Page 39 of Off the Rim
He shoots me an odd look, moving past me to unlock his dorm door. "Just come in here and chill for a bit."
Stepping into the space, I feel more awkward than the first time I was in here. Like I don't have a good reason to be here, an excuse I can give myself that makes up for my stupidity.
Ashton gestures to the living space with a small but comfortable looking sofa and coffee table facing a wall of built-in shelves and a mounted television. "You can find us something to watch while I get cleaned up. I'll make it quick."
He leaves me standing in the middle of his dorm apartment, trying not to watch his tight ass in those shorts as he walks away. Before he gets to the bathroom door, he peels his shirt off, exposing his long, lean, sweat glistened torso. When he shoots aglance over his shoulder and finds me watching him, he winks. Fucking winks. What a fucking prick!
It's enough for me to stop staring at him like he'll attack if I blink, and I plop down on the couch, which is as comfortable as it looks. I put the pizza and beer down on the coffee table and find a remote. By the time Ashton returns, wearing nothing but a pair of mother-fucking grey sweatpants, that goddamned sick bastard, I've settled onTed Lasso. I've seen it several times before, but it's always a winner.
"Good choice. I love that show."
I smile and press play, trying to show more interest in the pizza and television than the dick print that I can see in my peripherals. Maybe it's my intrusive thoughts again, but I'm pretty sure it's looking at me.
The couch is no longer comfortable. It's too small for two men our size to be sitting on together. Ashton looks like he's sitting in a child's seat, he's so tall. And my wider body is taking up too much space.
He's too close. He smells like a sexy spa candle. And his dick outline is pointing at me.Rude.
Clearing my throat, I notice he hasn't helped himself to the beers, so I offer him one. It's my attempt at acting casual.
The look of pure disgust on Ashton's face when he takes a swig of beer is hilarious. "Oh, come on. It's not that bad."
"What is it? Or what's it supposed to be?" He looks down into the can. "I think mine might have gone bad. It tastes like carbonated piss that’s been filtered through a bunch of dirty, loose change.”
The mouthful of beer that I just swallowed nearly comes out my nose. "That's… descriptive," I say, laughing so hard tears are welling up.
He's laughing too, and waving his hands emphatically. "I'm serious dude, that is foul. You decide to have a cheat day, and that's what you choose?" He shudders and sets the can down, pushing it far away from himself. "Let me see what I've got."
Ashton returns from his small kitchen with a few cans of hard seltzer.
I chuckle. "We gonna get white girl wasted?"
"YOLO," he says sarcastically.
He hands me one, and I crack it open. To his credit, it's actually pretty good. It's on the sweeter side, but the citrus flavor is refreshing and washes down the salty grease of the pizza perfectly. Pulling the can back, I look at the nutrition facts. It's surprisingly low calorie and not high in sugar.
"This is witchcraft."
"You're welcome. Please never drink the piss water again. I'm concerned for your health."
"Ha. Noted."
We zone out watching TV for a while, and I relax into being so close to the guy I considered an enemy less than a week ago. He's grown on me this week, and after witnessing what I did today, I think I owe him an apology.
My chance comes when the episode ends, and instead of leaving, I accept another drink from Ashton. After cracking it open and chugging half of it for courage, I turn to face him.
"I owe you an apology," I say.
Ashton cocks his head. "We already talked about that. It's fine."
"I'm not talking about punching you. Or the… other thing that shall not be mentioned when there's any sort of alcohol involved." I hold back a grin at the way he smirks. He's still so proud of himself for that. For the way he took my cock so fucking good, while I absolutely annihilated his throat. I'm still a little in awe of how well he handled it. I want to ask questions I don't want the answers to, like how much practice he's had. There's no way in hell that was his first time.
"I'm talking about the way I've been treating you. I haven't been kind, or very fair."
"I think I deserve worse, Marcus. But thanks for saying it, anyway."
"You're not the one that beat me up, or the one that reported it."
"No. But I was there, and I didn't do anything. I just…froze. I couldn't make my body or my mouth move to make it stop." He turns so he's facing me completely, pulling one long leg up so his knee is against his chest. His body language is guarded, like he's protecting himself. His deep brown eyes are soulful and sincere. "I didn't know Kent was going to report you. I would have stopped it before it happened. He was always an impulsive asshole and really has an issue with not getting his way. Despite what you looked like walking away from that fight, that black eye you gave him let people around him know he'd been bested. And I made it worse, because when I finally found my voice, I called him on needing to have two people hold you down to get in any hits. I was so pissed. At him, at the other guys. Mostly myself fornot speaking up and preventing it from escalating like that in the first place."
