See?! No good.
Honestly, I don’t love it. I’m not a possessive partner by any means. But considering that every inch of my existence is under a public magnifying glass, I can’t have my girlfriend dancing all over the city. If she’s out…I should be out with her.
Zane: Sounds fun. Mind if I join you?
Ashlyn: I don’t need a babysitter.
I shut the water off.
Zane: No, but you do need the presence of your boyfriend. Where are you?
The conversation bubble with ellipses appears and disappears again. Then my phone starts to ring. As soon as I accept the call, she’s snapping at me.
“I don’t think that’s any of your damn business, do you?”
Make that slurs at me. In the background, I hear people talking and laughing, what sounds like live music, and a familiar voice.
“Can I get you anything else, love?”
Thank you Liza.
I hang up the phone.
Normally, I don’t go out in casual clothing, but this time I’m making an exception. Not only is Ashlyn out possibly making us look bad, but when I heard her talking in cursive, I realized it might be time to make an appearance.
Finding her isn’t hard. Turns out when Ashlyn is a couple gin and tonics deep, she doesn’t have an inside voice.
“So then he acts like I’m not supposed to be swimming in his pool without permission,” she tells Liza as I walk up behind her. Liza is biting back a smile, glancing in my direction.
I spin her chair around, and she nearly falls off it.
“Maybe I didn’t like the idea of my girlfriend ending up in the tabloids in a bikini,” I say. Ashlyn looks a little thrown off balance, but she doesn’t miss a beat.
“It’s more clothing than I had on in the first photos.” She says with a snort-laugh as she goes to take another sip of what has to be at least her third drink. But before her lips touch the glass, I take it from her and hand it to Liza. “Hey! I wasn’t finished with that.”
“I think you are,” I say, and her look of shock turns to a look of pure disgust.
“Who do you think you are?!” she hisses, and I lean in.
“Your boyfriend. Remember?” I ask.
“Maybe I do, maybe I don’t…” she sasses and I grip my hands on the bar top on either side of her, leaning in even closer with a smirk on my lips. As I do, I can literally feel people’s eyes on us.
“Well, maybe…you need some reminding,” I tell her, and I cover her mouth with mine in a soft kiss that lasts just long enough for her to soften before I break the contact. “We have a contract, remember?”
“Right,” she says breathily and clears her throat. “Right. But that doesn’t mean you own me or that you can tell me what to do,” she says, swiveling back towards the bar.
“Here’s the thing, though,” I say. “I am friends with everyone that works at this bar. So I kind of can tell you what to do. And right now, I am telling you that we are going home.”
“And if I don’t want to go home?” she glares back at me.
“I don’t think that’s up to you,” I tell her.
Ashlyn’s anger deepens, and she starts to say something. But then the theme song from Footloose comes on, and she stops.
“Oh my god, I love this song,” she says. “Come on. We should dance!”
“Absolutely not,” I shake my head, and she jumps up.
