Chapter 25 Asher
I was startled out of my brooding by a pounding at my door. I opened it to find Dylan, his arms laden with bags and a manic grin on his face, and Mason, looking equal parts amused and exasperated, standing behind him.
"Good, you're up," Dylan said, breezing past me. "We have work to do."
I blinked, taken aback. "What kind of work?"
Dylan dumped his bags on the coffee table, his eyes gleaming with a worrying level of enthusiasm. "The ' win back your man ' kind, obviously. We're here to help you plan your grand romantic gesture."
I felt a swell of affection for my ridiculous, wonderful best friend, even as a flicker of trepidation curled in my gut. "Dylan, I don't know if a grand gesture is the way to go here. Jared and I have a lot to talk about, a lot to work through."
Dylan waved a dismissive hand, already rummaging through his bags. "And you will, don't worry. But first, we need to get his attention, to show him how serious you are about making things right."
He pulled out a stack of papers, brandishing them with a flourish. "Okay, so, I have a few ideas. First option is skywriting. We hire a plane to write 'I'm sorry, Jared' in giant letters across the sky. It's classic, it's romantic, it's..."
"Ridiculous," Mason cut in, shaking his head. "Not to mention expensive and impractical. Next."
Dylan pouted, but obediently shuffled to the next page. "Fine. How about a flash mob? We get a bunch of dancers to perform a choreographed routine to Jared's favorite song, and at the end, you appear with a bouquet of roses and a heartfelt apology."
I stared at him, torn between laughter and horror. "Absolutely not. Can you imagine how mortified Jared would be? He hates being the center of attention."
Dylan sighed, looking put out. "You guys are no fun. Where's your sense of romance, of adventure?"
Mason rolled his eyes, turning to me with an exasperated look. "See what I have to deal with? He's been like this all morning, coming up with one ridiculous scheme after another."
I watched their back-and-forth with a growing sense of amusement. It was comforting, in a way, to see that some things never changed.
"Speaking of you two," I said, unable to resist the opportunity to tease, "how was your date last night? From the looks of those hickeys, I'm guessing it went well."
Mason's hand flew to his neck, his eyes widening in horror, as Dylan let out a cackle of delight. "Oh, it went very well," he purred. "In fact, I'd say it was a rousing success."
Mason scowled, his cheeks flushing a dull red. "It was fine," he grumbled, avoiding my gaze. "Nothing to write home about."
Dylan gasped, clutching his chest in mock affront. "Excuse you, I was a perfect gentleman. I pulled out all the stops - fancy restaurant, romantic walk in the park, the whole nine yards."
Mason rolled his eyes, but I could see the hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "If by ' romantic walk in the park ,' you mean ' getting us kicked out of said park for trying to reenact the lift from Dirty Dancing on a park bench ,' then sure. Very romantic."
Dylan sniffed, tossing his head haughtily. "It's not my fault you have no appreciation for the classics. And besides, you loved it. Don't think I didn't see you laughing."
"I was laughing at you, not with you," Mason retorted, but there was no heat behind it. "You nearly gave that poor old lady a heart attack."
Dylan huffed, turning to face him. "Well, what do you want me to say? That you were a perfect gentleman, with your fancy suit and your expensive wine?"
Mason's smirk widened. "I seem to recall you enjoying that expensive wine quite a bit. In fact, I distinctly remember you proclaiming it the ' nectar of the gods ' after your second glass. And let's not forget your dramatic gasp when the waiter brought out the dessert. I thought you were having some kind of fit."
Dylan huffed indignantly. "It was a work of art. That chocolate soufflé deserved a standing ovation."
"It was a dessert, not a Broadway performance."
Dylan's blush deepened, and he looked away, mumbling something under his breath.
I bit back a grin, watching the fond exasperation play across Mason's face. For all their bickering, for all their posturing, it was clear that they cared for each other deeply. It was in the softness of Mason's gaze when he thought Dylan wasn't looking, in the way Dylan leaned into Mason's space, always seeking his warmth, his steadiness.
"So," I said. "When's the second date?"
Mason blinked, looking startled, as Dylan's face lit up with unholy glee. "Yeah, Mase," he said, nudging Mason with his elbow. "When are you going to ask me out again? I'm waiting with bated breath over here."
Mason scowled. "I'll ask you out again when you agree to behave yourself for once. No more shenanigans, no more ridiculous stunts. No more trying to convince the waiter that you're a famous actor doing research for a role. Just a nice, normal date."
Dylan pouted, his lower lip jutting out. "But where's the fun in that? You know you love my shenanigans. They keep things interesting."
Mason huffed, crossing his arms over his chest. "Interesting is one word for it. Migraine-inducing is another."
But there was a fondness beneath the snark, a softness in his gaze that belied his words.
Dylan pouted, crossing his arms over his chest. "Well, maybe if you want to keep me under control, you should just ask me to be your boyfriend."
The words hung in the air, a challenge and a promise all at once. I watched as Mason's eyes widened, a flicker of uncertainty crossing his face.
But then he was stepping forward, his hand coming up to cup Dylan's cheek. "Dylan, will you be my boyfriend?"
Dylan stared at him, his mouth hanging open in shock. For a moment, I thought he might actually faint.
But then a slow smile spread across his face, his eyes shining with joy. "Yes, of course I will."
The whoop of joy that Dylan let out was so loud, so explosive, that I nearly toppled off the couch in surprise. He launched himself at Mason, peppering his face with kisses as Mason laughed and halfheartedly tried to fend him off.
"You're ridiculous," Mason grumbled, but he was grinning, his arms coming up to wrap around Dylan's waist. "Absolutely ridiculous."
Dylan beamed, unrepentant. "Yeah, but you like me anyway."
And Mason, to my surprise, didn't argue. He just smiled, soft and sweet, and pulled Dylan in for a kiss that had me averting my gaze, feeling like an intruder in my own home.
When they finally surfaced for air, both of them flushed and grinning like idiots, I cleared my throat pointedly.
"As happy as I am for you two," I said, fighting back a smile, "we still have work to do. Namely, figuring out how I'm going to win Jared back."
Dylan nodded, his expression turning serious. "Right, of course. Sorry, Ash. We got a little carried away."
Mason chuckled, shaking his head. "Understatement of the century," he muttered, but he was still smiling, his hand still resting on the small of Dylan's back.
I felt a pang of longing, of envy, at the easy affection between them. It was everything I wanted with Jared, everything I had thrown away in my fear and insecurity.
"I want to hold a press conference," I said, my voice steady despite the nerves churning in my gut. "I want to tell the world how I feel about Jared, how much he means to me. I want to apologize for my cowardice. And I want to ask for his forgiveness, in front of everyone."
Dylan's eyes widened, his mouth falling open in a silent gasp. "Ash, are you sure you’re ready this time?"
I nodded, my resolve hardening. "I'm done hiding, done pretending. I love Jared, and I want the world to know it."
Mason, to my surprise, looked approving. "Good for you," he said, clapping me on the shoulder. "It takes guts, putting yourself out there like that."
With their help, we spent the rest of the day planning, making calls and arrangements. By the time they left that evening, the press conference was set for the following afternoon.
The next day, I paced backstage at the conference venue. My palms were sweaty, my heart racing in my chest, and I had to keep reminding myself to breathe.
"Hey." Dylan's voice, soft and steady, cut through the haze of my panic. "You okay?"
I turned to face him, my smile wobbly. "I feel like I'm going to pass out."
He gripped my shoulders, his gaze fierce and unwavering. "You've got this, Ash. You're one of the bravest people I know. Remember that time in college, when I went on that blind date with that jerk who kept making gross comments about me?"
I blinked, taken aback. "Uh, yeah. Why?"
Dylan's lips twitched, his eyes sparkling with mirth. "Because when I texted you about it, you marched right up to him in the middle of the restaurant and tore him a new one. You were fearless, man. You didn't care about making a scene or embarrassing yourself. You just cared about doing the right thing."
I felt a flush creep up my neck, the memory coming back to me in vivid detail. "Yeah, well. He was a dick. He deserved it."
Dylan grinned, squeezing my shoulders. "Damn right he did. And that's the Asher I know, the Asher I love. The one who stands up for what he believes in, no matter what. The one who fights for the people he loves."
I swallowed hard, feeling the truth of his words settle into my bones. He was right. I had always been one to stand up for what I believed in. And what I believed in, more than anything, was Jared.
With one last squeeze of my hand, Dylan stepped back, giving me a gentle shove towards the stage. I stumbled forward, my heart in my throat, as the murmur of the gathered press grew louder, more impatient.
And then, with a burst of feedback and a blinding flash of lights, I was stepping out onto the stage, into the glare of a hundred cameras and the hungry gazes of a sea of reporters.
For a moment, I froze, my breath catching in my chest. But then, from the corner of my eye, I caught sight of Dylan and Mason, standing just offstage. Dylan gave me a thumbs up, his grin bright and encouraging, as Mason nodded, solemn and steady.
And just like that, the fear fell away, replaced by a calm, unshakeable certainty. I stepped up to the podium, my hands steady on the smooth wood.
"Thank you all for coming," I said, my voice carrying across the murmuring crowd. "I know there's been a lot of speculation, a lot of rumors, about my personal life lately. And I'm here today to set the record straight."
I paused, letting the words settle, feeling the weight of a hundred gazes on my face. Then, slowly, I began to tell my story.
I spoke of my struggles with anxiety, of the panic attacks that had plagued me for as long as I could remember. I spoke of the abusive relationship I had found myself in, years ago, and the toll it had taken on my self-esteem, my self-worth.
I spoke of the fear that had ruled me for so long, the fear of being vulnerable, of being seen. The fear of letting anyone close enough to hurt me again.
And then, my voice growing stronger, I spoke of Jared.
"Jared is the love of my life," I said, my heart swelling with the truth of it. "He's my rock, my safe haven. The one person who has always seen me, really seen me, and loved me anyway."
I heard the murmur of the crowd grow louder, felt the energy in the room shift. But I didn't falter, didn't hesitate.
"I know I hurt him by lying about our relationship," I said, my voice cracking with emotion. "I know I let my fear, my insecurity, come between us. And for that, I am deeply, truly sorry."
I drew in a shaking breath, blinking back the sting of tears. "But I'm here today to say that I'm done running. I'm done hiding. I love Jared, with everything I am. And I want the world to know it."
The room erupted in a frenzy of shouts and camera flashes, but I barely noticed. My gaze was fixed on the back of the room, on the figure standing still and silent in the shadows.
Jared. He was here. He had come.
I felt my heart stutter in my chest. And then, before I could second-guess myself, I was stepping out from behind the podium, moving towards him with purposeful strides.
The crowd parted before me like the Red Sea, reporters and cameras jostling for position. But I only had eyes for Jared, for the way he was looking at me, his gaze soft and wondering and so full of love.
I reached him in a matter of moments, my hands coming up to frame his face. "Jared," I whispered, my voice cracking on his name. "I'm so, so sorry."
He shook his head, his own hands coming up to cover mine. "Asher," he breathed, and oh, the way he said my name, like a prayer, like a promise. "You have nothing to apologize for. I understand, baby. I understand."
I let out a shuddering breath, pressing my forehead to his. "I love you," I said, the words tumbling out of me in a rush.
He kissed me then, soft and sweet and impossibly tender. "I love you too," he murmured against my lips. "Always, Ash."
I melted into him, into the warmth and strength of his embrace. Dimly, I was aware of the crowd around us, of the cameras flashing and the reporters shouting.
But in that moment, wrapped in Jared's arms, none of it mattered. The only thing that mattered was him.