16. Ashlyn
CHAPTER 16
Ashlyn
The credits roll, and the tears keep falling, tracing paths down my cheeks. Lilah shifts beside me, pulling her leg up under her as she turns to face me.
“Did you ever tell West you don’t have a boyfriend?” she asks quietly.
I wipe my face, feeling the sting of it all. She holds out the tissue box, her expression unreadable.
“It’s pointless,” I reply, taking a tissue and dabbing at my eyes. “It’s not like we have a future.”
Lilah shifts on the couch, studying me with that knowing look of hers. “Look, I get it. He was an asshole at the club. But honestly? I think he was just jealous. He probably thought you were still with Owen. The gossip magazines still haven’t caught up to the fact that you two are over. That’s why he was acting like that. Jealousy makes people do stupid shit.”
I turn away, staring down at the popcorn bowl in my lap, my fingers idly picking at the kernels. I don’t want to admit it, but I can’t shake the truth. West’s touch had affected me far more than I want to acknowledge. And Lilah doesn’t even know the half of it.
For a brief moment, I let myself believe that maybe, just maybe, there was something between us that could survive all the hurt, all the time that’s passed. And the realization that I was wrong and the feeling was fleeting still hurt.
I frown, frustration and confusion mixing inside me. “I don’t even know how he could think I’d let him touch me if I had a boyfriend.” The words tumble out before I can stop them, and my stomach tightens just thinking about that night. His touch, his scent, the way everything around us disappeared, even before I knew it was him. “Why would he think I’m still with Owen? I’m not a cheater. He knows better.”
Lilah leans forward slightly, her eyes softening as she considers my words. “Maybe the West you left all those years ago would have believed that. But all of them are different now. I can see it, even just from watching interviews over the years. West doesn’t know who you are now. And honestly, Ash, neither do you. You’ve spent so long hiding, projecting that perfect image to the world. Hiding from the hurt they caused you. I think this is your chance to bury the past, to put it where it belongs—in the past. So you can have a new beginning.”
I let her words sink in. She’s right. She always is, even when I hate it.
“You helped me find my scent matches,” Lilah continues, her voice quieter now but still firm with conviction. “I want the same for you. You deserve to be happy, Ash. Not just in front of a camera, but for real.”
I let out a slow breath and offer her a tight smile. I want that too, but I’m not sure my scent matches are the solution to that.
The next day’s rehearsal goes off and I keep my jealousy in check, thank god.
The steady hum of the amps fills the backstage area, mingling with the faint scent of metal and dust. I tell myself I’m still here to double-check the choreography notes, but it feels like a lie. The band is wrapping up rehearsal, their voices echoing from the stage as they argue over the setlist.
I should leave before they realize I’m still here. I can go over my notes at home.
But my feet don’t move.
The stage lights flicker, then go out, plunging the room into shadow. A muffled curse echoes from somewhere nearby—West’s voice, low and rough. Moments later, a flashlight beam cuts through the dark, bobbing toward me.
“Ash—what are you doing here?”
“Just finishing up,” I say.
He gives me a strange look then says, “Looks like the power’s out.” He steps closer, the flashlight illuminating his face. His jaw’s tense, the light casting long shadows across his cheekbones.
I grip the tablet tighter, the light from it pressed against my chest, adding to the darkness. “I can see that.”
He quirks an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed with my tone. “The box is behind you.”
Swallowing hard, I step to the side. He brushes past. My whole body goes on high alert.
“You know we’ve been doing this for years. We aren’t going to fall apart if you aren’t here supervising.” He isn’t facing me, his attention is on the power box.
“West—” I say, shaking my head at how wrong his words are. “It’s obvious that you never needed me.”
I snap my mouth shut as his jaw clenches. I did not just go there. Shit, and I thought my jealousy was under control.
“That choice was yours,” he says as he turns slowly back toward me.
I glare at him, my heart beating too fast.
“I’m leaving,” I say, turning toward the door. I don’t want to fight with him.
But before I can take another step, my foot catches on a loose cable. I stumble, the tablet flying out of my hands. West moves faster than I expect, his arms catching me before I hit the ground. The tablet skids noisily across the floor.
For a second, neither of us moves.
His hands grip my waist, steady and warm, as my chest presses against his. His scent—whiskey with vanilla and almonds with a hint of something more—wraps around me, making my breath hitch. Desire. My breath stutters inside my chest catching on nothing, attempting to hold his musk in my lungs.
“You okay?” he asks, his voice softer now, almost hesitant.
I nod, but I don’t pull away. I can’t. My gaze lifts to meet his, and the air shifts. The tension that’s always between us tightens, electric and suffocating.
“You should be more careful,” he murmurs, his eyes dropping to my lips. My stomach dips and my legs feel weak.
“Maybe you should stop leaving cables everywhere,” I counter, but my voice is shaky.
His lips twitch, the ghost of a smile. “Always have an answer, don’t you?”
“Always,” I whisper.
I don’t know who moves first. Maybe it’s him, maybe it’s me. All I know is that one moment we’re standing there, caught in a battle of words, and the next his mouth is on mine.
The kiss is fierce, almost desperate. His hands slide up to cup my face, tilting my head to deepen the kiss, and I melt—completely, utterly melt—into him. If I weren’t wearing scent blockers he would have no doubt of what I’m feeling. As it is, they are weak, letting out some of my perfume. Probably enough for him to smell.
For a few blissful seconds, the world falls away. There’s no past, no pain, no mistakes. Just him.
But then reality slams into me like a freight train. He had sex with me and then walked away. No. I can’t do that again, I need to clear the air…let him know that there is no Owen anymore, that he was out of the picture from before I stepped foot into their studio for the first time. I pull back, my breathing ragged, my heart pounding like I’ve just run a marathon.
“West, this—” I start, but the words die in my throat when I see the look in his eyes.
“Don’t,” he says, his voice raw. “Don’t say it didn’t mean anything. I know it did. Even if you have a boyfriend.”
I don’t have time to tell him that I don’t have a boyfriend and it means everything. The door to the backstage area creaks open, flooding the room with faint light. I turn and catch Xayden standing in the doorway.
“Looks like I missed the fireworks.” He steps into the room, his eyes on me. And his perceptive gaze reads it all, I know he does.
West tenses, his hands falling away from me. I take a step back, the distance between us suddenly feeling like a chasm.
Xayden’s gaze flicks between us, a knowing smile tugging at his lips. “Should I leave you two to...finish whatever that was?”
My face burns. “It’s not what it looks like.” It probably is exactly what it looks like, a kiss, possibly more, in the dark.
Xayden chuckles, crossing his arms. “Sure, Ash. Whatever you say.”
I glance at West, hoping for...something. A denial, a defense, a reassurance. But he’s silent, his expression impossible to read, his stormy gaze fixed on me like he’s trying to solve a puzzle.
Straightening, I reach for the tablet on the floor, the thin electronic feeling like the only barrier I have left. “I need to go,” I mutter, my voice tight as I push past Xayden.
He doesn’t stop me, just steps aside with a teasing look I don’t have the energy to decipher.
As I walk away, my footsteps echo in the empty hallway, but the heat of West’s kiss clings to me, a brand I can’t shake. I don’t look back.