Textual Confusion

3. Let me see you.

CHAPTER THREE

LET ME SEE YOU.

Turns out his life was someone’s business other than his own: Sasha’s.

And Danny’s, too, apparently.

Asher had managed to avoid questions about Mystery Man the entire rest of the week. (Not for lack of trying on Sasha’s part. She’d all but blown up his phone with questions, and attempted to corner him at the café more than once.)

It wasn’t until Friday evening when Asher allowed Sasha (and Danny) to drag him out to their favorite bar that she finally had him in her clutches.

Despite its location on one of the busiest blocks in downtown Seattle, The Pink Pony wasn’t overly popular with tourists or locals.

Mostly because of its reputation as a biker bar.

Pete, the owner of The Pink Pony, was the physical embodiment of what one pictured when thinking of a biker. He was big and burly, with an impressive beard and even more impressive tattoos. He was also one of the sweetest people that Asher had ever met.

Much like Mr. Brittle, Pete had taken a shine to Asher for unbeknownst reasons. (It’s the ass, he’s sure Sasha would argue.) Regardless, Pete always greeted Asher with a friendly smile, asking after his week, and often even offering Asher and his friends a free appetizer to go along with the drinks they inevitably ordered.

Benny, the bar’s chef, was an excellent cook, and the food at The Pink Pony was top-notch. It was greasy, like all bar food was supposed to be, and the portions were more than generous. Today, they’d settled on a huge platter of loaded fries to share, and Asher was practically inhaling them as he sipped on his mojito and listened to Danny blabber on about work drama – a common topic of conversation amongst the three friends.

Danny was in a great mood – apparently because his tyrant of a boss was in a rare good mood of his own.

“I’m telling you, Lauren fucked up majorly and double booked him this afternoon, and he didn’t shout at her. Not even a sarcastic quip about her ineptitude. It was fucking bizarre.”

“Wait,” Sasha said, “I thought your boss’s assistant’s name was Miguel?”

“Miguel quit,” Danny explained, shoving a cheesy, bean-covered fry into his mouth. “He lasted longer than I thought he would, honestly. I caught him crying in the restroom, like, three times after enduring one of Mr. Kingston’s tirades.”

Asher frowned in concern. “How many of your boss’s assistants have quit now? Like five?”

“Nah, only two so far this year. The other ones were fired. Which is why it’s so strange he didn’t chew his new one out this morning after she committed such a colossal fuck-up. I’m telling you,” Danny said, pointing a fry at him, “something’s up.”

Asher shrugged. “Maybe after going through so many assistants, he’s finally seen the error of his ways and is making a concerted effort to be, I don’t know, kinder?” he suggested.

Having been subjected to even more stories about Danny’s hellish boss than Asher, Sasha snorted before reaching over the table to pinch Asher’s cheek. “Cute.”

Asher scowled, smacking her hand away.

“My theory is something more along the lines of he’s finally getting some good pussy,” Danny said.

Sasha raised her eyebrows. “How do you know he’s not gay? Could be that he’s finally getting some good dick,” she pointed out.

Danny snorted. “Doubt it. I don’t think there’s room for anything up there beside the stick permanently lodged in his ass.”

Sasha threw her head back and laughed. “I dare you to say that out loud to him.”

“Do you want me to get fired?” Danny asked incredulously. “I thought you enjoyed spending my paycheck on those fancy paints of yours.”

Sasha stuck out her tongue. “Just admit you’re scared of him.”

“Well, yeah,” Danny admitted shamelessly. “Ignoring the fact he’s my boss, I don’t have a death wish. You’ve seen the guy. He’d kick my ass.”

That was an impressive claim coming from Danny, who was no small fry himself. Standing at a couple inches over six feet tall and a regular at the gym, Danny had a physique that not many would scoff at.

“Really?” Asher asked, intrigued. Somehow his boss’s body type had never come up during any of Danny’s rants about the man.

Sasha nodded. “His boss is an asshole, but he’s also an absolute stud. Stupidly handsome, too. I’m telling you, the one and only time I met him, I almost called him Daddy instead of Mr. Kingston.”

Danny pouted. “You’re lucky I’m secure in our relationship, or I’d be feeling pretty inadequate right now.”

Sasha bopped him on the nose. “Trust me, absolutely nothing is inadequate about you, babe.” She winked at Asher, who promptly pretended to gag. “ Anyway , since we’re on the topic of calling guys Daddy…”

Asher groaned, knowing exactly where Sasha was going with this. He sunk into his seat and hitched his shoulders to his ears in an attempt to hide his face in his shirt.

Danny glanced back and forth between the two of them, clearly confused. “What is it?”

Sasha smirked. “Let’s just say your boss isn’t the only one who’s been in a suspiciously good mood this week,” she said.

Asher could see the exact moment realization struck, and Danny’s eyes lit up, a teasing grin immediately pulling at the corners of his mouth. “Does that mean what I think it means? Did you finally meet someone, Asher?”

Asher rolled his eyes, straightening up. “You say that like I’ve been single forever. It’s only been a couple months since Trent and I broke up.”

“The best couple months of my life,” Danny muttered at the same time Sasha did the sign of the cross, not in a “ rest in peace ” kind of way, more like she was warding off a demon.

Asher snorted.

“Yeah, and I’ve been telling you ever since that the best way to get over a guy is to get under another one,” Sasha said. “Or on top of one. Or side-to-side. Whatever freaky-deaky position you prefer.”

Danny winced. “Can you two please not talk about Asher’s sex life with me sitting right here?”

“Why?” She narrowed his eyes. “Weirded out by his gayness?”

“No, I’m weirded out because he’s practically my little brother!”

It was true.

Danny and Asher had been neighbors growing up. With an absent father and a drug addict mother who couldn’t hold down a job, let alone take proper care of her child, Asher found himself staying at Danny’s house more often than not. There was a three year age gap between them, but Danny had never treated Asher like a bothersome little kid. In fact, he’d often helped him with his homework after school and had even let Asher tag along with him and his friends whenever they went out to talk shit or shoot hoops at the neighborhood park.

It was actually Asher who had introduced Sasha and Danny to each other.

He and Sasha had been assigned to the same co-ed dorm his freshmen year, and to everyone’s surprise, the loud, boisterous blonde and the soft-spoken gay kid got along like a house on fire. They’d wasted no time moving in together in an off-campus apartment later than year.

Asher sometimes got asked if he felt weird about the fact his two best friends were dating, but Asher didn’t mind at all and was honestly happy for them. (Except on the rare occasions they decided to gang up on him.)

“Well, you don’t have to worry because Asher and this guy didn’t have actual physical sex,” Sasha explained. “They’ve only been texting each other dirty pictures.”

“Sasha!”

“What? Am I wrong? I’ve seen the way you’ve been ogling your phone at work and then hiding it as soon as I get near. I’m not blind.”

“We’ve just been talking,” Asher protested. “We haven’t actually sexted since that first night.”

Weirdly enough, it was true.

Asher was well aware that whatever… relationship he had with Mystery Man was based on the fact that the guy had struck a sex-for-money deal with someone else, and that Asher had willingly sent him a picture of his panty-clad ass last week… but shockingly, the man hadn’t pressed for more.

He seemed to be going along with the whole getting-to-know-each-other-thing that Asher had suggested, and it’d be a lie to say that Asher wasn’t enjoying it.

“Uh-huh,” Sasha said skeptically, bursting his bubble. “So does that mean you know his actual name now?”

“Hold on,” Danny interrupted with a frown. “How can you be sexting someone if you don’t even know their name?”

“Some stranger sent him a picture of his dick last weekend.”

“It wasn’t a dick pic!” Asher denied, feeling a flush begin to creep up his neck. “Just, you know, his abs and stuff…”

Sasha ignored him. “Asher had phone sex with the guy and then, get this, he wired him $500!”

Danny’s eyebrows shot up. “Was that his way of calling you a whore? Do I need to kick his ass?”

“What? No! ”

“The guy only paid him the $500 because he texted the wrong number and literally thought Asher was a prostitute – or escort or sugar baby or whatever,” Sasha explained to Danny before turning towards Asher with an accusing gaze. “And Asher still hasn’t cleared up the misunderstanding.”

“So… what? You just decided to keep texting him?” Danny asked incredulously.

“Maybe,” Asher admitted in a small voice, before tacking on louder, “but it’s not just because he’s the most attractive man I’ve ever seen – in pictures, at least. He’s actually really sweet. Just yesterday, I sent him a text complaining about being out of chocolate chips and he had three bags of them delivered to my apartment – milk chocolate, white chocolate, and dark chocolate chunk. Look!”

Asher unlocked his phone and quickly scrolled through his messages with Mystery Man, finding the proof before pushing his phone across the table.

Mystery Man

What’s wrong, baby?

Next time, remind me to check that I have all the necessary ingredients before I start making cookies. I whipped up an entire double batch before realizing I don’t have any chocolate chips. And what’s a chocolate chip cookie without the chocolate chips?

A... regular cookie?

Wrong. It’s an abomination is what it is.

You’re adorable.

Give me your address, and I’ll have some chocolate sent over.

What? No! You don’t have to do that. I’ll just ask Julius if he has any I can borrow.

Who’s Julius?

Just my next-door neighbor. He brings me leftovers every once in a while and helped me out that one time a pipe burst under my kitchen sink.

Are you saying he can take better care of you than I can?

Don’t be jealous. He’s, like, sixty.

Regardless, I’ll be the one buying you the chocolate. Address, now.

Seriously, this wasn’t why I texted you. I can just run to the corner store and pick some up.

Don’t make me ask again.

Ugh, fine. If you insist.

801 Magnolia Drive. But I’m not telling you my apartment number. Just have the delivery person put it by the letterbox. I’ll grab it later.

Also… thank you, Daddy.

You’re welcome, baby.

Danny cringed. “You could have warned me about the whole daddy thing. And why are you giving some rando your address? Haven’t you ever heard of stranger danger?”

“He’s hardly a stranger. And, anyway, it’s not like I told him which apartment’s mine.”

“I did warn you about the daddy thing,” Sasha pointed out, handing Asher back his phone. “And all this proves is that he’s a controlling prick. All the more reason to drop this charade before real feelings develop.”

Danny snorted. “Only Asher could catch feelings for some stranger who’s mistaken him as his sugar baby.”

Asher crossed his arms over his chest. “What’s that supposed to mean?” he asked, a spike of irritation shooting through him.

“It means you wear your heart on your sleeve,” Sasha explained patiently. “And that you have so much love to give that sometimes you don’t leave enough left over for yourself. Some people tend to take advantage of that. Like Trent.”

Asher glared. “This is nothing like with Trent.”

“Not yet it’s not,” she allowed, “but you’ve practically admitted that you’re already starting to like this guy, and that it’s more than a sex thing.”

“So?”

“So?” Sasha repeated incredulously. “He doesn’t even know who you are, Asher!”

“Just because he doesn’t know my name or what my face looks like, doesn’t mean he’s not getting to know me,” he argued.

Sasha pressed her lips together, unconvinced.

“Has he tried calling you?” Danny asked curiously after a beat.

“A few times,” Asher admitted, shrugging. “So far, I’ve just been pretending to miss his calls.”

“Has he asked to meet up again?” Sasha asked.

“Surprisingly, no.”

It was a little strange, considering he was supposed to be paying Asher (or whoever he really thought he was talking to) for sex, but he wasn’t about to question his good fortune.

“And have you thought about what you’re going to do when he does ask?” Sasha pressed. “Because sooner or later, he will.”

Asher knew it was true, but he’d been trying very hard not to think about that fact, or what he would do when it inevitably happened. And now his friends were forcing him to think about it. “Can we talk about something else, please?” he asked, looking anywhere but at their faces.

“Hey,” Sasha said, leaning across the table and grabbing him by the wrist. “I’m sorry for pressing, but you know we’re just asking these questions because we care, right? We just don’t want you to get your heart broken.” The again went unsaid.

In the face of Sasha’s apology, Asher’s irritation with his friends immediately dithered. “I know,” he admitted with a sigh. “And I’ll forgive you both if Danny orders another round of these loaded fries.”

“Deal,” Danny immediately agreed, already sliding out of their booth to place the order. “Want me to get you another one of those too?” he asked, pointing to Asher’s mojito.

“This one’s still over half full,” Asher pointed out incredulously.

“And?”

Asher narrowed his eyes. “You’re trying to get me drunk,” he accused. “Why?”

Danny held his hands up. “Can’t I just be nice to my second favorite person in the whole world?”

Sasha perked up. “Does that mean I’m your first favorite?”

“Nah, that’s my mom.”

Danny hopped out of the way before Sasha’s slap could land. “I’ll be right back with those fries!” he called over his shoulder as he made his way to the bar. “And another round of drinks too!”

“Jackass,” Sasha muttered as she watched him walk away.

“You’re the one dating him,” Asher pointed out.

“I blame the guy who introduced us.”

Asher snorted, taking a sip of his drink.

“So, you know how Halloween is a couple weeks away?”

Asher glanced up, frowning when he noticed the faux-innocent expression on Sasha’s face. “Yeah. It’s pumpkin spice everything at work. And, believe it or not, I can read a calendar.”

Sasha huffed. “Can you tone down the sass?”

“Look who’s talking,” Asher retorted. “Anyway, what about Halloween?” He grimaced. “Don’t tell me you’ve come up with another group costume idea.”

Last year, she’d convinced Danny to dress up as an inmate so she could go as a sexy police officer, and she’d forced Asher to dress up as a cop, too.

Really, it was no wonder why some people thought they were a throuple.

“Hey, I stand by the fact that you looked hot as fuck in that uniform.”

“It had more fishnets than actual fabric,” Asher pointed out incredulously.

“Like I said, hot as fuck.” Sasha shook her head. “ Anyway , it’s nothing like that. Danny’s work is hosting this charity gala thing. It’s kind of like a fancy Halloween party, except instead of grinding with a bunch of strangers dressed as slutty cats and drinking jungle juice that tastes like a mix of Hawaiian punch and death, it’s formal attire with a five course dinner.”

“Um… okay? Sounds fun.”

“I’m glad you think so. Because Danny’s going to ask you to be his plus one.”

Asher blinked, certain he’d missed something. “What?”

“I’m going to be out of town for an artists’ retreat in San Francisco next Saturday, so I can’t go, and Danny doesn’t want to go alone because of office politics or something stupid like that, so I suggested he take you,” she said, smiling like it wasn’t the worst idea Asher had ever heard.

“But why?” he whined. “Can’t Danny just, you know, not go?”

Sasha shook her head. “Apparently, that’d be worse than showing up alone.”

“Well, he can just find another date then! I’m sure there are plenty of women who’d be interested in going with him, what with how adequate he apparently is.”

Sasha scowled at him. “I’m going to pretend you didn’t just say that.”

Danny arrived before their bickering could escalate. “Fries!” he exclaimed, plopping down the platter of cheesy goodness. “A strawberry daiquiri for you,” he said, handing the reddish-pink drink to Sasha, “a mojito for you,” he said, handing Asher his drink, “and a beer for me.” His smile faltered, however, when he sat and finally noticed the tension radiating between them. “What?”

Sasha shifted in her seat before finally turning to offer Danny a smile. “Nothing. I was just telling Asher about the charity gala that Kingston Enterprises is hosting next weekend. Good news, he agreed to go with you!”

Asher let his indignation be known with a loud squawk.

But Danny’s jubilance was louder. “Really?” he asked, beaming across the table at him. “Thanks, Asher!”

Asher winced. “Actually, Sasha misunderstood-”

“Seriously, you’re a lifesaver,” Danny continued, talking over him. “With Sasha being out of town, I usually wouldn’t bother going, but I’m vying for that supervisor position, and all the top executives will be there. It’s one of the only opportunities I’ll have to properly network, so… you know, thanks. Really.”

Dammit. How could Asher possibly say no now?

Think of an excuse, his brain urged him , quickly!

“Like I was telling Sasha, I’d love to go, Danny,” – lie – “but the thing is, I don’t have a suit, so-”

“I’ll buy you one,” Danny assured, cutting Asher off before he could even finish his sentence.

Asher frowned. “I can’t ask you to do that.”

“You’re not. It’s the least I can do in return for you agreeing to go with me.”

“But-”

“There’s an open bar,” Sasha shamelessly cajoled him.

Asher glowered at her.

“And free food,” Danny pointed out. “I heard there’s even going to be, like, three different desserts.”

“You can call me afterwards to tell me how awful they all were,” Sasha inserted, “and explain how you could have made the exact same desserts ten times better.”

“You make me sound like an asshole,” Asher muttered, though he had to admit, he was the most tempted he’d been yet.

“Please come, Asher,” Danny begged, sensing weakness. He stared at him straight on with his shiny, hazel eyes, even puckering his mouth into a little pout. “I need you.”

Asher sighed, and knocking back what remained of his drink, he resigned himself to his fate. “Fine. I’ll do it. I’ll go to the stupid, fancy gala with you.”

His friends cheered.

Asher collapsed into his bed, tired and pleasantly tipsy from a fun night out with friends.

After having agreed to attend the charity gala with Danny, Asher had forced himself to ignore his phone for the rest of the evening. Partly to be polite and concentrate on his friends, but mostly because he didn’t want to face another interrogation from Sasha, who’d watched him like a hawk the rest of evening.

He was alone now, though, so he allowed himself to indulge in checking his messages, unable to hold back a smile when he saw he had a missed text from Mystery Man.

He snorted when he read it.

Mystery Man

Can you send me another picture, baby?

Why? What’s wrong with the ones I already sent you?

Asher may have sent the man several more pictures of his booty, excess equipment carefully concealed, of course.

Nothing.

They’re perfect, darling. You’re perfect. I just want one where I can see your pretty face.

Asher’s smile disappeared as quickly as it’d come, his pleasant buzz fading away as Mystery Man’s words worked to sober him.

Fuck.

You already saw my face when we met and I signed the contract, silly.

My memory’s hazy.

Please, sweetheart.

Asher bit his lip. Mystery Man rarely said please. But he just couldn’t.

He racked his brain for an excuse.

I can’t right now. I just got out of the shower and my hair’s a mess.

I don’t care.

Let me see you.

But you never send me pictures of your face.

There. Now show me yours, sweetheart.

Holy shit.

Mystery Man was somehow even more handsome in real life than Asher had imagined him in his head. His face was all attractive angles, with chiseled cheekbones and a strong jawline covered in a well-maintained beard. He had an olive complexion – something Asher had already figured from the shirtless pictures he’d sent – and a head full of dark hair that was styled in a slight undercut.

All in all, it was enough to make anyone who felt even an inkling of attraction towards the male sex weak in the knees.

But it was the eyes that really captured Asher’s attention. They were so dark that they were almost black, and there was something distinctly wild – almost predatory – about them. They tugged at something inside of Asher and made his stomach swoop, even through the screen of his phone.

Asher didn’t realize he was borderline drooling until he started choking on the saliva pooling in his mouth.

A horribly embarrassing, yet thankfully brief coughing fit later, he managed to get himself under control.

He was suddenly very glad that he and Mystery Man were communicating via text message and not face to face. Not only would Asher be too busying ogling him to make conversation, apparently he couldn’t even be trusted not to choke on his own drool.

Not that Asher would ever have the gonads to approach someone who looked like Mystery Man in real life.

As the high of seeing the man’s face for the first time dwindled, a deeply imbedded sense of insecurity took its place. If Asher thought he didn’t have a chance with this guy before, he was certain of it now.

Even if by some miracle Mystery Man was into guys, there was no way he’d go for someone as plain and average looking as Asher.

I can’t. I just put a charcoal facemask on.

Is that how you’re going to play it?

What’s that supposed to mean?

It means I know you’re not Bianca.

Asher felt his heart stop before it restarted, beating twice as fast as before. His thoughts, however, remained frozen. He had no idea what to think, let alone say in response to the completely accurate accusation.

Plus, Bianca? That was definitely a woman’s name.

Asher felt his stomach sink to somewhere around his feet.

I’ve known for a while now. You weren’t exactly subtle. Forgetting my job title, never once calling me by name. You don’t even know who I am, do you?

Part of Asher wanted to deny it, to insist that Mystery Man had gotten it wrong. But deep down, he knew it was no use. He’d been caught.

No.

I’m sorry.

Don’t be sorry. Just tell me why you lied, why you played along that first night I texted you.

I… I don’t know.

Not good enough.

You want to be good for me, don’t you, sweetheart? Tell me.

Asher couldn’t believe the man was still calling him pet names after the bomb he’d just dropped. After revealing that he’d known for nearly the entire time they’d been chatting that Asher wasn’t who he claimed to be.

It was almost enough to give Asher hope that there was still a chance to salvage things, that Mystery Man could forgive him and they could continue doing… whatever it was they were doing, in spite of Asher’s deceit.

But, of course, he didn’t know that Asher was a man, and Asher couldn’t quite muster the courage to tell him.

Still, he owed Mystery Man an explanation, so he’d try his best to give him one.

It was that picture you sent. You were just so attractive. I couldn’t help myself.

So, it’s real? Your attraction to me?

Of course it’s real.

And those pictures you sent? Those were all of you?

Yes.

And everything else you told me?

You mean that I’m a baker and a Pisces who loves the color pink and has a frankly unhealthy addiction to watching serial killer documentaries?

Yeah, that’s all true.

Except for the part where you pretended to be the escort I hired.

Asher winced.

Right.

Though, to be honest, I never understood why someone like you would need that kind of service.

Someone like me?

Nice, rich, obviously hot.

I’m not nice.

Agree to disagree.

Regardless, I have my reasons.

When it became clear he wasn't going to elaborate, Asher sighed. (Not that he had any room to judge Mystery Man for choosing to withhold information – obviously.)

Right.

Can I ask you a question?

I don’t know. Can you?

*May* I ask you a question?

Go ahead.

You said you’ve known for a while now that I wasn’t the person you hired… so why not call me out on it sooner? Were you just toying with me?

Is that why you continued to respond to my texts? To toy with me?

Of course not! It wasn’t like that at all! I… I really liked talking to you.

I was waiting to see if you’d come clean on your own. I tried to draw it out of you a few times, but you never took the bait. I suppose I got impatient.

Oh.

So… I guess this is the end then.

It wasn’t until the screen started to get blurry that Asher realized stupid, traitorous tears had flooded his eyes. He hurriedly blinked them away. He was not going to cry about this. That’d be ridiculous.

It doesn’t have to be. Just tell me who you are. Send me a picture of your pretty face so I know what my baby looks like.

Asher bit down so hard on his bottom lip that he tasted the coopery tang of blood. Mystery Man made it sound so easy, and a part of Asher screamed at him to just do it. What was the worst that could happen?

Unbidden, an image of Mystery Man hurling a string of homophobic slurs at him popped into his brain.

You fucking fairy. Nasty fag ? —

I’m so sorry.

Before he could lose his nerve, Asher swiped out of their messaging history and hastily blocked Mystery Man’s number. Almost instantly, he was hit with a wave of regret, but Asher forced himself to remain firm in his decision.

It was cowardly, but he just couldn’t open himself up to the possibility of rejection. He was better off forgetting about Mystery Man altogether.

So why did he feel so wretched ?

Telling himself he didn’t deserve to cry over a heartache he’d caused himself, Asher curled up in bed and squeezed his eyes shut, willing for sleep to take him.

It took a long time to come.