Stay With Me

by London James

  “Uh-huh.” Her smile is contagious. “Sure.”

  “Even if I did like it, who cares?” I point out. “It's music. Everyone likes music.”

  “Old Ash wouldn't have been caught dead listening to this girly pop.”

  “Thankfully I've grown quite a bit since I was twenty.” I snort. “What were you expecting me to be like, B?”

  She pauses, looking up at the ceiling in thought. “I don't know. I need to stop doing that.”

  “Doing what?”

  “Comparing current you, to past you. If someone tried to compare me now to me in college, I would throw a fit.”

  “Eh, it's a natural impulse. People develop, but their base nature is still there. Like, I would be shocked if you were sullen and not enthusiastic, but I'm not shocked that you're starting your own business.”

  “You think past me was the kind of person to start a business?” she asks, clearly flattered.

  “Yeah. Once you're into something, you run.” I lean back in my seat. “And you're not the type to jump into things without thinking a little first.”

  Except for our hookup, but that’s beside the point.

  “I guess you're right. About our natures.”

  She goes silent, and the only sounds are the music and her clipping off the bottoms of flowers. “Can I ask you something?”

  “Yeah, go ahead.”

  “Am I crazy for wanting to start a company? What am I really getting into?” Her eyes are serious and thoughtful; her smile gone for once.

  “Everyone who starts a business is a little crazy.” I smile wistfully, remembering the early days of my own. “There’s a lot of sacrifice and a lot of deep shit you have to face inside yourself. So yes, you’re crazy, but so am I. You have to get comfortable with risk.”

  “Hm.” She mulls that over.

  “If you ever need anything, I’m here,” I say before realizing how it sounds. “Y’know, for your business. And in a friend way.”

  Her smile comes creeping back onto her face. “Really?”

  “Of course. I haven’t been through it all, but I know a lot of people who can help.”

  She makes a little sound of displeasure in the back of her throat. “We’re having trouble raising additional capital. A lot of investors are like, ‘Flowers? Who cares?’ even though I think our presentations are solid. Maybe it’s the people we’re approaching.”

  “They can be fickle. I know some people who might be interested, though.” I dig through my mental contacts list. Someone has to be the right fit. “No guarantees, though.”

  “It doesn’t matter,” she says, her eyes bright. “You seriously don’t have to put me in touch with anyone if it’s a hassle.”

  “Business tip number one—if someone offers to connect you to someone, always take the info. Don’t be a humble hero,” I say, pulling out my phone. I make a note to call a few folks on Monday. “I’ll let you know what I find out.”

  “Thank you, Ash,” she says quietly. “It really means a lot to me.”

  The way she says it makes my neck heat up like the words came from the most shielded parts of herself. Seeing that in her sends my heart fluttering into my throat. I clear it and swallow. This is the kind of things friends do for each other. Just because she looks at me like I’ve just given her the gift of life doesn’t mean anything beyond simple gratitude, even if the atmosphere in the room has shifted to something I can’t quite name.

  The song changes to something equally catchy, and she starts to dance, back to her normal groove. I let out a breath I didn’t know I was holding.

  “Are you still anti-dancing?” she chuckles, shaking her hips to the beat. It’s doing things to me that I want to shove into the back of my mind.

  “Yep. I know my weaknesses.” I have a sense of rhythm, but my body doesn’t move like that.

  “Suit yourself. There's nothing more fun than dancing around while doing things around the house.” She keeps dancing, and I force myself to focus on what I’m doing. If I don’t, I know I’ll be staring at her perfectly shaped ass and thinking of how she would look with it in the air as I plowed her.

  I need air, or I’ll do something extremely stupid.

  “Want me to take this trash out?” I point to the bag of discarded leaves and cardboard at her feet.

  “Oh sure, thanks. You have to walk down to the garbage room since the chute is messed up,” she says over her shoulder. “You can’t miss it.”

  I grab the bag and walk down the stairs, finding the garbage room easily. It’s a tiny place, with some rickety-looking wiring on the opposite wall of the compactor. It looks like bad news, like mice nibbled through some of them, leaving them exposed.

  “Hey, you should talk to your super about that wiring down there,” I comment when I return. “It looks like a fire hazard.”

  “Our super might as well be a ghost. He says he’ll fix something, but it never gets done. We’ve mentioned the wiring to him lately, but he hasn’t done jack shit.”

  She says this like it’s no big deal. I own my brownstone—I have to handle hiring repair people on my own, so this ineffective super problem is a little startling. Do people really not care about their jobs that much?

  “Call him again. Seriously,” I insist.

  “Fine, fine.” She steps back from the vase she’s arranging and looks at it. “What do you think?”

  “It looks amazing.” I give her shoulder a friendly squeeze.

  She looks up at me over her shoulder, her face bright. She is so goddamn beautiful that my breath catches in my throat for a second. When was the last time I felt like this? Enchanted by how pretty someone is, rather than only by lust?

  This is bad, isn’t it?

  Chapter Nine

  Briony

  The flowers arrived at the hotel space without all of the vases shattering, thank god. After getting everything up the freight elevator to the rooftop, the hotel’s team starts working to put all of the arrangements that Ash and I put together yesterday onto the little tables sprinkled across the roof. I adjust the flowers in their vases as I wander through the space, taking in how everything looks from a step back.

  I did a pretty good job—not to toot my own horn or anything. The space itself does help a lot, though. Just like at the party where Ben proposed to Daisy, the roof has a gorgeous view of the city. They’ve reserved the roof for the evening, so I can see how the flowers will look in golden light. The afternoon sun feels nice, sure, but the gigantic pool in the middle is calling my name. It’s yet another hot day. The thought of diving into the water then sitting on the side of the pool with a drink makes me want to speed time up.

  “Briony, these look so amazing,” Daisy squeals as she steps out from the elevator fifteen minutes into the set-up. “The photos you sent didn’t do them justice.”

  I smile, taking a look at the two big vases along the path to the party area. I’ve gone with a lot of tropical plants I haven’t used before, but I pulled it off. The bright orange of the flowers mixed with the rich green of the leaves is inviting and frames the entryway nicely, coming up to my shoulder.

  “I’m so glad you love them.” I give her a hug.

  “How long did it take you to do all of these?” she asks, pointing at all of the smaller arrangements on the standing tables.

  “Not too long. Ash came over and helped,” I explain. Just saying his name almost makes me blush. God, having him over was probably a mistake. Now I can’t stop thinking about how he looked in my space, his big, manly form on my tiny little couch delicately trying to put together the arrangements, gently bobbing his head to whatever music played.

  I want him in there all the time.

  “Wow, that’s nice of him.” She puts her sunglasses on top of her head, unaware of my internal embarrassment. “Want to go get changed and put your stuff down?”

  I look down at my jean shorts and t-shirt, which I’m wearing because I hate wearing a swimsuit for anything but lounging or hangi
ng out in the water. I have to get changed at some point, even though the thought makes me nervous for a lot of reasons, most of which involve Ash.

  “Sure.”

  Daisy has a hotel room for the evening, just to have a place to keep all of our stuff without worry. She has her makeup and sunscreens on the vanity table, which she pushes aside so I can have room for my stuff. I’m not going to put on a full face of makeup only for it to get messed up in the pool, so I only have my sunscreen and hair ties to put on. I grab my swimsuit and go into the bathroom to change.

  Before I strip, I hold up the swimsuit I just got and look at it. It’s ‘quite daring’ as Zara put it, her vaguely British accent making it sound somehow scandalous.

  I bought it because I like it, obviously, but I would be lying if I said I hadn’t been thinking of how Ash would react when he sees me in it. I might be a total fuck-up when it comes to dating, but I’m not a complete idiot when it comes to men—I could tell he’d been lusting after me when he came over yesterday, and I hadn’t even been trying to impress him. My teeny running shorts and thin t-shirt were to keep me from passing out from heat exhaustion, but he didn’t seem to care about the outfit’s functionality. I felt his eyes on my body more than once, and every time, I got a little thrill that I haven’t felt in a long time. It’s the same look of anticipation that guys have given me when they know we’re going to end up in bed eventually. And when he looked me in the eye? I could practically see him undressing me in his head.

  I wonder how he’ll handle me when I’m actually trying to look hot. Or how I’ll react to him seeing me mostly naked. Being around him and talking to him almost every day via text is breaking down my willpower to not fling myself at him. It doesn’t help that we’re actual friends now either—we text most days or chat, shooting the shit or sending cool articles to each other. My subconscious is trying to shove my very reasonable reservations about having casual hookups to the side, but it’s starting to look like a futile fight. If I hadn’t invested in a fancy sex toy for myself, I would have cracked like an egg already.

  My swimsuit is a red one-piece, which is cut very, very low on my back and in a deep V in the front that makes me look like a pin-up model. The leg holes are cut pretty high, which make my legs look longer, and my butt looks like a ripe peach. It shows just enough cleavage to be enticing without getting too out of hand. By some miracle, it keeps my boobs from popping out if I make a sudden move, which makes it worth the price. It’s not a tiny bikini, but sometimes what isn’t showing is what makes the difference, especially for my body.

  “Wow, hot mama,” Daisy whistles when I step out of the bathroom. She’s putting her hair up into an elaborate, braided updo. “You trying to kill someone out there?”

  I laugh and pull on the loose men’s button-down that I use as a swim cover-up. I leave it open. “Not intentionally.”

  “Well, a lot of our guy friends are single if you’re looking,” she winks, examining her handiwork on her hair. “Can you help me with my sunscreen?”

  We slather ourselves in sunscreen and go back up to the roof, where Ben and Ash are talking with the bartender and his team. I’ve seen Ash in a t-shirt before, obviously, but knowing that he’ll shed that shirt sometime in the afternoon makes warmth pool in my lower belly. He gives me a good once-over that makes me squirm, even though my cover-up doesn’t show just how revealing my swimsuit is.

  “Hey, what’s up?” Daisy kisses Ben on the lips and Ash on the cheek.

  “Just getting the specialty drinks set up. Want to taste?” Ben asks, grabbing two different glasses. One has a simple hibiscus flower in what looks like a margarita, but the other one is a rich green color.

  “Let me guess—the green one represents you?” Daisy takes the green drink and sips, her eyes going wide. “Wow, what is this?”

  “It’s bitter melon, gin, and lime, with a bit of simple syrup,” Ash explains.

  I take the glass from Daisy and sip, feeling Ash’s expectant gaze on me. It’s just the right balance of bitter and sweet and goes down smooth. It’s the perfect kind of drink to sip slowly over a summer afternoon.

  “This is amazing,” I say, taking another long sip. “You killed it, Ash.”

  Ash shrugs like it isn’t a big deal. But I know that he’s probably very pleased with himself since he struggled with the concept. I search his face for signs of pride and feel a little bummed that I can’t find any. For such an accomplished person, he acts like nothing he’s ever done is good enough.

  “Is this as boozy as the one you made at the 4th of July party?” Ben asks, taking the drink back.

  “That one isn’t. I think too many people wrecked themselves that night, so I didn’t make both of them alcohol bombs,” Ash says, giving me a brief, knowing look. I want to glare at him, but Ben and Daisy would notice.

  “It was a fun night, though.” Daisy takes one of the margaritas; the one Ash created with her in mind. “This one is amazing too. You’ve outdone yourself.”

  “Please, you’re making me blush,” Ash cracks dryly, like a joke, looking at his watch. “People are going to start showing up soon, right?”

  “The early birds, yeah.” Ben looks out over the party area. Things have come together quickly. Then again, the only decorations are the flowers and the view, so there isn’t much to do. The DJ is already playing some upbeat music, and the food is under the gazebo.

  “I want to lay out for a bit before people get here. Join me?” Daisy asks.

  “I think I’m going to take a quick swim first.” Ben peels off his t-shirt and throws it on the back of a chair. “You guys down for that?”

  “I think I’ll wait until later,” Ash says. “Want to eat something, Briony?”

  He looks at me like I’m the one he wants to eat. God.

  “Um, okay.” He could have asked me if I wanted to skydive off the roof and I would have done it. The look he’s giving me is that potent.

  We head over to the food spread, a good distance between us. I know I’m being paranoid, but I feel like every single person in the area can see the vibe burning between us like a fire. I focus on the food instead. Everything looks delicious—there are little pulled-pork sliders on Hawaiian sweet rolls, a make-your-own poke bowl station, and basically every kind of fruit you could imagine.

  Ash gets a plate and loads it up with an alarming amount of food. I get a plate too and grab a few things. I don’t want to get too full before diving into the pool.

  “You hungry?” I tease once we’ve settled at a standing table under the large gazebo.

  “Yeah, I went to the gym earlier and didn’t get a chance to eat. Plus, I can’t turn down free food,” he says.

  “Ash, you’re rich as hell, if you don’t mind me being blunt. And yet you’re still up for free food?” I ask, stabbing a bit of pineapple.

  “Old habits die hard.” He shrugs. “It was ingrained in my brain in college, and I never got over it. I didn’t want to spend my father’s money on anything besides my tuition, so I hit up every free food event I could. Plus, if you haven’t noticed, I need to eat a lot.”

  “So, you’re not pulling a Warren Buffett?” I ask. He’s worth billions but is frugal as a super-rich guy can be.

  He smiles a little like he’s holding in a secret. “Nah. I splurge when it’s worth it.”

  I look him up and down as silence spreads between us. Standing right next to him while I’m only wearing sandals makes me realize how freaking big he is. I have to tilt my head up to look him in the eye. Being close to him makes me feel like I’m being held in his magnetic field, slowly getting closer and closer against my will.

  “Aren’t you going to get sick if you eat before you swim?” I say absently. Did my brain melt by looking at him too hard? Because, god, I sound stupid as hell.

  Ash just laughs loudly and takes another bite. “Briony, I’ve literally swam miles and miles in the freezing ocean with a forty-pound weight on my back after getting three hours of slee
p for days on end. And that was easy in comparison to some of the other shit I did. If I got a little sick from eating before going for a swim, I’d be really embarrassed.”

  “God, please pretend my brain is working. I don’t know what my problem is.” I run a hand over my face.

  He gently touches my forehead with the back of his hand, making my eyes flutter closed for a moment like a cat being petted. “Not heat exhaustion. Maybe it’s just my irresistible charm.”

  I roll my eyes and gently smack him in the arm. He’s right, yeah, but he doesn’t have to know that. I keep my ridiculous questions to myself for a bit while we eat, only stopping to murmur about how good it all is.

  I like that he likes food and isn’t put off that I do too. Some guys made me self-conscious about it in the past. All they had to do was look between what I was eating and my not-quite-thin, but not-quite-heavy body and say something like, “Wow, you really like to eat, huh?’ It’s infuriating, both that they somehow thought my body wasn’t good, and that it got to me, deep down. But honestly, food is good, and if I could spend every night going to different restaurants and tasting everything, I’d be a happy girl.

  “Hello, hello!” Zara calls from right behind me out of nowhere, squeezing my shoulders. I jump, just like I always do. She’s like a damn ninja. “Want to introduce me to your friend, here, Briony?”

  I nearly give her a look that says, ‘really?’ Zara knows damn well who Ash is already.

  “Ash, this is my best friend, Zara. Zara, this is Ash—Ben’s best friend from high school and the guy who thought up the Ben and Daisy cocktails.”

  “Nice to meet you. You’re Briony’s business partner, right?” Ash asks, shaking Zara’s hand.

  “Yep, I am. I’m the numbers girl. Though I guess we’re both everything since it’s just us,” Zara says, grinning at me. I know that smile, and that smile means that she’s holding something in. “Briony’s talked quite a bit about you.”

  If we were in a sitcom, I would have stomped on Zara’s foot under the table or made a ‘cut it out’ signal with my hand. But instead, I settled for glaring at her for a second.