Of course, he was gorgeous. Why, just once, couldn't a guy look like his personality? If you're ugly on the inside, you should at least have to be moderately unattractive on the outside. Like a warning signal. It would make mine and about a billion other women's lives easier, that's for damn sure.
And he was not just walking down the street "Oh, that man is pretty," either. Asher Wilde looked like some sort of Greek god: jaw chiseled out of stone, blue eyes that you could swim in, and even under his black, I could only assume cashmere sweater, it was pretty evident that he kept at least one gym in business.
He's an asshole, Dylan. You don't need any more assholes.
My brain was absolutely correct on that front. My vagina with her stupid tingles and even more stupid butterflies she got just from looking at him, was going to have to shut up, because another asshole was the very last thing any part of me needed. Any part. Not even my left fucking earlobe. We were swearing off assholes. For good.
But he couldn't be all asshole, could he? If he was a real asshole, he never would've jumped in to save me from Brock. He would've just gone about his night and not thought twice about a man and a woman duking it out on a public street. He would've left it alone. He wouldn't have swooped in like some White Knight Prince Charming. It didn't make sense. Asher Wilde was apparently gorgeous and confusing. Really confusing.
"Spill," Lita commanded with a sigh, sinking into the stool beside me. She tipped a pint glass to her lips, staring at me the while. "Why are you looking at him like that?"
"I'm not looking at anyone," I responded indignantly, sipping on the gin and tonic I'd gotten the second I walked through the front door. I tipped my chin so that my eye line was lower, but all that did was bring his sculpted ass in dark-wash jeans into view. Fucking. Perfect.
"Bullshit. I know you better than that," Lita continued, obviously not buying my flimsy dismissal. "You know that's Asher, right?"
"I'm fully fucking aware, thank you," I practically snarled.
"What happened?"
"Nothing!"
"Dyl, stop. I saw Ryder and Mason go running out of here," Lita informed me. "Did he show up again?"
I took another swallow of my drink and nodded. "Yes," I answered sheepishly.
"Are you fucking him again?"
"NO!" I shouted, my eyes ripping from Asher and going wide as they landed on my best friend. "I told you I was done with him!"
"You've told me that seventeen times, Dylan."
"I mean it this time!" I insisted. "I'm done with Brock, Lita. He just... won't leave me alone."
"Have you actually told him to?"
"Yes!" I cried. "Jesus. Thanks for all the faith in me, bestie. Really appreciate it."
"Look, I'm sorry, okay?" Lita sighed. "You've just... For the last four years, Brock has had this hold on you. No matter what he does, you let him back in and... he does the same bullshit all over again. He's not good for you, Dylan."
"I know that. I know," I stated. "But I really mean it this time. I don't want anything to do with him. I don't even talk to him, I blocked his number. But... he shows up at my house, he shows up at work, HERE..."
"Do you think you need to get a restraining order?"
I shook my head. "He's never... hurt me, Lita. Not like that."
"Doesn't mean he won't."
I scoffed at the thought. "Brock cries when he gets a hangnail. I don't think violence of any sort is in his repertoire."
Lita chuckled a bit. "You've got a point there." She slung an arm over my shoulders and rested her head against mine. "I just need you to be okay, alright?"
"I'm fine, Lita, I promise. He'll... find someone new like he always does."
"Yeah, but he always circles back."
"Well, he can keep on circling," I stated, raising my glass to my lips once again. My eyes landed on Asher standing next to Ryder at the bar, laughing. Ugh. He was even more gorgeous when he smiled.
Gross.
I was trying to peel my eyes from him, when Asher Wilde turned and looked directly at me, and I froze. He gave me a pursed smile and raised his glass as I scrambled to refocus my attention back on Lita. "Surprised he actually showed up," I mumbled.
Lita sighed and looked at her soon-to-be husband and his best friend. "I'm glad he did. Ryder was really upset after their coffee fiasco the other day."
"Yeah, well, his best friend is a dick."
"He's not though," Lita argued. "I've known Ash since we were in college. He's not as bad as he comes off sometimes."
I arched a meticulously groomed eyebrow high on my face and gave her a deadpan stare. "Seriously?"
"Yes, seriously, Dylan," Lita responded with a chuckle. "Ash is... incredible when he lets himself be. He is... fun, and hilarious, and so caring... not to mention he's fucking gorgeous..."
"Well, that I can agree with..."
"He just lets his dad and... his girlfriend, if that's what she's supposed to be, get to him. But..." Lita continued with a smirk. "According to Ryder, the rich bitch girlfriend may no longer be an issue."
"That so?" I asked, trying to keep my interest out of my voice.
"Apparently they got into a huge fight before he got here. He wanted her to come to the bar and join us, she wouldn't. Tried to force him to go with her... and flipped her Dolce and Gabbana lid when he told her no."
I laughed at that. "Well, well done, Asher."
"He hasn't stopped looking at you either, ya know?"
I glared at Lita and her stupid little knowing smirk. "I'm not looking at him."
"Are too."
"Am not."
"Are too, Dylan Lee," Lita smirked, nudging me with her elbow. "It's okay. He's... a hard man not to look at."
"Fine. He's pretty. But pretty doesn't change the fact that he talked loads of shit on me just because I have a fucking OnlyPatrons page. If that's the kind of person he is, he can take his pretty and jump off the pier."
"Dyl..."
"No, Lita," I interrupted. "I'm tired of being judged because I've taken control of my sexuality. Sites like OnlyPatrons wouldn't even exist if men weren't paying to see women's bits anyway, so really, who's he to fucking judge me? He probably has some secret account his little princess of a girlfriend doesn't know about."
Lita shrugged. "I mean he could."
"Most do. Especially the loud ones who talk about how trashy it is," I stated, smiling quickly at the waitress as she delivered another gin and tonic in front of me. "God forbid a woman stands up and says "Oh yeah? Pay to Play, buddy." She's a total slut then, right?"
"He didn't say you were a slut, Dylan..."
"He didn't have to, Lita. I've heard it all before. "Poor Dylan shows her knockers to make a living," "Poor girl must have no self-esteem," "Poor gal's gotta have Daddy Issues up the wazoo," I ranted in a mocking tone. "Well fuck all of that. I have a 'real' job, two in fact, I pay all my own bills, I own my apartment and my car and I fucking love my dad, so they can take their rationale and fucking shove it."
"Dylan..."
"I do it because I want to. I do it because creepy dudes are going to message me and ask for pics of my tits anyway, so might as well get something out of it. I do it because for my entire fucking life I've been the girl not good enough to date, but excellent spank bank material, so fuck it. They want me to be the secret they jerk off to, fine. But I'm fucking getting paid for it."
Lita sighed and rested her hand atop mine. "You don't have to defend yourself to me, Dylan. I don't care what you do..."
"I know that," I sighed, giving her a weak smile. "It's not... it's not about you. It's about him and douchebags like him. He is EXACTLY the boy in school that would've made fun of me to my face and then jerked off to me later that night. Or... fucking gotten me wasted at a party and hooked up with me and then advertised to the entire school what kind of ho-bag I was. That is what Asher Wilde is."
"He's really not, Dylan, but... I get why it seems that way."
"It's fine. Like you said, he and I don't have to be friends. We've just gotta coexist for the next couple weeks."
"Well, I'd prefer longer, considering I'm friends with you both."
I just shrugged. "I guess we'll see."
"I'm not saying you have to be his best friend. But... he did just chase off Brock for you, so... he can't be all bad, right?"
I shrugged. "Even a busted clock is right twice a day."
Lita rolled her eyes and sighed. "You are ridiculous."
"So I've been told." I flashed her a grin and slammed the rest of my drink. "Are we playing darts tonight or what?"
"We're uneven. We're waiting for one more person."
"Who?"
Just as I asked, the bell above the front door went off and I saw exactly who. I squealed as my big brother whom had been out of town the last twelve weeks strolled into the bar, a shit-eating grin on his face.
"Party's here!"
"SHAYNE!" I shrieked, running toward him, and instantaneously wrapping my arms around his neck and legs around his waist. "You're home!"
"You didn't think I'd miss the wedding of the century, did you?" my brother smirked, brushing his filler-filled lips against my cheek.
"I missed you," I said softly, burying my face in his broad shoulder.
"I missed you, too, Pickle," he responded, squeezing me just a bit tighter.
I groaned at the nickname he'd given me when we were kids. "You are the only person allowed to call me that without getting a swift kick to the balls."
"That's because I gave it to you," Shayne stated with a wink. "Come on. Long day of flying. Daddy needs a drink."
I took Shayne's offered hand and headed up to the bar with him.
"Welcome home, man," Mason grinned, slapping his hand and giving him a half hug over the bar. "Good to see you."
"You, too," Shayne responded. "Bar looks like it's doing good."
Mason shrugged, but got a proud little smirk on his face. "Things have been really good the last few months."
"I'm happy for you," Shayne said, giving him a genuine grin.
"Enough about Mason," I interrupted, sticking my tongue out at the man behind the counter. "I want to hear about Europe."
Shayne chuckled. "What's to tell? A bunch of men, dressing up like women and performing across the countryside."
"Oh, come on!" I whined. "I ran Shade Room for you for three months. The least you can do is give me a good story or two."
"I will," Shayne promised. "But not tonight. We've got plenty of time to play catch-up, Dyl. Tonight's darts."
I pouted and folded my arms across my chest. "You suck."
"Boy, do I," Shayne winked before throwing back the tequila Mason had just sat on the bar in front of him. "Looks like the gang's all here..." His voice trailed off as his eyes, dark like mine, landed on Asher, who was now standing with Ryder and Lita reserving the dartboard in the back of the room. "And who in the cold Chicago hell is that?"
I rolled my eyes and groaned. "That would be Asher Wilde."
"Like the missing best friend Asher Wilde?" Shayne asked, turning his gaze back to me. "Like the Asher Wilde that damn near dropped out of the wedding because he didn't like that my little sister uses her body the way she sees fit?"
I grinned at the sudden 0ver-protectivness to his tone. "One in the same."
"Hm. Kind of anticipated him having more of a Mom's basement, chubby, neckbeard vibe, but... alright."
"He's entirely too hot for his own good."
"I'll drink to that," Shayne stated. "You two squash it?"
"Not really," I mumbled.
"Oh, come on," Mason cut in. "He rescued you from Brock."
Shayne's eyebrows crept up his Botox-ed forehead. "Brock? I thought you were done with him!"
I rolled my eyes. "I AM. He followed me here tonight and... Asher jumped in..."
"I'm gonna kill that stupid son of a bitch," Shayne growled. "He needs a fucking wakeup call."
"He's banned from the bar," Mason stated. "Next time he shows up here, I'm calling the cops."
"Where else does he show up?" Shayne asked, his gaze firm. "Does he show up at Shade?"
"A couple times," I murmured, hanging my head.
"Goddammit, Dylan. Why didn't you tell me?"
"What were you going to do from London, Shayne?"
"I'll fucking get that dipshit thrown in jail like he fucking belongs!" Shayne exclaimed. "That piece of shit does not deserve to be walking the streets."
I rolled my eyes. "You guys are acting like he hit me or some shit. He's just a cheating whore. That's not exactly an arrest-able offense."
"He's stalking you, Dylan," Mason stated.
"He is not."
"Really?" Shayne retorted. "He's shown up to where you work, where you hang out. Has he shown up to your place?" I stayed silent which was apparently the only answer my brother needed. "Fuck. Dylan, come on! At least get a restraining order or something."
"I CAN'T," I stated. "He hasn't done anything to warrant one. I've talked to the cops, Shay. They won't do anything unless he's actually done something wrong. Just showing up at random isn't enough."
"Let him show up at random when I'm around. Only thing he'll taste for the next month is my fucking fist."
"Preach." Mason reached out a fist and Shayne tapped it with his own. "This whole thing is bullshit," Mason continued. "Cops won't protect someone until they're in actual danger, and what then? Fucking cut it off before it happens, man."
"I agree, but what can I do?" I asked with a shrug. "Brock's not violent. He's too much of a pussy to actually do anything."
"I hope you're right," Mason stated, not sounding totally convinced.
"I am," I insisted. "I dated the man for four years. If he was going to hurt me, he'd have done it already. During one of our five million breaks. I'll be fine, you guys."
"At least we won't have to worry about it in Hawaii," Shayne sighed. He then froze, his eyes wide. "Wait. Lita didn't invite him, did she? I know they're related and all..."
"She had to," I stated softly. "But their whole family will be there. I'll just avoid him."
"Great. Here's to going to jail in paradise," Shayne stated with a laugh.
Mason chuckled and poured three more tequila shots, sliding one toward me. "Word is he's bringing the new girlfriend anyway."
I scowled. "Meghan?"
"I think her name is Morgan..."
"Her name should be Moron," Shayne stated, tapping his glass against Mason's before slamming it and making a face. "Oof. Why are we taking tequila shots?"
Mason shrugged. "First thing I grabbed."
"Gross. Make me a Cosmo, would you, darling?"
"Anything for you, gorgeous," Mason stated with a wink.
"God, why do you have to be straight?" Shayne asked, batting his lashes in Mason's direction. "Sure I can't draft you to the other team?"
"Do I need to remind you I've already slept with him?" I asked with a laugh.
Shayne rolled his eyes. "Like ten years ago. Let me live, Dyl. Jesus."
Mason's cheeks flushed a bit as he shook his head. "What can I say? Popular with the Harpers, I guess."
"Too bad you couldn't hack the long game," I winked. "Could've avoided Brock altogether."
"Hey, I had oats to sow, okay?"
"Is that what you call turning into a total man-whore?"
"Yes, it is," Mason laughed. "We were kids. Maybe... in another life, you and I are happy and married and chasing around two-point-five kids behind a white picket fence."
I shuddered. "Ugh. No thank you."
"Hey!" Mason shouted.
"Not you. The kids thing. Hard pass."
"Well, we never would've worked anyway," Mason smirked.
"Aw! Mason wants to be a daddy!"
"I'll call you Daddy," Shayne winked.
Mason burst into laughter as I just shook my head. "Come on, weirdo, it's time for darts."
"I'll grab a couple pitchers and head over," Mason stated, giving us a nod as we started for the dartboard and the rest of our crew.
"You gonna be my partner, Mase?" Shayne called over his shoulder.
"All night, baby," Mason retorted.
"Stop encouraging him!" I shouted in response. I looped my arm through my brother's and shook my head. "I'm starting to think you could actually convince him."
"And on that day, dear sister, I will die a happy Queen."
"You're utterly ridiculous."
"Maybe, but you love me."
"I do," I beamed as Shayne tugged me into his arms. "I'm glad you're home."
"Me too, kiddo. Me too."