Drama
I couldn’t say what convinced me to do it, because I knew it could only end badly, but I called Asher. Maybe I just wanted a little companionship before everything went to hell. I kept reminding myself that it wasn’t like I would be tied to him forever. When he started to get too close, I could always run.
After just two dates, I wasn’t sure I wanted to run.
Those first two dates were nothing groundbreaking, but maybe I liked how normal they were. With Asher, nothing felt dangerous, life or death. Things were just… easy. For our third date, Asher had reluctantly invited me to see his band open for another local band at the Knitting Factory. He was the shyest musician I’d ever met, so I wasn’t surprised to see him playing bass and hiding behind his hair as he did it.
I stood by the side of the stage with the leader singer’s girlfriend. I didn’t catch her name, but I heard enough gossip about the entire Tribeca music scene to last me a lifetime. The music was what I cared about, not the gossip, and Asher’s band wasn’t bad at all. I felt kind of proud to stand by the stage and be the person he glanced at as he played.
When he came offstage at the end of their short set and kissed me, I didn’t even mind that he was a little sweaty. It wasn’t our first kiss, but it was our first public one, and it was strangely perfect.
That perfection only lasted a moment before guilt bubbled up inside me. The kiss made the lead singer’s girlfriend and her friends take real notice of me, rather than just talking at me. They peppered me with questions, all of which I did my best to dodge, as the band loaded up their instruments.
Asher seemed to sense that I was uncomfortable, though he couldn’t have guessed the entire reason why. He took my hand and asked, “Do you want to go home? They’re all going to the diner, but…”
“What about the main band?” I asked, nodding slightly toward the stage where the headliner was setting up.
He shrugged. “We can go. You and me. We don’t have to stay.”
“Well… okay,” I replied, trying not to sound overeager to go, even though I was.
A few minutes later, after catching a ride part of the way in the drummer’s van, we were walking hand in hand down the street to my apartment. Asher’s small hand fit nicely in mine. The callouses on it reminded me of a certain someone, but I tried to forget that comparison. They were nothing alike.
“So, was my band up to your discerning standards?” Asher asked as we approached my apartment building and he held the door open for me.
“Not bad,” I replied, smirking. ‘Really, you guys were good. Crackpot Theory, though?”
He shrugged. “Blame Jake. He doesn’t just sing, he writes all the songs, too. And he seems to think he’s some kind of genius.”
“So you’re just along for the ride?” I asked, leading the way up the stairs.
As I led the way up to my apartment, not sure at all why I even let Asher trail behind me, I decided that was what I liked about him. He was flexible, malleable. I felt like I could say and do anything—well, almost anything—and not have to worry about his reaction. Maybe he was just that enamored with me, or maybe he really was so pliable that I could make him do whatever I wanted. I wasn’t sure. I couldn’t imagine he would remain that way if he knew the truth about me, though. But for now… for now he was.
I wasn’t sure if he was going to follow me into my apartment, but he did. It was still early and we hadn’t eaten yet. There hadn’t been any craft services to speak of at the show, not like I had apparently become accustomed to, and I realized as I walked into my apartment that my stomach was practically growling.
“Umm, do you want to order some takeout? Or I could try to cook, I suppose.”
Asher shrugged. “Whichever you want to do. You don’t have to cook for me, I promise that isn’t why I came back here with you…”
“And why did you?” I asked, raising an eyebrow. I tried to sound flirty, even though I was on the verge of panic.
He wanted sex. Of course he wanted sex. I would have to tell him the truth. I couldn’t just lie, couldn’t let him touch my body like that without knowing what was—
“Colby?”
I blinked. “What?”
“Are you, umm… are you okay?” He asked, stepping closer to me. “You were… I dunno, like hyperventilating or something.”
“I was?” I asked. Was I? I supposed I had gotten lost in my thoughts, but I didn’t realize it had been for that long or that it had been noticeable at all. I must have done it again, because I flinched when Asher touched my cheek.
“You were,” he said softly. “What’s wrong? Did I say something?”
“No, I… I was just thinking. Umm, I guess I’m pretty hungry. I forget to eat sometimes and… well, anyway, I can maybe heat up some leftover spaghetti? I was going to turn it into a spaghetti bake…”
I was rambling, I knew, but I couldn’t stop. The easiest way to hide the truth was to cover it with a whole lot of distracting lies, wasn’t it? That seemed to be the method of subterfuge I’d chosen right then, and for the moment, it worked. Asher seemed utterly distracted as he helped me in the kitchen, hunting for whatever supplies I asked him to find to assemble the spaghetti bake.
Despite my mother’s best efforts to turn me into a regular Italian chef like herself, I’d never been very good at cooking. My growing appetite lately had me making all sorts of impulse purchases at the grocery store, though, which I had to later find some way to turn into a meal. It resulted in some pretty strange experiments, not all of which were edible, but at least it occupied my time when I wasn’t at work. With my mind occupied by cooking, I hardly had time to think about what had changed to suddenly turn me into Julia Child.
Asher left me alone to my thoughts, or lack thereof, until the oven door was shut on our late dinner. Before I could get away or ignore him, he hopped up onto the counter in front of me and said, “Okay, spill. I know something was freaking you out earlier. If it was me or the band or anybody at the show, I wanna know.”
“It wasn’t you,” I replied honestly.
“Then what was it?” He pressed.
“It was just…” I sighed, trying to find a way to say what I meant without actually saying it. “I just don’t know what you see in me.”
Asher frowned. “What wouldn’t I see in you? You’re adorable, smart, you don’t take shit from anyone, but you’re not into drama at all. You’re the most chill, low drama girl I’ve ever met.”
“If you only knew,” I mumbled. “I really, really wish you were right. But I don’t think you could be farther from the truth. At least about the drama thing. I am fucking adorable, though.”
“You are,” he agreed, pulling me closer and kissing my forehead. “Now, what kind of drama could you possibly be? Because I’m just not seeing it.”
“Because I didn’t want you to see it,” I replied. “But that’s like the worst way to start… this… isn’t it?”
He raised a eyebrow. “This?”
“Whatever, don’t interrupt me,” I said, nudging him teasingly.
“Okay, okay,” he replied, smiling faintly, then turning more serious. “So what deep, dark secret are you hiding from me?”
I sighed. “Maybe you didn’t notice, but I tried to ignore you. And I had my reasons for not wanting to get involved, but somehow you wore me down. And I almost wish you hadn’t, because it’s just… it’s not fair.”
“What’s not fair?” He asked. “You’re not making sense, sweetheart.”
“I’m sorry, I think I’m talking in circles,” I said, turning back to the oven which was now beeping at me. As I pulled the casserole dish out, I added, “Just forget I said anything. Or don’t. I just need to figure out a better way to say it.”
“Okay,” he replied, and I heard his soft footfalls on the floor as he hopped off the counter. Seconds later, his arms wrapped around me from behind and he rested his head on my shoulder. “Tell me whatever you want whenever you want, okay? But right now, let’s eat.”
Asher, being the disgustingly perfect little boy that he was, carried my plate to the couch for me. We sat down to eat in silence, and I thought it was going to drive me crazy but I didn’t want to turn on the television, either. I knew I needed to fill that silence with my own words, but it was still so scary. Still, why did I care what this boy thought? I barely knew him. And yet, I did care, and that was why I knew I couldn’t keep it a secret.
“I’m pregnant.”
I didn’t even realize I’d said it out loud until I felt Asher’s eyes on me, wider than I’d ever seen them. His fork fell to his plate and his mouth fell open. “I… okay, I’m pretty sure I would remember that, so…”
I shook my head. “No, it was… it was before we met.”
“But you’re…” He began, then bit his lip and stared down at my still relatively flat stomach.
“I’m just about eleven weeks along,” I replied. “It’s weird, I can barely even tell, but I know I am. But I feel like I look exactly the same as before. I guess… well, you’ll probably be able to really tell soon. Right now I just look like I need to lay off the ice cream.”
Asher nodded slowly, still looking like he was in a daze. I was just waiting for him to get up and run out the door. “So you… that’s why you didn’t want to… to date me?”
“Yeah,” I replied. “Well, it’s why I figured you wouldn’t want to date me.”
“Where’s the… I mean, what about the, umm, dad?”
I knew that question was coming. “England, I think. I haven’t seen him since before I found out. He doesn’t know, and he’s not going to know.”
“But that’s…”
“If he finds out, then his wife will have to find out,” I replied softly.
If I thought Asher’s eyes were wide before, it was nothing compared to how shocked he looked right then. To my surprise, though, he still didn’t run. Instead, he grabbed my plate and placed it beside his on the coffee table, then pulled me toward him, practically into his lap.
“What are you doing?” I asked.
He shrugged. “I just… I dunno, seemed like you needed a hug? I’m sorry I’m so lame, I just… that’s…”
“It’s crazy, I know,” I replied. “Honestly, I wouldn’t blame you if you leave right now. I mean, it’s just… it’s not like I planned it this way, but I think it’s definitely some crazy drama. And I didn’t want any of it, but…”
He pulled back slightly. “But you’re keeping the baby?”
“Yeah,” I replied, nodding. “I couldn’t really imagine doing anything else. Not that I think it’s wrong or whatever, I don’t know. It’s just… I couldn’t. I have to keep this baby.”
Asher nodded. “Okay. That’s… I get that.”
“I’m not just… using you or whatever,” I said. You wouldn’t have known it to look at Asher, but he came from old money, far older than my own. I hadn’t realized until right then how it looked, but it wasn’t as though I could have really pretended the baby was his. He would know better.
“Hey,” he said, putting a finger to my lips to stop me. “I didn’t think that. It really didn’t even occur to me. And it’s probably weird or whatever, but… well, I’m not leaving. I like you. Maybe more than I should, but whatever. So I’m sticking around until you get sick of me.”
“Even when I get as big as one of the Macy’s parade floats?” I asked, somewhat in disbelief, even though the look on his face said that he meant every word he said.
“Even then,” he replied with a shrug, like it was nothing.
“You might be insane,” I said.
Asher grinned. “Maybe. Are you complaining?”
“Not really,” I replied. “But I hope you weren’t expecting a more exciting evening than this.”
He raised an eyebrow. “I dunno, finding out you… well, it’s been a revealing evening, anyway.”
“You know what I meant,” I said. “I’m probably about five minutes away from passing out. You’re lucky I’ve stayed awake this long.”
Asher chuckled. Without another word, he picked up our plates and carried them to the kitchen. I helped him rinse off the dishes, at least, and put away what we hadn’t eaten, but it was obvious that he wasn’t going to stop trying to be helpful. I wanted to question why he was still there at all, not running from the crazy pregnant woman. What did he have to gain from being with me? He had to be working some kind of angle, but I couldn’t find it. Until I could, I supposed it didn’t hurt anything to stay with him.