Chapter 14
Zane
I get home and flip on the lights. Considering none of them are on, I think it’s safe to assume I am alone.
I am kind of relieved. Ever since the night I met Ashlyn, my life has been upside down and slightly on fire.
And while not all the flames have been damaging, it doesn’t hurt having more of a controlled burn.
I walk outside just to make sure no one is hiding in the bushes. No cameras flash and no branches rustle; all good signs. The only sign of human life is a book lying open and upside down on one of the side tables next to a lounge chair. It’s the same lounge chair Ashlyn was on in the photo.
That means the photo was taken today. She was sunbathing out here today.
And I missed it, damn it!
I shake the thought from my mind and start to walk back to the house, but not before picking up the book. Lord of the Flies. That explains a lot.
I set it back down and go back inside, sliding the screen closed, but leaving the glass open. The day is shifting into night, bringing a somewhat cooler breeze with it. I decide to go for a swim and with each lap I stop and look around. It’s quiet. Weirdly quiet.
It’s supposed to be quiet. There isn’t supposed to be a woman hanging from the rafters.
My internal monologue is loud tonight, and it doesn’t take long for me to be too paranoid to enjoy the swim, defeating its purpose entirely.
After I hop out, I towel off and turn on the shower.
I’m not sure why I’m so tense tonight. I check my phone while the water heats up, and then go grab a banana.
Maybe I’m hungry, or maybe I need more carbs.
God knows I limit them. After eating the thing in three bites, I toss the peel and check my phone again.
Where is she?
Knock it off. It’s none of your business. You told her yourself she can come and go as she pleases.
I remind myself just how lame I sound. But then I look at my phone again. Nothing.
Text her.
No, it’s not my business.
What if she’s hurt?
Why would she be hurt?
What if her car broke down?
That could be possible, honestly. She drives an outdated hunk of junk.
What if she’s with another man?
“She’s not,” I say out loud. I sound insane right now.
Are you though? She could be with a man. You don’t know that.
Zane: Hey. Wyd?
I punch the text into my phone before setting it on the counter and hopping in the shower. Then I think about how that sounds. She’s either going to think I’m fishing for a hook-up or I’m being controlling.
She IS your girlfriend. It’s your business where she is and who she’s with.
Still. I need to get it together. I’ve never let a woman make me anxious and I’m not about to start n–
My phone dings twice, the universal sound of an incoming text, and I nearly slip and fall as I reach for it.
Ashlyn: New phone, who dis? See? She’s up to no good.
Zane: You’re funny. Seriously though. I’m at home and was just wondering
I stop, hesitating over what I should type next.
Zane: Whether or not you’ll be home for dinner.
Right. Because the two of you have a tradition of making dinner together.
Ashlyn: If you’re trying to low-key keep tabs on me, just say it. But if you’re really interested, I’m out.
Zane: I love the attention to detail.
Ashlyn: I’m at a bar.
See?! No good.
Honestly, I don’t love it. I’m not a possessive partner by any means. But considering that every inch of my existence is under a public magnifying glass, I can’t have my girlfriend dancing all over the city. If she’s out…I should be out with her.
Zane: Sounds fun. Mind if I join you?
Ashlyn: I don’t need a babysitter.
I shut the water off.
Zane: No, but you do need the presence of your boyfriend. Where are you?
The conversation bubble with ellipses appears and disappears again. Then my phone starts to ring. As soon as I accept the call, she’s snapping at me.
“I don’t think that’s any of your damn business, do you?”
Make that slurs at me. In the background, I hear people talking and laughing, what sounds like live music, and a familiar voice.
“Can I get you anything else, love?”
Thank you Liza.
I hang up the phone.
Normally, I don’t go out in casual clothing, but this time I’m making an exception. Not only is Ashlyn out possibly making us look bad, but when I heard her talking in cursive, I realized it might be time to make an appearance.
Finding her isn’t hard. Turns out when Ashlyn is a couple gin and tonics deep, she doesn’t have an inside voice.
“So then he acts like I’m not supposed to be swimming in his pool without permission,” she tells Liza as I walk up behind her. Liza is biting back a smile, glancing in my direction.
I spin her chair around, and she nearly falls off it.
“Maybe I didn’t like the idea of my girlfriend ending up in the tabloids in a bikini,” I say. Ashlyn looks a little thrown off balance, but she doesn’t miss a beat.
“It’s more clothing than I had on in the first photos.” She says with a snort-laugh as she goes to take another sip of what has to be at least her third drink. But before her lips touch the glass, I take it from her and hand it to Liza. “Hey! I wasn’t finished with that.”
“I think you are,” I say, and her look of shock turns to a look of pure disgust.
“Who do you think you are?!” she hisses, and I lean in.
“Your boyfriend. Remember?” I ask.
“Maybe I do, maybe I don’t…” she sasses and I grip my hands on the bar top on either side of her, leaning in even closer with a smirk on my lips. As I do, I can literally feel people’s eyes on us.
“Well, maybe…you need some reminding,” I tell her, and I cover her mouth with mine in a soft kiss that lasts just long enough for her to soften before I break the contact. “We have a contract, remember?”
“Right,” she says breathily and clears her throat. “Right. But that doesn’t mean you own me or that you can tell me what to do,” she says, swiveling back towards the bar.
“Here’s the thing, though,” I say. “I am friends with everyone that works at this bar. So I kind of can tell you what to do. And right now, I am telling you that we are going home.”
“And if I don’t want to go home?” she glares back at me.
“I don’t think that’s up to you,” I tell her.
Ashlyn’s anger deepens, and she starts to say something. But then the theme song from Footloose comes on, and she stops.
“Oh my god, I love this song,” she says. “Come on. We should dance!”
“Absolutely not,” I shake my head, and she jumps up.
“But it’s the Kevin Bacon song!” she says, pressing her hands to my chest and pushing me back towards where people are dancing.
“All the more reason that we are not dancing to this song,” I tell her over the music.
“What’s the matter, Calloway? Two left feet?” I recognize the voice immediately.
I turn to see Jett standing next to us. “What do you want?” I ask with a warning in my voice.
“I think the real question is what does Ashlyn want?” he asks. “Because it sounds like she wants to dance. And if you’re not up for it–”
Before he can finish the sentence, I take Ashlyn by the hand and pull her to the floor. Do I know how to dance like Kevin Bacon? No. Do I know how to dance to this song at all? Not really. But I do know how to dance, and I’m about to show the entire room that.
As I spin her around and pull her against me, we take the center of the floor, and suddenly it’s like no one is here but us.
By the end of the song, we are both smiling, and Jett is gone.
So we keep going. By the end of the next song, we are both laughing and sweating and panting, and my arms are locked around her, holding her against me.
“I had no idea you could dance,” she says, looking up at me.
“Of course I can dance,” I tell her, looking down at her.
“Hmm,” she murmurs, and her chin tips up, inviting me to come closer.
So I press my lips to hers because this is what we agreed to. And because everyone is watching. The cameras are flashing and phones are recording.
But mostly because…I want to. That is, until she pulls away and her face goes pale. “I don’t feel so good.”
Uh oh.