“I told him from the start that I wasn’t looking for anything serious, but he thought I would change my mind.” He lets out a shaky laugh. “He was great. I was just… I couldn’t fall in love. I wanted to keep him in my life, I really did, more than anything, but he asked me to give him space. He hasn’t spoken to me since.” His voice cracks. “Maybe he was right. Maybe there’s something wrong with me.”
“Why? As long as you’re honest and up-front with yourpartners, I don’t see anything wrong with that,” I say, and then, because I just need to know, I ask, “Do you think you could be aromantic?”
He gives me an odd look.
“LGBTQIA+? TheAstands for asexual and aromantic.”
Are you like me?
“I am definitely, most assuredly, not asexual.” He cocks an eyebrow.
“Okay, and?” A loose strand of hair falls over his forehead. I resist the urge to smooth it back into place. “You could still be aromantic.”
“Will a label mean anything? I’m not trying to change who I am.” His voice softens. “Maybe I’m just mourning who I could have been.”
I want to tell him that being aro doesn’t mean losing anything, but lately I’m not sure. Life would be so much easier if I weren’t. It terrifies me to think that one day all my friends will be in stable partnerships, and they won’t have time for me. Always in the periphery, but never at the forefront of someone’s mind.
“Is that why you’re so eager to do the whole PR thing?” I ask. “You want to force yourself to fall in love?”
“No.” Asher snorts before scrambling to his feet, turning his back to me. He twists away, running his fingers through his hair. “But maybe you’re right. Maybe I’m a romantic.”
“Aromantic.”
“Can’t I be both? A romantic aromantic?” The scattered lights from the party sharpen his features, every smooth line of his cheekbones. The shielded look in his eyes gives mepause. He looks a little scary. Like he’s standing on a cliff, waiting for someone to push him over the edge.
“Let’s go.” I brush specks of dust off my dress and open the balcony doors.
“Where?”
I shrug, taking off his jacket and wrapping it around his shoulders. “You paid half a million pounds for a private concert. You’re getting one.”
CHAPTER 13
“Get in, loser. We’re going to karaoke.” I motion for Kai to get in Asher’s car.
He’s sitting by the entrance of our hotel, holding a bundle of clothes and a box of pineapple pizza. I texted him that I needed a new outfit and to be ready in an hour. It doesn’t take much convincing to get Kai to do anything, especially after midnight, but I don’t miss the puzzled look on his face when Asher’s driver pulls over, and Asher peeks his head out the window.
“What happened at the ball?” Kai’s brow knits into a frown. “Did he kidnap you?”
“I did not kidnap your girlfriend. Do you think so little of me?” Asher says. He grimaces when Kai points at the boot around his foot and arches his eyebrow. “You have a point.”
“You know what, I don’t want to know. Let’s just go.” Kai slides into the backseat and hands over the clothes, a pair of my sweatpants and his black hoodie.
“Asher won the private concert. We’re going to give him a live one,” I explain.
“We? What do you need me for?”
“To choose a karaoke spot,” I say, then turn to Asher. “Kai has this weird sixth sense for finding the best places. He’ll help us choose.”
“Aren’t youfromhere?” Kai frowns at Asher. “You should know.”
“I mean, I was born here, but I haven’t really lived long enough in a place to say I’mfromanywhere,” Asher says. “I’ve also just never sung karaoke.”
“Never?” Kai asks, amused. “What, is this too much of a peasant activity for you? Or is your singing so terrible that no one wanted to come with you?” Asher shrugs and gazes out the window. Kai sighs, but his eyes soften. “We’re going to need drinks.”
Colorful LED lights dance across the walls as we step into the private karaoke room. A mirror ball spins overhead, throwing glowing patterns around us. I weave my way through the space, drawn to the plush sofas and scattered beanbags. Kai and Asher sink into them while my gaze drifts to the stage, complete with a large screen and a dance pad.
“Okay, welcome to the highly exclusive, most-anticipated Sassy concert!” I say, slipping into my performance voice. Asher blows a party horn while Kai shakes a small tambourine. “Thank you. And let’s hear it for our generous host, Asher Grish.” I extend a gracious arm toward Asher, who pretends to bow before invisible guests. His turtleneck and designerpants are a stark contrast against Kai’s pajama pants. “Any requests?”
