For the briefest of moments, his expression flickers with an emotion I can’t quite place, and it’s gone so quickly I wonder if I imagined it.
‘Whatisimportant,’ I continue, ‘is figuring outourbackstory. Why’d we break up?’
‘Let’s keep it simple,’ Asher says. ‘We’ll say that one of us took the relationship more seriously than the other. Maybe I saw it as just a bit of fun and you were—’
‘Imagining myself in a wedding dress from day one?’ I snort. ‘It’s a bit of a stretch, but I guess itwasnearly ten years ago now. Nineteen-year-old me probably was a little more dramatic than I am these days.’ I nod, more to myself than anything else, and reach for my pen and notebook to hurriedly scrawl this new direction down. ‘Okay, yeah. I think that’ll work. We’ll say I wanted more, some realcommitment, and you were just in it for a good time for a couple of months.’
Asher lets out a surprisingly melodious burst of laughter. ‘Sorry,’ he says, catching the curious look I shoot him. ‘It’s just…’ He gestures vaguely at me, his cheeks beginning to flush a muted rose. ‘The idea of me not wanting more with you is kind of ridiculous.’
My pen stills mid-scribble.
Asher seems to realise, belatedly, what he’s just said and his eyes go comically wide. ‘I just mean, well, look at you, I would’ve had to have been stupid to…’ He winces, shakes his head and starts again. ‘You know what? Nineteen-year-old me probablywould’vebeen dumb enough to let you go. So, yeah. I suppose it’s entirely plausible.’
The words tumble out in a tangled rush and by the time he’s finished, his cheeks are a dark red. I’m fairly certain mine aren’t far behind.
‘Oh,’ I manage to cough out. ‘Right. Well. That’s good? I think?’
Asher clears his throat. I clear mine. The air between us feels thick and for some reason I find myself staring at his hands as his long fingers fidget with the edge of a sheet of paper.
‘Anyway,’ he says stiffly. ‘It works. You wanted something serious. I didn’t. We broke up.’
I nod slowly, forcing myself to move past the heat still crawling up the back of my neck. ‘Okay then. Let’s go with that.’
Asher’s gaze roves over me. He catches my eye and then glances away just as quickly, as if direct eye contact might make both of us suddenly combust on the spot. As if he’s just looking for something,anything, to do he reaches for the bottle of sparkling water on the table, then seems to remember that he hates sparkling water, and sets it back down. The sequence of events betrays him far more than the persistent blush on his cheeks ever could.
He’s flustered, and it’s weirdly endearing.
I shake my head suddenly. Not sure where that thought came from.Focus, Imani. Focus.
‘Okay, next,’ I say brusquely. ‘Who ended things?’
‘You,’ he says immediately.
I frown. ‘Me?’
‘Yeah.’ Some of the earlier awkwardness has melted off him now as he rests his elbows on his knees and leans in slightly. ‘If our story is that you wanted commitment and I didn’t, then you would’ve walked away. No?’
I see what he’s getting at, but…‘Wouldn’t it be more dramatic if you dumped me? That way the bitterness makes sense on both sides. If I dumped you, I wouldn’t be this mad all these years later, would I? I’d be relieved that I dodged a bullet. This way, I’m angry because you couldn’t commit and yet you’re the one who ended things, and you’re mad because you’re being made out to be the bad guy.’
Asher looks at me like I’m insane. ‘No one,’ he says, huffing out a quiet laugh, ‘would buy that I ended things with you.’
My breath stalls for half a second. ‘You’re giving me too much credit,’ I say weakly. ‘I can assure you; I’ve been dumped plenty of times in my life.’
Well, that’s not strictly true. Now that I’m hurriedly combing through my dating history, it hits me that I’ve always been the dumper, never the dumpee.
Asher shakes his head, and there’s a faint, slightly incredulous smile tugging at the corner of his mouth as he does so. ‘You’ve never been dumped.’
I scoff and, even though I’m fully aware he’s right, I’m ready to deny it on principle. ‘You don’t know that.’
‘I do,’ he says simply. ‘You’re…’ He trails off, clearly searching for the right word. His gaze drifts over my face for a beat too long. ‘You’re not the type of person people walk away from.’
I swallow and force myself to hold his eye. ‘And what about you?’
Asher falters ever so slightly. ‘What about me?’
‘Why would I walk away from you?’ Admittedly I know very little about Asher but, on the surface at least, he seems like a good guy. Smart, handsome, kind. Why would I walk?
He lets out a hollow laugh. ‘How much time do you have?’
