by Marie Skye
The air mattress was gone, the furniture was moved back into place, but the smell of sex still lingered in the air. I heard something sizzling in the kitchen along with a waft of something that smelled amazing. I’m guessing he had a date coming over. My stomach growled, reminding me of the granola bar I had at lunch that didn’t suffice. I walked slowly toward it. There at the stove stood Ash stirring something on the stove, before moving to the counter to gather the fresh basil and chopped garlic and throw it into the pot. He peered over his shoulder and smiled. “I was wondering when you were going to come back in.”
I gave a half-smile as I peered into the cabinet and grabbed a pack of microwavable mac and cheese which was horrible by the way. “I’m making spaghetti, interested?” He didn’t even wait for me to respond as he grabbed two plates out of the cabinet. I stood frozen in my spot not sure of what I should do. I didn’t say anything and watched as he dished up pasta onto both plates, followed by a generous scoop of sauce. He placed them both on the table before walking to the fridge and peering inside before taking out a bottle of wine.
“I wasn’t sure if you were a wine drinker.” He held up the bottle. “Cabernet okay?” Again, he didn’t wait for me to respond as he took two glasses from the cabinet and filled them both halfway. He placed a glass in front of each dish and pulled the chair out. That’s when I noticed he was waiting for me to sit down. When I didn’t move, he motioned for me to sit. Hesitantly and ever so slowly, I sat as he pushed the chair up to the table before taking his own. I watched as he swirled his noodles in the sauce and took a bite. He briefly shut his eyes and nodded as if he gave himself the seal of approval before he really dug in. I finally picked up my fork, taking a bite.
Damn, this was good. “You made this?” I asked him as I took an even bigger bite. Thoughts of being classy be damned.
“Secret family recipe, although don’t you dare tell my mom I didn’t have time to make real pasta and used boxed instead.” He winked at me as he took a sip of his wine.
“I’m not that great at cooking. I mean, I know the basics but I guess even that can be questionable.” I took a long drink. “My dad said it was okay but I’m sure more often than not, he was just being nice. I think it was because he was tired of drinking nutritional shakes so any food was practically gourmet.”
“You two must have been really close.”
I paused, not realizing I was talking so freely about my dad, which was something I never did. I quickly changed the subject. “Wow, your family goes all out, don’t they? Homemade pasta, what else can you do?”
He shrugged, taking another bite before pouring us both more wine. It was odd how much we didn’t know about each other considering we were practically in a relationship, only not really in a relationship during university. I suppose we spent more time in the bedroom not really talking unless he was giving me a command. After a few minutes, the wine finally did its job by giving me the encouragement I needed.
I cleared my throat. “So, about earlier.”
He looked up at me, waiting for me to continue. I didn’t. We just stared at each other. I guess he wasn’t going to make this easy for me at all. “The people in the living room?” He nodded, still not saying anything. I sighed. “I thought you were a bartender?”
“I am. Sometimes. Mostly on call.” He took another bite of his food.
“So, what? When you’re not bartending, you’re watching people have sex? You don’t think that’s something you should’ve shared with me?”
“Firstly, I’m not watching people have sex, at least not unless they want me to.” I started to say something but he cut me off. “Secondly, it’s my job to offer advice when needed.”
“I would definitely like for you to elaborate on your answer.”
“Think of me as a... a life coach, who happens to specialize in sex.”
“Sex? So... a sex coach?”
He smirked, probably because I said it as if I had never heard of it before. “Not just sex. Relationships go way beyond intimacy. Don’t you agree?”
I blinked several times before throwing out an answer. “Yes, yes of course. I completely agree.”
“Besides, you tend to learn what your partner is looking for when you used to get paid for it,” he said so casually, and he shrugged.
Wait...what? Was he a prostitute? Did Ash become a prostitute and now he’s just sitting at the table, casually eating spaghetti like it was the most normal thing in the world? What does this mean? Is that why he was on Sextee? And is the whole not kissing thing true? Ask him!
I stared at my plate a few minutes more before deciding to wing it and ask him more. I decided to forgo it when I looked up and he was staring at me with a smirk on his stupid face. He knew exactly what I was going to ask. I decided to go another route instead. “So, what were you in Vegas for?” Probably a prostitute convention.
“Business.”
“Business?” I parroted back at him. He nodded, pouring himself more wine. Wait, he did have a huge hotel room. I at least noticed that when I snuck out in the morning.
“You know, you do a lot of thinking, and not so much talking. That’s still a thing with you I see.”
“Why do you make it sound like you know me? We had sex a few times, and that was the end of it.”
His eyes darkened as he stared at me. In fact, he looked pissed. He was just about to open his mouth to say something when his phone rang. I have never been happier for an interruption in my life. With his eyes still on me, he answered, “Hey… and how did that discussion go? Did you approach it the way we discussed or did you decide to do your own thing again?”
I walked out of the living room into our shared common. I left Ash and his conversation in the kitchen as I went into my room and thought about the first time he spoke to me. It had been one month, or as I sometimes called it ‘post-Hailey’…
“Hey Pineapple, get that tiny ice we like. Don’t fuck it up this time.” I rolled my eyes and turned up the volume on my phone, the song The Beginning Is The End, Is The Beginning by Smashing Pumpkins was just going off, and Push It by Garbage picking right up. What can I say, 90s alternative was better than the shit they played these days.
Pineapple, one of the many names I was called. In all honesty, I doubt anyone even knew my real name. I heard the bell ring and basically, everyone got up to head to their next period. Everyone but me since I didn’t have one. This was my favorite part of the day.
I got to sit here mostly alone in the library. Once I was sure no one was around, I dug around in my bag for today’s prized possession. My Walking Dead comic book. Even though I’ve read this particular one a million times, it never got old.
“I bet that thing has seen better days.”
I jumped at the voice behind me, damn near dropping my comic book. There he was—Ash—captain of the football team, captain of the basketball team, and most likely lead in whatever spring production musical they were doing this year. I expected him to keep walking but instead, he dropped his bag down and sat right next to me. I looked around at all the empty spaces and seats he could have taken, which was damn near the entire library.
I looked back down at my comic book. “Yeah, it was my dad’s.”
“Tell him he needs a new one.” He smiled as he rummaged around in his bag for something.
I stared at him a moment—ridiculous hair, dimpled cheeks. I can see why the girls drooled over him. I didn’t. As far as I was concerned, he was just like the rest of them. He looked up at me and I immediately felt myself blush as I looked back down at my comic book for a moment before responding to his statement. “He’s dead.” The smile he had instantly dropped.
“Shit. I’m sorry, I didn’t know—”
“You wouldn’t have,” I interrupted him, focusing back on my comic. From then on, it was awkward. No other words were said because that’s what I do. I make it awkward, even when I didn’t mean to.
That’s how it was for the next two weeks. H
im sitting right next to me in the library, neither of us saying a word to each other. Granted, I had no idea why. He spent the last three years ignoring my entire existence and the only time he ever said anything to me was a simple ‘thanks’ when I picked up everyone’s dirty towels and jockstraps off the floor in the locker room, which was part of my job as the equipment manager, apparently.
8
Perrie
The more I lived with Ash, the more I remembered why I disliked him, but more so, why I liked him. He didn’t seem to recall that brief connection we had. He didn’t seem to know that we hung out… a lot by the time we got to the university. Of course, he wouldn’t remember me, I was just the one-night stand that night in Vegas, not the shy emo wannabe kid from high school.
Don’t get me wrong, he’s a nice guy, not so bad for a roommate. It’s mostly because he was a manwhore. Every night I came home from work and there was a different whore in the common area. We barely talked—mostly because of my working hours—but there were times I came home and he and the whore of the night were in the living room practically dry humping each other.
With Ash being occupied every damn night, it made me decide to finally begin a casual fling with Felix. He was good-looking, a huge flirt, seemed to care about his family, was a complete dumbfuck, and he liked bees, which was odd since he was allergic to honey.
Three more months, I kept telling myself. If there was anything I was looking forward to, it was the upcoming garden show. I waited all year for this, and sure it was mostly middle-aged people, but I didn’t care. Gardening was how I found my comfort zone and helped me ease stress.
I got home extra early from work and got changed. I got out my best pair of gardening gloves and tools then went to prune the garden again. Ash was already out there smoking and his eyes widened when he saw me before looking down at the direction I was going. I too looked down at my little garden and practically stopped breathing.
They were ruined. All of the flowers were ruined. I started to think about what could’ve happened. What could have destroyed them? Did something in the air destroy them? Did I accidentally use bleach instead of water? Even I knew that was impossible.
“Yeah... about that...” Ash came up to me, looking sheepish. The expression on his face said it all.
“I asked for one fucking thing, and you couldn’t even do that!” I bent down assessing the damage of my now ruined garden. I looked up into the unconcerned eyes of Ash, who was a complete piece of shit, and hugely uncaring about what he did... again. He lit up another cigarette and took a moment to blow smoke before finally acknowledging me. He shrugged. That was it. A shrug.
I stood up, hands balled ready to rub that disgusting cigarette into his probably bleached asshole. I took a few deep breaths, before trying to act rationally. There weren’t many things I enjoyed or cared about in life, but gardening and my almost-ready van were the top of the list. “You know how much this meant to me.” I found myself whispering because if I said it out loud then the tears would come and he would probably enjoy that. He took a step toward me and I immediately stepped back. “Just don’t, you’ve done enough.”
I finished picking up the rest of the now shit garden and threw them in the trash before going inside and slamming the door. I went straight to my room, making sure to slam that door even harder. I stood against the door for a few moments before sliding down and before I knew it, I started crying. I know what you’re thinking, who cries over a garden?
9
Ash
Who cries over a garden? I asked myself as she went inside and slammed the door. I too went inside and slammed the door as well, because fuck her, that’s why. After a moment, the guilt set in. I backed my bike over them by accident. I didn’t mean to destroy her garden—at least that type of garden. What can I say, I’m a guy with a dick? I went up to my room and was just about to turn on the light when the glow from her room caught my attention. Our apartment layout was U-shaped, which meant our bedrooms faced each other as did our balconies. I left the light off as I stepped closer to the window and watched her. Crying.
She was crying. Fuuuuuck.
I grabbed my keys off the nightstand and headed out. It was almost midnight so I doubt any place would be open but I had to at least try.
An hour later I was standing outside her bedroom door, holding... something as I knocked on her door and waited. It was damn near one in the morning so I didn’t even expect her to be up. I was about to leave the item at her door when it suddenly opened and she looked at me wide-eyed. She was in a silk robe, skin flushed like I just disturbed her. Wait, was someone else here? That would be shocking. I never saw her with anyone and only occasionally saw the so-called boyfriend. I stared at her, not saying anything.
“What?”
I blinked a few times before realizing why I was standing there and held out the potted plant. She stared at it as if it was completely foreign to her. “It’s a…” I paused trying to remember what the card said. “Crouton.”
She looked like she wanted to smile. Who knew she actually had a smile. “Croton,” she corrected me. She took the pot gently from me, and I stood awkwardly at her door as she placed it on a small table in her room.
“I figured you could plant it. I mean, I know it won’t replace the ones ruined but…”
She smiled again. “It’s more of an indoor plant but thank you. I appreciate the gesture.” I was going to say more but an impatient knock on the door stole my attention. Who the fuck is here this time of night? She looked at me nervously before she rushed over to the door and opened it. “I didn’t think you were coming,” she loudly whispered.
“I had time,” someone drunkenly said. I watched the guy walk in and stroll past her, already taking off his shirt. The smell of cheap vodka wafted in with him. He didn’t so much as notice I was there before heading straight to her room. I’ve seen him here before, but he was never here for more than fifteen minutes, and I’m sure ten of those fifteen was him trying to find his own dick.
“Thank you for the plant, it was really nice,” she muttered, looking almost embarrassed.
“Not a problem.” I walked to the front door and gave her one final look before shutting the door behind me. I didn’t go inside my room, not yet. I went back outside and leaned against the side of the house and lit up a cigarette and breathed in the night air. I wasn’t even done with my smoke before the door that led outside opened, and out stumbled the same guy that was just up in her room, acting like he just gave her the best fuck of her life. A car pulled up, he got in and took off. I smirked. That was it?
I finished my smoke before finally heading into my room. The light flowing from her bedroom easily distinguishable. I was about to climb into bed when I saw her and froze.
She always kept the shades drawn, but this time they weren’t. She was in bed on her back, robe still on. I watched as she gently parted her lips as one hand moved inside her robe. I was transfixed as I watched her tease her nipples, her other hand making its way down her body as her legs parted. I stared.
I know I shouldn’t have but I stared as I watched her get herself off, my own dick hardening, but I didn’t dare touch it. This was about her need, the need she clearly didn’t get from splint-dick earlier. I watched as her breathing picked up, her hand between her legs making her moan. Then I watched as she arched her back, her skin practically glowing as her orgasm tore through her and the small whimpers—I’m sure she was making—escaped her lips. Her hand slowed and a small smile spread across her lips. She softly sighed before opening her eyes, where they met mine. Her eyes widened at the realization that I just watched her make herself come. Her emotions quickly went from shocked to mortified, to freak-out mode all within three seconds. She gasped as she jumped up, heading for the window to shut the blinds, but it was too late. I had already seen her, and now I wanted her.
10
Perrie
I let the entire weekend go by before I got up the courage to l
eave my room and yet I was still absolutely mortified. Maybe it was all in my head. Maybe I imagined him being there, staring at me through the window. And yet, the thought of him watching me only turned me on over the weekend to the point where my batteries finally gave up on me.
Stupid.
Stupid.
Stupid.
I gave myself a mental high five for keeping snacks in my room, and for some damn reason, Ash decided to stay inside all weekend, which prevented me from leaving.
I finished making my coffee before peeking out the doorway from the kitchen as I listened for any sign of him. I went to the window and noted his bike wasn’t in its usual place. Thank God, maybe I was in the clear after all. Grabbing my things, I rushed to the door with the intention of making a quick getaway when I was stopped short by the presence in front of me and screamed. The coffee I was very much looking forward to hit the ground and splattered everywhere.
“Are you kidding me?” I shouted before I looked down at my now ruined blouse.
“Sorry.” He bent down to pick up my now empty cup. I snatched it out of his hand as I stormed back into my room for a new shirt. When I came back out, I expected him to be in his room, but he wasn’t. He was wiping up the last of the coffee that was spilled on the floor.
“I was going to do that.”
He shrugged. “It’s not a problem. Besides, you dropped it because of me.” He threw the soiled napkins away and I again expected him to go to his room but he didn’t. In fact, he was helping himself to his own breakfast as he placed some bread in the toaster and poured himself some juice.
