Chapter 3
Chapter
Three
AISLING
“Why the glum face, buttercup?” Frankie asks that afternoon in the breakroom at the salon.
It’s Friday, and Hash is on the books for his regularly scheduled cut with her.
“Hash spent the night last night.”
Frankie lets out a squeal. Her face falls when she notices I’m not squealing right along with her. “Wait… why does that have you looking like someone killed your cat…?”
“I don’t know. It’s stupid. I shouldn’t be upset,” I tell her, but really I’m trying to convince myself as I wipe down the counter with a cleaning wipe.
“Tell me what happened,” Frankie demands, setting the mixing bowl down on the counter, giving me her undivided attention.
Tipping my head back, I sigh. I hate feeling like I’m this desperate ass bitch chasing after a man’s scraps, hoping one day he’ll decide to give me more. I’d never tell anyone what’s going on but Frankie. She’s my girl.
“We were doing our usual thing—”
“Bumping and grinding.” Frankie smirks.
“Yes.” I can’t help but let out a small laugh and roll my eyes. She’s so fucking stupid sometimes.
“Wait.” Frankie holds her hand up. “I think I’m missing something because that’s good, right?”
“It was good until I woke to him getting dressed and trying to sneak out of my room at six in the morning.”
“Oh.” Frankie winces. “Not so good.”
“And that’s what I don’t get. Last night it felt like things were finally moving in the direction I’ve been wanting them to go in since the first night we hooked up.
It felt… right. Like he was meant to be there.
I felt like he had finally let his guard down and I was starting to break through.
Then bam, morning comes, and the guard is right back up.
I literally watched the shutters slam shut in his eyes. ”
“I’m sorry, babe.” Frankie frowns. “Do you think it would make things weird between you two if you talk to him about it?”
I’ve thought about that, but… “I don’t know if I want to. Or if I’m ready.”
“Or you don’t have the balls to,” Frankie bluntly says.
“Jesus. Way to call a bitch out.” I laugh. What’s a real friend for if they can’t give it to you straight?
“What are you scared of?”
“I don’t know… I think it’s just him. I’ve never met a man like him.
He’s everything I’m not while being everything I need at the same time, and that scares the shit out of me.
I don’t know how to navigate this. What I do know is that it fucking sucks feeling like I’m getting the bare minimum of what he has to give when I want to give him the world. ”
Frankie makes a humming noise as she leans up against the counter, thinking everything I just said over. “The way I see it, you have two options.”
“And those are?”
“Either break it off, or grow a pair of balls and ask him point blank what the fuck is going on.”
“Ugh,” I groan, face planting my head into the cabinet with a bang. “Owe.”
Why can’t my life ever be easy?
I just wish that for once something worked out the way I wanted it to.
The bell chimes over the door, making my breath catch in my throat as I stand frozen in my room.
I know it’s him.
He’s never late.
“Same as usual?” I hear Frankie ask as she gets him settled in her chair.
She’s right. I do need to grow a pair of balls.
I’m never going to get what I want out of life if I don’t grab the bull by the horns and take it.
Dancing around what we are or aren’t has caused me stress and, honestly, it hasn’t been making me happy lately.
Waking up to see him trying to rush out hurt, and I hate that he saw my vulnerability.
I refuse to give him access to that part of me when I’m only getting pieces from him when he feels like it.
Tossing the used wax strips and sticks from my client who just left into the trash, I plaster a smile on my face and walk out, ready to face him head on.
“Finally decided to chop it off?” I ask, already knowing the answer. That man would never cut off his precious hair, even though he wears it in the most ridiculous style only he can seem to pull off.
“I could never do that, baby doll.” Hash gives me his sexy smile that I fell for the day I met him. “What would you have to grab onto?”
Crossing my arms, I roll my eyes as I move to stand in front of him. “I’m sure I can figure out something else. Are you free tonight?”
His smile wavers slightly as the light dims in his eyes. “Wouldn’t be anywhere else. I’ll be at your place around seven.”
That’s another thing.
It’s always at my place. Not that it’s a bad thing, I love my house and I want the person I’m seeing to be just as comfortable there, but he hasn’t invited me over to his place once.
There hasn’t even been an “Oh hey, we should switch it up and chill at mine tonight,” and I decline or we happen to end up at mine.
I also haven’t asked, but should I have to?
I still haven’t met a single friend or one of his brothers from his club.
In fact, he doesn’t even mention them other than in his saying he has club business to get to in passing.
That’s weird, right? Even when we’ve gone out for drinks and Frankie has joined, he hasn’t invited anyone from his crew along.
Have I had blinders on this entire time?
Oh God, what if it’s me? Is he embarrassed of me?
I know the cherry cola colored hair, double nose piercing and a septum piercing throws people. I see the stares. But I always thought a biker would be down with that.
“Sounds good.” I keep a smile on my face even though I feel like I’m dying inside. It’s a different kind of pain to be in love with someone when the signs just smacked you in the face that he clearly doesn’t feel the same.
I’ll give him a chance to answer my questions tonight, but if it goes the way my gut is telling me it’s going to go, I need to end this.
A heavy knock sounds on my front door, scaring Frigg, my black Maine Coon cat. She’ll come back out of her hiding place once she realizes it’s Hash. She always does.
Flipping both of the locks, I heave the thick oak door open. “Hi,” I greet, trying to push the awkwardness I feel from knowing what I need to ask him.
“Forgot to ask you about dinner, so I stopped and grabbed a pie.” Hash holds up the pizza box as he slides around me and comes inside. “I know how you like your pizza.”
“Detroit style?” I ask as I shut the door and follow him into the kitchen.
“With ham, mushrooms, and onions.”
Of course, on the night I want to have a serious conversation with him, he goes and brings me one of my favorite foods, making tonight feel that much worse because he does actually pay attention to me on some sort of deeper level. But how deep that runs for him is the question.
“Thanks.” I smile softly at him as I grab us each a plate and place a slice on mine before grabbing a beer for him and a freezer door cosmopolitan for me. “How was your day?”
There.
That was good.
I sound normal. I just hope my face isn’t giving away how fucking nervous I am. But can you blame me? I’ve never had to do this, let alone with someone I’m this into.
Hash shrugs as he swallows his bite. “Can’t complain. I got to see your sweet ass. You have a good day at work?”
“Can’t complain.” I mimic him as I shrug my shoulders, earning me that little smirk I love. “I didn’t have any nasty vaginas today, so I call that a win.”
A loud laugh booms out of Hash mid bite sending him into a coughing fit. “What the fuck?” He wheezes out as he pounds his fist on his chest. “Jesus Christ, I swear I never know what’s going to come out of your mouth.”
“I aim to please.”
“They smell bad or something?”
“Or something.”
“Explain.”
“Do you really want to know while you’re eating?”
“Baby doll, if you’d lived the life that I have, you’d have very little surprising you.”
I take a second to really study Hash. The hard lines on his face are the kind that come from living rough, not from age.
The walls in his eyes hold secrets that he’s probably buried so deep he’s forgotten that they’re there.
I believe him. I bet nothing surprises him anymore.
Especially when it comes to vaginas. The Dirty Devils are known for getting around, but…
“I don’t doubt that, but have you ever gone down on a girl to find literal poop up in there?” I ask just as Hash takes a swig of beer.
Beer sprays across my kitchen from Hash’s mouth.
“What the fuck?” he says again as a look mixed with disgust and humor takes over his face. “You serious?”
“Dead serious.” I laugh. “It’s disgusting, but I don’t think some of them know it’s there.”
Some bitches don’t know how to wipe, and it shows.
“You tell them though, right? Because that’s fucking nasty, babe. If I were going down on a girl and I licked literal shit, that’s a wrap for me. I’d probably throw the fuck up on it.” Hash pauses as he thinks about what he just said. “Unless it was yours, of course. You’ve got a pretty cunt.”
“God, you’re disgusting.” I laugh and roll my eyes.
“Nasty motherfuckers are the best in bed.”
My cheeks flush. Not from embarrassment but from the knowledge of knowing how nasty he is firsthand.
“You want to finish this outside? It’s finally not hot as Satan’s ball sack out.”
I nod as I grab my plate and drink and follow him out to my patio.
My house isn’t massive by any means. It’s a small two-bedroom, one-story house that’s outdated, but it’s mine. I haven’t really bothered with renovations on the interior yet except with the random things that have broken and needed to be replaced. My money immediately went into the backyard.
The first thing to go was the back deck. I had that rebuilt and painted charcoal black. It pops against the white siding. I then had to make sure I bought the most comfortable lounge chairs with a matching table.
My favorite thing to do is chill out here at night and watch the stars. It’s a different kind of peace, and until meeting Hash, it was the only thing that truly stopped everything that swirls around in my head.
Except now he’s the cause of it, and I never saw that coming. Regardless, he knows my backyard is my happy place.
We finish the rest of our food in silence. Neither of us wanting to break the silence, for different reasons I’m sure.
“Alright, baby doll.” Hash gives in as he sets his plate down on the patio table. “Something’s up in that pretty little head of yours. Tell me.”
I nibble on the last bit of crust, trying to buy a pathetic amount of time because I’m still not ready. I don’t think I’ll ever be ready.
Stealing a glance at Hash, I see him looking at me expectantly.
Damn.
I hate that he can see right through me.
“Are you embarrassed of me?” I blurt out, cutting straight to the point. There’s no sense in tiptoeing around it and making me stress out even more.
“Come again?” Hash asks, his easygoing smile gone from his face.
“Are you embarrassed of me?” I repeat.
“I heard what you said. I want to know why the fuck you think you would embarrass me.”
Oh no.
He’s getting mad.
Maybe this wasn’t the way to approach this.
Hash has never been angry at me, and it has me squirming in my seat.
“I don’t know… It’s just that—”
“Spit it out.”
“I’m trying,” I snap back, not liking his tone.
“And I’m trying to keep my cool, but you’re making it pretty goddamn hard.”
“How am I making it hard?” I exclaim. He can’t be fucking serious right now.
“Because the vibe I’m getting is that you think I’m ashamed of you or some bullshit, which is a dig to me and what I stand for. Glad I know what you think of me now, baby doll.”
“Whoa,” I gush out, shaking my head as my face scrunches up in disbelief. “I think you need to chill out because that isn’t what I meant by that.”
“Easy, Aisling.” Hash’s tone sends a chill down my spine, and not in a good way. In a downright scary way. “You haven’t been with a man like me, but let me educate you. You do not tell a man like me to chill out.”
“But you’re not listening to me!”
Anxiety is bubbling in the pit of my stomach from this conversation spiraling so far away from where I wanted it to go, and I do not know how to get it back on track. I feel that if I tell him what I wanted to say, it’s just going to set him off even more.
“Oh, I’m listening to you. I listen to every word you say.”
You know what?
Fuck this and fuck him for jumping down my throat with his bullshit accusations, acting like I’m coming at him some sort of way.
“I’ve never met your friends! I’ve never even been to your place!
Every single time we hang out, it’s either with my friends or we’re tucked away at my place.
It’s been months. Months of this. Every time we make plans, I’m like a dog begging for a bone, waiting for you to invite me into your world.
What am I supposed to think, Hash?” I yell as I throw myself back in my seat, my hands flying up in the air.
“You don’t belong in my world.”
I suck in an audible breath as I’m frozen in place, staring at him like a deer in the headlights. The wind feels like it was just knocked out of me, like he just socked me in the gut. He might as well have ripped my heart out and stomped on it.
You don’t belong in my world.
“Aisling.” Hash’s voice is low and laced with regret, but he doesn’t take it back.
Tears are pooling in the corner of my eye as I continue to stare at the man I was ready to give everything to.
He took that away with six words.
“Thanks for the pizza, but I think I’m going to call it a night.” I don’t recognize my own voice. It’s taking everything in me to hold it together. I won’t let someone who told me I don’t belong in his world see me at my worst. He doesn’t get that side of me.
“Aisling,” Hash repeats.
“Just go,” I say, my voice barely above a whisper.
What else is there to say?
My attention is still on Hash, but I can’t see him. My focus is blurred, full of tears threatening to fall.
I hear his beer bottle clink against the glass top of the table. He doesn’t say a word as he gets up and walks out.
How can someone I was going to tell I’m in love with walk away from me without so much as saying a single word to me?
An asshole that’s who.
An asshole who doesn’t think I’m good enough for his world.