I look at the bartender who comes by to serve drinks and I look at the olive that rolled close to my shoe.
I don’t know what the fuck has gotten into me, but I bend over and grab the olive and the glass and hand it to the bartender. He nods to me.
Fuck it. This is fucking insane. I need to go after her.
I race out of the Boathouse and scan the surrounding area looking for Ashley.
She’s not hard to miss. Cute girl, shoulder length blonde hair, curvy body, fantastic ass. Dressed to kill in a black casual dress with a pair of black heels that are making it difficult for her to storm off across the up and down sidewalk of Central Park.
I run toward her.
“Ashley!” I yell to her, hoping she sees me, and stops. She doesn't. A few passers by stop and look at me as I race past them, but I don’t have any more fucks to give no matter what they do. “Ashley, stop and fucking listen to me.”
“Stay away from me, you fucking asshole!” Ashley shouts and stops walking. But instead of turning toward me, I see her pause and take off her heels. She’s going to want to walk fast and she’s getting ready.
But by then I’ve caught up to her.
Hey, give me some credit here, okay? I may drink and fuck all night long, but I have a body made of steel. Genes that are fucking blessed. I used to play football in high school and college and I still got the moves. Of course I could keep up with Ashley. But there’s a fine fucking line between having her say no and it being cute and then forcing my presence on her. And I never, ever, ever, fucking do that.
“Just let me explain,” I say to her, trying to buy some time.
“There’s nothing to explain, Arsen,” she says, still not looking back at me. “This whole thing was a big fucking joke to you. You’re a sick, perverted creep.”
“No I’m not, Ashley,” I reply as I match her stride. She’s walking toward the gates to the park on 72nd and 5th. Fuck, she’s going to hop into a cab or a bus from there and I won't be able to do a goddamn thing about it. I can’t force her to stay. “Just let me explain. I love you.”
Well that fucking gets her to stop all right.
And why wouldn't it? I’ve never, ever, said it to another girl before. I’ve never felt it for another girl. I’ve never even contemplated anything remotely close to it with another woman. The very thought of falling in love with someone three months ago would have me getting on a fucking plane and getting as far away from her as possible.
But now? Now, I’m standing there like a fucking kid, watching Ashley turn around and stare at me.
“I love you, Ashley Lane,” I tell her, not sure why I’m so fucking nervous all of a sudden.
Ashley smiles for a moment, and that’s when I know I’m fucked.
“You love me?” she asks and takes a step forward on the balls of her feet. “That’s why for basically the entire time you knew me, you pretended to be someone else?”
“I didn’t pretend to be someone else!” I yell, but she answers right back and I can see the fire in her eyes.
“You pretended to be someone on the phone that wasn't the same you in real life, Arsen!” Ashley yells. “Sure when you were with me you were Arsen Hawke. But then how many times did I hurry out of your apartment to go to work? How many times did you ask me what I did when you knew the answer?”
“I never lied to you about anything…” I begin but she cuts me off and for a moment I think she’s going to slap me again.
“You didn’t lie to me?” Ashley asks with a note of incredulity in her voice. “Arsen I fell in love with you on the phone and you know how much it was tearing me up every time you and I were together to think how I could be falling in love with you at the same fucking time?”
For once, I’m silent. Her fucking words have silenced me.
“You want to know what it’s like to go through what I did for the last month?” she asks me. “You want to know what I feel like standing here in front of you after the things you had me do on the phone?”
Fuck. In all of this, I forgot how crazy we had gotten.
“You had me call you King! You told me not to…touch myself on the phone. You did things with me that were private and so intimate for me and it was a big fuck
ing joke for you!” Ashley yells as her face turns red. “You must have gotten quite a laugh, huh?”
“I never thought about it as a joke,” I say slowly and she looks at me. “I only called your line because you wouldn't see me. Because you wanted to stay away after our first night.”
“You know what?” Ashley asks me, but I can tell it's fucking rhetorical. “I should have listened to myself that day. I shouldn’t have texted you back. I should have just gotten myself off and not thought of you at all. I wouldn’t feel so deceived and humiliated right now.”