Chapter 26 Jared
As Asher's words washed over me, as the truth of his love, his commitment, sank into my bones, I felt something in my chest crack open. All the pain, all the doubt, all the fear that had been festering there, poison in my veins, seemed to melt away in the face of his unwavering devotion.
I pulled him closer, burying my face in the crook of his neck, breathing him in. He smelled like home, like everything I had ever wanted.
From somewhere in the crowd, I heard a familiar whistle, followed by the sharp crack of applause. Dylan, of course. Cheering us on, as he always had. As he always would.
Asher pulled back, just far enough to meet my gaze. His eyes were shining, bright with unshed tears and so much love.
"I meant it, Jared," he said, his voice low and fierce. "Every word."
"I know. And I'm so proud of you for doing this."
He smiled then, soft and sweet, and pressed a gentle kiss to my forehead. Then, with a deep breath, he turned to face the crowd once more, his hand finding mine and tangling our fingers together.
"I know I've made mistakes," he said, his voice carrying across the murmuring sea of reporters. "But I'm ready to use my platform, my voice, to promote understanding, acceptance. To show the world that love is love, no matter what form it takes."
The crowd erupted in a frenzy of shouts and camera flashes, but Asher didn't flinch. He stood tall and proud, his grip on my hand never wavering.
And then, from the front row, a voice rang out, sharp and cruel. "Asher! How do you respond to rumors that this is all just a publicity stunt? That you're using your relationship with your bodyguard to boost ticket sales?"
I felt Asher tense beside me, saw the flicker of hurt, of doubt, that crossed his face. But before he could respond, I was stepping forward, my own voice ringing out clear and strong.
"Our love is not a stunt," I said, my gaze locking with the aggressive paparazzo. "It's not a trick, or a marketing scheme. It's real, it's powerful, and it's the best thing that's ever happened to me."
Asher's breath hitched, his eyes shining with emotion. And then he was surging forward, capturing my lips in another kiss that was both tender and fierce.
The crowd went wild, cheers and applause ringing out from every corner. But I barely noticed, too lost in the taste of Asher's mouth, the feel of his body pressed against mine.
This was what I had been missing, what I had been aching for. This perfect, shining moment of publicly showing our love and acceptance.
When we finally pulled apart, both of us flushed and grinning like idiots, the conference was winding down. Reporters were packing up their cameras and notepads, the murmur of conversation growing louder as people began to drift towards the exits.
And then, suddenly, Dylan was there, Mason at his side. He threw his arms around us both, pulling us into a tight, exuberant hug.
"Did you see how amazing you two were up there?" he said, his voice thick with emotion. "I'm so proud of you guys. And just for the record, I totally played a big part in making this happen. Y'all owe me, big time."
Asher laughed, bright and joyful, and squeezed Dylan tighter. "We do, Dyl. Thank you."
Dylan preened, looking enormously pleased with himself. Then Mason, rolling his eyes fondly, hooked an arm through Dylan's and began to tug him away.
"Come on, lover boy," he said, his gruff voice laced with affection. "Let's give these two some privacy. I believe I promised you ice cream if you managed to pull this off."
Dylan's eyes lit up, his grin turning sly. "Rocky road?"
"Rocky road," Mason confirmed, a small, indulgent smile playing at the corners of his mouth.
I watched them go, something warm and soft unfurling in my chest.
As the last of the crowd trickled out, Asher turned to me, his expression soft and vulnerable. "Let's get out of here," he said, tangling our fingers together once more. "I think we have some catching up to do."
I grinned, letting him lead me backstage, to the quiet, private dressing room that had been set aside for his use. The moment the door closed behind us, he was in my arms, his mouth finding mine in a kiss that was decidedly less chaste than the one we had shared on stage.
I groaned into the kiss, my hands sliding up his back, tangling in his hair. I had missed this, missed him, with an ache that went soul-deep.
When we finally surfaced for air, both of us panting and flushed, Asher pressed his forehead to mine, his eyes fluttering closed. We stayed like that for a long time, trading kisses and whispered words of love, of devotion. Relearning each other’s bodies, recommitting to each other, in the quiet, sacred space of that little room.
When we finally emerged, hand in hand and grinning like fools, it was to a barrage of notifications, of alerts and messages that had both our phones buzzing incessantly.
Vivian was the first to call, her voice breathless with excitement. "Have you seen the response? The video of your press conference, of that kiss... it's gone viral. People are loving it, loving you."
I felt a thrill of hope, of joy, zing through me. "Really? They are?"
"They are," Vivian confirmed, and I could hear the smile in her voice. "The response has been overwhelmingly positive. And Asher, your ticket sales have gone through the roof. Every remaining date on your tour is sold out, and venues are clamoring to add more shows."
Asher let out a whoop of joy, spinning me around in a giddy, exuberant circle. "You hear that? We really did it."
As he chatted with Vivian about the logistics of potentially extending the tour, I couldn't help but marvel at how much had changed in just a few short hours. This morning, I had been drowning in doubt and hurt. Now, I was filled with hope and love, excited for the future we would build together.
The rest of the day passed in a blur of interviews and photo ops. Everyone, it seemed, wanted a piece of us, wanted to share in our joy, our triumph.