"Wow, you're like Google, your knowledge knows no bounds," I joked, ignoring the way my heart rate had kicked into hyperdrive at the knowledge that he was sticking around for a while.
At my comment, she reached over and whacked me with the remote.
"Bitch, that hurt," I complained, rubbing my sore leg. "Fine," I said when she held up the remote again. "Yes, it was him. He nearly scared the shit out of me, jumping in after me like that. I was under the water when I heard a big-ass splash behind me. I was convinced that damn bridge was coming down."
"So, you're telling me this guy also has a hero complex? God, that's rich. Now I'm super bummed I didn't take him first the other night. I wouldn't mind a little mouth-to-mouth if you catch my drift."
"I'd have to be in a mineshaft, hundreds of miles beneath the earth not to catch your drift," I answered dryly. "It was sweet, but I'm not looking for some heavy relationship."
"Honey, neither am I, but that doesn't mean you can't have fun in the meantime. He's obviously panting after you like a dog. Use him for mind-blowing sex and move on," she said, grabbing a third slice of pizza.
"You sound like Fran. Aren't small-town girls supposed to have a higher sense of morals or something?"
"Honey, it's Sunday. Do you see me at any kind of church? Nope. My lack of morals was exposed many years ago. That and the fact that I may or may not have corrupted some of the boys when I was younger may have me on the 'we need to pray for her soul' list at all three churches in town. Seriously though, they act like skinny-dipping in the baptism pool is frowned upon," she quipped, winking at me outrageously.
"Nuh-uh, please tell me you didn't," I asked, torn between laughter and horror. I wasn't a churchgoer, but I'm sure that pretty much ranked up there with peeing in holy water or something like that.
"Only a couple of times."
"A couple of times?" I said, finally giving in to the urge of laughing.
"Okay, more like five times, but seriously, it was spread out at all three churches. So, really it was closer to one-and-a-half times at each church. No biggie," she said defensively.
"Well, that's one way to look at it, I guess. At least you were spreading the love, or boobies more accurately," I teased, pointedly eyeing her large chest that never seemed to want to stay confined beneath the material of her shirts.
"Truth. These babies deserve to be shared," she answered, cupping her breasts for emphasis.
"Does that mean you've decided to break it off with Jackson again?" I asked, naming her on-again, off-again boyfriend who drove me more than a little batty.
"Yeah," she said, looking guilty. "I just couldn't take it anymore. His dumb-ass mom is forever feeding his head with stories about how a good girl should act. She has him convinced he's going to go to hell for sticking it in me before marriage. She's always telling him we're too young for sex and not mature enough to handle it. I swear I feel like I'm back in high school rather than my senior year of college. I like him and all, but he seriously needs to figure out the kind of man he wants to be. Either he's a man that has his own mind, or he's a mama's boy. Regardless, I'm sick of holding his hands through his guilt. He gets all excited during the whole act, but after it's over, he acts like he's run over a dog or something."
"His mom would shit if she knew how many teens were sexually active at my old high school, and it was even worse at college. She should be happy you two are at least adults. Are you going to drop him for good this time?"
"I think so. There's a guy in my Psych II class who's been asking me out since the semester started."
"Good for you," I said, not admitting that I'd always questioned her and Jackson's relationship. I'd seen his wishy-washy attitude about things firsthand. Plus, he was a total douche about letting Tressa do certain things, like attend parties closer to her college. He had once commented that she was lucky he allowed her to make the forty-five minute commute to her campus each day. I had to fight the urge not to punch him in the throat for that one.
"You think so?" she asked, sounding insecure for the first time since we'd become friends.
"Absolutely. You totally deserve someone who's not constantly belittling you when he's not trying to sex you up."
"It feels scary," she admitted. "We've been on a break before, but we've never dated other people, and we've been together practically since we were freshman in high school."
I nodded my head, already knowing everything she was saying. As far as I was concerned, seven years of bullshit was seven years too many. "I think you're making the right decision. You deserve way more than that mama's boy is willing to give you," I reassured her. "When are you going out with the guy from your class?"
"His name is Michael, and next Saturday. We're going to go listen to some new band everyone's been raving about. They're supposed to be uh-fuc-king-mazing. You and Britt should come check them out."
"Right, because having you're two best friends tag along with you on your first date isn't a buzzkill. Besides, Brittni leaves in the morning for the internship training thing."
"Don't be a smart-ass. I meant you guys should go and check it out too. Maybe we could go check them out tonight before Britt heads out."
"Can't tonight," I said around a mouthful of pizza.
"Why not?"
"I kind of told Nathan I'd go out with him tonight."
"Are you fucking with me? You've known this whole time I've been here that you're going out with make-me-wet stranger and you're just now mentioning it?" she yelled, whacking me with the remote again.
"So help me god, if you hit me with that remote again, you'll find it shoved somewhere you don't want it."
"Oh, you flirt. Now, stop coming on to me and spill it," Tressa demanded, muting the TV as if my news required absolute silence to be revealed.
"It's really no biggie. I think Nathan and I have tentatively agreed to date with a possibility of it turning into an affair with no attachments," I squawked out. Our deal suddenly seemed utterly ridiculous when steam and heat weren't clouding my judgment.
"Holy shit, you slut," she joked as I glared at her. "Kidding."
"I must be insane, right?" I moaned, covering my face with my hands.
"If that's insanity, break me off a piece. I'll take a no-strings kind of arrangement with him any day. So, where's he taking you?"
"I'm not sure," I admitted, rising from the sofa so I could calm my nerves with a mind-numbing amount of ice cream. "He said he'd take care of it when I pointed out Woodfalls isn't really known for their restaurant choices," I added, grabbing two bowls from the cabinet.
"Hey, that's not true. Now that they finally finished the McDonald's by the high school, we're completely chic," she mocked.
"Right you are. There's absolutely nothing wrong with gazing into each other's eyes over a cheeseburger and fries."
"Honey, I'm sure he won't be gazing in your eyes," she teased, looking at my chest.
"Stop being a perv. Besides, my boobs are nowhere near as big as yours," I answered, taking a big bite of ice cream so I wouldn't have to say anything else. A moment later, I yelped in pain as the ice cream hit my head in the worst case of brain freeze ever.
"Sheesh, dip, didn't anyone ever teach you to take smaller bites?" Tressa asked, handing over her glass of water. "I feel like I'm babysitting Mackenzie and Matthew," she teased, referring to her twin two-year-old niece and nephew.
I would have glared at her, but my head wasn't quite over the stabbing sensation I was currently suffering from. After several moments, I was finally able to resume eating my ice cream in smaller increments that Tressa took it upon herself to remind me to take. We spent the rest of the afternoon laughing our way through the comedies she had brought over. I pushed thoughts of Nathan to the far recesses of my brain, but every once in a while they would pop in just to frazzle me throughout the afternoon. By the time Tressa gathered her stuff to leave, I gave up all pretenses of normalcy.
"You'll be fine," she said, giving me a hard hug in typical Tressa fashion.
"I'm not worried," I blatantly lied through a fake smile.
"Right. Your face is always a delicate shade of green," she said, laughing. "You'll be fine," she repeated. "Just enjoy the ride," she added, wagging her eyebrows at me suggestively. "And I mean that in every sense of the word."
"You're not helping," I griped, shooing her out the front door.
"I expect tons of text messages and a call first thing in the morning," she yelled through my front door as I sagged against it. I was a mess. I seriously needed to get my shit together before Nathan saw through my adolescent hang-ups.
The next hour passed in a frenzied whirlwind of activity as I exhibited behaviors of someone who didn't have their shit together at all. I had decided to keep my attire casual and wear the cable-knit sweater and jeans I already had on. Halfway through brushing my hair, I had a sudden panic attack that my legs weren't freshly shaved. Dropping my jeans to my ankles, I rubbed my hand down my legs, grimacing at the short stubble that covered them. I glanced at the clock on my nightstand. Six forty-five, shit, maybe I had enough time to quickly run a razor over them.
With my jeans still around my ankles, I hobbled toward the bathroom, which wasn't the best idea with my brain so frazzled. I took a face-first header into the wooden floors of my room that knocked the breath right out of me. Gasping, I took stock of any possible injuries while I ignored the dust bunnies under my bed that I now had a bird's-eye view of. Of course, it would be at that moment that Nathan decided to knock on my front door.
I jumped to my feet, forgetting once again that my jeans were still around my ankles.
"Mother all fuck," I grumbled as I found myself flat on my stomach for the second time with a loud crash. My lungs had just forgiven me for my last fall, and now seized up again, making me gasp for breath like a drowning victim. Halfway between berating myself for my complete dipshitedness and wishing my floor was at least carpeted in a situation like this, I heard my front door open.
"Ashton, are you okay?" Nathan's worried voice called out.
I was in hell. For the briefest of moments, I actually contemplated trying to slide under my bed to hide.
"I'm fine," I answered, using the little bit of breath I had managed to recoup. I frantically tried to shimmy my jeans up over my legs although my prone position wasn't helping much.
"I thought someone was attacking you," the last voice I wanted to hear at the moment said from my bedroom doorway.
I was wrong before. This was hell. "That someone would be my jeans." My answer came out muddled thanks to my predicament as heat filled my cheeks.
"Are you okay?" he asked, obviously concerned to see my panty-covered ass face up while I tried in vain to hide my face in the wood flooring.
"By okay, if you mean 'would I like to die at the moment?' That would be a resounding yes," my voice came out muffled due to the wood flooring against my face.
"Would you like my help?" he asked. Now that he knew I hadn't suffered some stroke or cracked my head wide open, he was completely amused.
"No, I think I can handle this," I said sarcastically, flipping over onto my back so I could hike up my jeans. It was only after I was in the middle of flipping over that I realized my sweater had hiked up to my neck, exposing my bra-covered chest.
"I kind of thought we would work up to this, but hey, I'm all in," he joked, leaning against the doorjamb.
"Seriously, God must hate me," I mumbled, abandoning my jeans so I could pull down my sweater. "I'll be out in a minute," I said, trying to salvage the smallest bit of dignity I had left.
"Are you sure? I have no problem assisting you," he said, winking at me.
"Out," I demanded, trying to ignore the heat that flowed through me from his wink. It was unfair that even in mortification his wink had the power to seduce me.
He chuckled, pulling my bedroom door closed behind him and leaving me alone in my misery.
Chapter 8: Appetizer anyone?
Nathan
I pulled into Ashton's driveway ten minutes early and debated waiting in the car for a few minutes. As a rule, I never showed up early for a date. Women appreciated punctuality but loathed being surprised with an early arrival. As with everything concerning Ashton, all my rules were a wash. I wanted to see her, and I didn't want to wait.
I tried to at least discipline myself to walk to the front door like I had some kind of control. I knocked, expecting her to answer, but was surprised when I heard a dull thump from within the cottage like something had fallen or had been knocked down. Going by instinct, I reached out and tried the doorknob. Finding it unlocked, I pushed the door open and stepped inside. Adrenaline raced through me as I heard struggling coming from the other room. Calling out to Ashton was only a formality since there was no way in hell I was waiting around to see if someone was attacking her or something to that effect. Her muffled response only fueled my fire as I prepared to kick someone's ass. Little did I know what I would find instead.
Perhaps the finest panty-covered ass I had ever seen greeted me. Seeing that Ashton wasn't being attacked, I allowed myself to enjoy the show. Offering my assistance made her creamy skin take on an enticing shade of pink that begged to be touched with my hands and lips.
By the time she had regained her composure long enough to kick me out, I was fully aroused and fighting the temptation to scoop her up in my arms and tumble down on the bed that was practically calling my name.
Fifteen minutes later, Ashton emerged from her room with all her clothes in their rightful places. "Not one word," she threatened as I appraised her appearance.
I couldn't help throwing my head back and laughing at her feisty tone. I was used to dating women that were dull in their refined ways. Very rarely did they ever lose their cool, and they never said anything without weighing their words carefully first. Somewhere along the way, I had convinced myself that's what I wanted. Being with Ashton's quick tongue gave me a glimpse of what I had been missing. In the last forty-eight hours, she had made me laugh more than I had with all the women I had been with combined.