Page 4 of Your Pace Or Mine

“Of course, Ash. I’ll come over for one drink.”

We’re halfway through round two of Ashley’s homemade mojitos when I start to realize something dangerous is happening. We started out on opposite ends of the couch, but somewhere between laughing for an absurdly long time over some reminiscences and Ashley getting up for napkins when the rum spilled, she has migrated practically onto my lap.

I put my hand on her knee, intending to move her gently off my thigh, but my brain gets locked on a memory and I’m frozen.

Ten years ago, as the dancing wound down at my dad’s wedding. I was staring sullenly into my drink, wondering why I’d bothered coming when my father had barely registered my presence, when Ashley slid a hand on my knee. “Want to get out of here?”

The rest is a haze. We went back to my hotel room intending to get wasted, but instead we lay on the bed talking, me spilling my guts about the fickleness of my father’s love. Somehow we ended up between the sheets, giving way to an attraction we’d been ignoring for four years.

“Why are you staring at the wall like that?” Ashley asks, dragging me back to the present.

I force out a laugh. “No reason. Just recalibrating.” I glance over to catch her rolling her eyes.

“You try to act like you’re so cool all the time, but you’re still a huge nerd.”

Not many people see the tech nerd in me, especially not women. It makes me feel warm inside that she still knows me like this. That despite our stupid decision ten years ago that made everything awkward, we got our friendship back on track.

Don’t fuck this up, Sebastian.

She slides even closer, laughing at herself, then runs her fingers through my hair and looks appraisingly at me. “You definitely don’t look like a school nerd.”

I lean in. “I’ve got everyone fooled then.”

“Not me,” Ashley whispers, her breath sending a shiver down my spine.

“Not you.”

I will myself to pull back, remembering the year or more of cordial, wooden conversations that followed the morning after the wedding. I didn’t think I’d promised anything to her, but it felt like I had. I’d let her see me at my most vulnerable, then shoved her away and slammed that door for good measure. She said it was fine, that we were fine, but I could tell by her face that some small part of her thought things would be different afterward.

I should get up and leave.

“Bash, you’ve got something on your lips,” she says, moving her face even closer, and that’s when my resolve dies.

TWO

ASHLEY

Oh no. Oh no, oh no, oh no. This is bad.

I stare at the wrinkled spot in the sheets where Sebastian was until minutes ago, listening to him move around my apartment. I pretended to be asleep when he stretched and slipped out of bed, whispering, “I’m going to hop in the shower.” I pull the sheet up to cover my face and decide to fake sleep until I hear him leave to avoid dealing with whatever this is.

My heart races as I contemplate the consequences of last night. I don’t do this. I don’t mix business with pleasure. I don’t mix friendship with pleasure either, not these days. I just turned thirty-two. This is supposed to be my year to find a nice boyfriend to settle down with. Hooking up with the most untameable bachelor in my entire lifetime of acquaintances is not part of that plan.

Why, Ashley? Why?

I hear the shower go on and reach for my phone to do the only thing I can think of to do.

Are you awake?

After a minute, my best friend replies.

Laurel:

Barely. What’s up?

I’ve made a huge mistake.

Go on.