10. Ainsley
Chapter 10
Ainsley
I should just go home.
I’m tired. I’m pissed off. And I smell like shit.
But I also haven’t picked up my books for classes that start Tuesday. I’m dying to spend the whole weekend at home, so I head toward the main square on campus after I finally get released from my dish pit prison. The bookstore is only open until six, so I’m practically jogging.
I turn the corner to cross the red pavement, shielding my eyes from the lights cutting through the early evening darkness. Just as I reach out to pull the heavy glass door open and step into the warm shop, I see her.
She’s sitting on top of a table not ten feet from where I’m standing, feet on the bench as she tosses her head back and laughs. She’s facing away from me, but I’d recognize her anywhere.
“Gem,” I call, part of my brain still lagging behind, not believing that this is really happening.
She turns, and her whole face lights up with her smile. “ Hey,” she calls, swiveling on the table to drop down to her feet and walk toward me.
I hold my hand against my forehead to watch her. A mirage. A vision.
“Hey,” I repeat stupidly. “How are you?”
“Bummed you never called.”
Her statement is like a slap in the face. I guess I should have Facebook stalked her after all. “Yeah, sorry about that. I got jumped on the way home, and the guys took everything from my pockets. Including your number.”
Concern flashes across her features, and I almost flinch. I want to tell her it’s okay. That I’m okay. But I don’t get the chance.
She reaches up and touches the slowly healing cut across my jaw and lip, biting her own as she frowns. “Damn. I guess I should have walked you home instead.”
I laugh at her words, but in all honesty, I feel more like crying. Why does this girl feel so much like coming home? Why, when virtually nothing in my life has changed, do I feel like so many of my petty problems just disappeared?
The feeling is short lived.
“Hey, pretty boy.”
Taylor walks up behind Gem, stopping when his chest is close to her back. Too close.
I can’t speak. Can’t breathe. All I can do is watch in horror as one of his arms snakes around her chest and she leans back into his body.
“W-what?” I stutter out the question, unsure of what I even want to ask. I force the words out, no matter how stupid they sound—or I look. “What are you doing with that guy?”
Gem glances up at Taylor, who hasn’t taken his eyes off me, before meeting my gaze once more. “Taylor’s my boyfriend.”
And there it is.
The perfectly shitty ending to the most epically shitty week.
I feel my mouth open but there are no words, so I close it again, gaze falling to the ground in front of me. I shake my head, nod, and consider whether I’m having a mild nervous breakdown.
I gotta get out of here.
“Okay,” I hear myself say. “Right.”
And then I’m turning and hurrying toward the bookstore door. I hear my name behind me but it’s like it’s coming from the other end of a wind tunnel, the sound distant and barely audible over the rushing noise in my ears.
She was the one.
I’ve practically planned our whole lives together over the last few days. Thoughts of her were the only thing that kept me going in that hellhole kitchen.And now I have to go back there on Monday and take shit from that guy knowing that he’s the one who gets to?—
“Ainsley!”
A shout in my ear and a firm hand pulling on my shoulder finally shake me out of the doomsday trance I seem to be in.I blink down at her a few times before the world comes back into focus.
“I…I’ve gotta get my books.” I can’t talk about this right now.
She no doubt chased me down to explain why she failed to mention the fact that she had a complete douchebag of a boyfriend, and I just can’t hear it right now.
“Is that why you ran off so quickly? To get your books?” she asks, as if she hadn’t just dropped the bomb that shattered my entire psyche.
I turn back to the rack of textbooks without answering.
“You seem upset. ”
I laugh, too loud, a harsh bark. “Yeah, I’m upset. But it’s okay. You go…do you. I’ll be fine.”
She isn’t going anywhere. “You’re pissed because of Taylor.”
“I’m surprised to learn that you have a boyfriend, sure. I’m baffled that you chose that asshole, definitely. And I’m confused about why you gave me your number in the first place.”
“I gave you my number because I was hoping you might be my boyfriend too.”
Confusion gives way to hilarity which dissolves into blind rage.
Ten, nine, eight, seven… I breathe slowly. I bring myself back under control.
Unfortunately, it’s not enough to make me walk away. It’s only enough to force more words out of my mouth—the last thing I should be doing right now. “You…what?”
She shrugs. “I thought you and I really hit it off.”
“I thought so, too. But you failed to mention your boyfriend.”
“It never came up.”
I feel my head tilt at an odd angle. I probably look like a maniac. “That’s certainly true.”
“So, what do you say?” she asks, as if her proposal was the most reasonable thing on the planet.
“What do I say to dating the same girl as some other guy?” I know my voice is too loud. I know people are staring. But I just can’t bring myself to care right now.
“You’ve never done it before?”
Another harsh laugh escapes my lips. “No.”
She shrugs. “You never know until you try.”
“I’m pretty sure I know.”
Her hands perch adorably on her hips, and she cocks her head to the side. A pang of longing hits me like nothing I’ve ever felt before. This is exactly what I wanted—this woman standing in front of me. I never imagined it could go so wrong.
“You said you were open-minded.”
I shake my head. “Yeah, well. I thought I was.”
“You said nothing you found out about me would change your mind. You said it wouldn’t matter if I was a serial killer.”
“Way to call my bluff.”
“Just come hang out with us. One time. No pressure.”
“I just spent the last five days with that guy making my life a living hell. I’m not going to hang out with him in my free time.”
She glances over her shoulder to the table where Taylor sits and then back at me, forehead creased with a question. “Taylor?”
“Yeah, Taylor.”
She shakes her head. “I didn’t know you worked with him. He means well. He’s just…dedicated.”
“Dedicated to being an asshole,” I mutter under my breath.
“Tomorrow night. My house,” she says as if she didn’t hear me.
“Even if I was the kind of guy who was going to date the same girl as someone else, there’s no way that guy,” I point forcefully toward the large window where I can see him watching us, “is going to share you with me.”
She laughs. “Oh, he definitely shares.”
And with those words, the anger and confusion and betrayal I feel melts away into another feeling.
I want to call it pity. Sadness that this beautiful, intelligent woman thinks the best she deserves in life is some cafeteria manager who’s willing to let other guys fuck her.But there’s something else. Something twisting in my gut and stirring up unexpected feelings in my jeans.It’s fucked up and unspeakable, but my mind is suddenly filled with images of us doing just that. Of me fucking her while he lets me. Of his hands on her body while I’m inside it.
Never in my life have I ever imagined myself doing something so…degrading. Disrespectful.But there’s no denying what the thoughts are doing to me.
I cough to try to shake myself out of whatever spell I’ve fallen under. I cough again, squeeze my eyes closed, and pray to be transported back to the calm safety of my apartmentso I can jerk off in peace.
“Fuck,” I mutter as quietly as I can, eyes still closed.
“It’s just dinner, Ains. Just come hang out. No pressure.”
When I can’t even force my eyes open, let alone get an answer to come out, Gem lays a hand on each of my shoulders. I finally blink back to reality, the light of the bookstore fluorescents nearly blinding me.
“Tomorrow, six o’clock, my house. Okay?”
And I’m so thoroughly broken and disillusioned by my own warring mind that I just nod.
“Great. You bring wine.”
I blow a breath slowly through pursed lips, settling into the fact that I just accepted her crazy invitation.
“White or red?” I say finally, my voice surprisingly normal, given what a complete transformation my entire mind and body just suffered.
She laughs again, but this time it sounds more like relief. “It doesn’t matter.”
I shake my head, almost on the verge of laughter myself—but the manic kind. “It matters.”
Her grin is as bright as the goddam sun. “You two are going to get along great.”
And before I can process that statement enough to argue, she’s lifting up on her toes to place a kiss on my cheek and escaping through the front doors of the bookstore.I stand frozen in place, watching as she rejoins her boyfriend and no doubt tells him about our dinner plans. He glances my way once more before pulling her under his arm and leading her off.
What the fuck did I just agree to?