13. Sebastian
THIRTEEN
SEBASTIAN
I wake up to a grinding sound and the aroma of fresh coffee beans. At least Ashley’s not pretending to be asleep. I drag myself out of bed, locate my pants where they were discarded in haste, and find Ashley in the kitchen surrounded by breakfast fixings.
She smiles at me, her face radiant and her blue eyes sparkling in the morning light. “My hero.”
I blink in surprise, not sure how to respond.
I’ve done my share of morning-after breakfasts; they’re usually perfunctory and polite, like checking out at a hotel.
Last night was different, intense in so many ways, and I don’t know how to broach any of that.
So I just smile to hide the fact that my thoughts are all over the place.
“You came to rescue me,” she says, walking over and draping her arms around me in a gentle hug that makes my heart beat a little faster. She smells like cinnamon.
“I did.” I wrap an arm around her waist. “And I’d do it again.”
“Well, let’s cook.”
She seems a bit jittery, fiddling with her hair. Both of us are quiet, like we’re unsure where we stand. I suppose we’ll get to that later, but for now I help whip pancake batter and we make breakfast together, goofing around, making a mess, but enjoying each other’s company.
“So, guess what my mom asked me on Friday,” I say as we’re settling into our breakfast.
Ashley screws up her face like she’s pretending to think hard. “When you’re going to settle down and get a girlfriend? Hope springs eternal.”
It’s nice to be with someone who doesn’t try to fix me, but I didn’t mean to go in that direction. “Well, of course, but that’s not news. She asked if I’m going to run a race like one of those charity 5K runs. I go running a couple of times, and she’s got me doing marathons.”
Ashley shakes her head. “Um, a marathon is a lot longer than five kilometers.”
I should probably know how long that is, but until this moment, that number seemed irrelevant. “Obviously I know that. It’s more like twenty, right?”
“Forty-two point two.”
I drop my fork. Now that I’ve run a few kilometers straight, the concept of doing more than ten times that distance seems insane. “God, that sounds like torture. Have you actually done one of those?”
“No, only a couple of half marathons. Cal did one, though.”
Of course, Cal is both an endurance superstar and emotionally secure. I kind of hate him. “Only a half marathon. So only twenty-one kilometers. You’re such a slacker, Ash.”
“Don’t forget the last hundred meters. That matters when you’re close to the end,” she declares, then gives me an appraising look, which I ignore as I go back to my pancakes. “But you could do a five. There are some races coming up. You should sign up. We’ll do it together.”
The idea of running among all those people, being passed by men my dad’s age, doesn’t sound appealing. But maybe if it was a team effort it wouldn’t be so awful.
She grabs my arm, and I’m distracted by how soft her hands are. “You and Seth should sign up for one and raise money for charity. Do it as a promotional thing for the app. It’ll look good.”
Seth and Diana sometimes jog on the weekends. Not as intensely as Ash and her friends, but they’re fit. “Maybe, but I’ll have to talk to him.”
“You could do the Pride Run in June. It’s not super competitive, plus the vibe is good and it supports local LGBTQ charities. Think about it.”
“I’ll mention it to Seth,” I promise. I’ve been trying to support LGBTQ organizations since Penny came out when she was in university. “Maybe that will distract my mom from my love life.”
“Aha, so she did nag you.” Ashley gives me a pitying look.
I shrug, not wanting to mention Brianna or how my mom keeps alluding to that disaster.
If that epic failure isn’t proof that relationships and I don’t go together, nothing is.
I try never to think about my ex. About the way she looked at me like I was something special when we first met, like she saw more in me than I did, but how a few months together changed her.
“You know my mom,” I say, staring into my coffee cup as I try to banish those memories. Then, because anything is better than going down that road, I clear my throat and head straight into the belly of the beast. “So should we talk about …”
She looks down at her empty plate, understanding my meaning. “Us, you mean.”
“Well, yeah.”
Ashley plays with her fork and won’t meet my gaze. “Why do we need to? I told you it didn’t have to mean anything. That’s what you want, right?”
I grab her hand as I notice it shaking nervously. “I like what we have, our friendship.”
“And you don’t do romantic relationships.”
Even though I’ve been rolling my eyes about how I wish my mom understood this, it feels wrong in this context, like I’m somehow saying Ashley isn’t enough. But it’s true that I don’t want to date anyone long-term. “Right.”
“So, what’s the problem? Sex can just be sex.” She finally looks at me as if she’s trying to convince both of us that she can remain as detached as I can.
I don’t know how to put it into words. I do want this friendship and I don’t want a girlfriend and I definitely enjoy hooking up with Ashley.
How can all those truths fit together? It’s harder to put everything back into the box this time.
“It’s just, we didn’t discuss it last time, and now here we are,” I say.
“If this is going to keep happening, we’ll have to talk about it some time. ”
“What makes you think—” She cuts herself off when we lock eyes.
Yeah, I can’t say it won’t happen again.
Or that I’m not thinking about it happening again, even now when I know I should be closing that door.
There’s something about being with Ashley, the ease in talking with her, the way we get each other like no one else does.
A glance at her tousled hair and plump pink lips makes me forget all the reasons this is still a bad idea.
She gives me a wry smile and says, “We’re sure good at one thing.”
“It’s a curse. We’re both incredibly sexy and irresistible.”
We laugh, and I’m both relieved and mildly terrified that we’re getting this out in the open. Communication sure is hard.
Ashley gets up to refill our coffee like she doesn’t want to look at me as she asks, “So are we friends with benefits then? We have sex when the spirit moves us?”
She looks so beautiful as she turns toward me, her blond hair unkempt and wild.
I assume she would have brushed it if I were a new flame, and the realization that she’s letting me see a private side of her overwhelms my senses.
Her robe is open, revealing a thin tank top that shows her curves. The spirit is very persuasive.
“Sure, I guess. This is new for me.” I usually compartmentalize relationships, and an alarm bell in my brain keeps telling me I’m heading into dangerous territory.
But I keep going. “We hold the lines of communication open. No pressure. No expectations. I just think it’s silly to claim we won’t do it again when we keep … well you know.”
“Yeah.” Ashley’s face says she’s reliving some of what led to this moment—her cheeks are turning pink. I wish we could adjourn now and get back to what we do best, but I’ve seen enough people’s relationship messes to know we should keep talking this through.
“In terms of seeing other people,” I add, swallowing hard, “I assume we’re still on the market, with the promotional activities and such.”
She looks down and doesn’t respond. I wish I could read her mind and know why she’s uncomfortable.
Is it because she wishes we could be more?
Or is she sad she hasn’t met the right person for her so she doesn’t have to settle for someone emotionally unavailable because the sex is good.
Okay, it’s amazing, but that’s not enough for Ash.
I force myself to keep talking. “I know you’ll go out with other men, and I won’t get jealous. We’re both adults and know how to be safe.”
“Of course,” Ash says after a beat, not meeting my eyes. “I trust you.”
“And if—no, when—you meet the right person or someone who seems like he could be the right guy for now, you can tell me, and we’re done with this. I don’t want you to feel guilty, ever, about telling me the arrangement is over and we can’t sleep together again.”
I put my hand on her cheek to get her to look at me and see that I mean it. That I want her to be happy in a way I know she won’t be from hopping into bed with me on occasion. One day, she’ll meet someone who can give her everything I can’t, and I don’t want her to worry about letting me down.
“Sure.” She smiles almost sadly, and it breaks my heart that she might doubt it will happen for her.
It’s not my business, but what slides out of my mouth is “What are you going to tell your friends?”
She closes her eyes and sighs. “It has nothing to do with them. Maybe I won’t tell them.”
My jaw drops. “Ash, you tell Laurel everything.”
“I do not.” Her face reddens like she knows that’s bullshit.
“Oh yeah? When was the last time you kept a secret from Laurel, even something embarrassing?”
She laughs and puts a hand over her eyes. “Maybe I do, but she’s distracted lately. I don’t want to add to her stress. Fuck, I didn’t even check how her night with Cal’s friends went yesterday or reply to their messages. They probably think I’m ignoring them or I got murdered.”
She pulls out her phone and starts reading her texts, giggling to herself as she scrolls through what seems like a hundred messages.
Geez, these women text a lot. I check my responses from Cleo and Seth and realize what a hypocrite I am—there’s no way I’ll tell Seth any of this, just like I didn’t tell him the last time we hooked up.
“She survived?” I ask when Ashley looks up from her group chat.
She shakes her head with a laugh. “She got kind of drunk and ended up doing Lady Gaga karaoke, then ran into her boyfriend’s ex-wife in the ladies’ room and they hugged. Only Laurel. Otherwise, it went well, but she’s very hungover.”