Ari
Maddox doesnât come into my room again, which is fine.Itâs fine.I fall asleep quickly, and when I wake up, the morning light filters softly through the curtains. For a second, I expect to feel something different. A hand gripping my thigh. A voice murmuring in my ear. A body too solid, too familiar, too Maddox.But when I blink up at my surroundings, my stomach knots.Because itâs not Maddox sitting at the edge of my bed.Itâs Asher.He smiles down at me, his blond hair still damp from a shower, already dressed in khaki shorts and a fitted polo. Crisp. Put together. Safe.A deep ache settles in my chest.âI thought we could take a walk?â he asks, his voice soft and careful. Like maybe heâs making an effort.I nod, checking my phone. Itâs just past eight. He waits for me downstairs and I quickly get dressed in white linen shorts and a black tank top before brushing my teeth. I walk downstairs into an empty house, and Asher is leaning against the front door waiting for me. Grabbing an oversized sweater and stepping into my sandals, I follow him out the door and down the narrow pathway to the beach.The sand is still cool beneath my feet, the early morning breeze lifting my hair as we walk along the quiet shoreline. My sandals are slung in one hand, and my other hand is tucked into my sweater to keep warm.Itâs beautiful out here. The fog is starting to lift, and the blue sky pokes through the light gray mist, warming my skin whenever it shifts enough to let the sun through. Thereâs almost no one on the beach, and itâs so tranquil. It should feel nice. But something sits heavy between us.Asher is quiet at first, his hands stuffed into his pockets, his gaze flicking toward me like heâs searching for the right words.Finally, he exhales sharply. âIâve been thinking about us.âI glance at him, my pulse jumping. âYeah?âHe nods, his jaw tight. âI know Iâve been distracted lately. Work has been⦠a lot.âI say nothing.âI donât mean to neglect you, Ari,â he continues, his voice measured. âItâs just⦠this data breach is screwing with my head. And I know I donât always give you the attention you deserve.âThe words should make me feel something. Hope. Relief. Maybe even gratitude. Instead, a strange, familiar numbness settles inside me. Itâs not the first time heâs said something like this. In fact, itâs sort of a patternâpulling me closer, promising to do better, to stay the night and act more like a committed partnerâbefore work gets in the way again.Before he pulls away again.I nod, waiting. He pauses, kicking at the sand. Then, a small, almost bitter laugh.âI guess I just assumed you understood.â He looks at me then, his brow furrowing. âYouâve always been independent. Strong. You donât need me hovering over you all the time, right?âA sharp pang twists through my stomach. âI donât need you. But that doesnât mean I donât want to be wanted. Not just when itâs convenient. Not just when itâs .â I swallow, unsure of how to say what Iâm really thinking. âI guess Iâm just wondering where this is headed.âeasySomething flickers in his expression, but I donât know if itâs guilt or frustration. âYeah. Iâve been wondering the same thing.ââSo, what are you saying?â I ask, my voice careful. My heart pounds, my fingers tightening around the sleeves of my sweater.Asher exhales, running a hand through his hair. âIâm saying that I want to be better, Ari. I do. But my job isââ A pause. A helpless shrug. âItâs always going to come first. I hope you understand.âA dull, resounding thud echoes in my chest. There it is. Honest. Blunt. . The classic nail in the coffin.FinalI donât know why Iâm surprised.Itâs always like this, isnât it? My dad was the same wayâwork first, family second. I grew up watching my mom shrink herself into the background, molding her wants and needs around his schedule, his priorities. And me? I was trained early. The eldest daughter, the responsible one, the fixer. I learned that love wasnât something freely given, it was earned. Fought for. Pursued.And Iâm so fucking tired of chasing it. Iâm so tired of pretending thatâs okay.fuckingI look away, staring out at the waves, swallowing past the lump forming in my throat. âI donât think thatâs fair to me,â I murmur, my voice barely audible over the crashing surf.He stiffens. âWhat do you mean?âI inhale slowly, steadying myself. And I donât mean Maddox. I donât. This isnât about him. This is about . About the fact that Iâve spent two years molding myself into the perfect, easygoing, supportive girlfriend. About the fact that I never ask for too much. That I never demand more than what heâs willing to give.I deserve better. meBecause somewhere deep down, I knew. I knew he would never choose me.So I made sure he never had to.The realization makes my stomach twist, but Asher doesnât look upset.I let out a shaky breath and meet his eyes, finally. âI guess I always just hoped youâd wake up one day and decide I was enough to come first.âHe just nods, like Iâm confirming something heâs always suspected. Something that, deep down, he already knew, too.âI never wanted to hold you back,â he says after a moment.I let out a small, bitter laugh. âNo. You just wanted to keep me waiting on the sidelines.âHis lips press into a thin line. âThatâs not true.âI lift a brow. âIsnât it? I think we both know where this is headed,â I say softly. âWeâre just too afraid to say it out loud.âHe nods. âYeah. I suppose youâre right. So⦠what? This is it?âI swallow hard, then nod. âYeah. This is it. Iâm done trying to fit into a life that was never going to make space for me, Asher.âHe looks at me warily, as if heâs trying to decide if Iâm angry. So I reach out for his hand, trying to show him that Iâm not mad.Iâm just .doneMy fingers curl around his, gentle and steady. âNo hard feelings,â I say, offering a faint, sad smile. âI just canât do this anymore.âBefore I can say anything else, his phone buzzes. He glances at it, then sighs, pulling his hand from mine.âI have to take this,â he mutters. âWeâll talk more later, okay?âI donât answer. Because we wonât.As he steps away, phone pressed to his ear, I wrap my arms around myself. The ocean stretches endlessly before me, waves lapping at the shore.Hannah suggests we go out to eat at one of the restaurants along the cliffside for dinner. I presume Asher hasnât told his family about us breaking up yet, because no one says anything. And after tucking myself away on the beach all morning and afternoon, it feels good to shower and get dressed.The car ride is short, just a five-minute drive along the coast.And the restaurant is stunningâfloor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the ocean, candlelit tables draped in crisp linen, the low murmur of conversation weaving through the clinking of wineglasses and silverware.I should feel happy to be here. Instead, all I feel is off-kilter. Because Asher isnât different. Heâs never going to be different. And as I look at him, clean-shaven and proper, I know heâs not what I want anymore.Across the table, Maddox is watching me. I catch the slight tilt of his head as I sit down, eyeing the dress picked out for me days agoâa dark red cotton dress with thin straps and a square neckline.he And when Asherâs phone buzzes for the third time during dinner, I donât even flinch. I just lift my wineglass, holding Maddoxâs gaze as I take a slow, deliberate sip.Because if Asher wants to be distracted? Then maybe I do, too.Maddox is cleaned up. cleaned up. Itâs fucking unfair. Iâm used to him in black hoodies and tattoos, used to the way he carries himself like a predator in waiting.TooBut tonight?Tonight, heâs in a crisp black button-down with the sleeves rolled up to his forearms, showcasing his ink. The top button is undone, the open collar exposing a sliver of golden skin and the sharp ridges of his collarbones. His hair, usually an unruly mess, is brushed back in a way that makes him look almost respectable..AlmostBut his eyes still give him away.They burn under the dim lights, a searing, unrelenting blue that pins me in place every time I make the mistake of looking at himâwhich is often.Because, fuck me, I canât stop looking. It feels ironic to be sitting here next to Asher, who was my boyfriend until about eight hours ago, eating a sixty-five-dollar steak, in a dress Maddox chose.His smirk tells me he knows it, too.God, I him.hateIâm too distracted to enjoy dinner. Asher is to my left, half absorbed by his work, nodding at something Otto is saying. Hannah is talking about a winery she and Otto visited last year. The conversation is perfectly polite.Perfectly safe.And across from me?Maddox.Silent. Watching me.I refuse to look at him, keeping my focus on my wineglass. The deep red swirls in the light as I turn it between my fingers, trying to ignore the heat licking at my skin.Itâs fine. Itâs all fine.Until Asherâs phone vibrates on the table again.He sighs, glancing at the screen. Then at me. Already apologizing before he even says a word.âI have to take this.âOf course he does.âGo ahead,â I murmur, taking another sip of my wine.He leans in to kiss my temple. I flinch before I can stop myself. His eyes widen, confused, but I say nothing. I donât need to. He gives me a pleading look, and I realize heâs expecting me to play along.Expecting me to continue to pretend to be his girlfriend, despite ending our relationship on the beach earlier today.All for show.His lips press together into a thin smile, and then he slips out onto the patio to take the call.Otto and Hannah are recounting their time in Italy two years ago, completely unaware of what transpired, but Iâm hardly paying attention.My skin is burning, and I can feel Maddox looking at me.I last all of ten seconds before I finally glance his way.Maddox leans back in his chair, elbow propped on the armrest, his fingers resting against his jaw. He doesnât speak; doesnât need to.That smirk? The one playing at the corner of his lips? It says everything.My grip squeezes around my wineglass. âWhat?âHe tilts his head, studying me. âJust wondering how long youâre going to let him treat you like an afterthought,â he whispers.A sharp pang lodges in my ribs. And immediately, the memory from this morning hits me like a wave.I see the shoreline againâthe soft fog lifting, the bitter realization curling in my chest as Asher told me, plain as day, that work would always come first. The gravity of those words still presses down on me now, heavy and relentless.I should say something. Anything. But what would I even say? That I knew it was true? That Iâve known it for a while? That Iâm still here anyway?I hate the way my stomach clenches. The way my thighs press together under the table like my body is betraying meânot because of his words alone, but because Maddox sees it. He sees all of it.Not just that Asher forgets me. But that Iâve let him.His voice dips lower, just for me, just like on the Ferris wheel. âCareful, Ari. If you keep looking at me like that, Iâm going to start thinking you want me to ruin you right here in this restaurant.âAnd the worst part? I do.The heat in my belly spreads like wildfire, licking up my spine, knotting in my throat. I should be used to his taunts by now, the slow, deliberate way he strips me down with nothing but words. But Iâm not. I never am.My fingers tighten further around the wineglass. I force myself to look away, to focus on somethingââother than the man across from me and the way my pulse trips over itself every time he speaks.anythingI need a second. A breath. Some space.I push my chair back, grabbing my clutch. âIâm going to the restroom.âMaddox doesnât say a word. But when I glance at him, his smirk is lazy, like he already knows something I donât. Like heâs letting me go just to see what Iâll do next.Bastard.I make my way toward the bathroom, head high, spine straight, like I have everything under control. But the second I step inside, my grip locks on the edge of the sink, my breath coming too fast.I shouldnât feel like this. Not here. Not now. Not because of him.My reflection stares back at meâflushed skin, wide, wild eyes, lips parted.I look shattered. And itâs not from the wine.My phone buzzes.(858) 667-9960Are we playing a little game of cat and mouse?Because I think weâve established that Iâll always catch you.A sharp exhale leaves my lips. My fingers hover over the keyboard. I shouldnât respond. I .shouldnâtBut my fingers move before my brain catches up.Youâre all talk. Letâs see if you can walk the walk, big guy.I hit send before I can think better of it.A pause. A beat of silence where the only thing I hear is my own pulsing heartbeat in my ears and the clinking of porcelain from the restaurant.Thenâ(858) 667-9960Game on, angel.My fingers tremble over the screen. I didnât expect him to hesitate, but it does something funny to my insides. I appreciate him checking in, but it somehow makes it feel more real. Less of a fantasy.Am I sure?Asherâs out there, working. Distracted. Prioritizing everything but me. For two years, Iâve been patient. Iâve been understanding. Iâve been And for what? A man who will always put me second? A relationship that felt more like an expectation than a choice?Like always.good.Besides, we broke up this morning. Or, at least we broke up. Heâs been too busy to really talk it over since this morning.mostly Maddox is none of those things. Heâs chaos. Uncertainty. Hunger. But heâs here. Wanting me with a ferocity that terrifies and thrills me all at once.Seeing me.And for onceââI want to take something for myself.just onceIâm waiting.I donât even get a response.Fifteen seconds later, the bathroom door crashes open.