. Listen, about last night-"
"I'm sorry," I blurted out. "For running off like that. And for pushing you into something you weren’t ready for."
Jared's brow furrowed. "Asher, you-"
But I was on a roll now, the words tumbling out of me in an anxious rush. "It's just, I know you're straight. But then you said that thing about wanting to kiss me and I got carried away and I shouldn't have assumed that meant you actually wanted to do anything about it, and-"
"Ash-"
"-I just couldn't stop thinking about your lips, okay?" I could feel my face flushing, but I couldn't seem to shut up. "All night, every time I closed my eyes, there they were. And then I had this dream that we were making out on stage in front of a sold-out crowd and it was really hot but also super inappropriate and-"
" Asher. " Jared's voice was stern, but I could see the way his mouth was twitching, fighting a smile. The bastard was enjoying watching me make an idiot of myself.
I took a deep breath, trying to calm my racing thoughts. "I guess what I'm trying to say is, I'm sorry if I made things weird. If I crossed a line. I never want you to feel like you have to do something you're not comfortable with, just because of my stupid crush."
"Hey, no. None of that." He set his tablet aside, giving me his full attention. "You didn't make me do anything. I kissed you because I wanted to. Because I have feelings for you. Real, genuine feelings."
My heart leaped into my throat. "You do?"
"I do." Jared's smile was soft, almost shy. "Last night was incredible. You're incredible. And I don't regret a single second of it."
Relief crashed over me like a wave, dizzying in its intensity. But before I could bask in it, his expression turned serious.
"But I also think we need to stop before we go too far. I'm still your bodyguard, Ash. There are lines we can't cross, not while I'm working for you. It wouldn't be right."
My stomach sank, even as I knew he was probably right. "So, what does that mean for us?"
He sighed. "It means we maintain a professional relationship. We focus on getting through this tour, on keeping you safe."
It wasn't a no. But it wasn't the unequivocal yes I'd been hoping for either. Still, I could see the logic in it, the necessity.
I nodded slowly. "Okay, I can do that."
And I meant it. Even if it killed me, even if every cell in my body ached to close the distance between us, I would respect his boundaries.
If all I could be for now was his friend, his client, then I would be the best damn friend and client he'd ever had.
The rest of the day passed in a blur of interviews and soundchecks, meet-and-greets and rehearsals. By the time I collapsed into Dylan's bed that night, I was wound tighter than a guitar string. He took one look at my face and sighed.
"Okay, spill. What happened with Tall, Blond, and Chiseled?"
The whole story poured out of me in a cathartic rush. Dylan listened intently, making appropriately sympathetic noises at all the right moments.
When I finally ran out of words, he was quiet for a beat, chewing thoughtfully on his bottom lip.
"So, let me get this straight," he said slowly. "Jared acknowledged his feelings for you, and then, put you in the friendzone?"
I winced. "He's just being responsible. Doing his job."
Dylan chuckled. "Please. That man wants you like a kid wants candy. He's just too noble for his own good. In fact, I bet this is all part of his master plan."
I raised an eyebrow. "His master plan."
"Think about it." Dylan sat up, gesturing expansively. "He's lulling you into a false sense of security with all this 'professionalism' talk. Biding his time until the tour is over and he's not technically your employee anymore. And then, bam! He'll whisk you away to some romantic getaway and fuck you senseless."
I burst out laughing. "You're ridiculous."
"Okay, but seriously," Dylan said. "Jared's probably just trying to do the right thing. Be the good guy, you know? But that doesn't mean he doesn't want you."
I sobered slightly. "I get it. I just can't help wanting more, you know?"
He softened. "I know, babe. And you'll get there. Both of you will. You just gotta be patient."
I sighed. "Not exactly my strong suit."
"Preach." Dylan flopped back against the pillows, holding out his arms. "Come here. Let Dr. Dylan prescribe you a healthy dose of cuddles."
As the final preparations for the band’s world tour kicked into high gear, a new face joined our merry band of misfits. Mason, Jared's old Marine buddy, had been brought on to beef up security for the international leg of the tour.
I'd been curious to meet the man Jared spoke so highly of. But nothing could have prepared me for the sheer, unmitigated chaos that was Mason and Dylan's first meeting.
It started innocently enough. Jared and I were going over some last-minute itinerary changes in the green room when Dylan burst in, all manic energy and flailing limbs.
"Ash, holy shit, have you seen the new security guy?" he stage-whispered, eyes wide. "He's like a walking wet dream. All muscles and jawline and smoldering intensity."
I smirked. "You mean Mason? Yeah, he's not bad. In a ‘ could snap you like a twig ' sort of way."
"I would climb that man like a tree," Dylan declared. "And I would enjoy every splinter."
Jared choked on his coffee. I just shook my head, long accustomed to Dylan's particular brand of thirst.
As if summoned by our words, the door swung open again. And there, filling the frame like some sort of avenging angel, was Mason.
I had to admit, Dylan's assessment wasn't far off. Mason was an imposing figure, all broad shoulders and coiled strength. His features were chiseled and severe. But it was his eyes that really struck me - a piercing, icy blue that seemed to cut straight through to the soul.
Those eyes landed on Dylan, narrowing slightly. "You must be Dylan. I'm Mason Steele, your new head of security."
Dylan, to his credit, only gaped for a moment before recovering. "Mason Steele? Seriously? What, was Dirk Hardpec already taken?"
Mason's jaw clenched. "Excuse me?"
"I'm just saying, that's a porn star name if I ever heard one." Dylan grinned, unrepentant. "I bet you get all the ladies with a moniker like that."
"I don't mix business with pleasure," Mason said stiffly. "And I certainly don't fraternize with clients."
Dylan looked him up and down, slow and appreciative. "Pity. I bet you could give a whole new meaning to the term private security ."
Jared made a strangled noise that might have been a laugh. I elbowed him sharply, biting back my own grin.
Mason, to my surprise, didn't rise to the bait. He simply raised one imperious eyebrow. "I assure you, my skills are of the strictly professional variety. I'm here to keep you safe, not indulge your juvenile fantasies."
"Juvenile?" Dylan spluttered. "Excuse you, my fantasies are very mature. Downright sophisticated, even."
"I'll be sure to notify Mensa ." Mason's tone was bone-dry. "Now, if you're quite finished objectifying me, perhaps we could review the security protocols for the tour?"
Dylan batted his lashes. "Only if you promise to frisk me first. Gotta make sure I'm not smuggling any contraband, right?"
The muscle in Mason's jaw jumped. For a moment, I thought he might actually strangle my best friend. But then, his lips twitched.
"The only thing you're smuggling is a truly unfortunate fashion sense," he said, eyeing Dylan's neon crop top and ripped jeans. "What did you do, get dressed in the dark?"
"Hey, don't knock the crop top," Dylan said, affronted. "This is haute couture, baby. I'm bringing sexy back."
"I wasn't aware it had left," Mason deadpanned.
Dylan's grin turned sly. "Play your cards right, big boy, and maybe I'll give you a private show."
Mason chuckled. "In your dreams."
"Oh, you have no idea." Dylan winked. "But trust me, if you starred in my dreams, neither of us would be getting much sleep."
For a long, charged moment, Mason just stared at him. Something electric crackled between them, a heat that had nothing to do with anger.
Then Mason blinked, and the moment passed. "Right. Well. As scintillating as this conversation has been, I have actual work to do. Don't you have some groupies to scandalize or something?"
Dylan blew him a kiss. "Don't worry, hot stuff. I'll scandalize you later."
With a long-suffering sigh, Mason turned on his heel and stalked out. Dylan watched him go, eyes glued to his retreating ass.
The second the door closed, Jared and I lost it. We collapsed against each other, howling with laughter, as Dylan preened triumphantly.
"Oh my god," I gasped. "Dylan, you broke him. I think you actually broke Mason Steele."
"Like a sexy little twig," Dylan said smugly.
Jared shook his head, grinning. "I've never seen him so flustered. You, my friend, are a force of nature."
"You're welcome." Dylan buffed his nails on his shirt. "Just doing my part to keep morale up on this tour."
I laughed. "Is that what we're calling it now? And here I thought you were just trying to get into his tactical pants."
Dylan affected an innocent look. "Why, Asher Roth, get your mind out of the gutter. I'll have you know my interest in Mason is purely professional."
"Uh-huh. So all that banter about private shows and frisking? That was just, what, a team-building exercise?"
"Exactly." Dylan nodded solemnly. "I'm just trying to foster a sense of camaraderie and trust with our new colleague."
Jared chuckled. "Right. And I'm sure Mason feels so much more bonded to you now."
"He will," Dylan said, a wicked glint in his eye. "Just give me a few days. I'll have that man eating out of the palm of my hand."