The song for this chapter is Magic, by Coldplay. I love this video...seeing the two main characters struggling to make a connection despite obstacles reminds me of Leed and Ash. Even though this chapter is told from Leed's perspective, the song is definitely about Ashlynn's perspective and the things she tells Leed...
Leed
I'm vaguely aware that Adam and I swivel around to face Ashlynn at the exact same moment, and phones around us start to flash.
Adam warns, "Two dozen amateur paps on the job, guys," but I only have eyes for the little fireball in front of me.
Ashlynn is hot in all the ways right now, but her attitude is calm, "No worries. There's not a problem here, except the Lion gnashing his teeth."
Even when she's unhappy with me, she's one of the most beautiful women I have ever had the pleasure to lay eyes on. Not just because she's fit and firm and facially blessed like a goddess, it's because she's so goddamn classy. Her expression is composed, her body language at ease. She's sweeping that mass of fucking gorgeous golden wave back from her shoulders and reaching one hand to the back of my barstool, leaning slightly toward me, raising one delicate, perfectly shaped brow at me and shaking her head slightly, like I'm a naughty child.
Mac, Kat, or a Strut girl would go off and make a scene over the obvious assholisheness of what I said. Drug-addicted Ash would would have fled to the bathroom to fade her feelings about it with a line of crushed oxy. But sober Ash is different. This is the Sunshine Girl I met five years ago, with a new strength and grace. She's spiritually woke in a way that's fucking gorgeous at the same time its crazy intimidating. She's making space for forgiveness before I even ask for it. She's still diggin' the sinner, and overlooking the sin.
She's like a...Madonna. Not that one. You know...the real one.
"I don't suppose it's my luckiest day of the year and you were secretly flattered by any of what you heard?" I give her a sheepish, apologetic grin.
"You want to say all it all again to my face to find out?" she says tolerantly.
I feel my facial muscles contorting, but it's not an expression I would usually give a beautiful woman.
I probably look like the Anxious Face With Sweat emoji.
Thinking back to the things Ashlynn overheard, I suddenly feel ashamed of my attitude. About her. Ashlynn is maybe starting to make my fuck-first-ask-questions-later attitudes feel a little bit...juvenile.
"I couldn't repeat if I tried," I say sincerely. "It was all just a bunch of sexually frustrated bullshit."
She rolls her eyes and tucks her lips back. "Are you telling me you are in a dry spell. Honestly?"
I know what she's getting at. My traitorous sister must have mentioned to her I had a few fangirls recently. I haven't been so much for the fangirls this time around on tour, but the last couple weeks of tour is basically one long wrap party, and it felt like the...the end of more. Like maybe the end of the old hell-raising days, for all of us. Mac and Adam are married and having a kid, Trace is all official with Kat, and Bodie, well, Bodie's in a world of shit...skipping past the honeymoon phase and straight into the toxic Kurt-and-Courtney type of thing.
Not to mention, I'm about to be a father. That's a whole different head trip.
It's been a strange tour, and I just wanted to finish with some fun. So yeah, I had sex with a few strangers. And maybe it wasn't as much fun as it used to be, but I'm a fucking rock star, goddammit. I have an image to uphold.
Like right now. I can't apologize to Ash for having sex three-and-a-half times in the last month. That would be...weird. It's not like Ash and I are...answerable to each other.
I also don't want to apologize for wanting her, for hoping we kick this friendship up to fantastic. I'm not in the wrong for wanting something that I know in my bones will make us both happier than we are right now. But maybe I should apologize for the things she overheard.
"Dry spell? Technically, I suppose not. More like, in a funk, I guess. There's this girl, she's got me trippin' all over myself, thinking about the past, questioning the future, and...I'm not handling myself right. I'm saying crazy shit I don't even mean, sometimes."
Ash's irritated look bleeds away. She looks almost...sorry for me now. "We all make mistakes," she says simply. "Want to talk about it?"
No. Fuck no, Ash. I do not want to talk about how you make me think crazy things I've never thought before. How you make me want things I know I'm not cut out for. I don't want to talk, I want to get lost in you. I want to fuck-and-forget all this noise in my head. I open my mouth to say something cute, like talking is always much more fun in bed, but instead, weird, earnest words come out.
"I...I can try."
Adam chokes on his bourbon. He's looking between us with disbelief. "You guys aren't even gonna pretend to fight? How is that even fun?"
I guess his questions are rhetorical, because he rises, smoothly pulling out his chair for Ash, and she sits gracefully. For a second I want to punch Adam as he casually adjusts her chair.
Jesus, Lawson, get a grip. Adam is not flirting with Ash, he's just got those old-school manners that MJ beat into his brain.
"I'm sure my wife is standing around somewhere, and that is completely unacceptable. I better go find her. Get her off her feet and onto my lap," he looks thoughtfully at Ashlynn. "Hey, Ash, do me a favor?"
"Sure," she smiles at him, and I want to punch Adam again. It's bad enough I spend half my life wanting to punch Adam for stealing my Macaroni, now I'm going to have to fight the urge over Ash too? Adam is too fucking friendly. He needs to keep a goddamn perimeter around Ash. Trace knows just how to act around Ash. He treats her like a disarmed bomb. He's not sweating the countdown that has been disabled, but he's still not getting up next to the nitroglycerin, either.
Adam is not wary of Ash or me, because he says, "Don't be too hard on my boy, for what he said. He was just blowing off steam. Leed only has two modes. Most of the time he's just the cuddly kitten. He doesn't even realize when he morphs into the King of Beasts."
She laughs. "Maybe I can calm the beast." She lays a hand on my arm.
Okay, maybe I don't want to punch Adam. How come I never noticed he is a smooth as fuck wing-man? Oh, cause he was never my wing-man. I have never needed one since Soundcrush blew up, and back in the college days my wing-man was always Bodie. Adam was always sneaking off somewhere to get in my sister's pants. I give him the chin tip, and he gives it back with a look of amusement, strolling away with his hands in his pockets amidst the flash of phone cameras. I swivel toward Ashlynn, giving her my full attention.
Ashlynn is watching me, curiously. "I just left you with an open invitation to flirt. You aren't going to come back at me? Are you feeling okay?"
There are a hundred sexy things I could purr in response to her little calm-the-beast flirtation, but I'm still Anxious Sweating Face emoji. Does she actually want me to flirt back? Is she testing me to see if I'll make another douchey come-on? Should I go bold? Should I deflect and try to apologize for my crudeness earlier?
Am I actually second-guessing my wooing ability?
What THE FUCK is wrong with me?
I catch a bead of sweat at my temple before it runs down my face. Ashlynn notices.
"Wow, you really are in a bad way. No sirsasana practice this morning?"
Not too long ago I told Ashlynn that performing headstands was an exercise in controlling lust. It's true, it works. If you can hold the pose for long enough. Now she's turning it around on me. Ashlynn never misses a beat. She's the smartest cutest little flirt I've ever seen and I have bantered with thousands, probably.
Problem is, she's thrown me off my game. She says she no every time I get up next to her, but now she's giving me some room to move. Does she want me to move closer, or just hang myself with the rope she's offering?
Fuck it. When in doubt, might as well be honest.
"No sirsasana for awhile now. Maybe you're right, maybe that's part of the problem. I had to give headstands up, after Trace's brother punched me in the throat back at Labor Day. The voice box is fine, but the muscle strain is taking a little bit longer to heal."
She returns the honestly."I didn't tell you, because I didn't want to add to your worry, but I was so scared for you. Your beautiful voice..." Ash reaches out and touches my throat in sympathy.
It's crazy how I always think of her as being so warm, but her fingers leave sensations like trails of ice. I grab her hand, before I do something stupid like shiver beneath her touch.
I put my nose to the spot where I licked salt off her hand all those years ago, and inhale. It makes me sadâthat we will never do tequila shots again like that. It's a memory I'd very much like to repeat, but the smell of her skin is more than enough to bring the whole experience back in technicolor. She smells just the same as she did huddled in my old car, her beauty lit by amber dash lights. She smells like vanilla and wildflowers. Like a light-filled meadow.
Like a happy place.
Ash draws her hand back.
"Uggggggghhhh," she says softly. "I...I shouldn't have touched you like that. I get confused around you. I mix my signals. I'm sorry."
Now she's leaning away and my heart is beating faster. What if she slides off the bar stool the way she slid out of my car five years ago? I guess it's my turn to tug on this connection between us. "It's okay to admit you like me, you know. There's no boyfriend. No complicated, not-real-marriage with one of my closet friends. No rehab rules. It's not wrong anymore. Is it?"
"I'm not sure. But I do. Like you."
She looks away, uncomfortable with her admission. I decide to let her off the hook, returning to banter.
"Don't worry, Sunshine. It's not your fault , it's mine. I'm irresistible." I give her the smile and the bedrooms eyes to prove it.
She throws back her head and laughs in my face. "I resist cravings on a daily basis, remember?"
I lean closer. "Yeah, but all that shit is bad for you, and I would be...so good to you, baby."
I'm hyperfocused on her gorgeous face. I see her pupils widen slightlyâshe can't control that. I see lips move like she's controlling the urge to bite her luscious bottom lip and give me another mixed signal. I see her pretty little nostrils flare delicately as she takes a cleansing breath-trying to stay even. Trying to clear her lust. Trying to clear me.
I back up in defeat. Of course she's trying to keep me blocked. She's flirting to let me know she's not truly angry, but she's still annoyed, or maybe even embarrassed about what I said. I by-passed the apology and went straight for the kill.
I back off and clear my throat. I need to take this down a notch. "Buy you a drink to go with the talk?" I cock my head toward the bar.
"Sure. Club soda is fine," she says to the bartender.
"You actually like plain club soda?" I ask her.
She shrugs. "Not really, but it's just the easiest thing."
"There's gotta be something better than that." I put a hand up to the bartender. "What you got back there to make a tequila-esque mocktail?""
He gives me an arrogant look and lifts the soda gun. He's one of these snobby fuckers that wants to mix twenty-five dollar cocktails with top shelf liquors and nothing else, cause the more expensive the drinks the better his tips.
"You know what?" I climb atop the bar stool and hop over the bar, pulling a wad of cash out of my pocket and peeling off two Benji's for him. "I got it. Looks like Adam Levine is trying to get your attention." Both he and Ash's head snap to the end of bar where I gestured and Ash giggles as the bartender snorts and stomps off to the guy is most definitely not Adam Levine but wishes he was.
"What are you doing?" Ash asks me I pick up a shaker and the cameras go crazy.
"Making you a fun drink," I wink.
It takes me three tries. The first one is horrible, I dump it down the sink after my taste test, the second one I spill when I try to get cute and fumble the shakerâAshlynn's pretty peal of laughter is worth the damp shirtâbut the third oneâginger ale with fresh squeezed lime juice, and a little blue agave syrupânot to sweeten it, but to give it the subtlest taste aftertaste of tequila without the alcohol, and a dash of chipotle sauceâI'm thinking maybe I've hit on something that has a bite like tequila. I thread limes on a little stick and serve the glass to her in the sophisticated wayâon a cocktail napkin, the garnish stick laid across the drink.
"I'm afraid," she teases me, picking up the garnish stick.
I slap a hand on my chest. "It hurts that you doubt my mixology skills, Sunshine."
She sips. She smiles. "That's really good, Leed. What's it called?"
"It's called an I'm-sorry-for-acting-like-an-arrogant-shithead-who-thinks-he-has-a-foolproof-plan-to-seduce-you-this-weekend."
She smiles into her drink as she sips. "Hmmmm, that would be hard to order. You might want to just go with... Corolla Kiss."
God, this girl and what she does to me with her smart and sexy flirting. She's reminding me of the night we met, the tequila we drank in my old piece-of-shit Corolla, the way we came so close to kissing that our lips were brushing as we talked. "Ahhhh...but we didn't. Kiss. Not then. Maybe I should call it a Smooch on the Beach." Now I'm reminding her of the only kiss we have actually shared, the one she laid on me at her Florida rehab residence.
"If you can mix drinks and we can pretend this is tequila, I can mix memories and we can pretend the kiss happened in the Corolla," her eyes are lit with mischief.
"You didn't like the kiss at rehab?" If she says she didn't, she'll be fucking lying.
"You're an amazing kisser," she says softly, swirling the garnish stick in her drink, not looking at me. "I just wish it happened differently. Not at rehab. I wish you never had to see me like that...the way I was, on drugs."
"Me too, baby, but we have to play the hand we are dealt, yeah?" I tell her. I won't let her wander down a path of regret. Not tonight.
Her eyes meet mine. "Yes. You are right, Leed. We play the hand we are dealt."
I mix myself the same drink as Ashlynn. I've had a few tequilas already, and I don't want to get sloppy. Not before Tam's rehearsal. I step back over the bar and pull my stool close to her, clinking drinks with her. "So if you are thinking about kissing me, does that mean you aren't upset about all that stupid shit I said about wedding hook-ups?"
"Not upset, no. I get that's the way you think. You live in a world of parties and sex, where it's your normal thing to score every time. I lived in that world too, but I was looking for a different kind of score from my party," she says it evenly without any bitterness. "But you really don't get me, now. You're stressing that I'm going to trade my oxy high for a hook-up high with some bad news guy. It's a fair assumption, you've seen me do both so many nights, back in LA, when I was drugging, before Vegas..." she closes her eyes against the memory. "But you don't have to worry for me like that. You don't have to prowl around me like you used to prowl around Mac, like an overprotective Lion. You don't have to offer me a...what you did you say? A confidence-boosting no-strings pity fuck? Just to keep me from making a mistake like the old days?"
My mouth drops open. She thinks I'm worried about her using sex to replace drugs? She thinks I was planning to offer her a pity fuck? I don't even know what to say to that. Maybe six months ago I pitied her. Now, I admire the fuck out of her, for how she's pulled herself together.
"I never said pity. You're way off base, Ashâ"
"Pity fuck. Friends-with-benefits. Casual sex. Whatever you want to call it...I don't want that, Leed. I'm..." her mouth works like she's trying to find the right words. "I'm reclaiming my self-worth. I'm not sleeping around for the wrong reasons anymore. The next time I go to bed with somebody, it will be for the real deal For love. Like Madam. Like Ben and Tam."
I rub my chin, trying to absorb that. I'm trying to wrap my head around the idea of admitting I want to have sex with her and only her, if the connection I'm feeling between us flows the way I'm almost positive it will. She's talking about love and using married and baby-making couples as the example?
See, this is why I don't do this.
I need baby steps, not more baby booties, man. I'm practically in denial about the kid of mine that could be born any minute. I'm not sure I'm down with Ashlynn's picket fence dreams.
My heads starts spinning and my mouth starts running with its usual absurdities. "So what you are saying is you are saving yourself for love, marriage and a baby carriage? Oh, hey...are you thinking about re-virginizing, as part of this deal? Cause I heard about the whole hymen restoration procedure, and I know I don't have one, so maybe I don't get an opinion, but that seems real dumb to me. A lot of unnecessary time and pain and money for a little flap of skin that somebody is gonna rip through all over again...think hard on that one, before you jump on the hymen bandwagon. The concept of virginity is so misogynistic anyway. Fight the man. Be proud of your broke hymen, baby."
She laughs at me. "Shut-up, idiot. I'm serious."
"Me too. Hymen restoration is a real thing. I read all the pamphlets in the plastic surgeon's office where I get all my work done. There was a pamphlet. Honest to god." I am totally lying. I think it is a real thing, but I don't have a plastic surgeon.
She runs a finger down my nose. "You are exactly the same as you were five years ago when you had fifty bucks to your name. A beautiful jokester. You did not have work done and you did not read about hymen restoration surgery at a plastic surgeon's office."
I smile at her and lean against the bar. "Okay, you got me. I was just talking shit, because I don't know how to react to what you are saying. The whole reclaiming your virtue thing."
"I didn't say virtue," she says softly. "That's long gone."
I hate the way she says that. "It's so not, Ash. The way you are living your life is full of virtue."
"I appreciate you saying that, Leed. That's why I want you to understand why I don't want what you've been offering...just adding sex to the way we are right now. I wouldn't feel good about it. I would feel...unstable, like that."
I stare out across the room, nodding. "Okay. I won't ask for that again. I'll stop gnashing my teeth and biting at your neck and roaring up your backside," I joke.
"Just tell me what you are really thinking. Don't hide behind the Lion."
I swirl my glass. It's so fucking hard for me to say what I really feel sometimes, but I did tell her I would try, didn't I?
"Ashlynn, I'm way into you. You say you like me too. I thought we were working on something here, but for me, what you are saying right now is like hitting a brick wall and seeing stars. How are we supposed to move forward, if you are waiting on some kind of...magic? Magic I don't know how to make?"
She finishes her drink. "The thing is Leed, I believe in magic. So what happens now is really up to you. We can just stay friends, or you can learn to conjure with me." She bites the lime, torturing me a little, then drops it in her empty glass. "Thanks for the drink. It's time for us to practice walking down the aisle."
She rises and walks away from me, without looking back. I gulp down my own mocktail, trying to put out the fire she raised.
Wow, that girl is on fire! She just raised the ante on the World's Sexiest Man! How are you feeling about sober Ash? Is she being strong in herself, or unrealistic in her expectations of Leed? Or maybe she doubts he will rise to her challenge and this is just a way to protect herself?
What do you think will happen next?