Chapter Twenty-One Asher
Harlow is still talking. I think she’s saying something about her latest campaign shoot in Paris, or maybe it’s Milan?
Honestly, I stopped keeping track about five minutes ago.
I nod when she pauses, offer a polite ‘that sounds incredible’ and hope it’s close enough to whatever she just said to keep me from looking like a complete ass.
Because the truth is, I haven’t heard a single word. I’m too laser-focused on the fact that Imani is currently giggling with my brother.
Teddy is standing close by her side, gesturing animatedly as if he’s telling the funniest story in the world. And Imani is smiling at him. Her whole face is lit up, her eyes crinkling in that way that always makes my heart skip a beat.
I force my gaze back to Harlow, who’s now recounting how she ‘simply had to escape the chaos of London fashion week’. Her hand lands lightly on my arm, manicured nails grazing the cuff of my shirt. The contact barely registers.
Across the room, Teddy tilts his head towards Imani, says something else, and she laughs again. The sound carries even over the low hum of the crowd and the clink of champagne flutes. It hits me square in the ribs.
‘Are you listening, Asher?’ Harlow’s voice cuts through my thoughts. Even in my distracted state, I can hear the hint of irritation in her voice. Can’t bring myself to care, though.
‘Of course,’ I say automatically, though my eyes betray me and drift back to Imani almost as soon as I’ve got the words out.
She’s radiant tonight, but when is she not?
I clear my throat and drag my gaze back to Harlow again. She’s looking at me expectantly. Right. Conversation.
‘Sorry,’ I say smoothly, forcing a smile. ‘You were saying?’
Her own smile tightens, as she leans in closer. ‘I was saying that maybe we should go somewhere a little quieter to get to know each other? Dinner, maybe?’
‘Mm,’ I say vaguely, my eyes flicking past her shoulder again.
Imani’s laughing with Teddy again and the sight makes my chest ache in a way I don’t have a name for.
It’s not jealousy, not really. I know Teddy. He flirts the way he breathes: constantly, thoughtlessly and harmlessly. It’s second nature for him, and I know there’s nothing in it.
But still.
It’s not fair.
It’s not fair that he gets to stand there with her, make her laugh, draw that soft, unguarded smile from her without even trying.
Not fair that he gets to look at her like that, touch her arm, speak to her freely, while I’m expected to play the villain in this story.
I’m expected to stand here, feigning indifference, while every part of me wants to be the one standing beside her.
Harlow says something else – I think she’s talking about the resort, maybe the décor? – but her voice is just a hum in the background. My focus keeps snapping back to Imani. She’s glowing under the soft amber light, the silk of her dress catching and gleaming with every small movement.
‘Asher.’
I blink. Harlow’s staring at me now, head tilted, an edge creeping into her smile. ‘You’ve barely said two words to me all night.’
‘Sorry,’ I say automatically, then, realising I’ve said that at least three times in as many minutes, I add, ‘It’s been a long day.’
‘Mmm,’ she says, unconvinced. Her gaze follows mine, and when she spots the source of my distraction, her smile hardens. ‘Ah,’ she says lightly. ‘The infamous Imani Davies. I’ve heard about your…’ she clicks her tongue, searching for the right word, ‘relationship.’
‘I’m not sure what you mean,’ I say, knowing that she won’t buy it.
She laughs, but it’s utterly devoid of any humour. ‘Don’t play coy. Everyone’s been watching you two for months. It’s like watching a bad reality TV show play out in front me.’
Imani’s turned around slightly now, creating some space for Sloane to join her and Teddy. Her expression is soft, her shoulders relaxed. She looks happy and at ease, and I hate how much I want to be the reason for it.
Harlow sighs loudly, drawing my attention back to her. ‘I don’t get it,’ she says. ‘You could have anyone in this room hanging onto your every word, and instead you’re busy staring at a woman who clearly can’t stand you.’
I take a slow sip of my drink, mostly to buy myself a second before I say something I’ll regret. ‘I wasn’t staring,’ I lie pathetically.
Harlow lets out a dry laugh. ‘Please. I’m not an idiot, you know? You’ve looked at her more in the last five minutes than you’ve looked at me all night.’
‘I haven’t—’ I start, but even as I’m saying it, my gaze starts to drift again.
Imani’s still by the corner with Sloane and Teddy.
The three of them are deep in conversation – or maybe not conversation, exactly.
Sloane’s arms are crossed and she looks entirely unimpressed, while Teddy’s laughing, his grin as bright and unbothered as ever.
Imani stands between them, trying to look neutral but clearly fighting the urge to roll her eyes and laugh as well.
Harlow lets out an exasperated sigh as she takes a pointed step away from me. ‘Look, you seem like a decent guy, Asher, but I’m not in the business of being someone’s distraction or second-place prize.’
‘I wasn’t—’
Her tone softens and now she’s looking at me with something I might describe as sympathy.
‘You don’t need to explain yourself to me.
I don’t know what’s going on between the two of you, but if you like her, maybe stop pretending you don’t.
’ She nods in Imani’s direction. ‘Because if you keep playing these games, someone else will snatch her up.’ She gives me one last sad and slightly bemused smile, before she turns on her heel and walks away.
I should call after her and apologise again, genuinely this time, but then Imani is laughing hysterically again at something Teddy says and the familiar pull of envy threatens to take over me.
If you like her, maybe stop pretending you don’t.
My feet are pulling me across the room before I register what’s happening. One moment I’m staring at the empty space Harlow was just stood in, the next I’m standing in front of Imani and my mind is blank.
Teddy’s grin falters as soon he notices me. Sloane’s eyes go wide, like she’s watching a car crash in slow motion. But I can’t bring myself to care about either of them. It’s Imani I’m here for.
‘Imani,’ I say.
Her laughter fades into nothing and a look of confusion takes over her features as she turns around to face me.
I clear my throat and shove my hands deep in my pockets to hide how tightly they’re fisted. ‘Imani,’ I say again, my voice rougher than I intend. ‘Can I have a word?’