“So, what’s your deal?” I change the subject abruptly.
Ash raises an eyebrow. “My deal?”
“You know, background, work, family, the usual.” I dig into my second dog, expecting him to give me the standard resume of college and vital stats you get on every first date, but Ash pauses.
“I thought we were doing things differently tonight.” He gives me a mischievous smile. “So how about instead of telling me who you are, tell me who you want to be.”
I stop dead. The question is tough—too tough. Because as long as I can remember, I’ve told myself that this is exactly who I wanted to be. Cute city apartment, high-flying law job, making my family proud. I’ve worked so hard to achieve the goals I set for myself, and now…?
I bite my lip. “Have you ever gotten exactly what you wanted, only to find out that maybe it’s not what you want after all?”
The question sounds stupid as soon as it leaves my mouth, but instead of looking confused, Ash answers immediately.
“Yes.”
I exhale, relieved. “I spent my whole life wanting to be a lawyer,” I admit, picking at my food. “My dad is one, you see. When I was a little kid, he would come home from work every day and tell me all about his cases. The courtroom, the negotiations. It sounded so glamorous, all the high stakes and cutthroat strategy.” I smile at the memory. “He loved that I wanted to follow in his footsteps, they all did. My family is…kind of over-achieving,” I say diplomatically. “Anyway, I worked so hard in college, and law school too, so I could make him proud. I got this great job, everything I thought I wanted, and now I’m here, and…I hate it.”
The words come out before I can stop them, but once they’re there: out loud, alive, I can’t deny it any longer.
It’s the truth, and I’ve been pretending for way too long.
“I hate it,” I repeat to Ash, my voice rising with passion. “I hate the long hours and the boring work and the stuffy corporate culture. I hate not having a life and being expected to work eighteen-hour days on bullshit cases that don’t help anyone or make a difference in the world. I hate it!”
I bang my beer bottle on the table, exhilarated. God, why has it taken me so long to admit it to myself? Somewhere along the road, I took a wrong turn, and now I’m living a life that doesn’t feel like my own.
Ash looks thoughtful. “So why don’t you just quit?”
My excitement fades. “I’m not a quitter,” I sigh, echoing the family mantra. “I’ve worked too hard to just throw it away. I’ve got student loans and bills to pay. Besides,” I add, wistful, “it’s work, it’s not supposed to be fun.”
“Says who?” Ash reaches over and steals what’s left of my hot dog.
“Says the real world!” I slap his hand away.
He grins. “My parents always told me to take something you love to do, and find a way to make money from it.”
“Is that what you did?” I ask, curious. I still don’t know a thing about this man—except he kisses like my wildest fantasies.
Ash’s smile slips. “In a way.” He looks reluctant, but he continues. “When I was starting out, it was more about the money. Then, I wanted to prove myself, really build something.”
“And now?”
“Now…I don’t know anymore. It’s like you said,” he adds with a wry smile, “sometimes you’re so fixed on a goal, you don’t stop to ask yourself why you need it so badly. What will ever be enough.”
“Goals are good.” I try to reason with myself. “They help make it seem like life is something you can control, instead of, you know, a chaotic mass of coincidence and luck and a million other things you have no power over.”
“I don’t know.” Ash takes a gulp of beer then slips a hand around my waist, gently tugging me closer. “Chaos is looking pretty good to me right now.”
He kisses me before I can think twice, and God, it’s just as good as the first time.
Hot and slow, deep and sweet.
I can taste the beer still sharp on his tongue, feel it slip into my bloodstream like a warm glow of heat. I want to savor it, to stay in this hazy moment forever, but his hands slide lower, bringing me against his solid, muscular body. I sway into the embrace, and for a moment—one blissful, reckless moment—I feel like anything is possible. Here in the darkness, nothing exists but the two of us: his hands on my waist, my tongue sliding deeply into his mouth.
The kiss deepens, and I lose myself in the restless ache of it all, the hunger that takes me by surprise, snaking low in my belly and coiling deep between my thighs. I press myself against him, kissing greedily, like I’m sixteen again and all we have is this illicit backseat moment, tangled up in heat and hands, mouths and tongues.
Ash breaks away. As I gasp for air, he dips his mouth to the hollow of my neck, whispering a trail of hot kisses along the tender skin. Sensation shivers through me, and I have to bite back a moan as his hand slides higher up my thigh, his fingers playing on the silk of my dress.
God, I want him.
I don’t care about the other people in the bar, just a few feet away, or the fact I’ve known this guy just a couple of hours. All that matters is the thundering beat of my heart and that scorching caress along the inside of my thigh; his breath hot against my neck, sending my senses screaming to life in an ache of desire…
Ash raises an eyebrow. “My deal?”
“You know, background, work, family, the usual.” I dig into my second dog, expecting him to give me the standard resume of college and vital stats you get on every first date, but Ash pauses.
“I thought we were doing things differently tonight.” He gives me a mischievous smile. “So how about instead of telling me who you are, tell me who you want to be.”
I stop dead. The question is tough—too tough. Because as long as I can remember, I’ve told myself that this is exactly who I wanted to be. Cute city apartment, high-flying law job, making my family proud. I’ve worked so hard to achieve the goals I set for myself, and now…?
I bite my lip. “Have you ever gotten exactly what you wanted, only to find out that maybe it’s not what you want after all?”
The question sounds stupid as soon as it leaves my mouth, but instead of looking confused, Ash answers immediately.
“Yes.”
I exhale, relieved. “I spent my whole life wanting to be a lawyer,” I admit, picking at my food. “My dad is one, you see. When I was a little kid, he would come home from work every day and tell me all about his cases. The courtroom, the negotiations. It sounded so glamorous, all the high stakes and cutthroat strategy.” I smile at the memory. “He loved that I wanted to follow in his footsteps, they all did. My family is…kind of over-achieving,” I say diplomatically. “Anyway, I worked so hard in college, and law school too, so I could make him proud. I got this great job, everything I thought I wanted, and now I’m here, and…I hate it.”
The words come out before I can stop them, but once they’re there: out loud, alive, I can’t deny it any longer.
It’s the truth, and I’ve been pretending for way too long.
“I hate it,” I repeat to Ash, my voice rising with passion. “I hate the long hours and the boring work and the stuffy corporate culture. I hate not having a life and being expected to work eighteen-hour days on bullshit cases that don’t help anyone or make a difference in the world. I hate it!”
I bang my beer bottle on the table, exhilarated. God, why has it taken me so long to admit it to myself? Somewhere along the road, I took a wrong turn, and now I’m living a life that doesn’t feel like my own.
Ash looks thoughtful. “So why don’t you just quit?”
My excitement fades. “I’m not a quitter,” I sigh, echoing the family mantra. “I’ve worked too hard to just throw it away. I’ve got student loans and bills to pay. Besides,” I add, wistful, “it’s work, it’s not supposed to be fun.”
“Says who?” Ash reaches over and steals what’s left of my hot dog.
“Says the real world!” I slap his hand away.
He grins. “My parents always told me to take something you love to do, and find a way to make money from it.”
“Is that what you did?” I ask, curious. I still don’t know a thing about this man—except he kisses like my wildest fantasies.
Ash’s smile slips. “In a way.” He looks reluctant, but he continues. “When I was starting out, it was more about the money. Then, I wanted to prove myself, really build something.”
“And now?”
“Now…I don’t know anymore. It’s like you said,” he adds with a wry smile, “sometimes you’re so fixed on a goal, you don’t stop to ask yourself why you need it so badly. What will ever be enough.”
“Goals are good.” I try to reason with myself. “They help make it seem like life is something you can control, instead of, you know, a chaotic mass of coincidence and luck and a million other things you have no power over.”
“I don’t know.” Ash takes a gulp of beer then slips a hand around my waist, gently tugging me closer. “Chaos is looking pretty good to me right now.”
He kisses me before I can think twice, and God, it’s just as good as the first time.
Hot and slow, deep and sweet.
I can taste the beer still sharp on his tongue, feel it slip into my bloodstream like a warm glow of heat. I want to savor it, to stay in this hazy moment forever, but his hands slide lower, bringing me against his solid, muscular body. I sway into the embrace, and for a moment—one blissful, reckless moment—I feel like anything is possible. Here in the darkness, nothing exists but the two of us: his hands on my waist, my tongue sliding deeply into his mouth.
The kiss deepens, and I lose myself in the restless ache of it all, the hunger that takes me by surprise, snaking low in my belly and coiling deep between my thighs. I press myself against him, kissing greedily, like I’m sixteen again and all we have is this illicit backseat moment, tangled up in heat and hands, mouths and tongues.
Ash breaks away. As I gasp for air, he dips his mouth to the hollow of my neck, whispering a trail of hot kisses along the tender skin. Sensation shivers through me, and I have to bite back a moan as his hand slides higher up my thigh, his fingers playing on the silk of my dress.
God, I want him.
I don’t care about the other people in the bar, just a few feet away, or the fact I’ve known this guy just a couple of hours. All that matters is the thundering beat of my heart and that scorching caress along the inside of my thigh; his breath hot against my neck, sending my senses screaming to life in an ache of desire…
