Ashley and I were sitting next to each other, but the way the metal chair legs fanned out, I couldn’t sit close enough to touch her hand or put an arm around her, so I didn’t have to fight with myself about whether or not to do that. We were sitting in a circle, so our chairs were turned slightly toward one another’s—enough so I could see her out of the corner of my eye, even when I was looking at someone else. Despite the air between us, I could feel her energy like heat from a campfire—warm and crackling with possibility.
As my buddy Judd told a rambling story about a fishing trip ruined by black flies, I felt Ashley’s eyes on me, so I turned to look at her. The way she smiled at me made my pulse quicken, and I was suddenly hopeful this kind-of date would end like a real one.
“So, Ashley,” Judd’s wife, Reina, finally said, “what do you do?”
I always found “What do you do?” to be a rude question. It was perfectly reasonable to want to know what a person did for a living, but it always felt judgmental to me—a way to ascertain if that person was worth your time. Reina was nice, and she had probably heard that fishing story a hundred times and was eager to change the subject, but it still felt inelegant.
“I’m an actress,” Ashley said. And I knew what was coming next.
“Oh! How exciting,” Reina enthused. “What might have I seen you in?” It was a reasonable question, but also a loaded one. But Ashley took it in stride.
“So far I’ve only just gotten mostly guest-star roles on shows,” Ashley said brightly. “I was ‘Hot Mom’ on Modern Family, a bailiff on Law & Order, a woman with an inflamed gall bladder on Grey’s Anatomy.”
“That sounds like so much fun!” Reina gushed, but I could tell by Ashley’s thin smile that it felt like a dig. Reina was a litigator—she had already established that—and to call someone else’s career “fun” was akin to saying it was trivial.
“Those jobs are super hard to get,” I said, remembering what Ashley had said last night at Louisa’s, how she never knew what to say when people asked, “What have I seen you in?” because “there hadn’t been that much.” I knew her business was hard. My aunt had told me about the hordes of actors who came out for auditions, and how only a lucky few would ever be able to support themselves on their acting.
“Are you constantly going on auditions?” Reina asked, and I felt a rise of irritation. Why was she grilling her?
“I had an audition just this morning,” Ashley said. “That Nathan’s aunt got me.”
“Oh! What for?” Reina asked. And I was curious, too. But I didn’t want to put her on the spot.
“It’s bad luck to talk about auditions,” I cut in, parroting what Ashley had told me on the phone when I spontaneously, accidentally asked her on a date. I didn’t bring her here to answer a bunch of obnoxious questions and wanted to give her a graceful way out.
“That’s true,” she said, then rewarded me with that smile again. “Can you excuse me? I have to go to the ladies’。”
I stood as she got up. “I’ll show you where it is,” I offered.
“It’s OK, I see it,” she said, then went up on tippy-toes and planted a warm, lingering kiss on my lips. It caught me completely off guard, and I silently cursed the stinky blue cheese–dipped buffalo wing I’d just eaten. “Be right back.”
Emboldened by that kiss, I paid for our drinks and intercepted her coming out of the bathroom. She was so crazy sexy in her jeans and boots that I couldn’t stop myself from kissing her again. “Want to get out of here?” I asked, and she responded by giving me her address. I followed her most of the way, but as we exited the freeway, my optimism got the best of me （I don’t have a condom!）， so I made a pit stop quick enough to blame on a wrong turn, because you don’t want to be presumptuous about these things, but I’d be a fool if I wasn’t prepared.
I double-checked the address as I strode up her front walk, then knocked lightly on her front door. I figured she’d be waiting for me right on the other side of it, but after thirty seconds, when she didn’t come, I knocked a little harder.
Just as I was starting to panic that I had the wrong house, or she had changed her mind, the door creaked open. But instead of inviting me in, she slipped out to join me on the porch, closing the door behind her.
“Sorry,” she said, taking my hand and giving it a squeeze. She looked rattled, and I was suddenly second-guessing my pit stop.