Ashton Croft Confidential

by Ava Moore

  He blushes some more. “TMZ called me a late bloomer this morning. I didn’t realize that at thirty-four, I am already considered “old” in this industry.”

  “It’s like with modeling. Once you’re twenty-one, you’re done. Not like I would know that firsthand or anything.”

  “I think you’re even more beautiful than any girl I’ve ever seen on a runway,” he smiles at me, with authenticity and sincerity, both of which make my heart flutter in my chest.

  I try to get the focus off of me because I can’t deal with this much adoration from him. “So, back to you. What do you love about the film industry?”

  He sips on his beer and leans in closer to me and I can tell he is tempted to continue to put the moves on me; the mysterious smirk on his lips and the twinkle in his eyes both give it away, but he refrains. “I just always wanted to be a performer I guess. Transforming into a new character excites me. It’s my passion. My dream. I was in theater for the longest time…”

  “So Broadway?”

  His cheeks redden slightly again. “Yes, Broadway. I’m just not one for bragging I guess.” Trust me, when I found out who I was going on a date with, I had to do some research. I just hope he didn’t do the same to me.

  His modesty makes him even more attractive and I have no idea how to handle it. “You know the saying, if you’ve got it, flaunt it,” I smirk at him, while our appetizer seaweed salads arrive. I reach for my chopsticks, as does he, and we both prepare them the same way, rubbing them together individually to ensure there are no splinters. Okay! I can wake up at any time now!

  We both catch ourselves essentially performing some synchronized chopsticks routine and start laughing. I try to rein my laughter in because once I get going, I sound like a horse mixed in with a machine gun. It’s not attractive. At. All. Pair that with the fact that I’m a bundle of nerves and my laughter is going to get out of control. “So, go on,” I prompt him to continue his story and I pick up my first bite of delicious soaking seaweed with sesame seed vinaigrette.

  He is already chewing and places the napkin over his lips to conceal the food in his mouth. And he’s got manners. Take me now.

  “So one night when I was performing in West Side Story, a talent agent came up to me and told me he wanted to sign me on his roster. It was a chance I couldn’t give up. Film was something I always wanted to get into but more often than not, it felt like you were in film first and then on Broadway as a special guest or featured performer. The transition from Broadway to the big screen did happen, I know this, but I never thought it would happen to me. Plus, film excites me. I think seeing the finished product rather than being the finished product feels like a nice change up. Theater will always have a place in my heart. That immediate connection with the audience is always something I will cherish, ” he finishes his words and dives in for a bite of his appetizer.

  I need to test him, because right now, he’s so flawless that there has to be something wrong with him, or maybe I’m just being too careful. “So, how does such a nice, humble, well-mannered stage actor find himself, or his hand rather, between the legs of a beautiful blonde at Blush last night?”

  He nearly chokes on his bite of food. “Can you keep a secret?”

  “I can’t make any promises. Sometimes, my lips have a mind of their own.”

  He bites on his lower lip. “I like a challenge.”

  My god he is sexy. “Tell me then.”

  He leans in closer and closer to me so his soft pink lips are nearly toying with my earlobe. He brings one finger up and curls the hair around my ear, just like he did to the blonde the other night. He’s putting the same moves on me that he did that girl. I start to feel violated and used, not in a good way. His motions feel robotic and rehearsed. It snaps me back into reality instantaneously. I am way over my head and I don’t know how I got here but it’s not for me. Then, he whispers ever so slightly into my ear, feeling the warmth of his breath on my skin, “Publicity stunt.”

  I turn sharply to him, nearly taking his right eye out with huge schnoz. I’m pretty sure the look on my face read what the fuck, but I feel the need to say it out loud. He starts laughing right away. “I wasn’t actually finger fucking her under the table. My PR team thought it would create this bad boy image that all of the magazine outlets would fall for and sure enough, there I was on everything from TMZ to Perez Hilton to Star Struck in a hot two hours. It was nuts.”

  “And it would help promote the latest film you’re working on.”

  He nods and takes a large bit of his salad. “Exactly” he replies, concealing the food in his mouth with his hand. “I think they did it because of the test screening the studio is putting on this week.”

  “Test screening?”

  He nods. “I know, it’s unorthodox. Usually, we just go in for a premiere but they want to create more of a buzz.”

  I start laughing. “Well, it certainly created a frenzy at work.”

  “Oh yeah?”

  I nod and eat a bite of my appetizer, nearly finishing it. “Everyone went ape shit over it.”

  “Oh yeah? Like your friends from work?”

  It hits me. I’m getting too comfortable with him so my guard is starting to fall, making it hard for me to keep my cover up that I don’t work at a magazine that is out to destroy him. “Yeah, my friends and the water cooler convos and the fact that it was plastered all over my Yahoo homepage.” Good save, Trish. Good save.

  He laughs. “Sex in public isn’t really my style. I mean, don’t get me wrong, there is a time and a place for it but when I like to make love to a woman, I want her all to myself,” he takes a sip of his beer and stares at me right in the eyes, exactly how he did when he had his hand between that girl’s legs the other night.

  I try to change the subject, because I need to for my own sanity and if I’m going to get through this dinner without convulsing. “Well, it looked pretty real but then again, I guess you guys are actors after all.”

  He laughs. “Do you know what response I got the most from people seeing the photographs?”

  I shake my head. “What?”

  He clears his throat and leans in closer to me again. I can see down his white button shirt slightly as he gets closer. The sight mixed with the smell of his cologne is enough to send me over the edge right now. With every inch he gets closer to me, the wetter I become. I have to shift slightly in my seat. I have no choice.

  “They all wanted to know who I was staring at.”

  I smile and now I am, again, the one who is blushing. I turn to him and we are inches away from each other. His blue eyes stare into mine and I can see how his full eyelashes frame his wide eyes. This is easily the sexiest man I have ever been around, let alone on a date with. He places his right hand on the table just in front of me, leaning in closer to my face, leaving less and less room between our lips. His gaze wavers from my eyes to my lips and back up to my eyes. “Is it impolite to kiss in public?”

  I can feel the breath quicken in my chest and I know my heart is pounding so hard he must be able to hear it. I want to kiss him; man I want to kiss him so badly but something deep inside of me prevents it from happening. Instead, I just stare at him, inches away from me, toying with my body, like I’m some marionette and he’s my master.

  “Your order, Mr. Croft,” the waiter returns with a fleet of servers and sets our borderline smorgasbord worth of courses down on the table. I am caught between feeling relieved and feeling angry that we are interrupted. I look at Ashton, whose gaze hasn’t left mine.

  “Want to get it to go?” he inquires of me and adds a dash of temptation with the question.

  I know I told myself I can’t sleep with the man and going back to his place, I’m not sure if it automatically results in sex or if I am just over thinking things as I usually do. I ponder for a moment before turning to the waiter, Ashton’s gaze revealing my truth thoughts. “We are going to need some serious to-go containers, please.”

  CHAPTER SI
X

  There we are, thirty stories above Central Manhattan eating sushi on the floor of his living room overlooking New York City, where every view out of his 360° floor to ceiling windows looks like an artist’s rendering or photograph that could be on a New York postcard, laughing and drinking sake like we have known each other for years. The food is amazing, the sake even better but the company, that is unrivaled by anything else.

  Ashton is hilarious. The only person who was able to make me laugh this hard is my grandmother, but usually, I just laugh at her arrogance and at her in general. Ashton is genuinely funny and has comedic timing good enough to compete with any of the best stand-up comedians out there today. His apartment is nothing short of breathtaking. I want to deem it the apartment of dead animals, not like I have anything against leather or fur – there is just so much of it. Everything is leather, fur or stainless steel. It is very masculine, just like him. Not to mention dark and mysterious, two other qualities he possesses very well.

  We sit on the floor of his living room on either side of his glass and concrete coffee table. He gives me a minx fur floor cushion to sit on, which might be the most comfortable thing I’ve ever sat on. Insert face-sitting joke here. We both instantly feel comfortable around each other; at least I hope the feeling might be mutual. I am able to sit without those damned heels on my feet and my dress, I loosen it slightly to get a bit cozier. Ashton left his suit jacket at the front entrance of his apartment, and is now only wearing his white dress shirt, which is even more unbuttoned and he has the sleeves rolled up, exposing rippled forearms with the sexiest trace of hair. I stuff my final maki roll, sans chopsticks, into my mouth as he finishes up his story.

  “And this scar,” he points to this forearm, “was when I was pretending to be Mr. Joe Cool on this motorized scooter when I was younger but ended up getting the shit kicked out of me by a curb.”

  “I fucking hate curbs.”

  He laughs and laughs hard. I admire the fact that I can be myself around him now or at least some glorified version of myself. I still feel nervous but I am able to somewhat construct words that resemble sentences that he can translate and understand. That is good enough in my books. We are exchanging war wound stories back and forth between bites of delicious take out sushi and sips of cold sake and it is 11 o’clock, which means maybe I am his only appointment tonight.

  “You see this one right between my eyes?” I lean in closer to him over the table. A strand of hair has fallen and he moves it, ever so delicately, with his pointer finger, smiling at me once it is out of the way.

  “Now I can see it.”

  Nope, I am still nervous, especially when he does cutesy perfect shit like this. I collect myself and continue on my story, letting a nervous giggle slip from my lips. “I got this scar when my asshole seven year old brother decided that throwing a red plastic shovel at my face was perfect punishment for me stealing the last slice of pizza.”

  “Where do you get a red plastic shovel in LA?”

  I ponder the question. “You know what? I have no fucking clue! I never thought about it.”

  We both laugh, harder now. I think the Sapporo and sake are both starting to kick in. I am feeling loopy and I think he is too. “Well, if I was there, I would have kicked your brother’s ass.”

  I smile at him. “How romantic.”

  He smiles at me and stuffs his final roll into his mouth before his eyes light up. “Ooh! I haven’t showed you the best one yet!” he excitedly jumps to his feet and in between chewing bouts, un-tucks the dress shirt out of his belted dress pants and I feel my body freeze at the sight. He lifts his dress shirt up slightly, exposing even more tanned skin with just the slightest hint of hair all around his abdomen and complete with that little treasure trail that I know leads down to his…

  “And I got this one when I got a skate to the side during junior hockey, “ he points to a massive white scar on the side of his perfectly sculpted oblique. “I had to get twenty-five stitches. Worst scar I have.”

  I’m pretty sure my half chewed maki roll has by this point, rolled off of my tongue as if it were going down some slide at a water park and ended up on the hardwood floor below me. Holy shit balls dick shit! The man is ripped! I’ve seen men constructed this way before, well on TV, in movies, online and in photographs at Star Struck on occasion, but never before two feet away from me. I can’t help but think about what it would feel like, to trace my hands along his perfectly constructed abdomen. I was never a six-pack abs girl, well, that might have just changed. To me, the sexiest part of a man’s body is his chest and arms. Those encapsulate the definition of a man and his strength. I can tell that he has a chiseled chest and arms that are going to make me want to pant like a dog and I am terrified of that thought. “That’s… sexy...” I stumble off in my train of thought.

  “So twenty-five stitches turn you on or is it the scar?” he smiles and places his shirt back down over his pants, leaving it un-tucked and sits back down across from me. He is such a tease and the more he toys with me, the more I fall for him. All I want to do is scream across the table at him, you can stop torturing me with your sexiness at any moment, you know? When the truth is, I like it. No. I love it. I fucking love it. “And I think that might be the grand finale of my scar stories. How about you?”

  I don’t know. Want me to strip down and you can have a look for yourself? No Trish. You’re not doing this. You are not sleeping with him tonight. I must have fallen completely silent, because Ashton looks at me with a studying gaze, looking like he is trying to get into my thoughts. Although, I’m sure he knows exactly what is on my mind after that little borderline striptease. He eases the tension with, “More sake?”

  “Please.”

  He pours more into my miniature glass, and gestures for us to cheer glasses, “To it straight up – never sugar…” I neglect to wait and end up downing the shot before he can even move a muscle. Bad idea. Sake is meant to be sipped but truth is, I am on the verge of freaking the fuck out and I know it is bad to rely on it, but I know booze will take the edge off. “You truly are full of surprises, Trish.”

  “I’m sorry,” I shyly apologize and set my sake glass on the table. I feel bad that he was being all cutesy and trying to recite the words we had our first cheers to prior to this, and I ended up ruining it, like I almost always do.

  “Don’t be. I like it when a woman keeps me on my toes.”

  I don’t want to disappoint him but little does he know I am as typical and predictable as they come. I have to ask. I don’t want to but I know my big fat mouth; it has a mind of its own and hell if I am controlling it. Plus, once I get a little alcohol in my system, it’s like truth serum. “What do you see in me?” Boom. It’s out there. No turning back now.

  All Ashton does is stare at me deep in the eyes and reach for his glass of sake without flinching his gaze. His eyes remain locked with mine and it makes me so nervous, I could break at any second. Maybe the question makes him wonder it too. Maybe all of the booze is just a cover up. I back track with my words, hard, hoping to do some serious damage control. “I’m sorry. That was an inappropriate question to ask. I apologize. You don’t have to answer it. It is just the sake talking,” I nervously continuing giggling and start fiddling with items on the table. This is very reminiscent of last night when he stared at me and made me so timorous, I made an imbecile of myself. I worry the same thing is going to happen tonight and I stop what I am doing and instead, sit impatiently, feeling my leg bounce underneath the table.

  “Don’t be nervous,” he calms me down with the tone in his voice and stretches his arm across the table, placing his cumbersome hand on top of mine. “Do you want to know what I see?”

  I timidly look up at him, only briefly, and nod my head in agreement. I do, more than anything, but I’m just so afraid.

  “I see brains, beauty and something I haven’t seen in years,” he pauses and lowers his head down, trying to lock eyes with me again. It takes me a sec
ond but I allow my gaze to match his. “Someone who is real,” he allows his hand to linger on top of mine for a while, while we continue to connect fixed stares. We both exchange honest smiles and I find myself becoming so nervous at the tension between us that I snap my hand back onto my lap. He smiles at me and playfully takes a sip of sake. I literally feel like my body is going to collapse into a puddle of love goo.

  “May I use your washroom?” I need a temporary escape.

  He nods. Even his nod is sexy. “Down the hall and to your right.”

  I get up from the table, ensuring that nothing is popping out of my dress and feel like I’m soaring down the hallway. I get to the bathroom, close the door behind me and allow my weight to fall on it. “Holy shit!” I whisper to myself. I try to have an out of body experience, even though that’s how this entire night has felt, and visualize what I must look like right now. This night feels like something from the movies, something that I never knew was attainable. Maybe that’s what happens when you go on a date with a movie star. They know what it is supposed to feel like because they portray it for a living. I stand there, half collapsed on the door for a moment, feeling my heart pound harder in my chest than it ever has before.

  I collect and steady myself, enough to dart to the bathroom counter to check out myself in the mirror. I find myself checking my appearance; doing the one thing I make fun of women for doing when they are out. Now, I am contradicting myself once again. I sure started doing that a lot these past two days. Maybe all of those women at the concerts, bars and restaurants are all feeling that same butterflies in the stomach, weak in the knees, my heart is about to fly out of my chest, kind of feeling. I pause. No, they are just vapid. I laugh at my own joke, which brings me some comfort but truthfully, it just makes me feel even crazier than I do right now.