The song for this chapter is...you guessed it...Creep by Radiohead. Absolutely perfect for Leed's "funk" in this chapter....
Kat and Ash's place looks a little like this, I imagine:
Let's see how the Lion is living with his decision to back off from pursuing Ashlynn....
Leed
I kickover from this unchallenging and annoying bridge pose onto my feet. I immediately fold back down into a handstand. After that, I do a few slow rolling cartwheels, finishing by the wall of glass in my yoga studio, staring out at the empty, placid pool in my backyard.
I can see Ravi's reflection. He's sitting in Lotus, watching me with curiosity.
"Why won't you hold the bridge pose as I asked you?" he says mildly.
"Because it's irritating."
He laughs. "That is the point, Leed. It's irritating because your heart chakra is blocked. Bridge pose is necessary to create the flow you need for the next step in your growth."
I glare at his reflection, but I keep my body pointed toward the perfect, still landscape of my backyard. "Sometimes I think you're full of shit, Ravi. Like a goddamn tarot reader or something. You turn the things I tell you against me."
"Hmmmmmmmm," Ravi says placidly. "Suspicion is also a symptom of heart chakra imbalance."
My laughter is barky. I can never win with this guy. I guess it's why I like him.
"Are you returning to bridge pose?" he asks again.
I sigh heavily. "Naw, man. I guess I'm done for the day. Just not feelin' it."
"No, you are not," he smiles and rises gracefully. "Speaking of your feelings...how is my future student, anyway? I hear from Gabe that she is ready for his advanced group. With his help, she will be ready to apprentice with me in the New Year."
Did I say I like this guy? I hate this guy.
"She's good, I guess. I haven't talked to her in a few days." Not since Tam's wedding. But apparently she's been doing a lot of yoga this week. With the guy she was dancing with at Tam's wedding. The guys who runs the yoga studio with whom Ravi asked her to advance her skills a little more , before they begin a one-on-one apprenticeship. "Why do you like Gabe anyway? He does not seem like your type of master student. He's so...whitebread."
Ravi makes a mild sound as he rolls his mat. "A few tribal tattoos, a unique voice, long hair and a fan following that requires you to practice in private makes you a better student of yoga than Gabe?"
I say nothing.
"Gabe is one of the best students I have taught in many years. He has the heart of a true Yogi. He is a light-worker. You would like him," Ravi smiles.
"Not so much."
"When did you meet him?" Ravi asks seriously.
I didn't meet him. I can't say I busted up Ash dancing with some random at Tam's wedding, only to find out later that the dude is Ravi's favorite son. Why the fuck he was at Tam's wedding I'm still not sure. Okay, so she's been taking pregnancy yoga classes at his studio. Does that mean they are friends? Did she invite her hair stylist, her masseuse, and her nail tech, too?
Knowing Tam, probably so.
I resist the urge to rant to Ravi. If I complain, he will only tell me it was serendipity, meeting Gabe.
I think it's more like, the Universe hating on me.
"Met him at Tam's wedding. He was...offensive."
"Interesting," Ravi says neutrally.
Shit. Lying to my Yogi probably won't help my karma.
"Fine. I didn't meet him. He was dancing with Ashlynn. I didn't find out who he was until...after." Until after I made a scene. Thank god Tam had gone to change. She would have murdered me for turning her reception into a Leed Lawson Grand Gesture.
"Ah. You are aware, you can not dislike someone you haven't met?"
"I fucking well can, if he's trying to strip my friend out of her yoga pants," I snap. "A light-worker wouldn't push up on his student."
Ravi's serene smile makes me want to punch something. "This is why you need bridge pose. It is easy to see you are not yourself this week. I'll text you a series of poses to practice. When you are feeling them, then we will resume our one-on-one practice."
"You're...serious? You're leaving?"
"You said you were done. I'm your Yogi, not your therapist, Leed." He hands me the mat to put away.
I curse Ravi while I shower. As I soon as I get out, I check my phone. It's automatic now. I'm expecting a text from Tam any minute, telling me it's Baby Time.
Nothing from her. Nothing from Ash, either. A few business texts, one from Sawyer asking me if he can have some people over tonightâwhen the fuck did my PA become my roommate, anyway?
Oh right, my bad. I did tell him he should stay on from house-sitting, when I got back from tour. It just seemed easier for him to be a live-in PA. When he says he's having a few people over, what he really means is he's promoting a party at Leed Lawson's house.
Sure. Expense it, I text him.
Already am.
I snort. Dude's probably hiring security and catering and texting A-listers a secret password to make it THE party to be at tonight. It's cool though. I need to get back into the groove. LA is an out-of-sight-out-of-mind place. Even for a rock star, being on tour for six months tends to put you down the A-list.
Not that I care so much about that. I mean, I careâit's my job in Soundcrush to be THE GUY. Sure I have a decent voice, but Trace and Mac are the songwriting talent, and Adam and Bodie are the ones that lay down the rhythms that make our sound so addictive. But in the world we live in, it's not just about the music anymore.
Image is everything. It's my job to be the one that everyone wants to see and wants to be.
But I don't really care if people want to come to my house tonight or go to the Marijuana Mansion owned by that Dispensary CEO. I don't care about "likes"âInstagram, Twitter, who shows at the party, none of that. I just want to do my part for Soundcrush and have a little fun, you know?
Fuck knows, I need to be around people. It's lonely as fuck with Mac not here, making messes and making fun with me. Sawyer is either at the gym or getting his teeth whitened or on auditions, doing my petty shit when he can squeeze it in. And I can't exactly call up Tam and see if she wants to go to lunch either.
Nope. Our hanging and banging days are over.
I wrap around a towel, and dial the one person besides Mac I could always count on. The one person I'm missing almost as much as her. My oldest true friend, at this point.
I'm surprised when he answers.
"Are you callin' to tell me you're a daddy?" Bodie says lazily.
"Not quite yet. I'm callin' to tell you wherever you are, you better stay the fuck there. You're a dead man, man."
"Tam's that pissed I missed the wedding, huh?" Bodie says, but in a breezy way. He's so high, he could care less.
"I believe she said, you better be missing a limb the next time she sees you, because being run over by a car on your way to the ceremony was the only excuse she was accepting."
Bodie gives a long gasping laugh that turns into a cough. "Yeah, I figured. I'm actually super pissed at myself. Time gets away from you, here. When I realized what day it was...there was no way I could get a flight out in time."
"Where are you, man?" I really need to know. No one has heard from him in almost a monthânot since the tour ended.
"Thailand. We just...needed a vacation, you know? End of tour was tense, we came straight here. And once you sit your ass in a hammock with a beautiful girl, it's hard to get up again."
Ah, so he's there with Bells. It's probably the pills making it hard to get up, not the pretty girl, but I don't say so. He's been in Thailand almost a month? Drugging is like a fucking past time there. But it could be dangerous, for somebody famous like Bodie. Local cops out to make an example, local thugs out to make a ransom on famous celebrity couple who lets their guard down.
"Are you being smart? Got some local security?"
"It's all good, man."
"Okay then, when are you coming home, Bodes? Your family is blowing me up all the time."
"Not sure. Listen, hit me back when the kids is born. Send pics. Gotta go, man, our ride to town is here." The phone goes dead.
Fuck. Bodes, what are you doing, man?
I stroll in the kitchen still dripping from the shower and eat my feelings, gnoshing on a few bites of Erewhon's cold salads that were delivered yesterday. It's a very warm fall day in SoCal, so I stroll out to the pool naked, with a plan to bump up my fading tan a little.
Half an hour later, Metallica's Enter Sandman starts playing on my phone. That's Trace's ring-tone. Cause ya know, he's like a devil-thief in the night, sometimes. Boosting people's boats. Running off with girls that don't belong to him.
"Let me guess, you're missing my sweet lovin'," I answer.
It's weird that Trace lives one street over, but I've only seen him at Tam's wedding since the tour ended. He and Kat are constantly together, and Ashlynn is the only one that gets to ride that third wheel right now. Although I heard from Mac, that Kat is already staying over at Trace's place about every other night, and she's worried that Ashlynn is too much alone.
Me too, but Ash has nixed the sleepover option with me.
"You know it, you big sexy beast," he quips. "But that's not why I'm calling. We gotta get straight on how to handle your house party, man."
"Wow. Sawyer works fast."
"Yeah, he included Ashlynn on the SCIC thread."
"Well, she is Kat's sister, and one of Mac's best friends, and my friend, too. I'm thinking she checks that box, man. I thought you and Ash were cool now," I'm just fronting, I know what he's getting at.
"We're getting there. That's not what I'm talking about. You really think she oughtta be there?"
Do I think she should be confronted with an LA house party? Hell no. Do I want to see her tonight? Fuck yes.
I sigh wearily. "What do you want me to do, man? Uninvite her? Ashlynn is grown-ass woman. She know what she needs to do to take care of herself. She knows what it will be like here tonight. She probably won't come."
"What if she does?"
"Then all you fuckers drinking my liquor and smoking my weed will be shit out of luck, because I'll probably kick all your sorry asses out and make it a party of two."
Yeah, right. Keep talking, Lawson. You know you won't do shit. The timing is all wrong.
Trace makes a disgusted sound. "Dude, don't make me kick your ass."
"We been through this, Trace. All through this. You don't get to bang Ballard B and keep Ballard A in your back pocket."
"It's not like that, and you damn well know it." Trace is calm, calmer than me. "Look, I'm asking...no, I'm begging you man. Don't fuck with Ashlynn if you don't mean it. She's in a good place for the first time in a really long time. I know that's partly because of you. You talked her into that rehab. You got her into alternative therapies. I'm damn glad. I know you're hot for her. She's a beautiful girl and she looks at you with those eyes...like you saved her life. I get why that's attractive, I really do. To be totally fucking honest you, I've felt it, you know? Maybe not as much as you, but I felt it--when she's happy and vulnerable, she's giving--the kind of girl you want to take care of. But believe me when I tell you...I know her, Leed. I've known her practically my whole life. It's not hard to see she's into you, too, but she's a good girl. She falls easy. She'll want to please you, and she'll give whatever she thinks you want and then...she'll be hurt when you can't meet her there. I know because I hurt her like that. I don't want her to get hurt again. Fuck knows she's had enough hurt to last lifetimes."
What if I mean it, Trace? What if I have way more to give her than you did?
"Look, part of me wants to walk my naked ass down the street and punch you right now for talking that shit to me, like I don't know. But because I am so much more evolved than you, I will not fall victim to my juvenile need to outpunk you, brother. Instead, I'll just tell you the truth. Ash and I got on the same page at Tam's wedding. We are friends. No benefits. No worries."
"For real?"
"For now."
He groans. "Leedâ"
"Trace," I cut him off. "You think you are the only asshole that deserves happiness?"
"Of course not, but Kat and I are seeing the same photo album in our future. What happens when you are seeing summers shots of you smoking weed on the beach and surfing in Cabo fifteen years from now, and Ash is seeing family vacations to the Grand Canyon?"
"Jesus fucking Christ, get off my goddamn back, Gallant!" I yell into the phone. "You talk like you're the dad on Brady Bunch all of the sudden and two months ago you were fucking terrified to post a picture of Kat on Instragram! You are one smug, self-righteous motherfucker, you know that!?!?!"
Silence.
"Okay. You might be...slightly right."
"You're damn right, I'm right."
More silence.
"Well, this shit has spiraled."
"That's a fucking understatement."
He groans again. "Look, let's just get back to the question at handâthe party? Maybe I should have Kat feel Ash out. See if she's even thinking about coming."
"Fuck that. What are weâtwelve? I'll just fucking call her. If she wants to come, I'll...I'll figure something out. Maybe do a drug-free VIP in the pool house or something. Put some security on it, to keep the masses from bringing shit in."
"Huh. That's maybe...a good idea." Trace sounds surprised. Like I never had a good idea before.
"Yeah, that might work, man. I could definitely hang with that, if I put a little discreet liquor in my cup. Ash won't mind booze, anyway. Truth be told, I don't want Kat around all the crazy shit. Or the girls, if they come..." "The girls" are the way Trace refers to his two half-sisters, Bridge and Row del Marco. I snort. Good luck to him keeping Row in the drug-free zone, if she decides otherwise.
When I get off the call with Trace, I decide putting on some clothes before I call Ash is a good idea, because my junk is frying out in the sun and if we start to flirt, I could be looking at a maximum exposure situation. I throw on a pair of jeans, a plain white T, and toe into my Docs.
Shit, since I put on shoes, I might as well get the fuck out of the house. Grab a lap around Calabasas while I call her, maybe get an espresso.
I snag the keys to my classic Porsche, cause it's a top down day here in sunny California. By the time I get out of the neighborhood onto a real road and punch it, I realize I'm two minutes from Ash's place. I know where it is, Trace pointed it out, but I haven't actually been there yet.
Well, damn. If I'm going to drop by, I should probably take her a housewarming gift, right?
I pull into the strip mall with the Starbucks, scanning the shops that I never pay much attention too. There's an Anthropologie. Perfect. There's not a chic alive that doesn't dig that shit, but it's really Ashlynn's style. Not that girl Trace thinks he's known since birth-but the easy, flowy Ash.
The three clerks nearly fall out when I walk in. I don't know why. This is CalabasasâLA Suburbs. Half the population is more famous than me.
I smile at them and skirt around the store, mostly to give them a minute to compose, because I'm gonna need some help. I could pick out shit on my own, but it would take too long to make it all matchy, like girls like.
Eventually, the clerks sort out their pretty girl pecking order and the winner comes over to me where I'm playing with the feathers on a massive dreamcatcher.
"Hi," she says, biting her lip and giving me the heat. "Remember me?"
The confidence in her voice makes me actually look at her face. I groan internally. Goddamn. Can't I go anywhere in Calabasas without running into a girl I've fucked? Christ, this girl is fairly recent, too...back in the early summer, right before the tour. I think I had her twiceâI know I took her home from a rare night out with Bodie at a local bar. I don't do that much...pick up local girls and take them home. I must have been really drunk. But since I'd already had her at my place, I think I called her over the next Tuesday when I was bored. What was her name? Something kicky that's not really a name. Goldie? Glory?
Fuck it. Southern Charm works just as well.
"Of course, darlin'. How've you been?"
"So, so great. You?"
"Well, just got off tour, you know. Trying to get my LA legs back."
Wrong, wrong, wrong thing to say.
"Yeah, I knew you were going on tour. You told me, right before we...I mean, the last time we hung out. But now you're back!" She says brightly, extending her hands, almost touching me, but not quite daring. "And I just got a text from your guy. Thanks so much for inviting me to your party tonight!" She's pink with excitement. "Is it okay if I bring a couple of girlfriends?"
What the fuck is wrong with Sawyer? How did he even think to invite this girl? Cause I definitely did not make a big deal about her...except he dealt with her NDA. Does he have a thread for local fangirls with NDA's already in place to save himself some work or something?
Now I have to remind her gently that we were a one time thing. Okay a two-time thing, but that's my absolute limit on showing weakness with a fangirl. "Sure, no problem. It's getting way out of hand, thanks to Sawyer, so if I don't see you tonight around the house, I hope you and your friends have a good time."
The girl's face tightens into a mask to hide her disappointment. "Oh, yeah, sure. So...are you here for stuff for the party?"
I would give a million dollars for one of those girls I haven't made scream to come over here and help me instead of this chic. But it's not going to happen, and I'm not going to back off the reason I'm here, either. "Actually, I'm looking for something for my friend. She's got a new place. Do you think you could help me put some stuff together, like in a basket or something? Some things that would go with this?" I pull the dreamcatcher off the wall. "This looks like her..."
"I'd be happy to." Her tone tells me she's anything but.
That honestly surprises me. Chic l spend the night with are usually perfectly happy the morning after a one night stand. They got their rock star memory. Is this girl actually holding out some kind of hope that it was going to be more? God, why did I call her back for a repeat?
"Thanks, I really appreciate your help," I tell her. She just nods silently, looking like she might cry. She grabs a huge decorative basket and begins to fill it hurriedly with candles and throws and like she can't wait to be done.
God. I feel like a douche. Maybe I am a douche.
Fuck, that's it. New Rock Star Commandment: Thou Shalt Not Pick-up Girls In The Suburbs. Especially the one where you live. Cause apparently they are always hoping to run into you againâand step into a fairy tale.
While the poor girl gets herselfâand Ashlynn's gift-basketâtogether, I stuff my guilt and text Kat. She's probably in class, but she's usually tight with her phone.
Hey Lil Sis, help a brother out. What's Ash's Starbucks order?
The response is immediate:
That's a boyfriend move. Sure you wanna go there?
Me: It's more of a my-dumbass-PA-invited-you-to-a-drug-binge-and-I'm-dropping-by-to-troubleshoot move.
Kat: True. Glad to see you manning up on that one. I was cringeing when I got the text. Ash is...well, you'll see when you get there. Matcha Lemondade. GL!
Ash is...what? Upset about the invite? Shit. The anxiety that crawls up inside me finds immediate release in my thumb, pressing her contact. She answers right away.
"Hey, you!" She says brightly, and relief washes through me. She doesn't sound mad. "Is it time?"
What? Oh, shit, I get it.
"Uhhhm, nope, not that I know. Haven't heard from Tam today, but she's got a doctor's appointment in the morning. If she's not progressing they'll probably go ahead and schedule an induction, she thinks."
"Mmmmmmm," Ash is all sympathy, "I should call her. She's probably miserable. I could hang with her tomorrow evening if she wants, since Ben will be with Kat at an event."
I get this weird tightness in chest. I'm glad Ash and Tam are friends, especially since neither one of them can spend much time with Mac, but how fucking ironic is it that Tam and Ash are spending time together?
It doesn't sit well. Not at all.
I know, I'm twelve years old. If I can't have her, Tamara, neither can you!
"Speaking of hanging, I was hoping I could drop by."
There's a silence that surprises me. "I have to be somewhere a little later..."
Well, I guess that answers the question about her coming over to the house party. She's already planned a yoga class. Still, I've already got this gift basket going, and I still want to see her. "Just for a minute," I qualify. "I haven't seen your place yet and I'm right around the corner..."
"Okay, sure, please come by! I'll let the guard know you're coming. What are you driving?"
"A black vintage Porsche."
She snorts. "Of course you are."
I pay for the basket, tip Goldie generously for making it for meâyes, I know, I can't buy my karma, but I at least she smiles as I slip her the tipâand then I hit the Starbucks drive-through. I cruise into the secluded row of small, but very nice contemporary town homes. They are small but it's a good placeâwell-kept, decent security, with in walking distance to some trendy bars and restaurants. They were lucky to find this place. Probably Riley called in some favors.
When she comes to the door, I know she's definitely not going to a yoga class tonight. She's all made-up, dressed-down. The kind of make-up that looks completely natural but that I know from sitting in a make-up chair, probably took her a long time. Her hair shined up and casual messy. Hi-waisted tight-ass jean shorts and a white lace top with longish sleeves that shows just an inch of her mid-riff. Her fingers cased in pretty, delicate, flea-market rings, flat sandals dripping in pearly beads.
"Hi," she says with that smile that knocks me out.
"You look pretty," I blurt.
She smacks a hand across the center of her face. The way she's so modest, so easily embarrassed by the mildest complimentâI don't know why it drives me crazy, but it makes me hotter than a line of fangirls cued up to tell me the dirty things they want to do to me.
"Friends don't flirt," she admonishes me.
"Do friends drink Starbucks together?" I ask, holding hers out.
Her eyes light up at her favorite drink, then she pouts at me slightly. I think that might be the first time I've ever seen her pout. It's adorable. I hope she doesn't employ it much, I'm pretty sure I would be defenseless against it. "You didn't just guess my order..."
"No, I asked Kat," I concede. "Why? Is that a bad thing to do?"
"No," she says quickly. "I just thought if you asked Trace...you might have gotten a lecture."
"Oh I've already had several," I say. "One in particular about you at the party tonight. Look, the whole shin-dig is Sawyers doing and he didn't think about your sobriety. But if you want to come, we'll go VIP and drug free in the pool house. I swear, it will be cool. Trace and Kat, the del Marco Twins, and anybody else that wants to party clear-headed for a change. Yeah?"
"It does sound fun, but I can't. Because I have other plans."
Yeah, she already said that. Why do I feel disappointed? "Okay. No worries."
She nods. The basket I've hidden to the side of her stoop catches her eye. "Hey, what's that?" she asks, pushing out the door. "Did somebody leave something on our porch? I didn't order anything..."
I catch her, blocking her from seeing, "No, no...you don't get the goods unless I get a tour."
"You got that for us?" she squeals, trying to jump up to see over my shoulder. I laugh at her. She's this happy over a little basket of candles and blankets? I'd buy the girl Tiffany rings for every one of her pretty fingers to see her half this happy.
"I got if for you," I tell her, swooping the basket up with one hand, holding it behind me but keeping her firmly pinned to my side with the other.
She blushes and slips back in the door. "Well, come on then."
The place is just a standard two story town houseâopen kitchen and living space on the main floor and two bedrooms upstairsâbut she and Kat have been busy decorating. Like I thought, the apartment has a boho feel, but it's sophisticatedâlots of navy patterns, lots of warm hemp, and rattan accents, and lots of large leafy plants and small colorful details in yellows and greens.
"What about your bedroom?" I ask. "Had a chance to decorate it yet?"
"Not as much," she admits. "Pretty much mattress on the floor and tapestries hung for curtains, right now. I did order a bed that came today, but Kat is in class and it's probably a two-woman job." She picks up a pink drillâno shit, a pink drillâfrom the kitchen bar.
I pull it from her hands. I'm still holding the basket as I head upstairs.
"Where are you going?" she squeals again. God, am I complete creep that I love to make her squeal like that? She just sounds so...happy. Never heard her like this before. Not when she came to LA hurting and high. Not when she was with Trace, either.
"I know what you're thinking," I call over her shoulder. "That I'm more into bed-breaking than bed-building. And you would be right." I turn at the top of the stairs and peer down at her. "But for youâfriendâ I'll make an exception."
We throw her mattresses up against the wall, and in less than half an hour, we're putting them back atop her newly erected bed. It's a platform bed, made of whitewashed tropical wood, sitting low on the floor, the main feature a tall, rectangular, carved headboard, inlayed with a mandala. It's just like Ashlynnâstrong, classy, youthful, and pretty. She hastily smooths the white linens back in place and tosses the colorful pillows on top.
"Thank you," she says, rising on her tip toes and planting a kiss on my cheek.
Her lips are like rose petals, but just like her touch, they set my skin tingling with cold fire. My hand goes automatically to her back, holding her in place, because I'm afraid if she tries to move away I'm going to lunge at her and lay her out with a kiss that won't stop unless she makes me. And once I get started making love to a woman with my mouth, they don't ever ask me stop.
"You're welcome," I whisper. "Do me a favor?" I'm still holding her lightly.
"What?" she asks.
"Back away slowly. I'm a loaded weapon, Sunshine."
Her eyes meet mine and I hate to think of what she sees. Pure unadulterated lust, because I want her so fucking bad right now.
"Oh," she says nervously. "Okay." She slowly lowers down from her tip-toes, and puts her arms on my chest, patting lightly and smoothing my t-shirt beneath her prettily bedecked fingers. She pushes away softly. Then takes a huge step back.
"See?" she grins. "I didn't trigger you."
I need a motherfucking distraction. I pick up the gift basket from the corner and hold it out to her. "Now, that I've had an upclose and personal tour," I tease her, "Now, you can have your housewarming present."
She squeals again and scoots on the bed with it, exclaiming over each small itemâcaressing the throw, smelling the candles, immediately plugging in the salt lamp, pointing at places to hang the small air-plant bowls and the dream-catcher. She scrambles down stairs and returns with the rest of her pink tools and wall-art hanging accessories, and she hangs the dream catcher while I put up the plant bowls.
When we are finished, I begin to stomp and bend the large cardboard boxes that the bed came in. "Hey, come here," I say, pulling her gently into the hall by the rest. I throw the cardboard at the top of the stairs. "Have you ever been stair surfing?"
"Yeah, when I was five, but let's do it anyway," she says and plops down on the cardboard. "Together?"
Jesus Christ, that girl doesn't have to tell me twice. I'm sitting down close behind her in the next second, wrapping my legs over and under hers, using my arms to brace the wall, and with a giant push, I send us hurtling down the stairs.
"Oooooooowwwwwwww!" Ash screams as we ride roughly, but it's a pain born of hilarity as we bounce hard down each step. I yell louder than her, just to make her laugh more. I put my longer legs out to catch us at the bottom. Ash is leaning back into me, raking the hair out of her face, laughing. "Owwwwww, my butt!" She moans between giggles. I put my hands beneath to rub it.
"Doesn't feel broken," I tell her.
She grabs at me hands. "Stop, you are so bad!" but she's still smiling and leaning back against my chest. I catch her beneath her knees and bring her sideways in my lap.
"You gonna survive this adventure?" I murmur, mostly to her lips.
"I doubt it," she whispers back, mostly to mine.
"You will. I promise." Just like the night in my Corolla, I'm brushing the words on her lips.
"Friends don't kiss," she paints her breath on mine.
"Let's not, then." I still completely, my lips light on hers.
"Maybe... just once," When she puckers for the "be" I want to take her bottom lip between mine, but I don't.
Holy God, this girl is sweet torture. But I made a decision that's best for us both, and I'm stronger than this. I have to be. She's not the kind of girl that needs a punk who gives in and messes things up. I slide my hands in her hair, turn her head so that my lips tickle her ear.
"I think I'm turning over a new leaf," I say regretfully. "I'm going for delayed gratification. Waiting til I can conjure something special. That's what you really want, right?"
She leans her head back against the wall and closes her eyes. "Why are you are strong now that I'm weak?"
I wrap my arms around her, laying my head against her shoulder. "Because opposites are the path to perfect harmony, Sunshine."
"Yin and yang..." She sounds like bliss as her arms come around up my back. We sit there, at the bottom of the stairs, just hugging, until her doorbell rings.
She makes a frustrated sound, like she doesn't like the interruption, but then, her head bangs lightly on the wall as she jerks away from me.
My hand goes up at once to get between her precious head and the hard surface, but she's pushing me back, eyes wide.
"Shit."
I laugh. It's so funny when she cusses, because it's not every other word like virtually everyone I know.
"Leed, I..." she's trying to push me off her, and scramble to her feet. I remove myself, flopping casually back on the cardboard as she steps to the landing and tugs at her shorts.
Fucking hell, that ass. It's right in my face. Is she trying to kill me?
She's turning, now, pulling her top down and smoothing her hair frantically. "Leed, I'm so sorry, I forgot I was expecting..."
The doorbell rings again. "Who is it?" I glare suspiciously. She looks...frantic.
"I have plans," she says simply. "I sort of..." she bites her lip, flaps her hands at me and slaps in legs in defeat. "I forgot, okay? You came over bearing gifts and all sexy handyman and I forgot I was going out tonight."
"Going out...with who?"
"It's just a workshop, really. One of those motivational ones, you know? About EFT tapping as addiction therapy. He asked if I wanted to go, and it sounded interesting...so I said yes."
"Who asked?"
"Gabe."
I stand up, forget I'm standing on cardboard, fall down, and then climb back up, kicking the cardboard out from under me and throwing it back up the stairs. "You're going on a date with Gabe your yoga instructor!?!? What the hell happened to sticking around, sticking it out!?!?"
"It's not a date," she says. "And sticking around? You want to talk about sticking around? You walked away from me the night of Tam's wedding and I haven't heard from you in a week. That's not sticking around! That's disappearing!"
"The whole weekend was...confusing! I was giving you space!"
She points her finger at me, "No, you were taking the space you needed! And that's fine, but I can't sit around in limbo, and just jump into motion when you decide to come around. I have my own life I'm trying to get back!"
"And you should get your own life back! I want you to do that! Which is exactly why I backed off! One of the reasons, anyway! But it doesn't mean you should jump in with somebody else, either!!!! Jesus Christ, Ashlynn...I fucking begged you just to give me a little time. I thought you understood where I was coming from!!!"
"I do! I mean, I'm trying to understand! I'm not jumping in with anybody! I'm just going to a frickin' workshop!" she yells.
The doorbell rings again.
"I'm being rude," she whisper.
"Well, fuck, we can't be rude to Gabe, can we? Answer the damn door. Go on your damn date." I growl, sliding around her and stomping through the kitchen.
"Where are you going?" she squeals.
"Out the back door. Like a good friend, to keep your date from feeling awkward."
I slam the door. I lurk around the back of the building like a damn vagrant until they are gone, searching my phone for EFT tapping workshops near me.
That is how I came to be missing my own return-from-tour party. I was busy following Ashlynn to the workshop with Gabe fucking Reynolds, sitting in the back of the huge auditorium, ignoring texts from Sawyer, Trace, Riley, and two dozen more friends who were looking for me at the party going on in my house. Instead, I was keeping a close eye on Gabe and Ash, and tapping on my energy points with the rest of the hippie crowd.
It's a good damn thing, too. That tapping shit is supposed to relieve negative emotions, and I think it might actually have worked. I have no other explanation for the fact that I didn't punch that yoga poser's ass out when he tried to kiss Ashlynn good-night at her door. She gave him the head-turn rejection with a sweet smile, and he stood on her doorstep, shaking his head slightly with a sheepish grin, before shoving his hands in his pockets and moseying back to his ride, whistling.
I don't care what Ravi says about his heart and his light-work, I don't like that fucker.