Smash and Grab

Chapter 5. Ashlynn

My mouth is dry, my stomach is angry with me, and the room keeps tilting, but despite the hangover I feel… comfortable. I snuggle deeper into my pillow, hoping the dream about the sexy best man will play out again, when I realize my pillow is breathing.

What the hell?

I c***k my eyes open, and stare up at Ben’s handsome face. His eyes are closed, but I can tell he’s not asleep. In fact, he looks pissed. His eyes suddenly open and my heart skips a beat. Last night I thought his eyes were brown, but in the bright morning sunshine, I can tell they’re actually a dark green.

“Hi,” I say, feeling like an id*ot. I don’t have a lot of experience with this sort of thing.

“Mornin’,” his deep voice drawls out, the vibrations of his baritone rumbling through his chest under my cheek.

I blink a few times, willing myself to come up with something better to say than ‘hi,’ when the realization dawns on me that we’re both naked, and my hand is very close to a certain body part of his that seems to be twitching. Oh god! He’s going to think I’m a slut! It’s probably too late! I AM a slut!

I jump out of bed hastily grabbing the quilt and wrapping it around myself to try to preserve whatever shred of dignity I have left. “What… what are you doing here?” Seriously, Smash, I chide myself, that’s the best you can come up with?

He shifts and my eyes drift down to the impressive tent pole under the thin sheet. My memories from last night are a little fuzzy, but I definitely remember that beast. I feel the blush creep up on my cheeks as a clear picture of giving him a bl*wjob plays in my head. Since he must already think the worst of me, would it really be such a bad thing to have one more ride.

It’s official. I’m a slut.

“I should go,” I stutter, looking around the room for my clothes. I have to put some distance between Ben and I before I do or say entirely the wrong thing. I’ve already messed this up pretty badly and if I have any hope of salvaging anything that could be between us, I need to regroup. My eyes land on my suitcase in the corner. “Wait, this is my room,” cr*p, I can’t even make a graceful exit. “You should go.” For the love of… stop talking, Smash!

Ben sits up on the side of the bed and rests his face in his hands. If I’m feeling the effects of last night’s overindulgence, he must be really miserable. He drank a lot more than I did. I watch the muscles of his back bunch under his tattoos, and lick my lips, thankful that he’s not looking at me so I can look as much as I want to. I hiss out a breath when he stands up and walks around the bed, I can’t help it! He’s big… really big. I’m not used to being the shortest person in the room, but I feel almost diminutive next to him. He moves like a predator, and my mind flicks back to our dance last night. He was graceful, light on his feet, and the way his eyes watched me made me feel almost beautiful.

“Look, Smash,” he says with tired resignation as he buttons his pants, “we’re both adults here, so I’m sure we can deal with this with candor.”

“Can you call me Ashlynn?”

He stares at me for what feels like too many heartbeats. “Ashlynn?”

“Yeah, it’s… it’s my name,” my voice is barely a whisper as I regret saying anything. “My real name.”

I watch as his eyes go hard, like curtains being drawn and I want to take it all back. I’m not even sure why I said it. I love my nickname! I’ve been Smash for almost ten years now. I took a bully’s taunting and owned it, made it a part of myself that I could be proud of. I’d even thought about legally changing my name. I regularly have hundreds of people chanting it at me while I show off at our derby matches. I love being Smash!

But something about Ben makes me want to feel soft and feminine. It’s a new sensation, I’m not sure I like it, but I want him to think of me as Ashlynn the woman, not Smash the independent, bad ass femme.

“Fine, Ashlynn,” he says bitterly. Obviously, I’m screwing up my chances with him royally, but even in that angry tone, hearing my name on his lips causes my breath to hitch. “I’ll see you at breakfast.” He’s gone before I can attempt to explain, although, I’m sure if I tried explaining, I’d just make everything worse. I’m impressed he didn’t slam the door on the way out, but maybe that was more because of his hangover rather than my unintentional insult.

I sag onto the bed, and fight off the tears as I try to sort through everything that had happened in the last few days, and especially last night. I’d first met Ben at the rehearsal dinner the night before the wedding, and was instantly curious about him.  

All throughout the wedding yesterday, I could feel Ben’s eyes on me, but whenever I’d look over, he’d quickly look away. I’d nearly fainted when the photographer told him to put his arms around me. His touch sent electric jolts racing through my body and my panties had instantly flooded with arousal. I tried telling myself it was just because it had been so long since I’d been with a man, but I’d never reacted to anyone so carnally before.

And oh my, he smelled good!

Then on the dance floor, he had moved with an expertise I’d rarely experienced. I love to dance, but hardly ever have the opportunity. Most guys assume that because I’m big, I’m not graceful, and it can feel uncomfortably awkward when your dance partner’s face is at boob level. High school definitely left a few scars on my psyche.

It had all culminated into an almost kiss. His lips had been so soft and gentle on mine. And although there had been no tongue, and it was over far too soon, something about it had seemed anything but chaste. It felt like a promise of things to come.

But then he’d spent the rest of the night avoiding me, and I had just about convinced myself that I had read his intentions completely wrong. Horniness and booze gave me enough bravado to follow him when I saw him leave the tent in the direction of the cabins we were staying in, however. From there it snowballed, and I think there are several moments missing from my recollection.

What I do know is he now thinks I’m the type of girl that falls in bed with the first available guy. Certainly not the type of girl you keep around, or introduce to your mother, or get serious about.

I feel a tear trickle down my cheek and I swipe it away angrily. It’s followed by a few more, and I sniffle, wincing as the pain in my head doubles. There’s nothing I can do about it now. I just wish I hadn’t been quite as drunk as I had been so my memory would be clearer. I have a feeling it’s going to have to get me through my next dry spell. And after Ben, I’m not sure any man will ever measure up again.

I swipe at my eyes irritably, frustrated with myself. That’s enough pity for one day, I think, and get up to have a shower. I let the warm water cascade over my shoulders, hoping it will help to wash away the humiliation and shame I feel. I still have to get through breakfast, and then I can go home and lick my wounds. I had told my team I’d probably be missing training today, knowing I’d be hungover, but now I’m thinking it might be a good idea to show up after all. At least it would help to distract me from how much of a loser I am.

I sigh and pull on my shorts and t-shirt. Why didn’t I pack something cuter to wear this morning? With any luck, Ben won’t be at breakfast and I can just pretend nothing happened.

My heart sinks the moment I walk into the dining room. Ben’s back is to me as he loads a plate of food. His t-shirt stretches over his muscular shoulders and his jeans are the perfect fit over his ass that I just want to bite into. Knowing what’s beneath his casual attire is not helping me remember my vow to pretend to be cool. I’m still staring at his ass when he turns around and now I’m staring at that impressive bulge, and damn if I can’t seem to pull my eyes away. Did I just purr? F*ck!

Somehow, I manage to shift my eyes to his, but it doesn’t help my racing heart at all. It’s probably my imagination, but I swear he’s looking at me like he’d like to spread my body with honey and lick it off.

“Hey,” I say, quickly darting my eyes away before he can see the illicit fantasy playing out in my head.

“Hey,” he returns, and I’m disappointed to hear his cool tone. He sits down without another word, and I swallow the lump in my throat as I move over to the buffet to get some food. This is why I don’t do one-night stands. I get too attached too quickly, and then it’s awkward when they don’t call. And they never call.

I sit at the table and push my food around my plate, not really feeling like eating anything. Glancing up, I see Tone staring at me, and I stare right back at him. He spent most of the night sitting at the bar chatting to the bartender, and then disappeared like he’s been doing the last few months. I don’t know what’s been up with him, but I’m not about to go into my night of shame right now. He slides a look over at Ben before concentrating back on his plate. I’m sure I’ll hear an earful about it later when it’s just the two of us, but I have some questions for him, too.

When La-la and Ash come in, she’s giggling and his arms are wrapped around her. I’m so happy for them, but I can’t help the little twinge of jealousy. I want that. I want someone who can’t keep their hands off me and makes me laugh. I want someone to look at me the way Ash looks at her. Like she’s the only woman in the world and he’s the luckiest man alive.

I take a bite of eggs, ignoring the burn behind my eyes at the thought of impossible wishes. When La-la sits down with a plate heaped with more food than I’ve ever seen her eat, I can’t help but stare.

As though she can feel Tone and I staring at her, she finally takes a break from shoveling food in her mouth and looks up. “What?”

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you eat breakfast,” Tone points out before I can. “It’s weird.”

 “It’s like reverse morning sickness,” she shrugs and takes another bite of her eggs. “The baby demands food in the morning. I get early afternoon sickness to make up for it, though.”

I look at Tone, wondering if he heard the same thing I did. He blinks at me, and I know we’re both on the same page.

“I knew it!” I say. I point my fork at Tone with a smirk, “And you owe me five bucks!”

“I did not take that fool bet!” he throws at me. “I’m the one that said she was knocked up first!” Agree to disagree on that one.

I’m about to give La-la sh*t when she sniffles. “Sh*t, that’s not really how I wanted to make the announcement,” she says quietly as tears pool in her eyes.

“Babe, it’s not a big deal,” Ash holds her close, but even he looks confused as to why she’s crying. Surely she knows Tone and I wouldn’t make her feel bad for getting pregnant before they were officially married.

To my surprise, Ben gets up and grabs a box of tissues that he puts in front of La-la without a word. “Thanks,” she whimpers, pulling out a tissue to wipe her eyes.

“When my sister was pregnant, she said the hormones were the worst part. Literally would start crying for no reason at all. It’s perfectly normal,” he says kindly. My womb clenches and I want to throw myself at him… again. Only I can find the world’s most perfect man, and screw it up epically in less than 24 hours.

“When are you due?” I ask suddenly, needing to distract myself from my own flailing love life.

“February 24th,” La-la says between bites. I’m a little stunned at how quickly her mood has shifted. Ben’s right, those hormones are no joke.

Wait. February?

“You’ve been pregnant for three months and didn’t tell us!” I practically yell.

“Girl!” Tone joins my indignation. “I blame you,” he says to Ash. “Our girl could not keep secrets until you came along.”

“Me? It was her idea to keep it quiet until after the wedding!” Ash returns. “And who am I to deny my baby what she wants?” I want to swoon as he leans over to kiss her.

“Whatever,” I say, laughter bubbling up inside me. I’m so excited! This was the news I needed to take my mind off what happened with Ben. “I’m going to be an aunt!”

“You already are an aunt,” La-la laughs at me, reminding me of my sister’s daughter who was one of the flower girls in the wedding along with Ash’s niece who’s about the same age.

“Yup,” I agree happily, “and I’m going to spoil this little one even more than I do Olivia because I can!” I love my niece, but I was really young when she was born so I wasn’t as interested in a lot of the baby milestones. This kid is going to have so many people who love them, it makes me giddy.

Distracted by the thoughts of another niece or nephew, I bite into my muffin and groan at the rich taste. Ben makes a muffled noise and I glance at him, startled that I’d all but forgotten why I had been in such a bad mood. His eyes close, and he seems to be concentrating very hard on his breathing. Do I affect him like he does me? No, that’s ridiculous, I think. If he was actually attracted to me, he wouldn’t have just walked out this morning. Right?

“So, this is a really nice place,” Tone blurts out. “And the cabins are… mostly soundproof,” he adds, looking at me intently before glancing at Ben. Oh cr*p, how loud were we?

“Uh-huh,” La-la says with a smile. “And Preston seems nice.”

Tone drops his fork and his eyes snap to her. “I… yeah, he’s… he’s a good guy,” he stutters. I haven’t heard him this flustered in a long time. I seem to remember Preston was the bartender that Tone was chatting with all night. “He’s straight,” Tone says quickly, and La-la just snorts in response.

I stare at Tone, but he avoids my gaze. Is this why he’s been disappearing so much lately? And he had the nerve to give me sh*t about sleeping with Ben last night when he’s been lusting after a “straight” guy? I tap my finger on the table three times, and Tone taps his finger twice- our sign for “we are definitely talking about this later.” La-la pauses to look back and forth between us and taps her finger on the table, too. We’ll have to fill her in later, though, because she’s heading off on her honeymoon.

After we finish breakfast, Tone and I say tearful goodbyes to La-la and Ash as they pile into Ben’s car to go to the airport. They’re only going to be away for a week on their honeymoon in Antigua, but it feels weird knowing she’s not going to be here for any length of time. Ever since we became friends in middle school, we’ve talked nearly every day.

Just before Ben gets in the driver’s seat, he sends me a look that has my heart beating in an irregular rhythm, and heat creeps over my cheeks and pools between my thighs. The moment is over so quickly that I wonder if I imagined it, and before I know it, the car is driving away, down the dusty driveway. I sigh at my own stupidity, and turn to go back to my cabin to pack my bag.

“Did you actually sleep with the best man?” Tone’s voice stops me after a few steps and I turn to look at him.

“Are you actually lusting after a straight guy?” I shoot back, trying desperately to avoid this conversation.

“No,” he says slowly, “I am definitely not lusting after a straight guy.” I narrow my eyes at the careful way he said that. Something is up with him, but I’ve learned from experience that Tone won’t say a damned word until he’s good and ready to. “So?”

I shrug and turn back towards my cabin, knowing Tone is right behind me. “It was just s*x,” I try to pretend it’s true. I was always telling La-la not to make such a big deal out of s*x, to not always insist on being with the perfect person, the happily ever after. The truth is, though, I’m guilty of the same thing. And I guess seeing La-la getting her happily ever after, it’s made me even more cognizant of the fact that my dating life has been less than stellar.

“He’s cute,” Tone says simply. He knows me too well for me to hide how I really feel.

“He’s too rugged to be called cute,” I counter. “He’s gorgeous! And amazing! And way too good for me. I don’t know what I was thinking.”

“I should slap you for that,” Tone scowls at me as he sits on the bed watching me shove my toiletries in my bag. “No one is too good for you. You’re a badass b*tch! And if he doesn’t see that, he’s not as wonderful as you think he is.”

I roll my eyes at him, but flop on the bed next to him. “Do you think I’ll ever out grow this awkwardness? Be like a normal person?”

“Geez, I hope not!” he grins at me.

I squint up at him, trying to see through him as easily as he sees through me. “What’s the deal with Preston?”

Just like that, Tone shuts down and looks away from me. “Nothing, he’s a good guy.”

“And straight?” I prompt. I really didn’t get straight vibes from him last night. In fact, I could’ve sworn he had been flirting with Tone just as much as Tone had been flirting with him.

Tone just shrugs with a sigh. “It’s complicated, and not something I can go into right now.”

He sounds sadder than I’ve ever heard him, and I wrap my arms around him, pulling him down to the mattress next to me. We lay there for a while, each thinking about our own personal dramas, but at least feeling less alone for the time being.

“I should go,” Tone says at last, standing up. “I’ve got some errands I’ve got to do today.”

I nod and heft my bag on my shoulder, doing a quick double check for anything I may have forgotten. “Are you coming to my match next weekend?”

“I’ll try to,” he says, noncommittally. Just before we reach the door, he stops so suddenly I run into him. Turning to me, he hugs me tight. “I love you, Smash,” he whispers.

I hug him back, my own sorrows temporarily forgotten as concern for my friend takes over. “I love you, too,” I whisper. “Is everything ok? Really?”

He pulls back and smiles at me, wiping a few tears out of the corner of his eyes. “Yeah, I’m fine. I just… I guess post wedding slump, you know?”

I nod, not convinced. I guess it’s a good enough reason to cling to, though. For now, anyways.