“Because I’m not,” I tell him.
“Oh yes you are,” Ryker says.
This time, I don’t protest. I just wonder. Am I?
“Just go and tell her how you feel,” Ethan tells me. “Everything you feel. If she decides she still wants nothing to do with you, then let her go. Just don’t give up before putting up a fight.”
I chuckle. “Funny. Stella told me the same thing.”
“You talked to her?” Ethan asks.
“When I went to your house after I found out Violet and I were neighbors,” I tell him.
“Oh.” Ethan nods. “Well, anyway, we’re both right. You shouldn’t be here drinking, not until you’ve really lost.”
“Haven’t I?”
“Have you given up?” Ryker asks me.
“I gave her new boyfriend flowers,” I answer.
“What?” they both say at the same time.
“I gave her new boyfriend the flowers I was going to give her. That’s like throwing in the towel, right?”
Ryker laughs. “You did what?”
“So you did something stupid,” Ethan says. “So what? That doesn’t mean you’ve given up on Violet, does it?”
“I don’t think so,” I answer.
Ethan grabs my shoulder and straightens me up. He looks into my eyes.
“Do you want Violet back, Asher Hawthorne?”
“Yes,” I answer without thinking.
“Then go get her back,” Ethan tells me.
“Okay.”
“Though maybe not right now,” Ryker says. “She won’t take you seriously if you’re drunk. Plus you might throw up on her in front of her new boyfriend, which won’t help you win her back at all.”
“Fine.” I agree with him for once, even though I suddenly have an urge to go see her.
I bury my face in my arms on the counter.
Maybe I shouldn’t have drunk so much.
~
I really shouldn’t have drunk so much, I think as I stumble out of the elevator.
Ethan drove me home—well, his driver did—and the doorman downstairs helped me across the lobby, but now I’m on my own and I realize I can barely put one foot in front of the other.
I lean on the wall and trudge along. I can already see the door to my apartment even if it’s a bit of a blur.
Just a few more steps…
I fall. One moment I’m leaning on the wall and the next I’m on the floor. I don’t feel any pain, though. Just the coarse carpet against my cheek.
And weak. I feel weak. Like I don’t think I’ll be able to get up.
Fuck.
I close my eyes, about to give up. But then I hear a voice.
“Asher?”
I open my eyes and see Violet kneeling beside me. Just the sight of her alone gives me the strength to get my face off the floor and straighten up half my body so I can sit against the wall. But that’s the best I can do.
“Asher?” Violet places her hand on my shoulder. “Are you okay?”
I look into her eyes. Even though I’m drunk, I can see them clearly.
“Beautiful,” I mutter.
Her eyebrows crease. “What?”
“You’re beautiful,” I tell her.
“And you’re drunk,” she says.
“That doesn’t… make it any less true.”
She shakes her head.
I narrow my eyes. “Are you blushing?”
“No,” she says. “You’re the one whose face is all red.”
“Do you like it?”
“Just shut up and let me help you get home.”
She grabs my arm.
“Wait.” I pull it away. “Before I shut up, I have something to say.”
I know Ryker said I should wait until I’m sober before I talk to Violet, and he’s probably right. But she’s here now. I’m not wasting this chance.
Violet looks at me. “Are you sure you don’t want to wait until you’re sober?”
“No,” I answer. “I mean yes. I’m sure.”
She sits on her heels. “Okay then. I’m listening. But if you start to speak nonsense…”
“Farrah West,” I begin.
Violet crosses her arms over her chest. “Asher, I’m Violet Cleary. I know you’re drunk, and I know you’re not good with names, but are you seriously telling me you can’t remember the name of the last woman you slept with?”
“No, no. Farrah was the first. And the one who broke me. She was fine at first. But when I left her, she accused me of rape. I was sixteen. She was nineteen.”
Violet gasps. “What?”
“The charges were dropped. They’re not even on my record. And every article about what happened then was wiped out. But I remember what happened. And I learned my lesson—never let a woman get attached to you.”
“So that’s why you’ve been sleeping around.”
I nod. “I’d sleep with them one night and leave in the morning like you said. But not you. We’ve had sex a dozen times and I still want you.”
“Because the sex is that good?”
“Because it’s not just about the sex. Each time I’m with you, everything just feels… right. And I know I’m all wrong for you. I know I say all the wrong things. But I want to be right for you. I can’t be perfect. Not right away. Not ever. Because I’m not. And because of that, I can’t promise I’ll never hurt you or that we’ll never fight. But I want to…”