by Lindsey Hart
Instead, she kept her head high, a smile pasted to her face. Part of it she meant. The part of that smile that said she was with an attractive man and she knew it and said man just happened to find her beautiful. Said man happened to be an orgasm king and he was hers. At least for the rest of the night.
She pushed away the thought. Trace never said he was going to drop her after this. Everything he’d said and done hinted at the exact opposite, that he hoped he’d get to spend more time with her.
Despite the way she had her life neat and orderly, despite how content she was with everything, she knew that she’d like to have him in it. Maybe she’d make room for him. And all those orgasms.
Obviously, someone was looking after her, maybe it was karma after all, because the first person she spotted when she walked in, was Maggie.
“Maggie!” Ash cried. She opened her arms and flew at her friend. Maggie hit her hard and wrapped her up in arms that were just as strong as she remembered.
“Ash! I didn’t know you were coming! I mean, I saw that you marked you were online, but I thought maybe you’d skip out.” She lowered her voice. “I thought about it myself.”
“Believe me, so did I,” Ash laughed.
Maggie had on a green dress that fit her nicely. She was tall, like over six feet tall. She was gangly and awkward in high school and she hadn’t put on a scrap of weight. She looked the same, bright red hair, huge green eyes, a big smile, a pretty enough face made beautiful because Maggie was and always had been, a nice girl.
“This place hasn’t changed a bit.” Maggie looked around the gym.
It was tastefully decorated if you counted balloons and streamers to be tasteful. The theme was apparently blue and white, for some unknown reason, since the school colors were black and yellow. There was a table at the far end of the room with drinks and another beside it with desserts and trays of veggies and bowls of chips.
On the opposite end of the gym, where the stage was, the same stage that had seen many Christmas concerts performed over the years and high school assemblies, played host to Devon Hills. He had his laptop open and was spinning tunes the same way he had for all the school dances.
Ash decided to be nice and not comment. She could be haunted by her past and still refuse to be a bitch, couldn’t she?
“Maggie,” she said softly as Trace came to stand beside her. “This is Trace. Trace, Maggie.”
Trace shook Maggie’s hand and Maggi grinned. “Nice to meet you.” Her eyes swept over Trace appreciatively and Ash felt nothing but pride.
“You need to get social media,” she said ruefully. “You’re not on it and it’s the only way that people keep in touch now. The only reason I came was to see you and Ruth. I hoped you’d both be here.”
Maggie sighed. “I know, I know, I just wanted to skip out on all the drama. I just don’t see the point.”
“The point is, I miss you and you disappeared. I’m not good at emailing or calling people’s parents to try and find out what their cell number is, not that anyone has a landline.”
“My parents don’t have one anymore. They got rid of that a long time ago.” Maggie winked. “Maybe I’ll give it a try, just for you. I wanted to contact you too and I was sad I couldn’t do it.” She made a face as Lana Delmont and Stephanie Driedger sauntered into the gym. They both had their significant other on their arms. Lana’s was tall dark and handsome and looked like he’d been dragged there against his will. Stephanie’s whatever he was, wasn’t good looking. He was balding and had a paunch, which could have been overlooked if he was nice, but Ash could tell by the ‘bow to me’ expression on his face, that he was full of himself.
Judging by the way Steph walked around with her nose in the air like she’d just smelled something bad, she clearly hadn’t changed a bit from high school. Their school was just big enough to have football teams as well as jocks and cheerleaders. Steph had been captain of the team. She was pretty, blonde and curvy, but her attitude ruined it.
“She used to call me saggy Maggie,” Maggie stated as if Ash had forgotten.
Ash ground her teeth together. Suddenly she was right back there, standing in the hall, Steph taunting her and Maggie. Asking Ash if she’d been to an Ash Bash on the weekend and how many cocks she’d had inside of her. Then, of course, Steph reminded herself that she was silly. No cocks would ever be inside of a girl as ugly as Ash. Or one as saggy as Maggie, even though she wasn’t saggy at all.
“Yeah, I remember,” Ash mumbled. Trace’s hand wrapped around her waist and she leaned back, taking solace in his presence.
“You’re a goddess,” he whispered in her ear. “Just remember that. And that girl over there,” he was obviously talking about Steph, “has a major stick up her ass.”
“That she does,” Ash agreed. She turned to Maggie. “Don’t worry. You’re incredible. It’s been ten years and you look just like you did back then. Like a model. Tall, graceful, beautiful. Are you seeing someone? Where are you working? You have to tell me everything.”
Maggie grinned and launched into a welcome conversation. While they were talking, the gym filled up. It was like everyone had the same idea she did about coming an hour late. And here Ash thought she was being original.
She kept a wary eye on the whole thing, but Trace’s arm at her back kept her calm. Her fears and worries drifted away, and the tension drained out of her muscles. She didn’t see Ruth, but it was nice to hear that Maggie was seeing someone and had been for over a year. She now had a Business Degree and managed a large fashion store in Minneapolis.
At one point, she looked up and found Trace studying her. His light blue eyes stopped her heart and stole her breath. He winked at her, sending off a storm of butterflies in her stomach, and smiled until she felt her chest tighten.
“I’m so glad you’re happy,” she told Maggie as her friend finished up giving her the abbreviated notes version of her life.
“And where are you working?” Maggie leaned in eagerly.
“Oh. I- I work at a comic book store. I know that sounds lame, but-”
“Are you kidding? That sounds awesome! I remember those comics you used to draw. They were so good! And the storylines were amazing!”
“Ash writes too,” Trace prompted. “She took all that experience and she now has several romances published.”
“What?” Maggie’s mouth dropped open.
“Just online. Nothing serious,” Ash mumbled, embarrassed. She elbowed Trace in the ribs, but he just winked at her. Of course, that got all sorts of things stirring inside.
Maggie’s smile fell as her eyes strayed to the door and it took Ash all of one second to figure out why. Sonja Wills. AKA the bane of their entire high school existence. How someone could be so mean and ruthless and still be so pretty and popular was beyond Ash. Really, honestly, she was sure the universe would have taken care of that by then.
Apparently not. Sonja still had incredible genetics. She walked into the place like she owned it. She’d grown out her hair and it hung down her shoulders, thick and blonde and practically glistening in the overhead lights. Her dress was skin tight and looked expensive and of course, it was red. It was matched with a pair of sky-high black heels. Her fingers were curled around a black clutch and her nails were painted a blood red to match her dress.
How very appropriate to claw us with.
The guy on her arm was, unfortunately, because the universe wasn’t fair at all, devastatingly gorgeous. He didn’t hold a candle to Trace or anything, but then again, he wasn’t the kind of guy Ash would ever go for. He had short-cropped blonde hair, the muscly build of a former quarterback, hell, maybe he still played sports. She remembered he was a lawyer, but maybe he still threw a mean football in his spare time. The point was, he looked good. He had the double dimpled smile and all. His face looked like a work of art, carved from stone. He’d actually worn a suit and it looked expensive.
He and Sonja looked like money. They looked like they’d just rolled
in it but fully clothed since they couldn’t stand to touch each other anymore.
Ash swallowed hard. She stiffened until she noticed the way the guy’s eyes immediately wondered condescendingly all over the gym before they lit on Jenny Farn’s breast. It was subtle, but there was no mistaking the way the guy moved away from Sonja like she was poison, and went to mingle, easily with fake charm, around the gym. His eyes kept darting back to Jenny’s tits the whole time.
“Wow. What a piece of work,” Trace said under his breath.
“I know. He’s looking at everyone’s tits but Sonja’s.”
“I’d be happy about that,” Maggie said as she shrank back beside Ash. “But I think it’s kind of sad. I mean, you can tell they’re clearly miserable together. Who wouldn’t be, yoked to her?”
“He’s no prize,” Trace said. “He looks like it, but I know that type. The asshole type. My sister dated a few guys like that. I wasn’t above kicking their ass when they treated her like shit.”
“Really?” Maggie grinned. She flashed Ash a thumbs up. “I like him. He’s definitely a keeper.” She lowered her voice. “Do you think he’d kick Sonja’s ass for us?”
Ash snorted. “No. Unfortunately, she’s not a dude.” She went cold all over and she knew without turning her gaze that Sonja had spotted them. “Oh fuck,” she breathed. “God, Maggie, she’s coming this way.” She was glad that she had Trace beside her. Maggie tucked in so close she was practically on top of Ash.
“This is not happening. She looks like she’s on the warpath.”
Ash shuddered and winced at the same time. Even Trace’s arm wasn’t as comforting as it had been a second before. The entire gym felt cold and constricted like it had wrapped itself around her and was cutting off her oxygen supply. She felt like every single person in the room was staring at them, that time itself stopped, but that was ridiculous. No one was looking at them. People laughed and talked and mingled all around the place. Devon kept right on playing one horrible tune after another. Clearly, he’d decided that a cheesy wedding playlist was the best way to go.
No one noticed her at all in the corner. That is, until Sonja sauntered over, all smiles and fake sweetness and poison under that hideous coating of fake sugar.
Not even Trace could protect her from the wave of malice that Sonja shot her way. As though she and Maggie did something wrong just by existing. God, can’t anyone just grow up? High school was ten years ago!
Ash stood straight. She refused to cower in front of Sonja, even when her pretty dark eyes shot daggers her way. Her makeup was flawless and tasteful. She actually could have been pretty if she wasn’t literally such a frigid bitch. Pretty sure that statement was invented just for her.
Sonja’s eyes swept over Ash. She looked her up and down and dismissed her just as fast. Ash felt a growl form in her throat when Sonja’s eyes fixed on Trace. Her mouth literally dropped open. Ash nearly whirled to see what Trace was doing. What the hell could surprise Sonja? Maybe the fact that Ash had a man at all, but the way Sonja was breathing said that wasn’t it at all. She looked… excited. Like, really excited. Horribly excited.
Oh fucking no. What the hell is going on?
“You guys!” Sonja practically yelled the gym down. Her voice actually echoed in the confined space. Because Sonja apparently carried that much weight, Devon paused the music. The last notes faded away and silence settled over the gym. At least a hundred sets of eyes turned their way. How the hell had she failed to notice how full the gym really was and how many people entered since she got there?
Maggie let out a gasp beside her and Ash went rigid. The weird thing was, Trace did too. She felt him freeze beside her, straighten like someone shoved a rod up his spine.
“Oh my god! It’s- it’s Trace Russell. What the heck are you doing here?” Sonja’s eyes flicked back to Ash. “And with Ash Johnson of all people?” Sonja’s lips curled up in distaste when she said Ash’s name like it left a disgusting taste in her mouth.
Ash wished it did. She searched her mind for something witty and snappy to say, for some kind of comeback, but she came up short. She totally blanked out. “Do you- do you know each other?” she asked carefully.
Sonja scoffed, because why not? She was Sonja and she’d always acted like she owned the whole world. “Who doesn’t know Trace Russell?” She waved the crowds over and by then, a circle had formed around them. People were practically climbing over each other to get a better look.
What the actual fuck?
Trace’s hand tightened around her arm and when she chanced a glance at him, she was shocked to see he’d gone completely pale. He looked far worse than he had the day before at her parent’s house when he was ill. He looked like he might actually puke. Good, that would serve them right, but what the hell was going on?
“It is Trace! Oh my god!” Lia Farthing said from a foot away. She pressed in and produced her cell out of the pocket of her black pants. “Can I get a selfie?”
“Trace! Oh my god, man, I go to your stores all the time. You’re a huge inspiration. You’re part of the whole reason I decided to ditch the way I was living and get in shape.” That came from Shane Hindle, a guy who had been probably fifty pounds heavier in high school. He was much leaner and did indeed look fit.
His comment started an entire firestorm around them.
“Is that really the Trace Russell?”
“The guy who owns the health food stores?”
“No, not health food. They sell supplements and vitamins and stuff.”
“Like Trace, Trace? The billionaire Trace?’
“Oh my god, I need to get a picture. He was voted most eligible bachelor in Minnesota two years ago.”
“He’s so dreamy. Look at those eyes. And that hair. Oh my god!”
“Who did he come with? Ashton? It can’t be her…”
“Trace? What’s he doing here? Is he the speaker for this evening?”
“How did they hire him?”
“Why’s he talking to Ash Bash and Saggy Maggie?’
Ash had been plagued by nightmares about this damn reunion, but she never imagined that her entire world could implode so easily or so quickly. She stood there with the world’s dumbest look on a face that always could be read like an open book. She had no idea what was happening. Sonja must have got it wrong. But… but why would another person have the same first name?
Sonja’s eyes went wide, and her lips curled into that horrible smile that Ash knew and remembered so well. Her hope for humanity drained away as Sonja lifted one terrible blood-red nail and pointed at her.
“She doesn’t know. Oh my god, she doesn’t even know who she’s with!”
It took a matter of seconds before the whole gym erupted in gales of laughter. People pointed at her and exclaimed how stupid she was, the girl who was dating a billionaire and didn’t even know it. It was like high school all over again, but worse. Because she’d never, ever, been the brunt of a joke that her entire fucking class was in on.
Ash gasped for breath. She felt like a fish that had been tossed out of water and was slowly dying because it couldn’t get the air it needed to survive. She did the first thing she could think of. She ran.
She tore through the throng of people gathered around, through those already taking photos of Trace and of her horrified, stunned expression. She raced out of the gym, and down the hall. Even in her heels, she ran like the devil was chasing her.
Go figure, he was.
“Ash! Ash!” She heard her name, over and over, but she ignored it and burst out of the school, into the dark night. “Ash!” A scalding hand closed around her bicep and tugged her around. She struggled to break free.
“Leave me alone! Oh my god, leave me alone!” Tears leaked out of her eyes and washed down her cheeks in painfully hot torrents. She didn’t even make an attempt to brush them away or stem the tide. “You ruined my life. You’ve probably ruined my career. You ruined everything!”
Trace stood in front o
f her, his face blurred by her tears, but she saw him anyway. She saw the devastation written all over his features.
“You lied to me!” She screamed, aware that her voice was growing dangerously hoarse. “You fucking lied to me and now look at what happened! You made me look like a complete fucking idiot!”
Through the roar of blood pumping through her ears so furious there might as well have been steam coming out of them, she heard the dimmer roar of the crowd surging through the front doors, phones raised to record the whole complete meltdown she was having on the sidewalk.
Trace put out a hand. “Come on. Let’s get out of here. I can explain everything.”
“No!” She drew back like that hand was a viper. It might well have been. Trace made her believe in herself. He made her want something more than what she had. He made her wish and hope for a future, against her better judgment. It wasn’t real. None of it was real. “You played me! You used me! Is this funny to you? Do you get off on ruining people’s lives?”
“No! God, Ash, just- please!” Trace tried again to take her hand. She ignored it, stepped forward, and swung. Her fist connected with his mouth and it was probably his shock at the fact that she actually hit him, and no, it sure as hell wasn’t in any way sexual, that made him stumble back. She watched as he fumbled against the uneven sidewalk and fell flat on his ass.
She whipped around to face the crowd of onlookers, dismayed that almost all of them were indeed recording the entire thing. The whole fucking thing would probably be viral in a matter of minutes.
And she was so past caring.
She was so past being defenseless.
She was so past not being able to stand up for herself.
She was just done with it all.