Page 25 of Your Pace Or Mine

Sounds like a plan. What time? I’ll bring dessert and you can order pizza.

But don’t keep me out past curfew. I have to run early tomorrow morning.

I can work with that.

Ashley shows up with fancy cupcakes and peruses the streaming options, finally deciding on The Princess Bride. Again. It was always her go-to pick after a bad breakup back in the day. She said Inigo’s desire for vengeance was relatable, but I suspect true love is what keeps her going back.

“Haven’t you already seen this like a thousand times?” I ask as I bring two cans of seltzer out from the kitchen. “You know, they’ve made a few more movies since the eighties.”

“But none as good as this one,” she says with a smile. “You invited me, so I’m picking the movie.”

I’m not sure that’s how it works, but I let her win. We settle in to eat while we watch. Ashley insists on quoting along with the actors; it grates on my nerves when my sisters do it, but on her it’s oddly endearing. I can’t remember the last time I watched a movie without doing something else at the same time—skimming social media feeds, replying to work emails, texting, adding to my to-do list. For that matter, I don’t remember the last time I watched a movie with a friend or even hung out casually with anyone other than Ashley. There’s Seth, but we work together. Other than that, I mostly have school and work friends that I see intermittently, usually at a wedding or someone’s milestone birthday. But I don’t go over to someone’s apartment to hang out. I say as much to Ashley when we pause the movie to put the leftover pizza away.

“But you always seem busy, Bash. What do you do with your evenings?”

I’m somewhat at a loss. “I work. If I’m not working, I message someone on a dating app and maybe we meet up. That’s most of my social life.”

She has a pitying look on her face that I don’t like. Just because it’s not her way of doing things doesn’t mean it’s bad.

“That sounds lonely.”

I try to joke it off. “Well, that’s life in our thirties, right? No one has friends like we did back in university. Do you ever go over to a friend’s place and do nothing nowadays?”

“Sure, Laurel and I do that all the time.” Her lips turn into a slight pout. “Well, we used to. She’s always busy with Cal now.”

She rallies and smiles like she’s fine with this change, but I can see it bothers her. Laurel and Ashley always seemed tight to me. I never figured her friend was the type to ditch everyone for a man, but I’ve observed enough of other people’s relationships to know the haze of new love can take over everything for a while. That’s one of the many reasons I don’t do romantic commitments.

When we go back to the living room, we sit closer together and I put an arm around Ashley. “I’m sure she still needs you. Your friendship will adjust. Give it some time.”

“Sure, of course,” she replies as though she’s unconvinced, then grabs the remote. “Let’s get back to the Pit of Despair.”

We watch the rest of the movie without talking, Ashley curled into my side. I wonder if I should shift away to put some distance between us, but I don’t. After The Princess Bride is over, she puts on another romantic comedy, even though she looks like she’s about to crash. I’m tempted to call her a car, but I have a sense from her melancholy words earlier that she needs this right now.

Halfway through the second movie that I’m only half watching, she’s fully asleep on my shoulder. I leave her there, eventually dozing off myself. She wakes up as the credits start rolling, yawning but still snuggled against my side.

“Oh, wow, did I fall asleep? I missed the ending.”

“It was quite riveting. They declared their love for one another and then were kidnapped by mobsters and brutally murdered. Their bodies were never found.”

She huffs, then murmurs, “I should get going. I need to call an Uber.”

I look at her bleary face, and the words fall out. “You should stay over. You’re tired.”

Even as tired as she is, she manages to give me a deeply skeptical look. “You know that’s a terrible idea, Sebastian.”

“I didn’t mean it like that. I’m not trying to lure you into bed with me when you’re clearly exhausted. You can sleep in my room. I’ll take the couch. I’ve got extra toothbrushes.” I don’t mention that I keep a few around for overnight guests.

She hesitates, considering the offer. “But I’ve got⁠—”

“Yeah, I know. I’ll set my alarm and you set yours so you can go run at dawn like the weirdo you are.”

“Eight o’clock isn’t the crack of dawn,” she scoffs, but apparently she’s too tired to fight me on this. She gets up and I follow her into the bedroom to grab some sleepwear, then leave her on own like the gentleman I very much am not. I settle in on the pullout couch, trying not to think about how nice it was to have her fall asleep on my shoulder.

My alarm chirps at an impossibly early hour for a weekend, but unlike most Saturdays, I’m fresh and energized. It’s almost like staying in and taking it easy is good for you. Who knew?

Ashley’s alarm goes off in the next room, playing Avicii’s “Wake Me Up” at maximum volume, and I roll my eyes at her song choice before rummaging through the fridge to find some breakfast. Minutes later, she reels in surprise to see me placing yogurt and bananas on the counter.

“You didn’t have to get up. I’ll grab an Uber and you can sleep in.”