15. Ashlyn
CHAPTER 15
Ashlyn
A swarm of angry bees seems to buzz in my stomach as I watch the guys with this season’s models. The girls are all over them, their hands trailing over arms and shoulders, their bodies pressed close in time with the music. The choreography matches the sultry beat of the song, every move more provocative than the last.
And the lyrics? They’re a knife twisting in my chest.
They pull me back to before—to lazy afternoons under the summer sun, when the days stretched endlessly, golden and warm. I can still feel the heat of stolen kisses in the back of a pickup truck, the rough scrape of sand under my thighs at the beach. It was everything and nothing all at once. A fleeting eternity that shattered so easily, it left me reeling.
I force myself to breathe through the ache, but it’s no use. My pheromones slip through the cracks of my composure, breaking past the descenter I applied earlier. The scent of strawberries and cream—tart and slightly sour—swirls around me, impossible to ignore.
I shift in my seat, uncomfortable with the punishing grip of jealousy pulling at my chest. I shouldn’t feel this way. I have no claim to them anymore, no right to want what I gave up. But the sight of their easy smiles and the way the girls touch them so casually? It makes my stomach churn.
And that damn song doesn’t help. The lyrics are like ghosts, pulling me back to moments I’ve spent years trying to forget. Memories of laughter, of whispered promises under the stars, of love so fierce it burned. I feel it all, like an ache that never truly left.
The music fades, but Todd’s voice lingers, soft and low, brushing against my skin like a ghost of a caress. His eyes find mine, and for a moment, I’m pinned in place by his gaze.
I push to my feet, brushing invisible dust from my pants even though I’m spotless. A nervous habit, maybe, or just an excuse to break the tension coursing through me.
“Choreography looks good,” I call out, my voice steady, even if I’m not. “We’ll wrap for the night and meet again tomorrow around noon for another round.”
I pause, letting my eyes sweep over the models gathered on the stage. “And don’t forget your descenter pills tomorrow, ladies.” The words come out firm, almost clipped. Practical, professional—definitely not driven by jealousy. No, this is for the good of the show.
It’s Shelley’s rule, after all, and I’m just enforcing it. That’s all this is. Or so I tell myself.
Jake’s lips quirk up as he sets down his bass, but it’s not just a smile. It’s that look. The one that says he knows exactly what’s going on in my head, and worse—he’s going to say something about it.
The models scatter, calling their goodbyes to the band as they trail off stage to gather their things. Their laughter and chatter fade into the background, but Jake doesn’t move to follow. Instead, he strolls casually to the edge of the stage, his eyes locked on me like he’s a predator and I’m already caught.
He inhales deeply. “Looks like someone forgot their descenter,” he says, his tone light but the smirk in his voice unmistakable.
I cross my arms, narrowing my eyes at him. There’s no way he smells me up there. There isn’t even a breeze to carry my perfume to him. And out of all of them, he’s the least likely to actually smell my perfume. “You’re imagining things.”
“Am I?” He hops down from the stage, closing the distance between us with lazy confidence. “Because I’m pretty sure I caught a whiff of strawberries and cream up here, and it wasn’t from the models.”
I clench my jaw, my fingers digging into my arms. “Jake?—”
“Relax,” he interrupts, leaning in slightly, his voice dropping to something quieter, more teasing. “Your secret’s safe with me. For now.”
“There’s no secret,” I snap, stepping back as if putting space between us will help. But it doesn’t. His scent—a mix of sage and green tea—clings to the air, wrapping around me like it always has. My resolve wavers, but I force myself to hold my ground. “I’m just enforcing Shelley’s rules. That’s it.”
Jake chuckles, the sound low and knowing, like he’s playing a game I don’t know the rules to. “Sure, Ash. Whatever you say. But from where I’m standing, it smells a lot like jealousy. And I’m a beta. I imagine to the guys it smells the same.”
My teeth clench as his words strike a nerve. Because he’s right. Of course, he’s right. I want to throw it back at him, to tell him it’s their fault—his fault. For the teasing. For the smiles that linger too long and the words that hit too close. For making me feel all of this again when I’ve tried so damn hard to bury it.
It’s all of them. Jake and Xayden for flirting like nothing’s changed, like I don’t notice every casual brush of their hands or the glint in their eyes. Todd, with his sudden kindness, throwing me completely off balance. And West... West, who doesn’t even have to touch me to leave me burning.
My skin remembers them, craves them, and it’s infuriating. In the dark of the night, I ache for the ghosts of their touches. Who am I kidding? It’s not just at night—it’s now. Right here, standing in front of Jake, my pulse races for reasons I don’t want to admit.
But instead of saying any of that, I glare at him, trying to will away the flush creeping up my neck. Trying to pretend he doesn’t already know.
“You’re still cute when you’re jealous,” he says, his grin teasing, a wink following the words like a punctuation mark. Then, before I can even muster a response, he turns on his heel and hops back onto the stage, leaving me standing there, my heart racing and my thoughts tangled.
Lilah flops down onto the couch beside me, a bowl of popcorn balanced in her lap. She grabs a handful, tossing the kernels into her mouth one by one, her gaze already dissecting my mood.
“So,” she starts casually, though her tone holds an edge of knowing, “are you going to tell me what happened tonight, or do I have to drag it out of you?”
I shake my head, letting it fall back against the couch. What is there to tell? My mind is still stuck on Jake’s parting words.
You’re still cute when you’re jealous.
Ugh. They echo on a maddening loop, making my stomach churn and my cheeks burn all over again.
“Ash,” Lilah says, stretching out my name as her eyes narrow in on me, clearly reading far too much from my expression.
I sigh, unable to keep the tension from my voice. “I was assigned to oversee the choreography for the music video we’re doing for the show.”
Her eyebrows shoot up, and she lets out a low whistle. “Shelley really has a knack for putting people into situations they’re uncomfortable in, huh?”
I huff a laugh, though it’s hollow, lacking any real humor. “Apparently.”
Lilah pauses, her fingers frozen in mid-air as she picks another piece of popcorn. She sets the bowl aside, her gaze lifting to meet mine with a cautious edge. “Do you think—” she begins, but then hesitates, clearly weighing her next words. “Do you think there’s a chance to?—”
“No,” I cut her off before she can finish, my voice firm, unyielding. There’s no use in pretending. There’s zero chance.
She presses her lips together, nodding thoughtfully. “Well, if you need pointers on how to cover your windows with blankets... I’m practically a pro at it.”
A small laugh escapes me, loosening the tension that’s been tightening in my chest. “I don’t think I’m exactly a ‘left at the altar’ kind of sad.”
She rolls her eyes. “No, you’re just in that ‘losing your scent matches’ kind of sad.”
Although her words sting, I smile anyway. “Whatever.” I grab some popcorn, tossing it into my mouth while reaching for the remote with my other hand. “What are we watching tonight?”
Lilah glances at me with a mischievous smirk. “I was thinking something romantic. You know, about second chances.”
I roll my eyes, a little reluctant but amused. “Oh, really? You think I need that kind of movie right now?”
She shrugs, her grin widening. “Maybe you’ll feel differently after watching it. You never know.”
Before I can protest, she snatches the controller from my hand and pulls up a movie. My stomach sinks when I see the title: Sweet Home Alabama .
I’ve always avoided it. It hits too close to home, reminding me of how things can never be the same between me and the guys.