Page 7 of Flames and Flowers
Yeah. I needed to let this one go.
Didn’t really matter what people said about Ash; if he was bi or poly or a player. He and Danica were moving forward—way the fuck forward, together. He’d made a pretty clear choice in putting that ring on her finger.
Meanwhile, he hadn’t put so much as a finger on me.
“What’s in the bag?” he asked.
I blinked, staring at his eyes. He was looking at the shiny red gift bag sitting next to the whiskey. Next to me.
I wasn’t even sure how long they’d all been talking or what they’d been talking about as I zoned out over here in no man’s land.
“Matt brought it,” Courteney offered, when I was too slow to speak up.
“Uh, it’s just a little Christmas thing. You can open it later. Who wants a shot?” I grabbed the bottle and started pouring.
* * *
I probably would’ve sworn, before that night, that I really didn’t feel anything deeper than friendship and lust for Ashley or Danica. I was in denial, after all.
But as that night wore on, I knew.
I knew it from across the room at Brody’s house party, later that night, when they told everyone they’d just gotten married and we all celebrated.
By the time I was too drunk to lie to myself about it anymore, I knew.
It was more than friendship. And it was more than lust.
How much more, I couldn’t be sure.
If they ever touched me, maybe I’d know. If Ash ever finished that kiss. If they invited me into their relationship.
But now that couldn’t happen. No matter how I felt about them.
No matter how they felt about me.
Maybe the feeling would pass and I’d quickly move on. The attraction would fade to the point I’d forget it was ever there. He’d be my lead singer and that was all. She’d be his wife. And they’d be nothing more to me than friends.
It had happened before. Feelings faded all the time, right?
I’d just have to make it happen again.
With that in mind, when we got back to Ash and Danica’s place in the middle of the night, I welcomed Taylor, who was at least as drunk as I was, into my lap. She’d dangled a mistletoe over my head, and I knew she was hurting from her shitty day and the betrayal of her now-ex-boyfriend. I was hurting over something I probably had no business hurting over.
But I felt what I felt.
So I made out with her right there in Ash and Danica’s living room, in front of whoever cared to look. Danica’s best friend was hot, she seemed cool, but even as drunk as I was, I knew why I did it. I was pretty sure I knew why she did it, too. She was fucking depressed and on the rebound. And for a few minutes, maybe I made her feel better. Wanted.
As hot as she was, I didn’t want her.
I needed to find someone else, sure, and get over this Ash and Danica thing. But it wasn’t her.
Soon after we kissed, Taylor disappeared anyway. Then I passed out on Ash and Danica’s couch.
* * *
I woke up just as the sun was coming up. Then I dragged my sorry ass out of there, called a cab and went home to lick my wounds in private.
Ash called me over the holidays, several times, to try to thank me for the ridiculously generous gifts. When they couldn’t reach me, they sent me a really nice travel bag wrapped in red ribbon and loaded with gifts fit for a rock star: booze, a couple of cool shirts, a travel shaving kit that was way nicer than the one I had, and a pair of Saint Laurent sunglasses that cost even more than the bracelet I gave Danica—which kinda fucked with my head.
