Asher sat at the restaurant with Jay, Nathan, and Simon after their tennis match. His phone buzzed on the table. He glanced at the screen—Sophie had texted: Meet me at the club at 9.
He typed back: Ok and set the phone down.
Jay eyed him. "You never get tired?"
Asher's mouth curved. "Of what?"
Nathan leaned back. "Seeing different people constantly. Has to be exhausting."
"We're just having fun."
Simon laughed. "If Freud had met you, there'd be a whole new chapter in psychology."
Asher grinned. "Freud and I agree. Sex is a basic need."
Nathan shook his head. "A girlfriend is nice, though. You grow—"
Asher just laughed.
Jay studied him. "When's the last time you actually slept with someone? Stayed the night?"
Asher paused, considered it. "I don't."
Simon raised his eyebrows. "Missing out on morning sex."
"I get plenty at night." Asher's grin widened.
The waiter cleared their plates and brought fresh drinks. Jay started talking about the Valentine's trip he'd planned with his girlfriend. Nathan mentioned he and his girlfriend would probably just do dinner—too busy with work. Simon said he was flying to Toronto for Valentine's since Alex couldn't come to New York.
"Long distance is rough," Nathan commented.
"And expensive," Simon added with a laugh. "But worth it. For Alex."
Asher watched them, quiet. Christ, they're boring.
Nathan turned to him. "Do you have commitment issues?"
Asher let out a short breath. "We've known each other since high school. You know all my shit."
"Maybe we're missing something," Jay offered.
"Are you guys interrogating me?" His tone stayed light but had an edge.
Jay's expression softened. "We're worried. As friends."
"Let's change the subject."
Nathan and Simon exchanged a glance, then shifted to talking about sports. After a while, Asher said goodbye and headed home. He showered, changed into black pants and a black shirt, and drove to the club where Sophie was waiting.
Inside, the place was packed. Bodies moved under strobing lights and the bass thumped so hard he felt it in his chest. His phone buzzed—Sophie: I'm by the bar.
He spotted her working her way through the crowd. Black dress, long legs, heels. She reached him and leaned in close. "Hey."
"Hey." He put his hand on her waist and kissed her cheek. Her perfume cut through the smell of alcohol and sweat—something floral and sweet, maybe jasmine.
"Come meet my friends." She grabbed his hand and pulled him through the crowd. The music was loud enough that conversation was pointless. Asher leaned down to her ear. "Your dress looks good."
Sophie's hand slid to his waist. "Thanks." She tugged his hand. "Dance with me."
He followed her onto the floor and they moved together, bodies pressed close in the crush of people. The lights flashed red, then blue, then dark, and the heat from all the bodies made the air thick. After a while they grabbed drinks and headed back to their table. Sophie rested her head on his shoulder.
Asher pulled her closer. She turned her face toward his neck. "You smell really good."
"So do you."
He tilted his head down. "What do you want to do after this?"
Sophie met his eyes. "Come to my place."
"Yeah. Okay."
She said goodbye to her friends and they left. Asher brought his car around and Sophie got in, buckling her seatbelt while eyeing him. "You look really hot."
He laughed. "You look beautiful."
Sophie grinned. "We didn't get to talk much. Too loud."
"Did we meet up to talk?" His tone was teasing.
"I talk enough to my therapist." She winked at him.
When they got to her apartment, Sophie asked what he wanted to drink. "Water's fine."
She disappeared into the kitchen. Asher walked around the living room, taking in framed photos on the walls—Sophie with friends, with family. She keeps everything.
Sophie came back with the water and handed it to him. "I need to use the bathroom real quick." She disappeared down the hall.
Asher checked his phone and replied to a few messages. When Sophie returned, she sat down next to him and ran her finger along his lower lip. He watched her face. Then he pulled her toward him and kissed her hard. She kissed him back immediately and climbed into his lap, her hands in his hair, on his chest, everywhere.
He broke the kiss. "Where's your bedroom?"
Sophie was kissing his neck, her tongue and teeth working his skin. She pointed down the hall without stopping.
Asher lifted her and carried her to the bedroom. He laid her on the bed and pulled her dress over her head, then her bra, then everything else until she was naked. Sophie reached for his shirt and unbuttoned it while kissing his chest, working her way down. Asher shrugged the shirt off. Sophie unbuttoned his pants.
She reached into his boxers and stroked him slowly, her hand warm and sure. Then she pulled his pants and boxers down and leaned in, taking him into her mouth.
"Fuck—" His hand went to her hair, not pushing, just there. She worked him with her tongue and lips, taking him deeper, and he had to close his eyes for a second. The wet heat, the suction, the way she knew what she was doing—it took everything not to finish right there.
After a while she pulled off and gazed up at him, her lips swollen and wet. He pulled her up and kissed her, tasting himself on her tongue. Then he reached for his pants and grabbed a condom from his pocket. He rolled it on while Sophie lay back on the bed, watching him with heavy-lidded eyes.
He moved between her legs and pushed inside her slowly. She gasped, her hands gripping his shoulders. He started moving, keeping his rhythm steady, and she wrapped her legs around his waist, pulling him deeper. The bed creaked beneath them and Sophie's breathing got faster, more ragged.
"Turn over."
She did, getting on her hands and knees. He positioned himself behind her and pushed back in. The angle was different—deeper—and Sophie's head dropped forward. He gripped her hips and thrust harder, the sound of skin slapping skin mixing with their breathing and the faint hum of traffic outside.
Sophie's arms gave out and she dropped to her elbows, changing the angle again. "God—yes—right there," she breathed, and he kept hitting that spot, his pace unrelenting now. Her hand moved between her legs and he could feel her getting tighter around him.
"Come on," he muttered, and she did, her whole body going rigid as she came with a choked sound. He thrust a few more times and followed, a groan tearing out of him as he finished.
He pulled out and dealt with the condom, then lay down on his back. Sophie curled up next to him, her head on his chest, her arm across his stomach. They stayed like that for a few minutes, both of them catching their breath. The room smelled like sex and her perfume and sweat. Outside, a siren wailed in the distance.
After a while, Asher sat up and reached for his boxers. Sophie propped herself up on one elbow, watching him. "It's Sunday tomorrow. You can stay if you want."
"I've got some things I need to take care of." He pulled on his pants and grabbed his shirt.
Sophie got out of bed and pulled on a robe, then walked him to the door. He finished buttoning his shirt and glanced at her.
"Fun Saturday night."
Sophie's mouth curved. "Yeah. It was."
Sophie's mouth curved. "Yeah. It was."
He leaned in and kissed her once more—a brief, practiced touch—then walked out. The door clicked shut, sealing away the scent of her perfume and the warmth of the bed.
In the elevator, Asher pulled out his phone. The screen lit up his face in the sterile light. Three unread messages, two new matches. He swiped them away, his expression blank.
One more week until Valentine's. He smiled at the thought—and felt absolutely nothing.