by Tia Siren
But I figured I could try to at least attempt conversation.
“That food was incredible tonight,” I said.
“It was.”
“And the D.J. for the dinner was on point.”
“He was.”
“She,” I corrected.
“Huh?”
“The D.J. was a woman,” I said.
“Oh. Yeah, yeah, she was.”
“Mason?” I asked.
“Yep?”
“Are you all right?” I asked lightly.
“Of course. Why do you ask?”
“Did something happen with you and Eva? Did she say something to you or anything?”
“Nah. She’s just being a snob.”
“Anything I can do to help?” I asked.
“You’re good.”
I kept wondering what he was thinking and wishing he would open up and talk to me. The light conversation I tried, he shot down with little more than singular words and grunts. So eventually I just gave up. I looked out the window and watched the scenery roll by. I wondered if the night would have gone any differently had I insisted we not stay for the dinner. After all, when he first picked me up, he told me that whenever I wanted to leave, we could go.
I found myself wishing we would have left before dinner.
The ride in the limo back home was tense, and even though I wanted to reach my hand out and lay it on his knee, something told me it wasn’t the right time. It took everything I had to choke back tears in terms of the ruined night, and I knew the moment I hit my bedroom, my eyeliner and mascara would run with the tears of my disappointment.
Then, an idea struck me, and I thought that maybe, just maybe, I could salvage the evening for both of us.
The limo finally pulled up to the outside of my apartment, and it came to a complete stop before I shifted the way I was sitting. I looked over at Mason and studied his profile, and it was then I could tell that a lot was running through his mind. I knew how that felt because it had been happening to me all night, and all I wanted to do was make him feel better.
Distract his mind. Make him smile.
“Would you like to come in?” I asked. “I’ve got snacks and some sodas. We could just kick back on the sofa and relax, or maybe venture back into my bedroom.”
I crept my hand along his knee, trying to intertwine our fingers together, but when I finally got to his wrist, he pulled his hand away.
“I don’t wanna disturb Frank tonight,” he mumbled.
“Oh, Frank won’t be an issue,” I said.
“Ash, Frank’s always an issue. Not a problem, mind you, but an issue nonetheless.”
“Oh, okay.”
Eva had definitely said something to them while they were dancing, and I felt myself growing angry at her for ruining the evening I was supposed to have with Mason. I knew Mason: he was smart, funny, charming, and witty. Our conversations were always full of banter and sexual innuendos, and our evenings always ended with us somehow playing out the innuendos we had inserted throughout the evening. Whatever traversed between the two of them was obviously getting to Mason, and I wanted him so desperately to be able to talk to me.
But honestly? As I sat there in the back of the limo and studied Mason looking out the window, I realized we didn't have much in common. He came from a completely different lifestyle, and by the way he lived his life, it seemed as if he didn't have to work. He was born into wealth, would die with wealth, and was expected to meet certain standards with regard to his looks, the way he held himself, and the people he surrounded himself with.
I had little more than lint and lipstick in my pocket, and nothing to offer him in terms of money, family, or connections. I had no friends that would do him any good, no stories about places I have traveled to because I'd never traveled anywhere in my life, and I’d live paycheck to paycheck for the rest of my life.
As far as I knew, we didn't enjoy any of the same television shows, any of the same music, any of the same hobbies, or any of the same entertainment. We’d banter back and forth, have incredible and dynamic sex, and then we would go our separate ways with smiles on our faces and orgasms still ricocheting across our bodies.
Was dynamic sex and witty banter enough to build an actual relationship on?
Honestly, I hoped it was.
“I’ll walk you to your door,” Mason finally offered.
“Don’t worry about it,” I said. “Just go home and get some rest.”
For the first time that evening, he turned his gaze toward me, and there was something incredibly hurt and confused behind his eyes. Part of me wanted to tell the driver to keep driving so I could force him to talk, but part of me got the impression that all he wanted to do was be alone right now.
Or maybe go see Winston.
Whatever the case, he didn't want to be around me, and that was the point.
“Have a good night, Mason,” I forced.
I walked into my apartment before Mason had a chance to come after me, and when I shut my apartment door, I locked it twice over. I didn't want anyone barging into the apartment, and that included Mason, because there were many things I needed to sort out in my head. The night had been perfect until we had come across that woman, and to me, it seemed like she had solidified in his mind’s eye how different the two of us were. I knew Mason would never actually talk to me about it. I mean, all we were really doing was having drinks and fucking, right?
But I really liked being around him, and I really did want the chance to talk with him and get to know him, and not just the body he inhabited.
What the fuck was going on? What the hell happened tonight?
Chapter 17
Mason
I couldn't sleep a fucking lick that night. Eva had gotten into my mind from the moment she had accused my mother of being batshit crazy and she claimed she could take all of our money because of it. I had been absolutely fuming the rest of the evening. When Ash invited me to go inside, I desperately wanted to go in. I wanted to lose myself between her legs and bury my face into her tits and fuck her until she screamed my name because I had completely forgotten it myself.
But dear Jesus, the last thing I wanted to do was deal with her fucked up best friend.
I knew that not escorting her to her door was a major mistake. If I didn't figure out what the fuck I was going to do, I was going to end up ruining everything with Ash. But Eva's voice kept ricocheting throughout the corners of my mind for the whole fucking limo ride.
Her insinuation that I could never be with Ash because I was supposed to be with her made me absolutely livid. Did everyone around me really think I had absolutely no control over my life that I couldn't even pick the person I spent the rest of it with? The thought of it, even a couple of weeks ago, wouldn't have bothered me until Winston made me do that stupid bet.
That dumbass bet brought me out of this little bubble I’d created for myself when my father died. But that shit was never good enough for Winston. Oh, no. My batshit crazy best friend had to pull me out of the world I’d created for myself, because god forbid anyone live their life in any way but his way!
Did anyone stop to think I’d accepted things because shit just happened? Like death and bullshit and taxes and sickness? That shit just happens!
But had I not done that stupid bet, I would’ve never had made that stupid profile, and if I hadn’t made that stupid profile, I never would’ve found the most dynamic, beautiful, witty woman I had the pleasure of knowing.
And I fucking let Eva ruin it.
I tossed and turned all night. I kept seeing Ash in my dreams, and every single time she was there, I ended up hurting her somehow. I stood her up on a date, or I failed to remember to pick her up from somewhere. On a couple of occasions, I cheated, and once, I even yelled at her so harshly she cried.
She cried in every fucking nightmare I had that night, and every time she cried, I ripped myself from my sleep and felt my heart break just a little bit. They were so real and
felt so vivid. The fourth time I woke up from my sleep, I had completely soaked my pajamas through with sweat.
“Shit,” I breathed.
By the time the sun rose that morning, I knew I had to sort things out with her. I grabbed my phone, opened up a new message to her, and I asked her if she wanted to meet me for brunch.
Up early I see, she messaged back.
I really need to talk with you. Please, I said.
What time does brunch take place? I don’t think us down here know what a brunch is.
I honestly couldn’t tell if she was being witty or if she was angry, and honestly, I couldn’t blame her if it was the latter. Eva had been a thorough bitch all evening, and Ash put up with enough of that having Frank in her life. Instead of taking her to do whatever she wanted to do on her Friday evening, she had been stuck with me at some dumbass function neither of us wanted to be at. She had compromised whatever would have made her happy to in order to go do what I wanted, and at that very moment, I realized what I had turned into.
I had turned into every other person in her life who used and took advantage of her.
It’s all on me. I’ll come pick you up, I’ll take you to eat wherever you want, and we can talk about last night. Please?
I waited for what seemed like ages for her to respond. Maybe she’d fallen back asleep or gotten into the shower, but I sat there on the edge of my bed and stared at my phone the entire time.
Then finally, the text message I was hoping to see popped up onto the screen.
See you around 10. I could meet up for a bit before work.
Work. Another thing that seemed to separate us. Besides not really knowing what she did, other than what Frank blurted out the other night, I knew nothing about what she did. To be honest, my family hadn’t had to work for generations. I mean, my father did a bit of maintenance and trading on the stock market, in order to enhance what we had and shift some things around so it would be insured and protected, but he never really had an occupation.
It was one of the perks that came with my family, and it was something my great-great-grandfather slaved over tirelessly to build. We respected it, we treated it with reverence, and even though we lived in opulence, we were never unnecessary spenders. My mother didn’t renovate the kitchen four times a year, and I didn’t buy a new suit for every single occasion, but we did live a life that boasted of our wealth.
We traveled, we looked impeccable in the finest clothes, and we did what we wanted, when we wanted because we never worked.
I got out of bed and got myself ready, and when I was satisfied with how I looked, I ran down the stairs and out to the driver. I told him that we were going to Ash’s, and when I got into the back of the car, I felt my phone vibrate.
There’s a place not too far from my work. Here’s the address.
I showed the address she sent me to my driver, and he recalculated where he was going. Even with me having to come down her way and navigate around, I ended up getting there before she did. I got us the best seat they had that overlooked the bustling streets of downtown, and without thinking, I ordered us two extra strong mimosas.
“Hey there, Mason,” I heard her say. I stood up and smiled at her, but before I could catch her eye, she had already spotted the drinks.
“I went ahead and ordered you one,” I said. “Figured we could use it after last night.”
“Mason. I can’t drink before work. Do you drink before work?”
She looked up at me, and it was the second stark difference that had hit me in less than an hour between the two of us. I motioned for the waitress to get Ash a water, and when we sat down, she was eyeing me carefully.
“I wish I had a job that let me drink beforehand,” she said, smirking.
“I don’t work,” I said.
“Oh, well. There’s that option, too.”
“A water for the miss,” the waiter smiled.
“Thank you very much,” she smiled back.
They were only two little differences between the two of us, but they culminated into an entirely different lifestyle. All I could really do was be honest with her, but I knew the tone of this conversation wasn’t going to be quite what I was hoping it would be.
“First off, I want to apologize for last night,” I began.
“Don’t worry about it,” she brushed off.
“No, hear me out. What Eva was doing and saying was wrong, and I should’ve put my foot down rather than saving face and enduring it.”
“Yes, you should’ve.” she nodded.
“It just doesn’t work that way. With those types of people and the connections they have to your life, you can’t just stomp on them like that.”
“Even when they are insulting your date?” Ash asked. She wasn’t being snarky and she wasn’t being mean. She was simply curious. It was yet another distinction between the life I lived and the life she lived, and I wasn’t sure I really understood how to explain it to her.
It was just something you had to grow up in and experience for yourself.
“You know I don’t want you for your money or your lifestyle, right?” she asked. “That’s not why I enjoy spending time with you.”
“Oh, god,” I said. “No. I know that completely.”
“Are the two of you ready?” the waiter asked.
“I’m not hungry,” Ash said lightly.
“Come on, eat something,” I urged.
“No, really, the water’s fine,” she said.
“Please, Ash. Even just a bowl of fruit?”
“I’m not hungry, Mason.”
“I’ll come back in a bit,” the waiter said, before walking away.
“Can I say something?” she asked.
“Anything.”
“It’s glaringly obvious to me that we have many differences in the way we live our lives and the way we were raised. Being in that ballroom and surrounded by all those people made that painfully clear. But I still want to get to know you. Like, actually know you. Know your hobbies and where you’ve traveled and what television shows you enjoy watching. I want to know those things.”
Shit. She was here talking about what we would do in the future, and I still had to address something that I knew was going to piss her off.
“Actually, Ash, I wanted to talk to you about that rift.”
“This doesn’t sound good,” she sighed.
“No, just listen. I’ll be honest. I am worried about the extreme differences between the two of us. I love spending time with you, and I think you’re wonderful, but people I am around are not gonna accept you as easily as Winston did.”
“I take it Winston’s just different,” she deadpanned.
“In ways you can only imagine.”
“But you’re saying because I don’t fit in, that I can’t be with you,” she said.
“No. I like you. A lot. And I enjoy spending time with you. A lot. But I am worried that if things progress with us, all our differences will do is end up hurting you.”
“I’m not meeting your family tomorrow, Mason. I’m just wanting to spend more time with you.” Ash chuckled breathlessly.
“I know, and I get that. But can’t you at least see where I’m coming from?”
“I suppose…” she trailed off.
“Our differences will get rough quickly. I don’t work, so there will always be a clashing of schedules because I’ll want you at times I can’t have you. When I take you out places and treat you to things, I’ll always have to keep things like your work schedule in mind, which I’m not used to, and it will take some time to learn. Your quirkiness makes me smile, but you saw how other people reacted to it last night. In your world, being different and quirky is valued. But in my world, blending in and acting alike is what’s valued.”
“If I need to dye my hair a different—”
“No,” I said quickly. I caught her gaze, and I saw the shock roll over her face. I knew this part of the conversation would eventually roll around because of the
type of person she was.
“You will not change for them. For any of them. Do you understand me?”
“But if it’s to be with you—”
“Absolutely not. I like you the way you are.”
I watched her sit back into her seat. When the waiter came around, I ordered us both a round of pancakes and a bowl of fruit for the table. Ash stared out at the street before she checked her watch, and we both just sat in silence until the food arrived.
Then, one of our big differences reared its head just before I watched her pop a grape into her mouth.
“I’m late for work,” she murmured.
“Of course,” I said, nodding. “Let me walk you out.”
“I got it. I’m good. You just eat.”
“Are you sure you don’t want to take any of this with you? Ash, you’re gonna get hungry before lunch.”
“Who the fuck cares anymore,” she sighed.
It killed a part of me to know I’d hurt her. I spent all night in my dreams hurting her and breaking pieces of my soul I didn’t know existed until I met her. Now, here I was watching her sigh and choke back her own, real life sobs because of the bullshit topic of conversation I knew had to be addressed.
“It’s bullshit, I know,” I sighed.
“I have to get to work,” she mumbled.
“Talk to me,” I urged her.
“Oh, like you did for me last night?” she asked.
“Fine,” she spat before she dropped back into her seat. “I’ll talk.”
Chapter 18
Ash
“You’re sitting here talking to me like our entire breakup is inevitable. You’re having this stupid conversation with a woman you’ve fucked a few times and admit liking, but you’re talking as if we’re eventually going to end, and I’m gonna have my heart broken while you go skipping off into the sunset.”
“That’s not what I—”
“Hush,” I commanded.
