Ashton

Christina calls me - a Facetime call - on Sunday afternoon. I'm being lazy and contemplating going to the gym, so I'm grateful for the distraction. I've already spent some time today working on the Santos website and emailing back and forth with Mr. Santos about it. It's going well. I'm glad to be more than half done this project.

  "Hey girl!" Christina yells, her dark hair down and all around her shoulders.

  "Hey." I flop down onto my couch and prop my phone up so she can see me.

  "What the hell is the matter?" she wants to know right away.

  "Nothing. I'm fine." I know I'm not convincing anyone, but I smile anyway.

  "You're not fine. I know you. What happened?" she asks, spinning around to sit down.

  I can see half of her body and behind her, Ben is standing in the kitchen.

  I sigh and take in a deep breath. "Don't freak out, okay?"

  "I can't guarantee that," my best friend spits out.

  That makes me smile, for real. "Right. Well, Friday night, I went for dinner with my mom-"

  "Oh, God. Is she okay?"

  "Yes, she's good. But over the course of the evening, I got a few texts-"

  "From who?"

  "Chris, let me talk." I laugh, because Christina is always interrupting me during conversations. She's extremely impatient.

  "Right, sorry."

  "So... Oliver  was texting me. And it's been pretty cold between us at the office, since last week-"

  I freeze, because I remember that I haven't told her about Tyson being dead. I haven't told anyone. For some reason, I can't bring myself to think about it, let alone talk about it. I haven't let myself process the information. I don't know if I'm supposed to grieve or what. We were together for two years. I loved him. But he hurt me.

  "Anyway, he was texting me. And it was... inappropriate," I go on.

  "How so?" Christina's face looks surprised.

  "Um." It feels weird telling her this over the phone, and knowing that Ben can likely hear what I'm saying. "He said I was pretty and smart and talented. Then he said he was drunk."

  "Oh my god!" she shrieks. "Wait, doesn't he have a girlfriend?"

  "He did. Not sure if he still does," I answer right away.

  "I mean, it seems harmless, right? He said you were pretty and smart?"

  "Yes. But the drunk texts made me feel-"

  "What? How did they make you feel?" she asks quickly, a smirk appearing on her face.

  I pause. "Awkward as shit. I have to face him tomorrow, at the office."

  "I'm sure he'll be professional as ever." Christina still smirks as she tells me this. "Man, I can't believe I'm missing all this drama."

  And, of course, Oliver is overly professional, back in the office the next day. He doesn't mention the texts that he sent me. He barely looks at me and doesn't talk to me at all, during the meeting we have with my boss, in the morning. Is he upset that I told him not to text me? Why would I even care if he was upset about that?
I'm not. In fact, I don't care at all.

  The day somehow manages to go by quickly, and that night, at home, I end up browsing the dating app that Christina told me to download, last week. She insisted that I could at least flirt with guys or maybe meet someone nice. Her exact words were A random hook up wouldn't be so bad, either.

  I swipe left on most of the guys that pop up on my phone screen. They are either too attractive - trolls, I'm sure - or not my type at all. The first guy I swipe right on is cute and his profile says he's a dreamer, looking for a girl who's ready to settle down. I mean, that's not exactly me, but it could be worse. The second guy I swipe right on - Mark - is tall and dark and handsome. It seems too good to be true, but I hope he messages back. I'm a moment away from deleting the app all together when I get a notification that someone matched with me.

  Mark.

  Hey there.

  My heart is racing.

  Me: Hey, how's it going?

  Mark: I'm good, just chillin tonight. Looking for someone to go have a drink with. I'm just in town for a few days.

  I'm the last person to go meet up with a random guy, and especially after talking to them for only a minute. He seems genuine, but how could I really know?

  Me: What do you do?

  Mark: Truck driver. You?

  Me: I'm in advertising.

  Mark: Nice. Well, you're gorgeous, Ashley.

  Yes, I put down my name as Ashley on my profile, in the dating app. I'm not about to use my real name. I don't know what kind of creepy guys could be on there.

  Me: Thanks.

  Mark: Of course. Since we matched, are you interested in meeting up for a drink?

  My heart is pounding again. I don't even know what "meeting up for a drink" really means. Is he asking for a hook up? I'm not interested in that, I don't think. I don't know this guy, at all. Once again, I feel like deleting the app and never looking back. I shouldn't have downloaded it in the first place. It's so not me.

  Mark: I can sense your hesitation. How about we chat a bit more and maybe we can meet up tomorrow?

  Oh. Well, I wasn't expecting that. He seems like a good guy. And I haven't hated chatting with him. Maybe meeting up with him for a drink would be just that. Like a date. That wouldn't be so bad.

  Me: Yeah, I guess I'm new to this. I'd like to chat more and possible meet for a drink tomorrow.

  Mark: Sounds good. Here's a picture of me right now so you know I'm real.

  A minute later, an image comes through the messaging system. It's him, alright. It's a selfie from the wait up. He's wearing a t-shirt and he's smiling. He's got a little bit of facial hair and he looks... sweet. And all of a sudden I change my mind and I stop being so afraid. Maybe Christina's right. Maybe I need to get out there and date and find some thing in my life besides work and... her.

  I haven't really dated since Tyson broke my heart.

  I agree to a go on a date with Mark, the next evening after work.

  The following day goes fast, as well. Too fast. I am able to put the final touches on the website for Santos and my co-worker sends me the first draft of the video ad, so I can pass it along to Oliver. It's a busy day and by 4P.M. I'm having cold feet about the date. I didn't prepare myself. I haven't been on a date in months and this is the first time I've ever met someone from a dating app.

  Damn it. I'm such a baby.

  At quarter after 5P.M., I'm done my work and closing out my programs when I realize there's a form I need to get sent to a client tonight, and it's in the spare office. As I'm leaving my office, I run into Angela in the hallway.

  "Hey, are you heading out?" she asks, barely stopping to talk.

  I nod. "Yeah, see you tomorrow."

  "Have a great night!" she finishes as she slips past me.

  I swallow hard and continue down the hallway to the spare office and push the door open without thinking. My nerves are shot and when I see Oliver sitting a the desk, I gasp.

  "Sorry. I didn't know you were still here," I say quickly, embarrassed that I barged in like I did.

  "Ah, it's fine. I like it here," he tells me right away. "It's quiet and I get emails done and can return my calls. In my uncle's office, there's always a millions guys running around being loud."

  This is the first time he's talking to me in two days.

  God, he looks good. He's sitting, but he still looks strong and manly. His hair is pushed off to the side and his tie is loose. His thick arms are on the desk as he leans over it, moving around some papers.

  I walk across the office and open one of the drawers, trying to stay back a bit. Still, I can smell him. His cologne. There's a folder in the drawer with the form I need, so I grab it quickly and back up. 

 Once I've got it in my hand, I wave it in the air to show him why I came in. "No worries. I'm heading out. G'night."

  "Oh. Can I quickly get you to look at something?" he asks, even though I'm already walking back towards the door. "The website looks great, but uncle Johnny asked for the main information on the front page to be changed a bit."

  I swallow hard, frozen in place. "Of course. Can you email me the details and I'll correct it tomorrow?"

 "Right. Yes." He pauses. It feels like he has more to say.

  "Okay, talk to you tomorrow," I say again. But something is keeping me there, just for a moment longer. I'm pretty sure it's his hesitation.

  The air is thick with tension and the elephant is in the room, in the form of those drunk texts that we haven't even spoken a word of in two days. I wonder if he's thought about them at all. I wonder if he even remembers that he sent them to me.

  "Ashton, you really do look good," he tells me, finally, as if he's reading my mind.

  My back is still facing him, thankfully. My shocked expression does not need to be seen by him.

  "You're not supposed to say things like that," I say, trying to sound serious.

  "Why? Just stating a fact." He sounds smug, like he knows he's getting to me.

  "Maybe, but you still shouldn't. Just like you shouldn't text me when you're drunk," I snap.

  "I already said sorry for that."

  My back is still to him and it feels wrong. "Fine. Uh, I'm heading out to a date. I have to go."

  Why did I say that? Why would I add the fact that I'm going on a date? That is not any of this man's business.

  "A date?" He's curious, now.

  I turn back around because this is turning into an actual conversation - one I do not want to have. "Yes. That so hard to believe?" I snap again.

  "Of course not. Have a great time, Ashton," he finishes.

  But I see the look on his face, for a split second, before I turn back around to leave. He's unimpressed - very much so.

  And I have no idea why.

  The date is - in a word - horrible. Possibly the worst date I've been on, though I haven't been on very many in the last year. The guy from the app - Mark - is sexy and flirty and overall a nice guy, but he was definitely looking for a quick fuck. As a truck driver, he's only in town for three days. I don't make a habit of sleeping with guys that I don't know, so I left after one drink. Even though he was attractive, it was not at all what I was looking for.

  I don't know what I'm looking for anymore, but it sure wasn't that.