2. Ashley
TWO
ASHLEY
Oh no. Oh no, oh no, oh no. This is bad.
I stare at the wrinkled spot in the sheets where Sebastian was until minutes ago, listening to him move around my apartment.
I pretended to be asleep when he stretched and slipped out of bed, whispering, “I’m going to hop in the shower.
” I pull the sheet up to cover my face and decide to fake sleep until I hear him leave to avoid dealing with whatever this is.
My heart races as I contemplate the consequences of last night.
I don’t do this. I don’t mix business with pleasure.
I don’t mix friendship with pleasure either, not these days.
I just turned thirty-two. This is supposed to be my year to find a nice boyfriend to settle down with.
Hooking up with the most untameable bachelor in my entire lifetime of acquaintances is not part of that plan.
Why, Ashley? Why?
I hear the shower go on and reach for my phone to do the only thing I can think of to do.
Are you awake?
After a minute, my best friend replies.
Laurel:
Barely. What’s up?
I’ve made a huge mistake.
Go on.
I might have… Slept with Sebastian.
There’s a pause while I see the three dots that indicate she’s typing, then she sends me the GIF of Ross from Friends saying “Why? Why would you do that?” A very good question.
Why did I kiss him? Why did I invite him over in the first place?
What happened to my brain last night? It was pickled in mojitos.
The phone vibrates with an incoming call. She must see this as an emergency if she’s calling me at seven in the morning. Her voice is so unexpectedly loud that I hold the phone away. “Ashley!”
In the background, I hear a muffled voice. “Did someone die?” Oh right, Cal is there. Well, he’ll have to hear about my poor decisions too.
There’s a shuffling sound, then she says at a normal volume, “I’m in the living room now. Tell me more.”
“There’s nothing to tell,” I whisper. “We went out for drinks, then he came over, and obviously one thing led to another.”
“Why are you whispering?”
“I don’t want him to hear me when he gets out of the shower,” I admit.
She howls with laughter, leaving me slightly put out.
“I’m glad my bad decisions are so funny.”
“Sorry. I just can’t believe you didn’t wait for him to leave to freak out about it.” She doesn’t sound remotely apologetic. “Was it good at least?”
Good isn’t the word I’d use. I close my eyes and relive the memories of his hot breath in my ear, his fingers roaming all over me, the taste of his sweat as I kissed his shoulders. “Why is this your priority?”
“If you’re going to make questionable choices, you should at least enjoy them,” she replies sagely. She’s not wrong. “Well, was it?”
“Of course it was good.” I let out a sigh. I may question Sebastian’s life choices, but he has a very specific set of skills, which is why I forgot that I swore never to do this again.
“Wait, is that why he wanted to see you? To hook up?”
“No, that was unplanned,” I mutter, trying not to dwell on the fact that it was my idea to invite him over. “It was a work thing. I’ll tell you later.”
I’m beginning to realize that I need coffee before I can think about this any longer. A lot of coffee.
“Do you want to come over now? I’m working from home today, so I don’t have to do much before work other make a pot of coffee. You can tell me the whole story.”
I suddenly feel very silly. This isn’t a real emergency, certainly not enough to warrant me busting into her apartment before eight in the morning while she and her boyfriend are getting ready for work. “No, it’s cool. I need to get something to eat anyway.”
The shower turns off, so I hiss, “Gotta go. I’ll text you.”
I lay back down just in time. Sebastian opens the bedroom door but closes it quickly, presumably since I’m still faking sleep.
I don’t know if he heard me talking before.
It’s immature to pretend right now, but my blood pressure hasn’t settled down enough for the inevitable “this was fun” talk.
He may even want to back out of our collaboration, seeing as this whole relationship has now become completely unprofessional.
I’d rather have that discussion over email.
I should get up to offer him breakfast or coffee, but he’s a snob—he’ll probably look down his nose at my basic coffee maker.
Better to stay in bed and let him leave.
A few minutes later, the apartment door opens and closes.
I bury my face in the pillow, wishing I could just spend the day under the covers.
When my phone vibrates, my heart jumps in my chest. Can’t he at least wait until he gets home before saying whatever he wants to say? But it’s Laurel again.
Laurel:
Meet me after work. We can run and you can tell me everything.
You’re the best.
It’s comforting that no matter what has changed in her life lately, she’s ready to make time for me and my questionable decisions.