Ashton

Why in the world did I invite him over?

  I like Oliver. I always did. When I was dating Tyson, he was kind of like a big brother to me. He was around a lot, hanging out. He always teased Tyson the way I assume brothers do, and he annoyed the crap out of me, too. But I liked him.

  Since working with him, I'm unsure how I feel about him. He flirted, a few times. He had a girlfriend. He said he missed me, over the last year. We didn't talk enough about anything other than work for me to know how I actually feel about him now.

  But I just invited him over, to my apartment, late on a Sunday night. What the hell was I thinking?

  I hop out of bed and tear off my baggy pj pants. Exchanging them for black leggings, I then grab a sweater from my closet and pull it on over my tank top. I head out to the kitchen, even though my body wants to be back in bed. There's still half a bottle of white wine on the counter from dinner, so I pour myself a glass and go sit out in the living room. He lives about ten minutes from here. It's already been ten minutes since we hung up from the call.

  I'm nervous as I cross the room to open the door, after I hear the knock. I only live on the third floor and the main lobby door gets left open sometimes. I told Oliver my apartment number, when I texted him. Now he's on the other side of the day and I feel like I can't breathe.

  "Um... hey," I say, swinging the door open.

  Me, trying to be casual. I'm sure I'm coming off at weird.

  "Hi."

  He's just standing there in the doorway, looking me in the eyes. He looks absolutely exhausted, like he hasn't slept in days. Has breaking up with Sable really messed him up this much?

  "Come on in," I say, and step back.

  I watch him walk into my apartment and look around. I feel like he's judging me right away, so I cross the room and sit on my couch. It's small, so when he follows, he sits as far away as he can. He doesn't say anything else, but he sighs. His eyes are looking at his hands and his hair is a mess. He's wearing a hoodie and sweat pants, which is an odd sight. I was so used to him being somewhat dressed up.

  "So-" I begin, but he looks up right at the same time.

  "I've had a rough few days," he says, finally.

  "You look..." Like crap. "Like you haven't slept."

  He glances away and then his eyes meet mine again. "Yeah, I haven't."

  "I didn't realize you and Sable were so..." I let my voice trail off because it doesn't feel like the right thing to say.

  "It's not really about Sable. It wasn't really... serious, with her," he tells me, after a moment.

  "She sort of thought it was, though," I say, without thinking.

  Oliver hangs his head, looking at his hands again. "I don't do serious relationships."

  "Alright, I mean, I kind of gathered that."

  "What?" He's looking at me again, but I'm looking away, now.

  "I knew you for two years. You were never with the same girl for long than a few weeks." It's accusatory, but I don't even care.

  He nods and looks around my apartment, once again. "That's true."

  "So... how'd she take it?" Why am I asking him this? Why do I even care how Sable feels about their break up? Why am I assuming he broke up with her?

  "Not great."

  I smile to myself and reach for my wine. Sable was definitely attached to him. Oliver looks at me and then back at the table in front of us. He seems restless, but also like he could fall asleep at any moment. I've never seen him like this.

  "This is... I mean it's kind of..." He speaks, but not full sentences.

  I wait. I don't know what he's trying to say, but it seems hard for him.

  "I swear I didn't know you worked for the ad agency, Ashton. But when I saw you there that morning, in your office... something just flipped inside me. It was like... I'd been an empty shell for months, since Tyson died, and then there you were."

  "Oliver-"

  "Ashton, you brought me back to life. I absolutely did not need to be around your office as much as I was over the last month, God, you know that." He gives me a smile, but I just keep a straight face. I know where he's going with this and I am not sure I'm ready for it. "Seeing you made me want to be better, it made me want to stop being so angry and..."

  "You did not break up with Sable because of me," I say, loudly, as soon as it hits me.

  My face flushes as his eyes meet mine. This is too intimate, so I look away and pick up my drink again.

  "I promise, I didn't," he says and then swallows hard.

  I believe him, for whatever reason.

  "So..."

  "I feel like shit knowing Tyson cheated on you, Ashton." The subject change throws me off a bit, but I'm glad for it.

  "It's in the past," I say, and then force a shrug.

  "Yeah, but... you deserved so much better than that. And I wish I knew, at the time. I wish I could have-"

  "What? What would you have done?" I want to know.

  "Kicked his ass? Stayed friends with you?" He smiles but it's barely there.

  "Well, it doesn't matter. What happened, happened and..." I finish my glass of wine, but not that sentence.

  "Yeah, I know. He died. Which makes this all a bit... weird." He's keeping his eyes on me, now. I feel like he's looking right into my soul.

  "Yeah." I nod.

  "Ashton... I..." He wants to tell me something, I can feel it.

  I'm fairly certain I'm not ready to hear it, whatever it is. That's when I make a point to stand up and bring my glass to the kitchen. He stays seated, but turns his body and watches me.

  "You want a drink, or something?" I ask, from the next room.

  He can still see me, and I look back to see him shaking his head. I turn my back to him again and fill my glass with water and when I spin around to go back, there he is. He followed me to the kitchen when my back was turned. He's leaning on my counter, a way too serious look on his face. 

  When he takes a step closer, I freeze. Everything about the way he's looking at me feels good. His eyes on me are so dark and full of desire. He wanted to tell me something, so I wish he'd just come out and say it. Instead, I let him come even closer.

  I open my mouth just slightly to say something, but I'm met his mouth on my lips. For a moment, it's just a gentle kiss. It's just his lips pressed against mine. But my body reacts by reaching out and pulling him closer so he's flush against me, and his hands go up and to the sides of my face. He kisses me harder, his tongues meeting with mine in a frantic wrestling match. I moan, which catches me off guard. He grunts and presses me back into the fridge and slides his hand into my hair. It's only been a minute, maybe, but I feel like I could kiss him forever.

  What the hell is wrong with me?

  "I'm sorry," Oliver mumbles, suddenly pulling away and stepping back. "Oh, god, that was-"

  "Oliver," I say, because I have no clue what else to say.

  He's taking a few more steps back, regret in his eyes. His chest is rising and falling, fast. He looks shocked and uncertain and scared. I want to grab his hand and pull him back towards me. I want to tell him it's okay, whatever this is.

  But he's turning and walking back towards the apartment door. His hand is on the handle and he's opening it.

  "Oliver?" I say again, and now I'm in shock. He's leaving?

  "Ashton, I'm sorry," he says again before slipping out the door.