6. Ashley
SIX
ASHLEY
In the midst of this crazy week of questionable decisions, I can hardly wait for my Saturday run with the Midtown Milers. We meet every weekend to do a ten-kilometer easy run in the Yonge and Eglinton area of Toronto, regardless of the weather or whatever is happening in our personal lives.
I remember meeting Laurel on my first day running with the group.
She was intimidating, tall and gorgeous with the confidence of someone who has always been picked first in gym class.
I, on the other hand, was usually second last, right before that girl who would just sit down in the middle of the field and refuse to play.
I was new to the city and very newly dumped, certain these athletic types would see at a glance that I wasn’t one of them.
Then Laurel did some stupid dance move in response to a blast of music from a passing car, and I caught her eye and laughed.
We’ve been friends ever since. I’ve made most of my friends in the city through the Milers, and it will always be special to me.
I arrive early, bundled up in gloves and earmuffs, and spot our leader Mark waiting by the planters at Yonge and Eglinton, currently covered in snow rather than flowers. Mark is a tall Black man in his mid-forties, passionate about running but not talkative otherwise .
“Morning, Ashley,” Mark says in his quiet way. “How was your week?”
“Oh, fine.” More like an emotional rollercoaster, but despite the fact that gossip travels fast in our group, Mark has never been one to get into anyone’s business. I also appreciate that he doesn’t force conversation, so wait in silence.
“Oh my God, I can’t believe I made it to Saturday.” I hear Tess before I turn and see her. She’s talking to Laurel and Cal, who have arrived right behind her. “It felt like this week was a month long!”
Tess is a few years older than me, slim and average height.
Her purple pixie cut is covered by a fluffy ear band.
She works in IT, so she often has to put out fires.
We’ve always gotten along well, but now that most of our mutual friends are happily coupled up, I make an effort to touch base to commiserate about bad dates and listen to her complain about how her old-fashioned parents want her settled with a nice Chinese man.
“How was your week? Did you end up meeting your friend Sebastian?” Tess asks.
My stomach drops and I stare at her, then over at Laurel for a second. Did she tell Tess what happened? “What do you mean?”
Tess looks confused so the shock must show on my face. “You were texting him when we grabbed coffee last Saturday, remember?”
Oh, right. This whole thing is doing my head in. “We had drinks and talked business. I’ll tell you more later.”
Tess is a good friend, but I’m not sure I want to confess everything in the middle of a group run.
“Isn’t he a huge player?” Tess asks, intrigued. “You’ve mentioned him a few times.”
My head snaps up at that statement. Sebastian isn’t into relationships, that’s for sure, but he’s open about it with anyone he dates. He doesn’t play games. He’s more the type to pretend he has none.
“You could say he’s known for playing the field.” Why am I defensive of him suddenly? I try to keep my voice even as though I’m not part of that field. I can feel Laurel’s eyes on me like she knows I’m not feeling as easy-breezy as I sound.
“My kind of guy,” Jason breaks in. Thank God for Jason.
He’s as committed to being non-committed as Sebastian is, though he has less of a playboy look and more of a boy-next-door charm with his dimpled cheeks.
This is deceptive and belies his dedication to never being tied down, a fact which never stops disappointing his long-suffering Filipino grandmother.
“One day, Jay, you’re going to fall hard, and I’ll be here to laugh at you,” Tess replies with a big smile.
“Okay, enough chatting. Let’s get started,” Mark booms out like a teacher calling his class to attention.
He’s probably had enough of our shenanigans.
He looks around to see if we have any newcomers, but it’s our usual crew.
Cal and Laurel are off to the side holding hands, while I stand near Tess and Jason.
Victor, Jason’s usual wing man, is laughing with Rajani who rolls her eyes, probably at his corny jokes.
Stevie watches Mark, waiting for him to continue.
Mark goes over the route and asks Laurel to stick toward the back of the group to make sure no one gets lost, which is her usual role. We head down Yonge in a pack with Laurel and me at the rear with Stevie.
“You don’t want to run ahead with Cal?” I ask, since we’re a small group and it’s a familiar route this time.
“Nah, he can have guy time with Mark,” Laurel replies. “Plus, now I can admire his, er, assets from behind.”
“You know I can hear you,” Cal says, and Victor snickers. Laurel grins when Cal looks back at her. He may not be my type, but she’s right that his tall, toned frame is not unpleasant to look at as he runs ahead.
“So, is there anything new with Sebastian,” Stevie asks once we lag behind, even though I’ve kept her updated in the group chat of everything since my night out with him. “Did you talk to him? Did you hook up again? Tell me all the gory details.”
“No!” I might be a bit too emphatic. “That’s not happening again. For real.”
“Sure, sure,” she says, unconvinced.
“The last time was years ago. It’s not like this is a routine thing.”
Stevie looks at me. “The last time? You mean you’ve hooked up with him before?”
“Um …”
Laurel’s laugh is more like a cackle. I thought Stevie knew all my secrets, but I guess she missed this one.
“Ashley!” Stevie is so loud that Victor glances back at us.
“So we might have had a fling back when we were young.” I usually keep the lid closed on that night, try not to remember falling into bed with him after his father’s wedding.
It feels like a lifetime ago. I was na?ve enough to think that his reaching for me in a moment of vulnerability meant something more.
Maybe I wanted an excuse to open up the jar where I’d kept my attraction for him sealed up for years, but the old cynical Sebastian was back in the morning.
“So, you’re saying this guy never hooks up with the same woman more than once, yet you’ve slept with him twice and you’re still on speaking terms?”
“And it will stay at two,” I say firmly. “We’re going to be working together, and the whole point of my collaboration is that I’ll be dating other men.”
“You’re doing it for sure?” Laurel confirms.
“Yep. It’s confirmed.” I sent the papers in last night after reviewing them but hadn’t told my friends yet since they both seemed iffy on the concept.
Even Stevie, who is usually on board with any romantic plans that could lead to a good story, seemed concerned with getting paid to go on dates, like I was becoming an escort or something.
I brace myself for more unsolicited commentary, but they keep any misgivings to themselves.
“Can’t wait to hear about all your escapades” is all I get from Stevie.
“What’s the next step?” Laurel asks.
This is the part I’m good at. “I’ll officially start posting in the next few weeks. I’ll go on dates through my regular account on the app, but now I get super access for free.”
It’s a pretty sweet deal. I can send photos, see more detailed information about my profile views, boost my profile in the algorithms, and get discounts at a few local businesses. “I’m going to spend the weekend scoping out potential dates and planning out content.”
“Fun! I can’t wait to see it,” Laurel replies.
“Do you want to come over later and help me with some videos?” I ask Laurel hopefully. I have some ideas for my incognito look, but it would be great to have someone assist with the lighting and give input.
I glance over at my best friend and see her face freeze for a second. “We were planning to go to IKEA later to look at beds because … Well, mine was secondhand from my sister, and it’s looking rough. It might be nice to have a new one, maybe a king.”
I try to catch Stevie’s eye to see if she’s as intrigued with this development as I am, but it’s impossible while running in a trio.
“I’ll check with Cal about the timing,” Laurel adds. “What about tomorrow?”
I almost offer to come along to the store but realize before it’s out of my mouth how stupid that would sound.
We were always IKEA buddies since it’s a pain to go there alone—the carts are unwieldy, and loading things in a car by yourself is tricky, plus it’s nice to have company while gorging yourself with cinnamon rolls.
We’ve spent more than a few memorable rainy afternoons goofing around in the bedroom section, picking the ugliest bedding when we had nothing better to do.
But things change, and it makes sense that she would look at beds with the person sharing hers.
“Sure, tomorrow is good.” I make my voice as cheerful as I can. I don’t need her pitying me for my silly nostalgic reaction. “Let me know for sure, and I’ll structure today around the other stuff I have to do.”
We chat on and off about banal life updates during the run while taking care not to slip on snow or ice.
By the time we get back to Yonge and Eglinton, Stevie has finished a rant about some of her more obnoxious students, and I’m pleased that my friends have decided not to double down on the Sebastian issue.
I’m nearly home free until we’re walking over to get coffee afterward and Tess corners me, wanting to know all about Sebastian, and demanding photos. Of course the most recent ones are from the other night when I was slightly buzzed on my couch.
“Whoa, he’s hot.”