Chapter 3
Ashlee's POV
I sit at my desk, watching the clock at waiting patiently for 8:00 to come, because when it does... I'm out of here. Don't get me wrong, I love my job, just not who I work for.. particularly today. As soon as that 9 changes to a 0, I almost leap out of my chair and head for the exit. I have plans, and thanks to having to stay longer than I had anticipated for, now I'm late.
No sooner than when I'm outside trying to catch a taxi, my phone goes off. I don't need to look to see who it is.. I know. And I also know she's pissed. She can't seem to understand why I put up with what I do at work. She just doesn't get.
"Hey Madi, I know I'm late, but I got held up at work. Meet you in twenty!" I shout into the receiver of my cell phone before snapping it shut. I don't need to listen to her, I already know what she's going to say.
After waiting for ages and still not getting a cab, I just decide to walk. In the cold. In heels. Great, this just adds so much excitement to my day.. I sigh before starting on the 8 block walk to my apartment. Okay, so maybe it will be more like 40 minutes..
When I finally get home, I head into my bedroom and take off my fitted business suit jacket, leaving me in a black dress. Classic. I go into the bathroom and take my hair down from the pony tail it had been in before I tip my head over, shaking it free so it falls in loose waves before adding a little more eye shadow on top of my classic every-day make up routine. I switch my stuff from my purse to a little clutch and slip out of my classic black heels and opt for the cheetah ones instead to pull my whole look together before rushing for the door, grabbing my coat on the way.
I walk the short block distance to the bar I know Madi and the rest of the bridal party is waiting at. Why we were having this little get together to pick dresses from a book at the local bar? Simple.. it's finally Friday, which means we need to let loose. Which means we need alcohol.
I walk through the door, excited I made it in 30 minutes instead of 40. At least until I see the sour look on Madi's face as I walk up to her and take my seat next to her at the bar.
"You know, it's kind of important that the Maid of Honor shows up on time..." she says with a sigh. I open my mouth to explain, but she cuts me off. "I know, I know. You couldn't get away. You couldn't tell them you had to leave. You couldn't explain to them that you've already worked your 40 hours this week. You couldn't verify the fact that you are human and demand sleep and time to have fun, and to eat ocassionally" she finishes before rolling her eyes. "I know that. I just don't understand it."
"I love my job," I say with a shrug of my shoulders, which just makes her roll her eyes at me again. "Where is everyone else anyways?" I ask, looking around to find the rest of the bridesmaids.
"Linda is sick and Jenny is out of town, so it's just you and me," she says while taking what looks like millions of books out of her bag and plopping them down on the counter. I take the first one excitedly, wanting to help her pick out just the perfect dresses for everyone. I look up from the book to try and find the bartender, but instead my eyes land on someone else.
Him.
We were seventeen.
"Whatever," I say through clenched teeth before trying to walk past him. I get about four steps away when I hear him starting to come after me. Moments later, he has my arm in his hands, tugging me around to face the deathly serious face he's sporting.
"It's not whatever, Ashlee," he says while staring down at me. It's times like these that his height intimidates me. "This is a big deal for me. This is probably the biggest game of my life so far. I don't think I should be looked down on for wanting my girlfriend there to support me."
"Oh yes, because it's just all about you, now isn't it.." I say while rolling my eyes and scoffing at him. He doesn't get it. He doesn't understand. I try to get my arm out of his grasp, making him hold on tighter to the point where it's hurting me, and that just pisses me off even more.
"What's that suppose to mean?"
"It means that you aren't the only one with important stuff going on, Schenn!" I yell, and I automatically feel a little guilty for raising my voice. "Yes, I understand that this is a big game for you, but it also is for me too. Fashion week decides a lot as far as interns go. If they like me and my stuff, I could get the internship at Teen Vogue." I add before successfully ripping my arm out of his grasp. We continue to stare at each other, and it's now that I wish I had heels on instead of flats.
"Ooo.." he replies sarcastically. "Because all of us just care so much about what we wear on a daily basis."
"Maybe you should!" I reply while throwing my hands in the air. "If you did, you would realize khaki doesn't go with white!" I add while pointing to his clothes. "Besides, not everyone cares how many times dumb jocks can pound each other in the boards, so we're even!" I continue while turning around to leave again. He once again chases after me, and when I go to open the door, his arm reaches up and holds it shut, keeping me from leaving.
"Maye you should, then people without an athletic bone in their body, like you, would understand all the work and effort we put into being able to skate around on that 'big ice block'." He counters, using the words I so frequently use to describe the hockey arena he always seems to be at.
"You didn't seem to have a problem with my body last night," I retort before crossing my arms in front of my chest and putting all of my weight on one leg as he narrows his eyes at me.
"I didn't hear you say no, either," he returns. We both stand there, starring at each other, almost daring the other to speak. "You are so like your mom..." he mutters under his breath.
"What was that?" I ask even though I know what he said before I take another step toward him. We're so close now that I can hear him breathe.
"You heard me."
"I can't believe you are bringing this up right now!" I yell, pushing him with every amount of force I can muster. He doesn't take more than one step backwards. Damn it..
"Well, it's the truth! You don't even need to work if I make it into the NHL. What are you going to do next, cheat on me like she did your dad? Get knocked up with some other guys baby?" Out of instinct, I reach out and slap him, hard.. and I don't regret it.
"I can't believe you'd even bring that up," I say while shaking my head. We both stare at each other again for what feels like forever. I turn my head and look at the ground before speaking up again. "I hate you," I mumble under my breath.
"What?" he asks, even though I know he heard me. I can tell by the pained expression on his face.
"I hate you!" I yell with more volume and force this time. "Do you hear that? I hate you, you arrogant, son of a bitch!" I spat out before turning to leave once again, but naturally, just like last time his arm shoots up and stops me from getting out the door. I sigh defeated as the tears start to form in my eyes. I turn around, looking him in the eyes while I stand there.
"Ashlee," he starts while reaching out and attempting to wipe my tears away, but I stop him.
"Don't," I say while batting his hand away and walking in the only direction I can; toward his room.
Once I finally reached his bedroom, I slam the door shut, locking it behind me. He knocks one time before he finally gives up. I look around the room, and the irony only pisses me off more; his room is filled with hockey stuff, the reason we're fighting in the first place. I lay down, not wanting to think about any of this any longer.
I wake up to the rumbling of my stomach. I sigh before looking out the window, noticing it's dark and concluding it's probably early morning. I glance at his alarm clock, proving it's a little after 5. I get up out of his bed and walk as quietly as I can to the door. If he's not awake, I don't want to deal with him. I open the door quietly, only to find him leaning back against the wall on the opposite side of his door, asleep. My heart flutters a little bit, but I take a deep breathe to regain my composure before walking over to him and kicking his foot lightly.
"Get up," I mumble as he starts to wake up. He looks up at me, and the drowsiness fades quickly.
"Ashlee," he says while standing up. "I'm so sorry, I.."
"I know," I interrupt while shrugging my shoulders. Sure, it hurt, and I'm not over it yet, but I don't think I could stay made at him long anyways. He sighs, and I take that as my hint to be near him so I allow him to envelope me in a tight hug. I pull his shoulders down a little bit and stand on my tip toes until I'm tall enough to lightly press my lips to his neck.
"You know I didn't mean it, right?" I simply nod my head yes, continuing with my work. "I don't know why I even said it."
"Luke," I say while looking him straight in the eyes. "Shut up." I smile faintly before pulling his lips down to mine. Getting the hint, he picks me up and takes me back into his bedroom, shutting the door behind us.
My eyes go wide as I continue to stare at him, at the way he just stares down into the cup in front of him, swirling the last bit of liquid around in the bottom of the glass before downing it. He looks up to find the bar tender, and that's when I turn around as quickly as possible.
"I have to go," I mumble to Madi before taking off as quickly as I can, hoping and praying I can get to the door before he sees me.
Chapter 2
Luke's POV
As the rest of my teammates that came out tonight after the big win make their rounds throughout the club, talking to any hot chick they run into, I just sit at the bar and watch them. Like normal, they toss the extremely young ones my way, and also like normal, I send them on their way and turn back to face the bar, raising my hand to catch Leo's eye, who sighs and gives me a weak smile before sending another beer my way.
Some nights, I play along and talk to the women, or girls I should say, that flirt with me, even though it's completely pathetic, just to avoid the 'Oh God.. he's gay' discussion in the locker room the next day. The guys don't get it. They probably never will.
I've told myself 100 times that it had to be done. That we wouldn't work out together, no matter how much I wanted us to. That for some reason, the world and fate didn't want us together. That both of us were going different directions with our lives. That I couldn't give up hockey, and I couldn't expect her to give up her ambitions. But all of this doesn't make it any easier; She's still the woman that teases me in my dreams and taunts me in my thoughts and memories. She's unavoidable.
Everyone said it would go away, that I'd forget eventually, forget about her and what I thought I had with her, but as far as I can tell, they are all wrong. I can't picture a day in my mind where she's not at least in my head at least once.
Others say that I'm a glutton or punishment, so this is the result. I tell myself that no one can amount to what she is because I feel guilty for what I did and how I did it. They also tell me that she's probably living this great life because I gave her the opportunity to, and she probably doesn't miss me the slightest bit, that I'm probably a vague memory of her past after all of these years. I can only pray they are wrong.
And then there are the rare few that feel sorry for me. They truly think that she's the one for me, or at least my first love, and you never forget those, right? They tell me to look her up, give her a phone call or visit when we're in the area for a game, but it's not that simple. First off, she always did have an attitude, so I have no doubt she'd kick me out on my ass if I just showed up at her house, and secondly, I don't know her phone number and wouldn't know how to get it anyways. Sure, her parents probably still live in the same place, but they probably hate me as much as she does. Or even I do.
I sigh before downing the rest of my beer and then signaling for another one. It's nights like this I just want to forget.
We were sixteen.
We had just won the big game, just got through celebrating our victory which involved drinking of course, and now I was with her. This night couldn't get any better. As I drive up the long drive-way leading to her house, I can't help but take my time, not wanting this night to end. It's been too good so far. Finally reaching her house, I stop and put my truck in park before sighing and turning to look at her. She sits on the opposite side of the truck, wearing my jacket and just starring at me. Neither of us makes a move, so she chuckles and rolls her eyes before crossing the distance between us and moving closer to me. She wraps her hands around my neck, playing with my hair before she presses her lips to mine.
What starts out as a simple goodnight kiss soon escalates into more, and the next thing I know she's crawling into my lap, straddling my legs. She pushes me away from her and into the seat behind me before she starts placing a line of kisses down my jaw. I take a deep breath, trying to not get as worked up about this as I'm sure I'm going to as my hands betray me and work their way up to rest on both sides of her hips, pulling her closer to me. As I pull her lips back up to mine I feel her free hand come to rest on mine, and then place it on her breast. I know I shouldn't, but just like earlier my body does what my mind is screaming me not to, and I can't help but squeeze once, and then twice. She shrugs out of my jacket and then reaches for the hem of her shirt, and it's then that reality hits me.
"Ashlee, we're in your drive-way. Your house is right there," I argue, grabbing onto her hands before she can lift her shirt any higher than her belly button. She smiles down at me with her hair a mess from my hands, and I find myself having to take another deep breath to calm myself down.
"And all of the lights are off," she counters while kissing me again. "No one is awake." She reaches for the hem of her shirt for a second time, and this time I let her take it off, leaving her in just her bra with her boobs at perfect eye level. I take in the sight in front of me, which makes her laugh before she pulls my head up, connecting our lips once again.
"You're dad is going to kill me," I mutter in between kisses. As much as I try not to think about it, anytime she moves I can feel her breasts press against me, and it's got me painfully aware of every movement she makes. She lays down in the seat, pulling me down on top of her and I follow her lead, not giving anything a second thought until her hands reach down for my belt buckle and unclasp it and then start working on the top button of my jeans. I take her hands in mine once again, stopping her from disrobing me again more, knowing I'll be shooting myself tomorrow for this.
"Ashlee, you're drunk. This isn't happening tonight," I rationalize before giving her a quick peck on the lips. She pouts up at me, a look of being not wanted flashing through her eyes which makes me internally laugh. If she only knew... "I want you, I do," I offer before kissing her again and reassuring her. "But not like this," I add in a quieter tone after breaking away from her.
"Actually," she starts before pulling my shirt over my head. "You're the one that's drunk, I actually didn't have anything to drink. So it's like I'm taking advantage of you, right?" She says with a little smirk before pulling my lips down to hers and my hands down to where her bare legs are exposed from the skirt she's wearing. I remain motionless, not daring to reach where I know she wants me to in fear of not being able to stop myself. Not wanting to put up with me anymore, she reaches down herself and slowly slides her panties off. When she reaches for my jeans again, I finally speak up again.
"Ash.." I warn, trying to tell her that she is pushing my limits, and this taunting isn't funny. We've discussed this before, and we both agreed that we weren't ready for sex. Her more so than me, but I was okay with it as much as a teenage boy could be, and I didn't want one night to make her hate me forever.
"Luke, shut up and stop worrying," she says while unzipping my jeans. "I want you to," she adds with a small shrug of her shoulders. Not needing to hear anything more, I kiss her like I've been wanting to all night.
I finish my last beer before turning away from the bar to leave, but a blond bobbing and weaving out of the crowd catches my eye. It can't be her... is it? Is it really that easy? She goes on her way through the crowd and I shake my head at how I let my imagination get the best of me before heading for the door.
Chapter 1
Ashlee's POV
We were fourteen.
I hated anything sports related... especially skating. The ice was wet, cold, and hard anytime my face or rear end made contact with it. And believe me, there was plenty of those times. After I hit with a loud thump once again, it was no different than any of the previous times I had.
"Stupid frozen, piece of crap," I mumble under my breath while wiping the ice chunks my skates had caused off of my jeans. I might have just created yet another bruise, but there was no way I was going to ruin these jeans in the same graceless moment. I'm about to string out a list of profanities much worse than I had to the ice when he skates over toward me, breath taking smile on his face as he picks me up with ease, dusting me off and carrying me over to the bench, just like he always does.
I take my goofy looking helmet off, the one he laughs at me for wearing, but theres no way I'm going to hit my head yet again on that stupid slick surface. With the helmet gone now, a lose strand of hair that has managed to escape from the two braids that is holding the mass amount of it back dangles in front of my face. I stare at it, not believing that it's testing me right now, but he quickly takes his gloves off and tucks it behind my ear with yet another chuckle before I reached up and yanked it out.
Yes, this is how my afternoon was going, and he was getting a kick out of it.
"I keep telling myself that you will get the hang of skating sooner or later," he says while leaning down and starting to untie my skates.
"Don't hold your breath," I mutter while turning my chin up a little bit, processing the damage as he just stares up at me with that boyish grin of his. He rolls his eyes at me when I make my typical pouty face before he leans up at presses his lips to the tender part of my face, reminding me exactly why I tolerate smelly locker rooms, chatty teammates and countless games that all equally bore me.
Sitting on the ice now, I was not surrounded by a empty hockey arena, but about 30 strangers, all starring down at me as they continue their passing on the side walk.
"Don't mind me, my ass broke my fall," I mutter under my breath as I stand up shakily, holding my arms out to keep my balance much like a surfer would while they were catching a wave. I take a look down at my new prada boots, making sure they didn't receive any abuse before looking around for the cup holder full of coffees I was carrying. Much to my dismay, I find it flung across the sidewalk, up against a brick wall, spilled everywhere. I hope that got on someone I think to myself as I recall nobody put out an effort to help me up.
As I'm turning the corner to head back to the coffee shop, I see a tall, muscular built guy walking my direction with a hurley hat pulled down low, covering his face. My eyes go wide with fear before I burst into the coffee shop in an attempt to not be seen by him. I watch as he goes by through the window, and then laugh to myself when I had jumped to conclusions, and it wasn't who I though it was going to be after all.
I had begged, pleaded, and even tried to bribe my bosses not to send me here. Of all places, not here. They sugar coated it with a promotion, a minor one might I add, but I still knew that Toronto wasnot the town for me. And sure, I hadn't ran into him yet..but it's been a year now, and I'm not that lucky for things to keep turning out in my benefit for too much longer..
LA had been much more my type of town. Glamor, fame, and the main catch; the weather. As I step out into the brisk winter wind that always seems to be blowing in this freaking town, I become more aware of how much I missed the California heat. I glance up at the sky, the looming clouds telling me that it's probably going to start snowing any second now, so I hurry my pace, but paying special attention to the patch of ice I hit last time, crossing over to the other side of the street just to be on the safe side.
As I approach my office building, I take one last glance at the gloomy sky above me, knowing that as much as I hate it, he's probably perfectly content here. All of this in depth thinking is probably why I don't see my supervisor coming towards the door I'm standing in front of, flinging it open and knocking it straight into me, causing a chain of bad things to happen. I land on my ass for the second time in ten minutes, but this time I'm not so lucky with the coffees in my hands. They go flying in the air, landing straight on the new crisp white shirt I had bought only days before.
I sit with my hands in the air, the typical 'you've got to be kidding me..' look on my faces as my mouth hangs open. I glance down, hoping it didn't get on my coat, but of course it did.. that's the type of morning I'm having. My supervisor, Ms. McConnel, stares down at me as if she has no idea what I'm doing sprawled out on the ground, as if I had just decided to chill down here all under my own power.
"What are you doing," she says in that tone she always uses. If there is one thing I've learned since being here, it's that you never question her and you never place blame on her. She's practically untouchable.
"Oh you know me," I start while standing up, kicking the coffee cups to the side in hope she won't see. "So clumsy," I add in my nice voice before dusting my skirt off.
"Well don't be," she says while flinging her scarf around her neck before making her way to the car waiting for her. "I will be back in 1o minutes, I expect my charts and coffee on my desk when I arrive." And with that, she closes the car door, not giving me a second glance. I wait for her car to pull around the block, remaining as calm as can be. That's another thing I've learned.. never let anybody see you sweat in this business. The second her car pulls around the corner, I take off in a dead sprint toward the coffee shop, knowing that she means all business.
After successfully getting her coffee inside the office building, I take it and her charts to her desk and lay them there, checking my watch in the process. I'm just stepping away from her desk when she walks through the door. She sits down, and then glances up at me over the top of her glasses, which never means anything good.
"Did you have an accident this morning?" she asks while pointing briefly at my not so pulled together look; hair a mess, outfit looking even worse, covered in coffee stains. That's another thing about working in the fashion industry.. you have to look like you stepped off the cover of vogue 100 percent of the time.
I nod my head curtly before making my way to my cubicle and resting my head in my hands. This is my life..
