Taut: The Ford Book
“It sounds private, Ford.”
“Who’s that?” Rook asks.
“My new friend, Ashleigh. We’re driving to LA together. I have to go, Rook. Tell Ronin I said hi.” I press end on the phone and set it down. I’m still holding Ashleigh by the wrist. “It wasn’t private. It’s over.”
Ashleigh sits back against the seat. “I don’t want to be used like that. Whatever you have going on with this girl, don’t make me the reason you hurt her.”
“I’m not. She’s my best friend’s girlfriend. She made her choice, and now I’m over it.”
“And this is why you left Denver and were driving in the mountains on New Year’s Eve?”
“Yes, I had to leave or I’d betray my friend. She and I would both regret it after.”
“So it was the friendship with her boyfriend that had you upset, and not really your relationship with her?”
“Mostly. He and I go way back. We have business together, but beyond that, I’m not interested in betraying him. I’m not a cheater.” At least when it comes to relationships. But I keep that shit tucked away.
Ashleigh thinks about this for a moment, pretending to fuss with the baby’s blankets in the stroller. “So why are you mad at her? If you know it’s best for both of you?”
“I’m not mad, I just don’t want to be a part of her life anymore. I—” I look away and think it through for a second before speaking. “I still want her, I just can’t have her. And she doesn’t want me, not enough, anyway. So what’s the point of continuing to torture myself? It’s better this way.”
“So you’re punishing her. Because she loves you in a way that doesn’t satisfy you?” Ashleigh shakes her head. “That’s f**ked up.”
I scowl at her swearing.
“Sorry,” she apologizes. “It just is.”
“She made her choice. She could’ve chosen me, she didn’t. That’s the end of it.”
“So you have a line and if someone crosses it, you just cut them off? Walk away?”
“Doesn’t everyone have a line like that?”
She studies me for a moment. Forming an opinion, maybe. “Well, there’s lines, and then there’s lines. Some have a line as thick as the Great Divide. Others the width of a hair. Your line might be microscopic. Do you at least explain your expectations? So people who get close to you understand? Or do you just take what you want and then move on like this all the time?”
I stare at her, angry at that accusation. But I control it before I speak. “For the record, I gave Rook more than anyone else in my entire life. I did everything for her. She only had to ask and I was there. So I did not take anything from her, she took from me.”
“And now you’re pissed and feel used?”“Are you asking me because you want to sleep with me, Ashleigh? Are you trying to nail down what you can expect from me should that happen?”
“How the hell did you go from what I said to that?”
“Because that’s what people do when they’re thinking about sleeping with someone new. They test the waters by asking questions about the inner workings of previous relationships. Now answer my question. Do you want to know these things so we can push our relationship a little further?”
She gives me a nervous laugh and plays with her earlobe. “Maybe. But I’m not going to let myself be used, Ford. I’m not a piece of trash. I think you’re”—she thinks about her word choice for a moment—“nice-looking. But I’m not interested in being thrown away after you’re done, to quote your words. Especially if I don’t know where that line is drawn.”
“What about the ex—whatever he is?”
She takes a deep breath and stares at her hands in her lap. “I need to let go. I need to accept that it’s over. So”—she looks up at me—“maybe starting something new will help.”
“If you think what I have in mind is the beginning of something new, then we definitely need rules.”
She scowls at me. “I didn’t mean it like that. And if we make rules, then we’re playing a game. I’m not in the mood for games.”
“Are you afraid of losing?”
“Aren’t you?”
“I never lose.”
She laughs. “So that means I’m already the loser. How’s that fair?”
She’s got a valid point. “I’m interested in having sex with you. What do you want?”
She looks down, then catches her gesture of doubt and corrects herself by staring me in the eyes. “The same. But I don’t want to be treated like shit.”
I laugh a little at that. “You want me to respect you? But you’re negotiating the terms of a no-strings sexual relationship in a diner?”
“Take it or leave it,” she deadpans.
“How about one fifteen-minute interlude and then we revisit our expectations. To keep things open.”
“Fifteen minutes?” she snorts. “You’re pretty confident.”
“It only took two the other night.”
“I’d been thinking about sex all day before you came in. Besides, you’re weird with the no-touching stuff. I like it to be personal. I imagine it’s cold with you. Fifteen minutes would not be satisfying.”
“An orgasm isn’t enough?”