It must’ve been the setting. It probably looked romantic, might’ve brought me from a six to a seven with the last of the sunset in the background.
Or more likely, he’s just drunk. Yeah, he’s prolly just drunk.I’m not the kind of girl who gets hit on regularly, never have been.
I try to keep my mind occupied, to not to think about the way it felt to have Asher’s bare skin on mine, his lips against my body, his touch on my most intimate areas, and fail. When I get home, I have to take a long, long shower to handle this ache inside me before I’m able to get my mind off of it enough to fall asleep. And even when I undressed for that shower, I didn’t notice the underwear missing from the front pocket of my jean shorts.
TWENTY-FIVE
ASHER
I can’t evenlookat Mark’s smug fucking face right now without wanting to blow up at him for ruining what wasfinallygoing down between me and Ellie on the roof earlier, so I hole up in my room once we all made our way back to the apartment (after they all shot the shit some more up on the patio for way too long, until I was about ready to rip someone’s head off, but still had to pretend to be fine). Luckily, I think I played it cool enough up there that none of them suspected anything other than a couple of randos who happened to be swimming in the same pool at the same time.
I do my own thing away from them enough for a solo swim to be almost believable, and I’ve really tried not to give them any reason to suspect I’m seeing someone behind their backs, his joke up there aside.
Markdidsee a little more than he should’ve one night while I was texting her, but aside from that, I think we’re Gucci.
I’ve played off all my absences lately on being wrapped up in my new job (though I haven’t been nearly as wrapped up in my temporary boss as I’d like to be), and I think they’re buying it.
Mark can be a little suspicious sometimes, not to mention jealous, so I’ll need to keep playing the part well enough to fool the one person who knows me better than anyone else.
I seriously hope none of them noticed the fact that a blacksomethingfell out of her shorts as said boss practically ran away from us, and I hope even more that none of them noticed me scooping that something up as they were talking amongst themselves.
I couldn’t bring myself to pull what I was just about sure I had picked up out of my pocket (where it’s stayed hidden ever since), until I was safely ensconced in my room, away from nosy eyes and ball-busting mouths, but yep. That was definitely a pair of lacy underwear that she dropped, that are now twisted in between my fingers, that I’m really doing my best not to be a creeper about. I’ll give them back to her (discreetly) next time I go to her place, but I can’t get the visual of her bringing extra underwear to my place out of my head. Wondering what exactly she had planned for tonight. It’s making it so much harder for my dick to calm down after that nearly epic dry humping fest we shared in the pool (or should I say wet humping? Nah, that’s definitely not right…), but the voices occasionally carrying through into my room are helping in that regard.
I’ve never wanted someone so much, for so long, and not have had them, or a reasonable substitute. If this fucking tension between us keeps building, it’s going to be my goddamn undoing.
Since getting back to my little haven, I’ve changed into comfy dark blue sweats and a white tee, but I can’t get this restless energy out. I’ve been so worked up, full of repressed sexual energy formonthswhich peaked tonight. I’venevergone this long without a hookup before, but I just couldn’t get into my old normal routine once I started up at Mitchell Media. All of a sudden, there was nothing appealing about bringing my usual conquests back to my bed. None of the girls in our crowd are even getting a second glance from me for ages now, not even my repeats. Just ask Olivia.
Embarking on that new life seems to have put some intrinsic change in motion within me, and it’s more than just meeting Ellie. I really feel like I’m on the path I’m meant to be on at this point, and for the first time in my life, I can see a future where I make it to twenty-five, thirty, and beyond. A life where something I’ve loved doing and been passionate about for years lets me run my own schedule, where I don’t have to work a nine-to-five for the next fifty-plus years, I can do my own thing, carve my own way in this world.
Even after I got clean, stopped partying day and night, traded a futon for this apartment and grew a small client base for my designs over several years, I couldn’t envision where my life would take me. I think I always believed I really would be dead by twenty-one.
Even after my lifestyle and habits changed drastically, the typical life plan of go to college, date a sorority sister, get a nine-to-five, and put in hours for dollars made me want to off myself. It’s just never been for me. But I canfinallysee something for me that makes me believe I have a hope of actual happiness and fulfillment in this world.
I just have to get through this apprenticeship, ace those aspects of business I’ve never quite wrapped my head around, pick up what I can on working with corporate clients and retain as much useful insight into marketing as I can, and I think I’ve really got a shot at something decent with the following I’ve already cultivated online.
I know my graphic design skills are solid. It’s the other stuff I need to flesh out in order to bring this plan to life. And Ellie is helping me get there. She fucking believes in me. She was the first one who did, and regardless of anything else between us, I can’t thank her enough for that. That business plan she made me showed more confidence in my abilities, where I want to go, than anyone else ever has.
A loud noise from the living room, what sounds like our coffee table being smacked loudly followed by obnoxious laughter, grabs my attention again. A few voices stand out in particular: Jay, Brooklyn, and Mark. I’ve always enjoyed their company (aside from the occasional prank gone too far, a dick in the face, what have you), but lately I just feel like we’re on different pages, and I don’t want to just fuck off or flirt with random chicks all the time. I actually have things to do now, things to look forward to, goals I’m working toward, and a life of my own I’m excited to build.
I know a lot of people my age don’t have their shit figured out yet, but I kinda feel like I got a head start. Going off the rails at age thirteen and being kicked out so young really let me make a lot of my screw ups early on in life. I’m pretty fucking lucky none of them ended up being serious enough to cause me (or anyone else) irreparable physical harm, or limit my options for my future.
There’s always been some sort of divide between me and my friends in terms of responsibility, maturity, ever since I got my head screwed on straight years back. Having to stay home on weekend nights, miss parties, hook-ups, and even innocent shit like going to the movies to get commissions done, work on marketing my designs, or help with my brothers left me with a different outlook on life than most of my friends had.
I don’t resent them for their upbringings and their privilege. I’m thankful as fuck that Mark’s dad let me crash with them when I had nowhere else to go.
If I was raised with a bit of wealth and security like most of them were, I would probably be in a different boat now. But here we are. I’m making the most of the boat Ididland in, and I know they’ll find their way up the river eventually, too. The endless partying and hooking up will probably lose its sheen for most of them at some point.
None of us could deny the difference our upbringings created within us if we tried. It just seems like lately, those differences are becoming more and more apparent, and I keep waiting for them to grow the fuck up like I had to. I still like a good time now and then, but it seems like that’sallany of their lives are.
When will they startdoingthings to discover what they want out of life, or start building a decent interim routine until they have that shit figured out?
Olivia’s unmistakable pitch carries through my door, and the thought that a few months ago I would have her in here with me, behind this door, making all sorts of noises just for fun makes a shudder run up my spine uncontrollably. Pretty sure I make a face that says I’m about to puke, even though there’s no one else here to see me.
Maybe I’m being a little unfair to her, she’s a cool chick. But seeing Livvy in the same environment as Ellie? Wow. That really put some things into perspective for me.
It’s like Ellie’s elegance and selflessness was put through a microscope or a magnifying glass when placed directly next to Livvy’s self-centered chatter and gimme-gimme, eyes-on-me antics. I know I used to fall for that shit, buy into it, play up to her needy attitude, make her feel worthwhile for that behavior, use it to my advantage when I wanted to flirt with her, hook up with her, but it repulses me now.
As if on cue, her nasal tone infiltrates my closed bedroom door and I try not to gag again as her attention-seeking squeals reverberate through the small space and thin walls of the condo. I really am a dick sometimes, but after being around Ellie daily for the past couple months, and these last few weeks of hanging out with her solo, my old life, my past partners, none of it looks the same anymore.
