Page 48 of The Jerk in Apartment 1B

“Hey, Scott,” the brunette says.

He continues to look at me until I’m past his apartment, then I hear him talking to the girls. “Come on in.”

Why are those girls at Scott’s apartment? Maybe it’s completely innocent and they’re just hanging out, but I find that hard to believe. A hot guy doesn’t invite two beautiful girls over to just sit around and watch TV.

Why do I care? He can do what he wants. I don’t know why I’m even thinking about this. I should be thinking about Asher,and what I’m going to say if he asks me to move back in with him.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Trina

The coffee shop is busier than I thought it’d be for ten in the morning. It’s really loud with people talking and the staff yelling out orders. I should’ve picked a quieter place. I want to be able to hear what Asher has to say.

“Trina.” I hear his voice and look up to see him standing by my table.

“Hi.” I hurry to get up, almost knocking my chair down. I’m really nervous. I need to relax.

Asher smiles. “It’s good to see you.” He brings me in for a hug, which takes me by surprise. Why is he hugging me? It feels strange to be hugging when we’re no longer together.

“Do you want to get a coffee?” I ask.

He lets me go. “No, I’ve already had three today. But if you want one—”

“I’m good,” I say, wanting to move this along.

We sit down at the table. Asher’s across from me, looking nervous as he smooths his hand over his tie. It’s the tie I gave him last Christmas. I wonder if he intentionally wore it because he knew he’d be seeing me today, or if he just put it on without giving it any thought.

“Thanks for doing this,” he says.

“Sure.” I say it casually, trying to hide how nervous I am. Why am I so nervous? And why is he? Just days ago, we were living together and engaged. We shouldn’t be nervous around each other.

“So how’s the new apartment?” he asks.

“It’s good. It’s smaller than I’d like, but I’ll get used to it.”

“How small?”

“A little bigger than our walk-in closet,” I say, then realize I said ‘our’ and correct myself. “I meanyour.”

“I know what you meant,” he says.

We both get quiet. I look down at my hands, which keep tapping the table even though I’m trying to keep them still. I wish I had a cup of coffee to hold so I’d have something to do with my hands.

“You said you got a job?” he says.

“It’s only temporary. Until I find something better.”

“Dave was telling me he’s looking for an assistant.”

“Dave? Your friend from college?”

“Yeah, he’s working for an insurance agency. We had drinks last weekend and he mentioned needing an assistant. If you’re interested, I could recommend you for the job.”

Recommend me?I don’t need Asher to recommend me to Dave. I’ve known Dave for years. If I wanted a job with him, I’m sure he’d give it to me. But I don’t want to be Dave’s assistant at an insurance company. Asher should know that.

“I’m really looking for a job in fashion,” I say.

“I get that, but in the meantime, you could work for Dave. I’m sure it pays better than stocking shelves. And you’ve already been an assistant so you wouldn’t have to learn anything new.”

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