Page 46 of Shapes of Love
“I will, if you answer a question for me,” I say. “Why did you auction your first plushie?”
“Because I knew people would pay more money for it if it looked personal.”
“Yeah, but is it worth it? You can’t buy memories.”
“It’s not real. None of it is.” He clutches the railing with both hands. “Cuddles, or whatever name they gave it, isn’t mine. The story behind it was made up. My manager wrote the card. I’ve never owned Cuddles. We just made it look like I did.”
“Oh.”
The nonchalance of his words makes me freeze, and the rest of my sentence gets caught in my throat. He didn’t even write the note, but I almost cried reading it. It wasn’t real.
“It’s all an illusion. Everywhere. Everything. All the time.” A tinge of disillusionment colors his voice.
“Don’t you feel guilty?” I ask.
“Why?”
“For lying.”For selling a version of yourself that’s not real.
His shoulders hunch. “Look, I was born into this industry. The way I see it, the only way for fame not to change you is to give people a persona they can dissect and tear apart. If you show them you”—he gestures vaguely toward himself, then me—“the real you, you’ll disappear.”
His words hit me like a slap. My fans love Sassy, the straight girl who turns her love life into music. I’m terrified of what would happen if they met Sasha.
I don’t want to disappear.
The idea makes me shiver. Asher catches it and takes off his jacket, but I stop him. I don’t need his pity or his protection. He rolls his eyes and drapes his blazer around my shoulders anyway. I huddle into its warmth against mywill, catching a whiff of the scent that lingers in the fabric—earthy cologne and alcohol.
“Don’t you find it weird?” I ask. “That someone would want to purchase something so personal just because they think you owned it?”
“Oh, extremely,” he says, this time without hiding the resignation in his voice. “Why do you think I made it up? Give them nothing, Sasha. Protect yourself.”
A knock on the window behind us startles me. Inside, a guy our age with curly hair and a sparkly red mask waves at Asher, who props open the balcony door with a grin.
“Hey, long time no see.” The guy gives Asher a once-over that’s not exactly subtle. “Saw you earlier. I just wanted to say hi. You looked good in your mask.”
Asher pulls his mask out of his pocket and puts it back on. His friend plays with the feather, adjusting it around his eyes.
“So do you, Matt,” Asher says, and his gaze softens. “I didn’t know you were coming.”
“I wasn’t… until I saw your name on the guest list.”
“You could have just texted.”
“Where’s the serendipity in that?” Matt gives his shoulders a little shrug. “Fancy a dance?”
Asher chuckles. “Are you still a terrible dancer?”
“I don’t know. Are you still a great teacher?” Matt extends a hand toward him.
Asher turns to me with a polite smile. “Right, so, Sassy, if you’ll excuse me… Enjoy the party.”
“It was nice meeting you. I love your music, by the way!”Matt waves at me before leading Asher away. They dive onto the dance floor, their laughter mingling with the music as they make their way toward the bar, dancing really close.
I blink, surprise traveling through me. Who is this? What just happened?
“Hey.” Rosa steps out onto the balcony, an unlit cigarette in her hand. “Where’s Asher? I saw you two come out here.” Her eyes drift to the jacket draped over my shoulders. “Is that his?”
“It is. I think he just abandoned me to…”Dance with his… friend?
