My brows knitted. “West End suitor?”
“The guy you went to see a West End show with earlier this summer.”
What is he—ohhhh. He was talking about my girls’ night with Carina. We’d watched a musical and gotten smashed on blueberry cocktails afterward.
I hadn’t outright said it was a date, but I’d led Asher to believe it was a romantic outing. Even back then, I’d unconsciously been trying to make him jealous.
The realization struck with the force of an anvil. I swallowed, wishing I had a pair of magic scissors so I could snip my way out of this tangled mess.
When it came to Asher, should and want battled for dominance over my decisions, and the winner changed by the hour.
I hated myself for how wishy-washy that made me. I kissed him, then I ran away. I told him to pretend the kiss never happened, then I tried to provoke him by discussing my upcoming date with Clive. I wanted to make him jealous, but I wanted him to leave me alone.
I was turning into the type of person I hated, the kind who couldn’t make up her mind and flip-flopped between what she said and what she did.
The problem was, I didn’t know how to stop it.
“No,” I said in response to Asher’s statement. “It didn’t work out romantically. We decided we’re better off as friends.”
It was the truth…if I stretched the truth out and dipped it in a bowl of lie-by-omission sauce.
“I see.” Asher’s jaw ticked again. “It’s funny you mentioned the Golden Wharf. I have a date there this Friday too.”
I couldn’t hold back a snort. “Oh, please.”
“You think I’m lying?”
“What are the chances you have a date at the same restaurant on the same night as me right after I tell you about it?”
“What are the chances you run into Clive at some hole-in-the-wall cinema a week after meeting him when you’ve never seen him there before?” he countered.
Dammit. He got me there.
“Who’s your date?” I asked, still suspicious.
“Someone I met over the weekend. She’s cute, funny, and loves football. I’m excited to take her out.”
The fact he was clearly trying to make me jealous didn’t stop me from feeling, well, jealous. “Great.”
“It is.”
More silence, punctured only by the instrumentals soaring in the background.
“We should go on a double date,” Asher said after ten long, tense seconds.
I burst into laughter, but it tapered off when he didn’t join me.
He couldn’t be serious.
“Are you daft?” I demanded. “What makes you think that’ll be a good idea? You don’t even like Clive!”
“I don’t have to like him to double date with him.”
“That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard.”
“No, it’s not. Think about it. First dates are awkward. It’s a small restaurant, and we’ll both be there anyway. This is the perfect way for us to get to know the other person without the pressure of a one-on-one.”
“Asher, darling, if you don’t have faith in your first-date skills, you should’ve just said so,” I said, deliberately throwing his nickname for me back at him.
His smirk indicated he’d caught it. “My dating skills aren’t the ones I’m worried about.”
“Are you implying I’m a bad date?”
Asher shrugged. “I wouldn’t know. But I know I’m not a bad date.”
“Please. I’ll have Clive eating out of my hand before the main course.” I hadn’t been on a date in a while, but I could turn on the charm when I wanted.
“He’s a guy,” Asher said. “He’ll eat anything you put in front of him.”
“Way to insinuate my date has no standards.”
“You’re the one who said it, not me.”
“You shouldn’t talk. You depend on your looks and money to do the heavy lifting.” I jabbed my finger at his chest. It was like poking a brick wall. “I bet you can’t carry a dinner’s worth of conversation to save your life. Your date will be bored to tears.”
“You want to bet on it?” Asher’s eyes glinted with challenge. “Let’s see who ends the night with a second date lined up. Winner gets bragging rights. Loser suffers eternal shame.”
“A bet? What are we, teenagers?” I scoffed. A beat passed. “What happens if we both get a second date?”
