One True Thing (19 page)

seeing you.”

A pleasant warmth bloomed in my belly at

that. “Me too.”
You have no idea….

“Do you remember how to get here?”

“Not really.” I might have recognized his

building once I saw it again, but it had been dark

the last time I was there. And I hadn’t really paid

much attention in my rush to leave after he’d

walked in on me and Archer. I was still kind of

embarrassed about that.

“I’ll text you the address.”

“Okay. So, see you tomorrow then? Maybe

around five, if I can swing it?”

“Yeah,” Asher said. “Sounds perfect.”

I’d be seeing him, so yeah… it really did.

FIVE o’clock the next day took its time coming.

Every minute an hour, every hour a year. By the

end of my shift, which was at four instead of my

usual six thanks to Lane agreeing to cover for me, I

was fidgety as hell. I’d caught a few amused looks

from some of my coworkers, Lane included, but all

I could think about was getting to Asher as soon as

I could. We’d texted a bit during the day and

decided that he would pick up the ingredients I

needed and I would cook dinner for us when I got

to his place. We’d be alone, and that was all that

really mattered to me.

I

went

home

and

took

another

uncharacteristically fast shower, spared a few

minutes to chat with Erik and drop a kiss on

Alice’s sweet-smelling hair, and then I was back

out the door and driving my rust bucket over to

Asher’s building. I texted him when I got there, and

he buzzed me right in. A few agonizingly slow

minutes later I was in his apartment, releasing a

pent-up breath I hadn’t even realized I’d been

holding.

We stared at each other for a moment; then he

smiled softly. “Hi.”

“Hi,” I said, and I wasn’t entirely sure what

happened after that because suddenly his mouth

was on mine, his arms were around me, my fingers

were in his hair, and there was a second or two I

might have forgotten my own name.

“Sorry,” he whispered when we parted for

air, his lips brushing mine. “I didn’t actually mean

to do that.” He laughed, and I could tell from the

sound he was a little embarrassed, but he still

didn’t pull away. “I don’t know what came over

me.”

“Don’t be sorry.” I pressed even closer,

relishing the feel of warm skin and hard muscle.

His thin tank top left his arms and a portion of his

upper chest exposed. I rested my lips against the

dip in the middle of his collarbones, right at the

base of his throat. “Whatever it was, I felt it too.”

Asher shivered slightly, his arms tightening

around me. “I missed you. Is that weird?”

I shook my head and leaned back enough so I

could look up into his eyes, big and warm and

brown. God, they really were beautiful. “No. I

started missing you the second you dropped me

off.” I didn’t care if it was too soon for me to be

saying things like that. I wouldn’t lie—didn’t see

the need to—and the smile he gave me in response

was stunning.

“Let’s make some food.” He pulled away, but

kept one hand on my arm, trailing it down until our

fingers were laced together. “Come on.”

“Is Archer here?” I asked as Asher led me

across the apartment. It was the first time I’d even

thought about him in a couple of days. Sure, the

situation might get a little awkward if Archer
was

around, but I couldn’t bring myself to care.

Humiliating as it had been at the time, he’d ditched

me, not the other way around. And in all honesty, it

was the nicest thing he’d ever done for me. It freed

me to see Asher without any guilt.

“No,” Asher answered once we’d reached the

small kitchen. “I’m not sure if he’ll be home at all

tonight.” He paused for a moment, seeming to

hesitate over his next words. “Does it bother you?

That you might see him around, I mean. We could

go out instead.”

I squeezed his hand and shook my head. “I’m

fine with staying here. Unless it bothers you.”

Asher’s fingers tightened around mine. “Nah.

I don’t care. I only want you to be comfortable. I…

I would’ve never encroached if the two of you

were actually together, you know? That’s just not

me. But he… well, he would have never deserved

you, and I have no intention of hiding the fact that

you’re mine now.” As soon as he’d finished

speaking, Asher looked embarrassed. “Oh, God.

I’m sorry. That sounded a bit… I swear I’m not

trying to be all caveman and possessive. I just—I

really—”

“It’s okay,” I interrupted, reaching up with my

free hand to cup his cheek. He didn’t have to

apologize. I knew he hadn’t said it as some sort of

macho display. And besides, I had to admit, I liked

the sound of that. Being his. “I knew what you

meant.”

I could tell he was still embarrassed, but he

nodded slowly, his stubble scraping my palm.

After a moment, he cleared his throat and gestured

toward the groceries that sat on the counter beside

the sink. “I think I got it all. Like I said the other

day, I never really cook. Just tell me what you

need me to do and I will.”

I smiled and leaned up to kiss him on the chin

before releasing his hand. It felt natural to do it,

familiar somehow, as if we were together, had

been together, for months instead of at the very

beginning of what I hoped would be something

wonderful. “First things first,” I said. “Show me

where everything is.”

Cooking with Asher turned out to be a lot of

fun. I’d never prepared a meal with anyone before,

aside from Rue. Gary had loved my food, but he’d

never offered to help me make it. Asher gamely

followed my instructions, handing me ingredients,

rinsing vegetables for our salad, chopping and

slicing.

It amazed me how different he was from

Archer—at times quiet and maybe even a little shy,

at others flirtatious and playful. I couldn’t believe

how normal it felt to be there with him. Just

comfortable and easy and oddly right.

Before I knew it, we were settled at the small

table in the tiny dining room off the kitchen with

plates of eggplant parmesan and bowls of salad in

front of us and a basket of garlic bread still warm

from the oven.

“This is delicious,” Asher said after a couple

of bites. “Seriously. Best I’ve ever had.”

I smiled at him. He might have been

exaggerating, but he did sound impressed, and the

praise warmed my stomach. “Thanks. I love

eggplant. I can make it all sorts of ways. I’m

usually the one who cooks for us at the house.”

Asher was already cutting into his second

piece. “I can’t wait to try some of your other stuff.”

For a few minutes we ate without speaking,

the only noise the clink of silverware on our plates

and the murmur of a song coming from Asher’s

stereo system in the corner. He’d plugged his iPod

into it and put it on shuffle, just to break the

silence, he’d said, but the volume was so low the

lyrics were indistinct.

“So,” I said eventually, reaching for my glass

of the zinfandel Asher had picked up from the

store. “What do you do for work? When we talked

last night you said you were going to meet a client.

After we hung up I realized I’d never asked.”

Asher froze with a forkful of lettuce halfway

to his mouth. He blinked at me and frowned a

little, so clearly uncomfortable I almost took the

question back. Then he spoke. “I thought….” He

trailed off and cleared his throat, lowering his fork

back into his salad bowl. “I thought you knew

already. I’m a photographer.”

“Oh.” I couldn’t think of anything else to say.

I wanted to ask what kind of photography he did,

but Asher looked unsettled somehow, strange, his

eyes focused on his own glass of wine instead of

my face as they had been for most of the night. As I

watched, a deep red flush crept up his neck and

onto his cheeks.

“I could show you, if you want,” Asher said,

so quietly I had to strain to hear him. “I have a

couple of portfolios in my studio.”

I reached across the table and put my hand

over his. I wasn’t sure what had him so tense all of

a sudden. Maybe he was worried I wouldn’t like

the pictures for some reason. If he had clients, I

doubted they could be that bad, but even if they

were, I was more than ready to pretend they were

the most brilliant pictures I’d ever seen. I didn’t

have any real artistic talent to speak of, which put

me in no position to judge.

“I’d like that,” I murmured, and finally his

hand relaxed under mine.

Once we’d finished eating and cleaning up the

kitchen, things seemed to be back to normal. Asher

led me down the hall to his studio and gave me a

tour of the room, showing me the different props

and backdrops he had, some of the lighting and

other equipment. Eventually, he took me over to a

small table in the corner which seemed to serve as

his desk. There was a laptop and a few black

binders that looked like photo albums. He

switched on the small lamp on one corner of the

table and flipped the top one open.

“These are some of my more abstract shots,”

Asher said.

After the way he’d frozen up during dinner, I

wasn’t sure what I’d been expecting. Blurry,

amateurish pictures, I guessed. These were…

well, they were gorgeous. Admittedly, I knew next

to nothing about photography, but looking at his

pictures stirred something in me, a warmth that

built and expanded in my chest. Whether it was

because the pictures were truly good or simply the

fact that he’d taken them, I didn’t know.

“What

made

you

want

to

go

into

photography?” I asked as I carefully turned the

pages.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw him shrug.

“From the moment my parents bought me a

Polaroid when I was five, I’ve been obsessed with

taking pictures. When I was a sophomore in high

school, I got into art for a semester, drawing and

painting and stuff. I was never very good at it,

though. I had the eye, not the talent. But, well,

being able to see, capture the beauty in things is

what makes for a good photographer, so….”

I’d started on the second portfolio before I

realized Asher had stopped speaking. I glanced up,

surprised, and found him watching me, his eyes

intent on my face. There were so many things in his

expression. Appreciation, definitely. Desire? Oh,

yes. And something else too. It took me a moment

to recognize it, but I thought it might be discovery,

like after years of waiting, searching, wandering,

he’d finally unearthed that rare, precious thing he’d

been looking for all the while. And I was it.

I swallowed once, twice, trying to dislodge

the lump in my throat. I felt shy under the weight of

his gaze, inexplicably embarrassed, even though he

was looking at me the way I’d been imagining in

my dreams. It was different seeing it in person—

overwhelming.

“Can I take your picture?” he asked abruptly.

I stared at him wide-eyed. “Wh-what?”

“I’ve never seen anyone more beautiful than

you.”

For a few seconds, I was too shocked to

speak. That was a lie, had to be. I knew I was

attractive enough, but no one had ever mistaken me

for a model. I was sure there were thousands—

maybe thousands upon thousands—of other men

who were better looking than me.

But… if I had to judge based on Asher’s

expression alone, I could in no way doubt his

sincerity. The truth was there, written in bold

capital letters, obvious even to me. So maybe…

maybe to him I really was that beautiful.

The thought was baffling and yet… not.

Because, for me, his beauty was beyond words. It

made sense that if he was my one—and I had a

feeling that he just might be—he would see me the