8. Dani

“What do you think of this one?”

I tilt my head and glance Rose up and down. Her blonde hair is pulled up into a high bun, showing off her elegant neck as she twirled in place. The hem of the floral printed sundress sways like a field of wildflowers in a summer breeze, dancing across her skin in a feathery caress that would beckon honeybees from their hives.

Unfortunately for her, I'm feeling more akin to a murder hornet than a bumblebee.

“It looks fine,” I mutter, leaning back in the chair and crossing my arms. “Just like the last ten dresses you tried on.”

We've been in this store for over an hour now. I never even wanted to come shopping in the first place. After a long twelve-hour shift all I wanted was a hot shower and some ice cream in bed, not to be waltzing around the mall on a Friday night smelling of sweat and roasted coffee beans.

Rose huffs, like she had been doing every time I 'gave her attitude', as she put it. “I brought you along so you could help me find an outfit for my date tomorrow, not so you'd keep sulking.”

“I'm not sulking.” My mind's just been . . . preoccupied.

It's been five days since I last saw Ashe. Five days of just holding on to this ring with no way of returning it to her. I've even made it a point to carry it around on the off chance that I run into her somewhere—but it was as if she had vanished into thin air, nothing more than a ghost. Her phantom touch still prickles my skin and wisps of her vanilla perfume still linger in the air around me, teasing my senses.

I wish she would haunt my dreams as easily as she haunts my waking thoughts.

As if to reassure myself that it's still there and hasn't also disappeared on me, I slip a hand into my pants pocket and finger the cool metal band. It's a stark reminder that the redhead does exist outside of my imagination, even if I haven't seen her since that night. The weight of it also sits heavily on my shoulders, like a burden wrapped in guilt and strapped to me with an anchor.

If I can't ever see her again, then I don't want to be stuck carrying around a reminder of what could have been.

Where did you go?

Did something happen to her? What if she went back to that alley to look for her ring and was robbed at gunpoint? The Hidden Door wasn't exactly on the nicer side of town, anything could have happened to her if she went there alone. What if the ring is my last ticket to ever having the chance to talk with her again and she's bleeding out in the back of a nightclub because she doesn't know I have it?

Or worse, what if she does know that I have it and is royally pissed off? It could be worth a lot of money, or be a family heirloom. What if she's in the mob and puts out a hit on me for stealing her family's ring? What if Catalina finds out that I have Ashe's ring and puts out a hit on me? What if it's actually Catalina's ring and she gave it to Ashe as a symbol of their love and now I'm holding that symbol hostage all because I just wanted to see her one more time? Why can I not stop thinking about this!

The harsh sound of the changing room curtain being thrown back snaps me out of the rabbit hole my thoughts had slid down and I look up to see Rose glowering at me. “You're sulking, and I hate it.”

“But it's been a week, Rose!” I blurt out with a groan. “She's habitual with her coffee schedule. She's never missed a single day in six months and suddenly she quits showing up after we share one dance during a random encounter on a night out. What if I scared her off?”

I'm still very much convinced that I overly embarrassed myself and I wouldn't fault her for wanting to avoid me like the plague after seeing me like that. A drunk stumbling version of me sitting in the middle of the street was way worse than me trying to flirt in a foreign language that I almost failed a semester of. If there was ever a competition for the most number of screwed-up chances at a first impression, then I was killing it.

“What, with your charm?” The blonde smirks as she tosses the floral dress onto the growing pile of clothes in the chair next to me. “Yeah, that's a possibility.”

Another groan escapes my lips and I slump in my seat. “You're supposed to be encouraging me.” Wasn't she the one who said I needed to pursue this curious infatuation in the first place? How can I do that when the object of my affection is MIA?

“And you're supposed to be showering me with compliments and telling me which dress stands a better chance of getting me a second date. So I guess we're both not getting what we want, huh?”

I run a hand over my face with an exasperated sigh. Rose is right, I'm being a terrible friend right now. She deserves better than this.

Forcing my manic thoughts of Ashe's ghost to the back of my mind, I peek between my fingers at the stack of dresses by my side. “Well, if your goal is to see how many minutes it takes before your dress hits the floor, then I'd say go with the white one.”

“This one?” Rose sifts through her pile and pulls out the item in question: a sheer white dress with a decorative brown belt around the waist and a lacy pattern that stopped midway down her thigh. “Why?”

“Because I'd bang you in it and you've seen my taste in women.” I shrug. “So it gets the lesbian stamp of approval.”

“No offense, Dani girl, but your rebounds have been making me highly suspect of your tastes lately.” She clucks her tongue against the roof of her mouth, her lips twisting into a knowing grin. “I think your crush on Red is the only thing redeeming you right now.”

“Wear that dress and you can be rebound number three.” I flash the blonde a wide smirk and wiggle my eyebrows. “Help improve my track record and call it charity.”

“Flattery will get you everywhere.” Rose laughs as she hands me the outfit. “Fine, we have a winner. Now help me put these back so we can get out of here. I'm starving.”

My stomach gurgles in response and I push myself out of the chair, stretching my arms as I suppress a yawn. “I think that's the best idea you've had all night.”

***

Nothing ever hit the spot after a night of forced shopping quite like fried chicken. By the time Rose pulls into the parking lot of my apartment complex the delicious smell has saturated the inside of her car and I'm practically salivating.

“So who's this mystery guy you're seeing, anyway?” I ask, juggling the box of crispy chicken bits as we make our way into the building and ascend the third floor. “Anyone I know?”

I can sense her hesitation as I fumble around for my keys and toss the blonde a sidelong glance. Silence was unusual for her. Does that mean I do know the guy? Her last couple of dates had been about as successful as mine were. I know how disheartening that can be, and desperation can be a slippery slope.

Should I be worried?

“You remember that guy from the club last week?” She finally says, her tone low as I open the door. “The one who bought us those shots?”

Mr. Not-So-Funny who was chatting her up most of the night? How could I forget. His eyes had never left her, like a lion stalking a gazelle.

I shrug off my satchel and set our dinner box onto the small dining table with a sigh. “You're going on a date with that guy?”

“What? He seemed nice!”

“He looked like he wanted to eat you,” I grumble as I sit down and pick up a fried drumstick. “And not in the fun way.”

Rose grabs a few napkins from my kitchen and joins me at the table. “It's only a date, Dani.” She shrugs as she picks out a leg and bites into the crisp skin. “But if he wants to take a little nibble out of my meat,” she continues with a smirk, licking the juice from her lips, “then I won't stop him.”

I eye her curiously. “Planning to throw away your morals and bone him on the first date?” To add a small sense of flair to my words, I hold up a greasy chicken bone between three fingers and poke it suggestively in her direction. The mask of disdain I was trying so hard to keep intact cracks under a fit of giggles at my own childish behavior. Why was it so easy to make sexual innuendos out of food?

“I have standards, thank you!” the blonde utters between laughs. She dabs the corner of her mouth with a napkin and then says, a bit more quietly, “But I have needs, too.”

Don't we all?

Despite my contempt at the idea, I couldn't fault her on it. Although I didn't make sleeping with someone after one date a habit, I knew without a moment's hesitation that, if given the chance, I would act out my own desires with a certain redhead before the first date even got started. The intimate fantasies I've had of us have plagued my mind and teased my senses for a while, now; it was enough to drive someone crazy.

The thought of her warm skin pressed against me was enough to color my cheeks and, not wanting my mind to linger on that image right now, I roll my eyes and instead ask, “Why would you give some guy you just met at a bar your number, anyway?”

“It's no different than if we met through a dating app, you know.” Rose sets down the breaded chicken thigh in her hand, her brow crinkling as her mind wandered. “Funny thing is, I don't remember ever giving him my number. I didn't even see him again after I ran after you. But I must have at some point because yesterday he calls me up out of the blue and asks me to dinner.” She laughs as if struck by a sudden thought. “Now that I think of it, I don't even remember what we talked about! I just remember him being so funny, so charming . . .” Her words trail off as her blue eyes cloud over and absently she picks up her food and resumes her meal, lost in her thoughts.

I quirk a brow. Rose was far less inebriated than I was that night, and even under the influence of alcohol she never gives her number out so freely—mainly because I don't let her, but then I had been a little preoccupied with my own endeavors. Everything had happened so fast, it was possible she gave it out and quickly forgot all about it until he called her.

“I don't know, Rose,” I finally say, pinching my lips together as I reflect on my brief interaction with her mystery man.

He had been handsome for a guy, with chiseled features and a grin that I'm sure would make any woman swoon, but something about him had seemed . . . off. Images of pointed teeth and blood-red eyes flash in my mind and a chill racks my body as Catalina's face invades my thoughts. There was something predatory about the two of them that didn't sit well with me at all.

“I didn't like his vibe.”

Rose digs her nails into the skin of the chicken, tearing off a sliver of white meat as she rolls her eyes. “Jesus Christ, Dani, it's one date! We'll be in public and if he turns out to be a creep I'll just leave. Quit being so paranoid.”

Clearly my evident concern has snapped her out of her daze.

I let a sigh whistle from my nose as I run my fingers through my hair. Rose was a big girl, she knew how to handle herself. Maybe I was being overly paranoid. “Just, be careful, okay? I don't need to see your pretty face plastered all over the news.”

“I'll bring my stun gun if it makes you feel better.” She meets my gaze, her head tilting to the side as a small smile forms on her lips. “So are you finally going to tell me what happened that night? Why you ran out of that club in tears?”

Of course she would bring that up. Rose was an expert in the art of deflection, and I had been avoiding that topic for as long as I could.

“I wasn't crying,” I say, keeping my eyes focused on the box of bones between us. But I could feel her piercing stare burning a hole in my head, waiting expectantly for me to continue, and with another sigh I mutter, “Catalina happened.”

“Is that the woman whose hands were all over Red on the dance floor?”

I nod as our last encounter replays in my mind and my skin crawls. “I didn't like her vibe, either.”

Rose leans forward and I glance up to see her eyebrows drawn in concern. “What did she say to you?”

“She told me to kiss her.” At Rose's perplexed expression I quickly elaborate. “It's weird, I know, like she was commanding me to do it and expected me to obey. I don't know if it was a power move or what, but I felt nauseous and I-I just needed some fresh air.”

“She was threatened by you, obviously.” Rose smiles again and I know she's just trying to cheer me up. It works—a little. “You're way prettier, anyway, and Red looked much happier twirling you around from what I saw.”

“Flattery will get you everywhere,” I chuckle, repeating her words from earlier as I lean back and stuff my hands into the pockets of my jeans. The familiar touch of cool metal against my skin draws my attention and I link the chain around a finger and pull the ring out. The silver gleams in the florescent lighting, winking with the unspoken promise that I will, somehow, see her again.

For a heart-stopping moment I almost want to believe it.

“You carry her ring around?” It's more of an accusation than an actual question.

“Well, yeah,” I say as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. I place the trinket on the table in front of me, my eyes tracing the crushed sapphire band sandwiched between silver. “What if I run into her while we're out somewhere?”

Rose raises a skeptical brow. “Dani, you have to actually go out to run into someone.”

“I go out—”

“Mandatory attendance at your place of employment and me rescuing you from your tower of solitude don't exactly count as 'going out'.”

I have no rebuttal. I have been kind of a hermit lately, and leave it to Rose to call me out on my antisocial behavior. Instead, I shrug. “I like to be prepared.” Knowing my luck, the one day I don't have the ring on me is the day I'll bump into her on the street. And if she asks me about it? What then? Do I lie?

Seemingly oblivious to my inner turmoil, Rose asks, “What, you're just going to whip it out and say, 'Oh hey, you dropped this the other night. Want to get hitched?'”

I scrunch my face and decide to ignore her logic. “That's not how courting works, Rose.”

Wait, is that what I'm hoping to achieve? Wooing this fiery beauty by dangling her ring as leverage? Why can't I just return it to her without expecting anything back?

But then again, it did fall into my hands. Why shouldn't I use the cards that I've been dealt? The precious metal has unwittingly become common ground for us, something tangible to potentially bond over, so me returning it can only lead to a window of opportunity.

Or it could blow up like a pipe bomb to the face, but these kinds of pursuits aren't without their risks. Lord knows she's been at the forefront of my mind for long enough now to warrant taking such chances.

“I didn't realize we were still living in the nineteenth century.”

“What's wrong with wanting to take things slow?” Like, painfully slow. As in 'none of this may matter because I don't know when I'll see her again' slow. I didn't even know if she was attracted to me at all, let alone interested. If returning lost jewelry was the only way I could talk to her then I had a long way to climb from being 'the local barista' to 'possible love interest'.

Still, it was worth a shot.

“Did you forget how long you waited before you told Monica you loved her? Slow isn't in your vocabulary.” Rose smirks. “I think you set records that day.”

“That was different,” I snap, my lips twisting into a frown. Why do we have to keep bringing her up? “We had history.” I inwardly cringe as I realize those are the exact same words the bartender used to describe Ashe and Catalina's relationship.

“Well, anyway,” Rose continues, unfazed, “it might be a good strategy for you. You already have the bait so you don't even have to go fishing. Which is great, considering you suck at fishing.”

This is so not the same. I don't even like fishing. Besides, I wasn't the only one swimming around in this pond—there was an infuriatingly sexy shark in stilettos lurking in these waters.

My frown widens. “Yeah, but someone might already have her hooked.”

“Like Catalina?”

I nod and slump further in my chair. Who exactly was that devil woman to Ashe, anyway? If they aren't together anymore then why is she still in the picture? Exes don't stay friends unless there was still some kind of feeling there, and yet Ashe's reaction when Catalina broke us apart screamed that there was nothing between them. Am I missing something? I never was good at picking up on the obvious. Why is this all so confusing!

“I don't know about that.” Rose's words cut through my thoughts like butter, bringing me back to our conversation. “Red ended up chasing you that night, remember?”

I scoff, despite the heat seeping into my cheeks. Why did she run after me that night? Was she going to apologize for Catalina's behavior? That seemed like something Ashe would do. She struck me as the protective type and I really wanted to believe that she felt the same spark I did on that dance floor.

This only fuels my own convictions that there was nothing going on between her and Catalina and my confusion deepens. “Yeah, right. In my dreams.”

“Speaking of dreams, you been having any more strange ones lately?”

Although I appreciate Rose's sudden change in topic yet again, I can't help rolling my eyes at the subject she decided to settle on instead. We haven't discussed my dreams in months, mainly because I quit bringing them up after her last input on their hidden meaning.

“No stranger than they've always been,” I reply, meeting her inquisitive stare. “Same storm in the sky, same woman on fire. Although”—I furrow my brow as my mind focuses on a memory I had all but forgotten, and Rose leans closer in anticipation—“the last dream I had, the night after the club, it was . . . different. I saw myself this time, like an out of body experience or whatever. Everything around me was so vibrant and it was so peaceful that I don't think I wanted to wake up.” I look up at the blonde and sigh. “I was happy, Rose. Like really, really happy.”

“Well it's not exactly a wet dream,” she says as she picks up our trash. “But it's better than those nightmares you were having.”

I follow her movements, one eyebrow arched in skepticism. Passing up on an opportunity to poke fun at me wasn't very characteristic of her. “You aren't going to crack a joke or something?” I ask, disbelief coloring my tone. “Mention my 'repressed sexual frustration' again or tell me I'm crazy?”

“They're just dreams,” Rose laughs, her mirth reflected in her eyes. “Having crazy dreams doesn't make you crazy. Besides, this is the first time since Monica left that you actually do seem at peace. Whatever's been on your mind lately, it's working. Or should I say”—she smirks—“whoever is on your mind.”

“Okay, I think that's enough analyzing my love life for one night.” I feign a yawn as I glance at the numbers '12:23 AM' flashing in bold blue digits across the microwave. “Jesus, it's late. Come on, we both have a long day tomorrow.” The blonde audibly groans in protest and I push myself to my feet. “Nope, sorry. This girl needs her beauty sleep.” Rose may be able to pull all-nighters without having to worry about the consequences, but I needed a solid six hours in order to function most mornings. That, and at least a gallon of coffee.

“Ah, yes, wouldn't want you looking like a zombie when Red shows up for her afternoon coffee.” Rose waggles her eyebrows as she pulls me into a hug. “Cast that line and reel her in!”

“I think you're enjoying this way too much,” I mutter into her shoulder. The blonde merely shrugs in response and I sigh. “Yeah, well, we'll see about that.” I can only hope that Ashe shows up at her usual time tomorrow, but if the rest of this week was any indication then that was highly doubtful.

I lower my gaze and the glint of silver catches my attention yet again. Without a second thought I pick up the ring and turn it around in my palm, tracing the small engravings on the inside with my pinky nail. I wonder what language this is in and what it says. It's probably something poetic. Or exotic. Exotic poetry, maybe?

No, that's stupid.

“I can take that off your hands if it's too much trouble for you,” Rose offers, but I shake my head.

“It's my fault for taking it in the first place.” By accident. “I should really be the one to give it back.”

“You should try it on, then. You'll be like Cinderella with the glass slipper.”

I must have looked like I was just verbally slapped because Rose pursed her lips as if questioning why I hadn't thought of that idea in the first place.

“Isn't that, like, weird or something?” Why is this even up for debate? It probably doesn't even fit. “Or illegal?”

“It's just a ring, Dani girl,” Rose replies with a wink as she gathers her things and makes her way to the door. “No harm ever came from wearing a piece of jewelry.”

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A/N: Oh Rose, that sounds like bad advice! I wonder how this will play out for Dani?

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