I turned and looked at him, removing my hand from under his and placing it on his shoulder. “Hey. Seriously. I can’t talk about this right now.”
He huffed in annoyance. “Sorry it’s so inconvenient for you, Anna. I’ve just been waiting over here, celibate as fuck, giving you discounted rent. When are you going to be able to talk about it?”
He was usually laid back, but when he felt like it, he really knew how to piss me off. “Just fucking go out and get some then.” The words slipped out before I could think. I turned back to my computer and continued typing, but I tensed, bracing myself for his reaction.
He shot me an incredulous look. “Are you fucking serious? You know how I feel about you.” Then he narrowed his eyes. “Don’t tell me that you’ve been going out and getting laid.”
“No, Asher, of course—”
“You’ve always been bad at lying.” His voice was dangerously low.
“Asher.” I really, really didn’t want to start some shit right now, but he was starting to piss me off. And to scare me. “I haven’t, really,” I whispered.
“Then why would you tell me to go out and fuck other people?” He stood up, his expression dark. “What the fuck. I gave you space because you asked for it. I let you stay here for almost nothing. Then you take advantage of me and just start fucking someone else?”
I raised my chin, furious, defiant. Part of me knew that I was in the wrong, that I shouldn’t have gotten us into this situation...but my emotional defenses kicked in, winning out over my guilt. “So what if I have? It just happened, just this weekend. I just met him.”
“I fucking KNEW IT. While I was gone? Like, you brought him home and fucked him while I wasn’t here?”
Yes. “No. God, why are you flipping out? We’ve been broken up for more than half a year, I thought we were good. I thought we were friends.” My guilt grew worse, a dense miasma spreading through my chest, crowding out the oxygen in my lungs.
He shook his head and slapped one hand into the other for emphasis, making me flinch and curl into myself. “Fuck.Friendship. We had something, you and me. I was just giving you space, ‘cause you felt too guilty about letting me take care of you. You know I wanted to get back together.”
I cried out and covered my face with my arms when he turned and punched the wall, leaving behind a hole. “FUCK.”
Horror warred with relief. He hadn’t hit me, but he’d been violent and shown a side of him that I’d never seen before. The Asher I knew was calm, collected, chill. Even when he was angry, he kept his cool. And he’d never laid a hand on me before...but there was a first time for everything, as my mother had found out the hard way. My eyes blurred with tears as I yelled, “ASHER! Calm down! You’re fucking scaring me.”
His jaw flexed and he opened and closed his fists, breathing hard. My legs tensed, ready to get away if he did anything else. But all he did was turn away and quietly say, “Get out.”
“What?” My heart sank, his words paralyzing me.
“Get the FUCK out of this apartment. You have till tonight to get your fucking shit out of here.”
He stormed out of the apartment, slamming the door behind him.
I stared after him, stunned, heart racing. With each beat, his words slowly sank in, deeper and deeper, searing every nerve. Then, with shaking hands, I picked up my phone and called the only other person I could in New York.
◆◆◆
Ian opened the door to his condo and walked inside, carrying in most of my meager possessions. He placed my stuff on the floor by the door and went downstairs to grab the rest from his car.
“Make yourself at home,” he softly called up.
I put down my own armload of stuff and walked inside. I’d been there just two days ago, but we’d been too busy getting busy for me to notice much. I looked around carefully then, taking in what would be my home for the foreseeable future.
The condo was spacious and well-lit, featuring floor to ceiling windows along two of the walls, shaded with gauzy white curtains. One wall featured exposed brick, from which he’d hung shelves with brilliant green plants that charmingly curled every which way. The remaining wall was painted white, with a series of framed photographs hanging across it. His kitchen was spotless and seemingly well-stocked, with plenty of counter space, including a beautiful marble island. The stainless steel appliances looked brand new.
It was night and day from my old place. I didn’t want to develop the same dependency on Ian that I had on Asher, so I didn’t think of this as my permanent home. But even so, it felt like I’d upgraded.
Ian re-entered the apartment carrying the last of my things. Most of the furniture in my old room had been Asher’s, so all I’d really brought with me was my clothing, keepsakes, and decorations. I didn’t have the money for much else.
I stopped looking around when I noticed that Ian was carrying my things towards the master bedroom on the right, instead of to the guest bedroom on the left.
“Hey wait, can I just stay in the guest bedroom? Then you can have your own room to yourself?” I liked Ian, but if we were going to live together, I wanted as much personal space of my own as possible. And luckily, he had a spare bedroom. I marveled at the extravagance of having a spare bedroom in New York City—how did he pay for all of this?
“You’ll stay with me in the master bedroom,” he said. “The guest room is for my parents.”
“Oh.” Bummer. “I mean, how often do your parents visit?” I noticed a framed photograph of the people in question. They were a
