Metamorphosis

  “So Ash, what are you going to play for us tonight?” asked bimbo #1 who was sitting on the floor by his feet. I didn’t see bimbo #2 around so I thought that maybe she didn’t make the ten p.m. cut list, but a few minutes later she joined her sister-in-sluttiness on the carpet.

  “Because we have some new faces at the party tonight,” he looked up in the direction Evie and I were sitting, “I thought we’d do a little variety, mix it up a bit.”

  For all of my life books, music, and dance had been my only outlets, my only escape from my parents, and they were the things I felt most passionate about. I loved to watch live music, to see the emotion and passion on someone’s fingers, on their lips… it was awe-inspiring to me. I couldn’t wait to hear Ash play and sing, but at the same time I was scared shitless of the feelings it would evoke in me. I had assumed he would be good. I was pretty sure he was good at just about everything he did; he was just one of those guys. However, nothing could have prepared me for how amazingly talented and incredibly sexy he was when he made music. It took every ounce of will in my body to not look at him while he performed. There was no doubt he was extraordinary; I looked around and everyone in that living room, both male and female, was completely mesmerized by Ash’s voice and the music coming from his fingers. I could hear the sex dripping from his voice, radiating from the strings of the guitar.

  At times I could feel him looking at me, like he was singing to me, but I refused to turn in his direction. I was pretty sure that Dylan sensed it as well because several times when I knew Ash was staring, he would tighten his arms around me and nuzzle his face in my neck, leaving behind soft sweet kisses that made me tremble with desire.

  “Alright, I’m going to do one last song and then turn the guitar over to anyone else who wants to play,” Ash announced. “Feel free to join me singing this one.”

  I released a huge breath of air that I had not even realized I was holding. One more song, I could get through one more song. Ash decided to close his set with “Let’s Get It On.” It was if he purposely picked that song to irk me or get under my skin. It felt like he was trying to make fun of me. Of course, everyone else in the room thought it was awesome, they screamed in approval as the opening line left his mouth and most of the room joined him in verse. I cringed and tried to block him out; I didn’t want to give him the pleasure of knowing how he affected me, but I couldn’t take it any longer. I didn’t want to make a scene and walk out the room in the middle of the song, so instead I did the next best thing. I turned around in Dylan’s lap, straddled his legs, and kissed him… hard. And I didn’t break away from his mouth until the song was over.

  Ash received a standing ovation from the intimate crowd and I saw him take an exaggerated bow through my peripheral vision. He then invited anyone else who wanted to play to come up.

  “Do it, Sam. Come on,” Evie nudged me in the side.

  “You play?” Dylan asked. Without lifting my head from his neck, I shook my head no.

  “Oh yes she does, she’s just being modest. She’s really good.” Evie insisted.

  I really did NOT want to play. I was an emotional roller coaster from everything I was feeling about Ash and Dylan, a bit tipsy from several drinks, and was already uncomfortable with the number of strangers in the room. However, with Evie, Dylan, and Jess’ prodding, soon our half of the room was chanting “Scarlett! Scarlett!” I had never been so embarrassed in my life.

  When Ash realized that they were calling for me to go up, he held out the guitar towards me, “By all means, Scarlett. Let’s see what you can do. I can’t wait to hear your rendition of Amazing Grace.” His voice was saturated in sarcasm. God he was an ass.

  Anger raged through me, partly due to his mocking of my innocence and his apparent doubt that I could play, but I was even more infuriated with myself for allowing him to repeatedly upset me. There was just something about him; in having known him for just a few hours, he had stirred feelings inside me that I didn’t know I had. And it scared me to death.

  Fueled by my fury and the alcohol intake, I snatched the acoustic out of his hands and took the chair he had just occupied. I was reeling in my brain about what to play, I wanted to respond to Ash’s not-so-cryptic musical messages with something just as witty. I decided just to sing songs about guys who were dicks, there were more than enough of those to choose from. They didn’t have to relate to Ash particularly, but enough man-hating that he’d get the point.

  “Hello everyone,” I began nervously. “I’m Scarlett, a friend of Jess.’ I’m new here in Houston, just moved in yesterday so I want to thank you for showing me such a good time tonight. I hope you enjoy.”

  I took a deep breath and began with a song I was certain most everyone would recognize, Pat Benatar’s “Heartbreaker.” I felt a little shaky at first, but I refused to let my fears get the best of me. By the middle of the first chorus, I felt much more comfortable and then I really let it go. Many of the girls in the room joined me in singing the parts they knew, well it was more like screaming, but I loved it nonetheless because I knew they were having fun with it. I debated internally on whether or not to look at Ash when I sang. On one hand, I wanted him to be clear that this was indeed an answer to his earlier performance and I also secretly hoped that I could make him feel just a fraction of the frustration that he bestowed upon me, both in my mind and body. However, the other part of me knew that if I locked my eyes with his, there was a good chance that I’d completely lose my train of thought and stop mid-song. I opted to play it safe and not throw any more fuel on the fire; he knew my song selection was no accident.

  I played a couple more songs that fit nicely in my guys-are-jerks-palooza before wrapping it up. “Again, thanks for the hospitality,” I said before I began to play my final song for the night, “You Oughta Know.” This was one of my favorite man-hater songs and I thought it was a perfect way to end. Even though I had never experienced the things written about in the song, the lyrics had always struck me as so raw, so real. I could feel the hurt… the anger… the bitterness caused by rejection and being replaced. It was my fear of all fears ~ putting myself out there for someone only to have them not want me in return. I guess that was true for most people, no one welcomed rejection.

  I pushed the psycho-self-analytic thoughts to the back of my head and focused on the song. The room was exceptionally quiet and all eyes were focused intently on me. I saw many faces light up as they recognized the song with the first few lines. There were several hoots and hollers when I seductively asked about giving blow jobs in cinemas; I was pretty sure Dylan was one of them. I had successfully kept myself from even glancing Ash’s way for the entire time I had sung and played; however, I couldn’t leave well enough alone. Midway through the second verse I looked over to where he was sitting and locked our eyes just in time to ask, “Are you thinking of me when you fuck her?” His eyes darkened and I could feel the heat from his desire across the room. Immediately I turned away from him so that I could finish the song and not melt into a puddle of shameless lust.

  Relieved I had made it through the impromptu session and exhausted from the previous 48 hours, I told Evie I was ready to go back to the house. Jess and Ash decided to return home as well since it was a little past one o’clock. Saying goodbye to Dylan was a little awkward with Ash standing a few feet away. I wasn’t sure what had happened to Ash’s friends from earlier, I had honestly expected at least one, if not both of them, to follow him to his bed, but neither were anywhere around. Dylan and I exchanged cell numbers and he brushed several light kisses across my lips before I walked away.

  Chapter 5

  When we got back to the house, Meg was sitting on the couch in her pajamas eating directly from a tub of ice cream.

  “Good, y’all are back. I can go to sleep now,” she said as she stood up and went to put away the ice cream. She kissed all four of us on the cheek and said goodnight before she disappeared behind her bedroom door. I hadn’t even realized she wasn’t
still at the party, I thought we had left her there.

  “When did she get home and does she always wait up for you?” Evie asked laughing.

  “Yeah, she’s got this motherly-protective thing over us. Meg’s really not much of a partier. She’ll stop in say hi to everyone, but she would rather be hanging out at the house. She always has to know when we’ve made it to our final destination of the night if we don’t stay here. She’s a worrier,” Jess explained. “Now, let’s get some sleep. I’m tired.”

  “Come on, Sam. You definitely need some rest. We all do,” Evie said to me and I followed her into the room, doing my best to ignore Ash’s presence in the house.

  After the three of us had washed our faces, brushed our teeth and changed into night clothes, we all climbed into Jess’ king sized bed. Evie and Jess both fell asleep instantly, they never said a word once their heads hit the pillows. Even though I was physically and mentally drained, I could not fall asleep. I laid there staring at the ceiling for what seemed like hours, but a look at the clock told me it had only been thirty minutes. I could not get my brain to shut down. The evening’s events replayed over and over in my mind… Ash and Dylan(,) and Ash and Dylan(,) and Ash… it just wouldn’t stop. I decided a glass of milk, if they had any, might help so I quietly got out of the bed and tiptoed into the kitchen. I tried to be as discreet as possible so I wouldn’t disturb anyone, but as I leaned over to put the milk jug back in the refrigerator, a male voice startled me. Actually, it scared the absolute shit out of me.

  “Why does she call you Sam?”

  “What?!?” I hissed as I flung my head around.

  Ash was standing in the entrance to the kitchen, his hair was still wet from the shower and his face was cleanly shaven. He was only wearing a pair of plaid pajama pants that hung sinfully low on his hips. I just about died. There was nothing I could do but gawk at the near-perfect male specimen standing a mere three feet in front of me. I ran my eyes over the entirety of his body and admired the muscular definition in his shoulders, chest, and abs. If I had thought a dressed Ash was breathtaking, than a half-naked one was heart-stopping. Every angry and negative thought that had passed my mind earlier in the night disappeared instantly. The look he gave me was full of hunger. And I wanted to be eaten.

  “I asked why Evie calls you Sam,” he repeated. He then looked down to the drink in my hands and chuckled, “Do you always drink other people’s milk?”

  “When they’ve told me to make myself at home, I do,” I snapped at him. “And the other is a long story and not a very interesting one at that.”

  I walked closer to him as he was blocking my exit from the kitchen and cocked my head as if to ask him to move.

  “I don’t have anywhere to be anytime soon,” he said standing his ground in the walkway.

  I rolled my eyes at him and thought if I just ignored him I could escape the conversation. I was still pissed at him for being such a jerk at the party(,) and I didn’t trust myself to spend time alone with him. The effects of the alcohol had long since worn off, but the sexual frustration that had been stirred up by both him and Dylan earlier in the night still pulsed throughout my body. I didn’t want to do anything I’d regret the next day, and I thought I had endured enough excitement for my first night out. However, when standing mere inches from him, waiting for him to move out of my way, I became keenly aware of how thin the material of my cami and boy shorts pj set was when I felt the heat from his body radiating on my skin. My pulse was racing once again and I was certain my hard nipples were visible through the cotton, but knew if I shifted my sight down to inspect the situation, his vision would follow. And I didn’t want that… right?

  Before I had time to think up another excuse to avoid his company, he grabbed my hand, pulled me to the kitchen table, and guided me into a chair. My first instinct was to fight him, yank my hand out of his grasp and tell him to go to hell, but the jolt of electricity that shot through my body when his skin touched mine kept me silent. Earlier when I was first introduced to Ash, I thought that my brain and body reacted the way they did because I was overly excited to finally be meeting members of the male species and it didn’t hurt that he was drop-dead gorgeous. However, after meeting all of the guys at the party and kissing Dylan tonight, I knew our attraction/connection was different somehow.

  “So… Sam?” he asked again, determined to make me explain.

  “Okay, okay,” I began, “It’s really nothing. I have this weird dislike for nicknames, always have. I don’t mind calling other people nicknames if that’s what they prefer, but I’ve never liked to be called something other than my name.”

  “Why?” Ash interrupted.

  “I’m not sure really, I guess because I feel like they are overused and undervalued.”

  He cocked his head at me as if he wanted me to continue.

  “For example, look at the five of us in this house right now. Your full name is Ashton but the majority of people call you Ash. Evie is actually Evelyn, Jess is truly Jessica, and I’m assuming Meg is a Megan.

  “The most common nicknames for people are a shortened version of their full name, like with the four of you. My name shortened is Scar,” I wrinkled my nose. “When most people hear Scar they either think of a physical marking associated with a bad memory and lots of pain or Simba’s evil uncle that had Moufassa killed so he could be the Lion King. Neither of those are really the image I’m going for.”

  For the first time I heard Ash laugh a sincere, whole-hearted laugh, and it was a sweet, sweet sound in my ears that warmed my entire body.

  “Other types of nicknames include those that are terms of endearment and those that are used to make fun of someone. It’s obvious why I don’t like the latter of the two, I’m not a hateful person and don’t want to make others feel bad about themselves. And as for all of the beautifuls, honeys, sugar pies, sweeties… believe me, I could go on for hours… I just hear it so much I feel like they’ve lost their meaning, ya know? People just call each other those names to have a nickname to call each other. I don’t know; I just don’t get it.

  “So anyways, one day in junior high, Evie and I had this exact discussion that we are having now, and she made it her mission to find a nickname I would like. For over a week, she tried out different names on me… it must’ve been a thousand. When finally one day she was at my house looking at some school forms I had left on the table, and my initials S.A.M., Scarlett Alexandria MacGregor, were written across the top. By this point my resolve was weakening and I felt bad rejecting her suggestions day after day. So I agreed to Sam, with the one caveat being that she’s the only person that gets to call me that. And thus Sam, my evil alter ego was born,” I said as I finished the story.

  “Well, I’m sorry… I mean, I’m glad I asked,” he said teasingly.

  “Oh shut up… I warned you it was long and boring!” I retorted. Then without thinking I leaned over and brushed back a strand of his hair that had fallen in front of his eyes. He caught my hand as I tried to pull it back and pressed my fingertips to his lips.

  “Come to my bed with me, Scarlett?” his eyes pleaded with mine.

  “Excuse me? Are you crazy?” I blurted out. Did I hear him correctly? Was he really asking me to have sex with him? And why was I actually considering it?

  “No, no… not like that. I promise it won’t be like that,” he said running his fingers through his thick wavy hair in frustration. “Sorry, that came out wrong.”

  He looked at me and said earnestly, “I’m going to be blunt with you, Scarlett. I’m not sure what it is about you, but from the moment I saw you in the living room earlier tonight, I can’t get you out of my head.” He paused as he searched for what he wanted to say. “I don’t even know how to explain it; I’m pretty sure you feel something between us too, at least I hope you do. I just want to talk to you, get to know you. Look, I’d be lying if I said I didn’t want to touch you, to hold you close to me, but I’m not going to take advantage of you. I swea
r. I just want to lie down and be comfortable; we can stay on top the covers, draw a line down the middle of the bed… whatever. I just want to get as much of you as I can before you go home tomorrow so that maybe I can figure out what the hell it is you are doing to me.” He smiled, using those dimples to charm me. As if that was necessary. In my mind, I was already lying naked in his bed. “I know this sounds crazy, but please, come to my room with me?”

  I was dumbfounded; I didn’t believe this kind of thing happened in real life. I never in a million years thought someone who looked like Ash would be saying those words to me hours after meeting, much less on my first night of my free life. It was like I was dreaming. There was never any chance I was going to say no to him and I was pretty sure he knew it too. “Well since you said please…” I stood up and grabbed his hand and allowed him to lead me down the hall and into his room.

  Ash’s bedroom looked pretty much like I expected a college-aged guy’s room to look. There was a full-sized bed that I was surprised to find neatly made with solid grey linens, a large wooden dresser that donned a framed picture of Ash with an older couple who I assumed were his parents, and a desk that held his laptop and textbooks. It was tidier than I had anticipated; there weren’t any stray clothes or shoes lying around. Thick light-blocking curtains hung over the one window in the room, but the walls were bare of any art or other decoration.

  I wasn’t sure how long I had been standing there studying his room when I realized Ash was watching me. Not letting go of his hand, I turned to face him and was greeted by his devilish grin.

  “Does it pass your inspection?” he teased. I looked at his mouth as he talked and unconsciously licked my lips, yearning to know how his mouth would feel against mine. He then moved his gaze to my mouth and cocked his eyebrows at me and smirked.