God damn carpet.
Sam wanted to hear the heavy sound of his feverish pacing, and the carpet was preventing that. You couldn’t get a good pace going without the clomp clomp clomp of feet hitting the floor. It wasn’t just the pacing that he was doing feverishly. He was also checking his phone approximately every three seconds.
Nothing.
Pace. Look at phone.
Nothing.
Pace. Look at phone.
Nothing.
Images careened through his head like the boulder from Indiana Jones, unbidden and unwelcome and definitely about to ruin someone’s day. Randy taking Ash’s clothes off, kissing up her neck and along her collarbone. Ash slipping down to her knees. Randy bending her over his bed.
Sam wanted to scratch his eyes out. If he thought bashing his head against the wall would drive out the images, he’d do it. He wanted to scream, to throw something against the wall.
Pace. Look at phone.
Nothing.
Ash shouldn’t have to do this!
All he had to do was seal the deal with Veronica. If he hadn’t psyched himself out, they wouldn’t be in this mess, and Ash wouldn’t be losing her virginity before she was ready. Their parents and friends would be fine.
Why did I have to fuck everything up?
He should drive over there and stop her from making the biggest mistake of her life. She laughed at the thought of Randy being her true love. She knew Randy wasn’t right for her. But then why was she doing it?
Oh, right. Because I fucked up.
He should call Veronica. It might not be too late. If what Ash said was true, then Veronica may still be down to hook up.
If only I wasn’t such a bitch. He looked at the clock on his phone. And if it wasn’t already too late for Ash.
No, he was being too harsh on himself. It wasn’t nerves or shyness or embarrassment that stopped him from going all the way with Veronica. It was how he felt about Ash. No…it was the question of how he felt about Ash.
Why did he have to overthink everything? Just the thought—just the idea—of having feelings for Ash was enough to stop him from getting with the girl he’d been fantasizing about for years.
Sam shook his head and continued pacing. Preoccupation with his inner demons caused him not to look where he was stepping, and his foot caught on the TV stand. A stack of DVD cases bounced and toppled over, scattering on the floor with a clatter. With an annoyed grunt, he dropped to his knees to clean it up. His eyes caught on an eye-wateringly bright DVD case. It belonged to a cheesy rom-com Ash brought over for them to watch. It joined the rest of them in the stack beside the TV, then Sam resumed his pacing. His gaze drifted back to the bight pink DVD case and Ash’s words from before came back to him: Not talking about stuff and keeping secrets are cheap plot devices for teen dramas.
He almost laughed. Ash assumed he had been asking for advice about what he should do about Veronica, but really he was talking about his fledgling feelings for her. Ash gave him the answer he needed, but he was too chickenshit to act on it then.
The Tercel started on the first try.
You could get to most places in Elsbury in less than ten minutes. Randy’s father was rich, however, so they lived on an estate far, far away from where Sam and his mom lived. It should take Sam thirteen minutes to get there. He did it in eight.
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A heavy, locked door prevented him from barging in like he wanted. The damn thing looked twelve feet tall, so he doubted his ability to knock it down. Tamping down his growing frustration, he pounded on the door.
A middle-aged man with salt-and-pepper hair wearing a crisp suit opened it. The man’s eyes flitted over Sam and the Tercel, and by the time his gaze got back to Sam, a small sneer curved his lips.
The sneer filled Sam’s vision. He was tired of Randy Masters getting what he wanted and getting away with being a douche. Sam didn’t know Randy's dad, but he imagined the man was the same kind of slimy, smug bastard that his son was.
“Yes?”
“I need to see Ash Williams. Is she here?”
The man’s eyes didn’t move, his face passive and emotionless. “I suggest phoning her if you need to get in touch.” He made to close the door, but Sam put his foot in the way.
“It’s important. I need to see her.”
From somewhere behind the man, Ash's voice echoed through the hallways. Was that a scream?
Randy’s dad pressed the door against Sam’s foot and opened his mouth, no doubt to utter some thinly veiled threat, but Sam’s fist slammed into that smug sneer. The only sound Randy's dad made then was a meaty thump as he hit the marble floor.
No time for this bullshit.
“Ash!” He scanned the foyer, flexing his hand and shaking it. He’d never knocked anyone out before, and he was unprepared for how much it fucking hurt. A call ricocheted down the hall to the left of the massive staircase that took up most of the foyer.
Ash sounded scared, or maybe hurt.
He careened down the hallway, bouncing off the ornate walls at each turn, following the sound of smooth jazz. The floors, the walls, and even the ceiling were all some fancy, richly textured wood. He felt like the scope in an oak tree’s colonoscopy. He rounded the corner into what he’d call the living room. He wasn’t sure what it was called in a mansion. Study? Family room? His eyes raked over the room, searching for Ash, and he spotted a pair of shoes behind a large leather couch.
A body.
Leaping over a small table, Sam dropped to his knees beside the prone form.
An angry-looking lump grew from Randy’s forehead, a rivulet of blood trickling from it. Shards of glass haloed his head, white with an indiscernible blue pattern. A dozen feet away there was another explosion of glass. Sam could smell the liquor effervescing into the air. Not stopping to check Randy's pulse, Sam jumped up and called out for Ash again. She could be anywhere.
This house is too fucking big.
A sound like a squeak came from near the window, and the drapes rustled like someone was hiding behind them. In his haste to open the curtains, he ripped the rod right off the wall. “Ash!”
“Sam!” She threw herself into his arms, tears streaming down her cheeks and hair in total disarray. She was also completely naked.
Sam shunted aside all the scenarios of why Ash was naked and crying and Randy was concussed on the floor.
“I knew you would come.”
His arms wrapped around her, and he felt the shudders wracking her body. “Why were you hiding in the curtains?”
“I think they’re called drapes.” Her voice was muffled by his flannel.
“What’s the difference?”
Ash sniffled, and when she spoke, her voice came out like she was talking in her sleep. “Rich people have funny names for everything. Cookies aren’t cookies. They’re biscuits.”
“That’s British people, not rich people.” That was weird even for Ash. She seemed…off. What had happened here?
“Same difference…” Her voice trailed off, and she rubbed her cheek against his flannel, her expression one of rapt pleasure.
“Ash, are you…high?”
“Ugh. Probably.” Her cheek didn’t stop caressing. “Shithead over there tried to date rape me.”
“Jesus, Ash! Are you okay?”
“I’m fine. He got more than he was expecting…”
“So…does that mean…you didn’t…?”
Instead of answering, her hands slid down his back, down and around his hips and back up his chest, to his neck, along his jawline, up past his ears, and through his hair. He started to ask what she was doing, but her fingers slipped into his open mouth. An expression of orgasmic ecstasy overcame her.
He pulled his head away. “Blech! What are you d—”
She silenced him with her lips. Her tongue slid across his own and she moaned into his mouth, her whole body shuddering with ecstasy.
Sam was stunned. Both by the sudden change of events and the overwhelming response of his body. He ached to return her kiss, to wrap his arms around her and lay her down on the couch.
A small whine slipped from Ash as he pulled away from her. “No, come back. Your lips are so soft…”
He shook his head. “Trust me, I really want to.”
A low growl came from her throat, and she leaned back in, her teeth sharp and white through an almost feral grin.
“But not like this.”
Large green eyes stared into his, so deep and dark he wanted to dive into them. Her pupils pulsed like a camera lens trying to focus. “You always were a pussy.”
Then she collapsed in his arms.