Moooom: …and now I need brain bleach. [crying]
I chuckled. My parents weren’t all that shocked at my text. They were unbelievably supportive of me, and could be just as rough and tumble as me and my sisters. It was all in fun with us.
Christ, I loved my family.
Tucking away my cell phone, I headed to the door and grabbed the assignments someone had dropped off. I was going to take a cue from Sorcha and set up a white board on the outside of the room, so no one had to ask where their pieces were and wreck my concentration when they knocked.
There would be shopping tonight at the business supply store. I had a burning desire to go at lunch, but I wasn’t going to reschedule with Ashton forbusiness supplies.
Shuffling the papers, I sat down at the desk. I had to do some adjusting to the room before I could get going on the first assignment. This was my office and I wanted to set it up the way I liked.
My office.
That sounded amazing.
* * *
Ashton was possiblythe least compatible person I’d ever taken out on a date.
Twinky was one thing. Fun was another.
Ashton wasa whole other ball game.
He was the guy in the room that had to let everyone know he was gay. He affected the lisp, the wrist, the giggle, the hip twitch. His speech was peppered with ‘honey,’ ‘sweetie,’ ‘darling.’ I was shocked he didn’t just come right out and yell “yas, queen!” when I mentioned the studio I’d just been assigned.
Ashton was the kind of gay that I could only compare to a fire and brimstone southern evangelist preacher, screaming about Jesus and trying to convert everyone. Thumping the Bible, screaming about sin.
If Jesus was a Ferragamo-Loafer, Brioni High-sheen two piece suit, pale blue shirt with salmon silk cravat wearing gay man.
And Vogue was the Bible.
I was far from closeted. I had been brought up to believe there was nothing wrong with me. But I had also been brought up to know when to let my inner gay man out, and when not to. To know the kind of people I wanted to be surrounded by, and make sure that they were there for me and not for what I could get them or give them.
Apparently, Ashton hadn’t had a single one of those lessons. Or, maybe he did and didn’t care.
I’d heard the disgusted sighs of the people at other tables while we were eating. It was easy to tell that they weren’t because we were a gay couple.
They were sighing because Ashton wasso fucking loud.
He giggled and leaned forward, sipping his third or fourth lunch mojito. I lost track of the mojitos when he tossed in a Lemon Drop and California Sunrise.
“So, do you have a lot to do at work this afternoon?”
“Not much, but I wanted to get some stuff set up—”
“Let’s pop over to my place.” He grinned. Finally, he dropped his voice. “I’d like to see if the tight end has all the right kind of on-field skills.”
And that was another mistake I’d made. It had just slipped out when we were discussing our younger lives. And despite the fact that I had been a wide receiver, and occasionally a center, he just liked to saytight end.
“Ashton—”
“Come on, come back with me. It doesn’t have to be anything but a good fuck.”
“No, Ashton. I’m risking my job.”
“Then let’s use your—”
“This date is over, Ash,” I said, tossing the napkin on the table. “We’re not looking for the same thing, at all, and this needs to end right now. I can’t handle this.”
