Chapter Forty-Six

Ryan

Most Likely to Kill Each Other

The car idles for a solid four or five minutes before Ashleigh and I finally peel ourselves apart, and I catch a glimpse of the driver s unimpressed face. He probably thinks we re acting like randy teenagers.

He s not wrong, really.

I look long enough to see that it s Ashleigh s Uber, not mine.

Part of me wants to pull her back in for another kiss and ask if I can come with her - we can continue this back at her hotel; I ll cancel my ride. We can fuck and kiss and stay up talking and anything, everything , to mean this night doesn t have to end.

Because tomorrow, I know what will happen. She ll wake up and think of me with all the usual revulsion and condescension, wonder just what the hell she must ve been thinking to hook up with me, laugh at how stupid I was to suggest this could ever be anything even remotely romantic, and she ll go right back to hating me.

And then I ll go right back to hating her, too, and we ll replace the memories of tonight with excuses about booze and nostalgia and happenstance, and erase them in favour of the bitter ones we both still carry around from school.

We ll both make our own way back to London, moving in different circles and always conveniently missing each other, and I ll go back to work and think to myself, What would wind her up the most? What would be so outrageously successful, such a complete win for me, that it ll drive her crazy when she sees me talking about it on the news or finds an article about it on her phone?

Even as I think it, I cringe. I sound like some kind of reverse stalker.

I walk her to the car, opening the door for her, and I watch Ashleigh physically bite back a comment about how she can get her own doors thank you very much. Her lips fuse into a tight line, but there s a glint in her eyes that makes her mouth soften into more of a smile as she gets in. Her face is pale and freckly, her ruined makeup washed off at some point earlier tonight, likely with a rough blue paper towel in the bathrooms. Her hair is in limp, damp waves around her shoulders and I want to run my fingers through it.

I brace one hand against the door and the other against the car roof, and lean down towards her.

But, I know Ashleigh, and I know myself, and I think it s better if - I don t.

We ll just keep tonight contained, a one-off. A lapse in judgement on both our parts.

It s better that way.

What do I think is going to happen here exactly? She laughed in my face at the idea of anything romantic between us, and I don t know what I was thinking even saying it in the first place. I don t need to see the regret on her face tomorrow morning, and I don t need to experience just how much of a gut-punch her rejection will be when it inevitably comes.

I really don t need to think about whatever feelings I have for Ashleigh, and just how deep they run.

So, I don t ask to go home with her.

Instead I wink and say, Been fun, Easton. Look me up if you fancy doing it again sometime, yeah? Maybe on my desk next time.

And at the same time her hand lands feather-light on my arm and she says, Do you want to get breakfast tomorrow?

We both stop, and stare, and pull back.

What? I say.

Excuse me? she snaps.

What did you say?

Breakfast, tomorrow. But if you re only looking for a booty call, then you can forget about it, and you can shove your-

You want to get breakfast?

She sniffs, angry, like she no longer deigns to care for the notion. But she does, and we both know it, and I grin widely, which only makes her scowl at me.

I d really like to get breakfast with you, Ash.

She blinks, giving me a sidelong look. Searching for the piss-take and the joke that aren t there, just like I ve been telling her.

For once, she decides to take me at face value, and it s a weight off my shoulders.

Okay. A smile steals over her face, blue eyes brightening. Breakfast. I - I don t have your number.

I have your Insta. I ll DM you.

She laughs. Of course you will.

I duck down into the car just as she leans up out of it, each of us stealing one last kiss.

One last, but only as far as tonight is concerned.

I close the door and wave her off, and as soon as the car is out of sight, mine arrives. I climb in, say hello and exchange some polite small talk with my driver, even as I m busy opening up Instagram on my phone and finding Ashleigh s profile to message her.

Easton, it s me , I say. Sliding into your DMs as promised.

Now who s being incorrigible? x comes her reply, and that kiss makes my heart squeeze.

Breakfast, I think, settling back more comfortably in the car, as three dots appear on the screen and Ashleigh types another message. Breakfast, and then everything else.

School reunion, huh? the driver says to me, and whistles. Dropped off some people earlier coming from here. You stayed pretty late.

Yeah. Stayed behind to help tidy up.

Good of you. So, how was it? Memorable night? Ready to do it all again in another ten years?

My phone buzzes in my hand as Ashleigh sends me her number, and a suggestion of where to meet tomorrow morning that, obviously, I ll have to disagree with and come up with an alternative, just for old time s sake.

Yeah, I say out loud, and grin down at my phone. Ready to do it all again.