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“No. Not anymore.” There’s a ragged edge to his voice.
Ash flushes at the sound. It’s the tequila. Has to be. The heat of it spreads through her like a sun, warming her insides, her heart.
“My turn.” Nathaniel twists on his stool to look at her. “What are you afraid of?”
She ponders it. Takes another sip. “I’m afraid of nachos.”
He barks a laugh, looks surprised at the sound, schools his expression.
She continues. “They’re pointy and comprised of an amalgamation of sauces and shapes and textures that can’t be discerned.”
Nathaniel stares at her. Blinks.
She draws back, narrowing her eyes. “What?” she asks. “You’re looking at me like I’m—”
“The most fascinating person I know?”
It catches her off guard. Jettisons her defenses. Steals her breath. When was the last time she heard something so beautiful? Has she ever? “Really?”
“Really.”
She places her chin in her palm. Considers him. “I make sense to you now?”
“Yeah.” He dips his chin. “You do.”
Her eyes shut. When she opens them seconds later, the smile’s still on her face.
“That makes you happy,” Nathaniel says, continuing to stare at her. “Why?”
Why? Because she’s always been too much to so many people. Or not enough.
She’s horrified when tears spring to her eyes.
Quickly, blinking fast, she looks away. Oh god. Oh fucking shit. She’s never affected like this. It must be the tequila. This is why Tessie always warns her away from the stuff. One sip, and she loses her marbles.
“Ash?” Nathaniel’s tone is inquisitive, etched with concern.
Two late-night stragglers stroll in, the movement and noisegarnering their attention. A man wearing a frilly white shirt and a bandanna, and a woman with biceps bigger than bowling balls.
“Looks like the party has found us,” she murmurs, relieved at the interruption.
“That’s how Paul Walker died,” the man says. “The government took control of his car and killed him.”
“Joel, you’re embarrassing me,” the woman huffs. “No more conspiracy theories.”
The man, Joel, scoffs. “Oh, twenty years of marriage, and you suddenly think you’re too good for me?”
“Holy shit,” Ash gasp-whispers. She grabs Nathaniel’s bicep. “Are we witnessing a marriage mid-breakup?”
“What are we working with here?” Nathaniel angles closer, voice laced with humor. He grins, causing the corners of his eyes to crinkle.
Ash dips her head. Wills the image to be deleted from her mind. Hotness overload. “We got a guy who looks like a pirate and a woman who looks like she could take him down with her bare hands.”
Ash sinks lower. Squints at the couple.
“Oh, she will,” she predicts. “End of the night, he’s going into the Pacific. And she will claim that insurance money and run off to Bora Bora.”
The man, trying to spin the annoyed woman around on the not-a-dance-floor, backs into Ash’s chair, rocking her forward.
