“That’s ridiculous,” I snort, taking a sip of my drink and a bite of my salad. Normally, I have a couple of cheat days saved up for special occasions. I do love me some enchiladas or a smothered burrito. Considering I might be modeling cologne on the beach soon; I need to stay a little hungry.
“I hate to say it, Demi, but I kind of agree with Zane,” Ashlyn says, and I smile.
“See?” Demi says. “That’s what I’m talking about. You hate to agree with him. You aren’t batting your eyes at him. You’ve got less tension flowing between you two than Smoke Boy and I do.”
“Excuse me. I prefer the term ‘Hose Jockey’ if you’re going to slam my profession,” Cal cuts in.
“You mean your faux-fession,” she says.
“She’s not wrong,” Cal says. “You didn’t kiss when we got here.”
“We rode together,” Ashlyn says.
“You haven’t touched her once,” Demi goes on.
“You don’t know where my hands are under the table,” I say defensively.
“Given the rest of the context clues, I am pretty sure we know where they aren’t.” Cal says. Ashlyn bites her lip, and I clench my jaw. Then I put my arm around her.
“Better?” I ask.
“Well, now it looks forced,” Cal says.
“It feels forced, too,” Ashlyn mutters.
All of this is getting under my skin. I might be a model and I might pose for a living, but when I’m not at work, I’m not forced or fake.
I turn to Ashlyn, and when she looks over at me, I pull her against me. My mouth crashes into hers, and that’s that. I ignore the gasps and laughs, the ooos and ahhs, and the photos I know people are snapping. I’m not doing it for them. I’m not even doing it for publicity. I’m doing it because no one is going to tell me I’m not authentic. And because I fucking want to.
When we pull apart, Ashlyn’s face is flushed red, and I go back to my food.
“You alright over there?” Cal asks her, and she nods with a goofy smile, pushing her chair back.
“Yeah. I uh…just need to use the restroom,” she says.
“I’m going to grab another drink at the bar,” Demi says.
I don’t look at Cal. I don’t have to. I know he looks smug as fuck.
“Now that’s more like it,” he says.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I say.
“Oh, no?” he asks.
“Nope,” I answer.
“Then why are you smiling like an idiot?” he asks, and I pause. Honestly…I was kind of wondering the same thing.
Chapter 17
Ashlyn
That was not a fake kiss.
I haven’t been with a ton of men, but I have kissed enough to know when it’s a real kiss, and that kiss was authentic. It’s been two minutes since it happened, and I am still pink in the cheeks.
I don’t know if it meant anything, but I do know it was a genuine kiss.
