“Yeah, yeah. Got it. I suck. I’m a horrible human.” I raked my fingers through my damp hair and grimaced. “Fuck, I’m a mess. Whatever. Will you just…hear me out?”
Asher frowned. “Fine. But we’re walking while we talk. My vehicle is parked on this street.”
He spun on his heels, leaving me to follow him. I gritted my teeth and sighed. At least he was going toward my apartment.
“Look, I remember your friend, Topher. He was a nice guy who—”
“He is an exemplary human. Not just a nice guy,” he scolded. “You needlessly trampled his heart. You lied, you—”
“I know.” I whirled to face him, stopping in the middle of the sidewalk. “I told you I had issues. I didn’t lie to Topher, though. I just didn’t tell him the truth.”
“Lies of omission count,” Asher replied primly, continuing down the street.
“I didn’t have a girlfriend when he and I…you know. I didn’t cheat on her. I don’t cheat. Period.”
“Oh, you have morals?” he snarked.
“I do, actually.”
“Come now. Is it moral to use an alias and misguide starry-eyed men into your bed?” He raised his hand like a stop sign. “Let me answer that one for you. No. No, it isn’t good or moral. And I saw you at that coffee shop. You had your hands all over that girl. You wanted to be noticed.”
I tugged at his elbow when the pedestrian signal lit up at the next crosswalk. “It was new, and I was trying hard to be…happy with her. It didn’t last. We broke up a couple of months ago.”
“Hmm.”
“I never meant to hurt your friend. I liked him. But I couldn’t be out. At least I didn’t think so then. And I didn’t really think he liked me that much. I mean…out of bed, he seemed kinda nervous around me.”
“Jocks make him nervous. Or they used to, anyway. He has a fabulous boyfriend, and they’re deliriously happy.”
“Good. Then can you let me off the hook for past crimes that have nothing to do with you?”
Asher gave me serious side-eye. “Not a chance. You’ve revealed your character. It’s too late for you. You’re hopelessly imperfect.”
“Now, that’s not nice. And pointing out the shortcomings of others isn’t so perfect, is it?”
“Grr.”
“Neither is throwing drinks.”
Asher quickened his pace as he crossed the street. “You deserved it.”
I captured his wrist at the curb. “Maybe, maybe not. Let me explain. Will you give me ten minutes without yelling or throwing something at me?”
He growled, and it sounded kind of menacing for such a small guy. “You may have two minutes.”
“I need ten.”
“Eight,” he countered, narrowing his eyes.
“I’ll take it. Come with me.” I tugged at his wrist, unsurprised when he pulled out of my grasp.
“What? Where?”
“My place.” I pointed at the apartment building on the next corner. “I have to get out of this shirt.”
“I will not return to your love shack.”
Unbelievably, I laughed. This had to be the most ludicrous situation I’d ever been in.
“No funny business. I promise. My shirt is literally sticking to my body. And even though it’s eighty degrees outside, this doesn’t feel great.” I sighed in defeat and tried one last time. “Please.”
He eyed me suspiciously, inclining his head. “Seven minutes.”
We walked in silence to my apartment, sharing a heated look while I unlocked my front door. I was either stubbornly hopeful or completely off the mark, but I could have sworn there was an electric sizzle in the air…the sexy kind. Then he glared at me and ruined the illusion.
I tossed my keys onto the console table in the entry and headed for the short hallway leading to the master suite.
“I’ll be right back.” I unpeeled the wet tee, dug out a clean one from my drawer, and joined him in the living area. Except he wasn’t in the living room—he was frozen at the door with a horrified expression on his face. “What’s wrong?”
Asher opened and closed his mouth, pointing vaguely toward the sofa. “It’s a mess. If I walk in there, I will clean it. I can’t do that for you. We’ll have to chat here. Say your piece. You have five minutes and thirty-two seconds.”
I ignored his countdown and surveyed the living area with my hands on my hips. Other than the cup of coffee I’d abandoned this morning before the game and a stack of textbooks on the sofa, my apartment was spotless. I moved the books to the coffee table and inclined my head.
“Better?”
“The pillows are—” He closed his eyes briefly and sighed. “Just this once. For the sake of sanity.”
Asher propped his bag against the wall in the entry and marched toward me like a general going to battle. I stepped aside with my hands raised to give him room. He reached for a throw pillow and expertly fluffed it, delivering a karate chop to the top and moving on to the next. He eyed his handiwork, adjusting one pillow a centimeter. Then he turned to the coffee table to straighten the textbooks, arranging them in two neat piles while I took the mug and deposited it in the kitchen sink.