That's How it Happens

2. The Devil Went Down to Georgia

"So, that's how it happened."

"With Lora from the third floor? How..."

Sighing, Ainsley placed her chin in her hand and stared at Leo. That same question had been running through her mind since last night when she was forcing herself to think of anything other than that crazy dream - was it a dream? Unfortunately, she didn't know. She quickly looked away from Leo, her stomach swirling, hoping he didn't notice the flush she could feel on her cheeks, instead forcing herself to think of the situation at hand.

Leo was doing a circular nod, which meant he was clueless. The poor guy. Ainsley knew he was trying to find the right words to say, and knowing her best guy-friend, it would probably be the wrong thing. This was more of April's territory, but she was having her own boy issues, not that Ainsley typically talked about her problems to either of them and maybe that was why Leo had such a hard time coming up with something to say. If you knew him, you knew he always had something to say.

He stopped abruptly, winked at a smiling redhead, realized he had forgotten something - the something being Ainsley - and turned his attention back once that realization had dawned. Ainsley smirked at his attention-deficit issue and patiently waited for him to mull it over again. If there was one thing she knew about him, he always had something witty to say that would either make her laugh or, in most cases, want to hit him. She couldn't even be upset over it or his wandering attention. It wasn't something he could help. Sometimes, he just got distracted by redheads, blondes, or really anything with legs and boobs. He sometimes got distracted by Ainsley, though he'd never admit that to himself or her. His face lit up, and she hid her smile as she thought, "light bulb."

"And these are the days of our lives," he popped off in a schmoozy sing-song voice, trying to be funny.

It wasn't.

Scoffing, she sat up straight and turned away from him. Sometimes, she hated being right. She knew this had been a bad idea coming to him for advice. Since when did she need it? She was more than capable of figuring things out; she always did.

"Wait," he laughed, his hand wrapping around her arm. "Hold on, doll."

Whirling back around, he was shocked by the sudden stinging pain in his hand. She had smacked him.

"Woah!" He laughed harder if that were possible. "Easy there, Annabelle." Her eyes widened in shock and then narrowed with an accusation. He raised his hands in surrender. "I was teasing, devil doll. Geez, don't go all ax crazy on me, too," he joked before reminding her of a particular horror flick that he had forced her to watch with him.

Why had Ainsley told him about that? Thank God she had stopped there. She couldn't fathom telling him about what else happened last night. He would never let her live down the fact she wasn't sure if it happened.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" She shook her head and turned away, her cheeks reddening again. She hadn't realized she was staring at him at all as she thought about something so trivial and stupid.

"If you were just going to make fun of me, I would have met up with April," she told him.

Leo gave her a look that suggested she'd never do such a thing, which wasn't far from the truth.

There had only been one time that she had decided to have coffee with April instead, and during that week, she and Leo weren't speaking to each other. It was hard to remember the why now, but it had to do with an argument over work, or Ainsley remembered it that way.

This was their regular routine; if you called watching your boss/best friend flirt with girls and getting overpriced coffee normal. It typically followed the rehashing of his nightly visitors and a few sarcastic comments from her regarding how disgusting he was. Then he'd remind her of his various dating rules and why he had them, except that wasn't fair. Although she'd never admit it to him, she found his dating life interesting aside from the impossible commandments he lived by, and she wasn't talking about the original ten. The most interesting fact was that these girls, usually daft in their own right - he had a type - always returned knowing his expectations: no dates, outings, dinners, cuddling, or talking. Their relationships, or lack thereof, were strictly "business;" they spoke enough to get to where they were. She knew most of them, not by name, but by number; it was pointless to learn names when they were in and out before she got to know them. He refused to stay at their places, insisting they come to him as long as they left when he did the following morning with no expectations until it was their time to meet again. She had asked him once why he didn't have these talks with Jackson, and he had acted appalled.