“I’m sorry, what?” she asks, a confused look on her face.

“I want to take you on a date.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I like you, Ashley. I don’t know what else to say. I just…you…I like you.”

“So wait, were you lying about wanting to be my friend? The truth is you just want to fuck me like everyone else? Am I right?”

“I’m not going to lie to you and say that I’m not sexually attracted to you. But that’s not where it ends. I want a relationship with you. I don’t just want to know all these bits and pieces about you. I want to know you. I really do. And I know that might be a lot for you to comprehend right now, but that’s ok. I just need you to know. And if you hate me for liking you because you’re so fucking convinced you can’t trust anybody, fine. I’m no worse off then I was before I told you.”

“You’re so full of shit.”

“Whatever, Ashley,” I say, shaking my head in frustration. I had never met anyone more obsessed with thinking the world was out to get them than Ashley Davies. The more she shielded herself from me, the more hidden the person I was beginning to fall for became. Soon I wouldn’t see her at all and she would have her all-important self-fulfilling prophecy.

I turned to walk out, when I felt weight pushing me hard against the wall. My head gently crashed into the flat surface and I could feel Ashley pushing against my back. She didn’t say anything and neither did I. I wouldn’t have known which words to use in a moment like this anyway. When Ashley’s breath was on my neck, steady and hot. Her arms slowly snaked around my waist until her fingers locked together somewhere near my navel.

And she just held me. Our bodies meet in some strange, backwards hug that leaves us both completely satisfied and totally frustrated all at once as she gave into me. She finally just gives in, showing me physically what she couldn’t yet show emotionally.

“Spencer…”

“Yeah?”

“I’ll go. I’ll go out with you…on a date.”

“Really?”

“Really,” she says, nodding. I can’t see it, but I can feel it against my skin.

“Will I get lucky?”

“We’ll talk about pricing later,” she says with a laugh. I can feel that too, and it sends electricity everywhere.

Then she untangles her hands and uses them to push off against the wall, giving me room to turn around and face her. She’s looking at me more intensely than I expected, having convinced myself that things were about to take a lighter, less angst-ridden turn.

“I need something from you,” she says, quietly.

My heart stops in anticipation, “Of course.”

“Promise me you won’t hurt me.”