Now Paul is a real estate novelist
Who never had time for a wife
And he's talking with Davy, who's still in the Navy
And probably will be for life
**
"This is Davy," Ashton introduced to Scarlett, walking towards a man with veiny forearms.
"Hiya," the man said with a wave. He was dressed in an all white uniform stretching from his head to his squeaky shoes that appeared would be distracting once he stood up. His hands cradled a beer and inked on his left wrist was an anchor tattoo. Scarlett overlooked it and waved back with a smile. Davy tugged on Ashton's arm and pulled him in so that he could whisper into his ear. "She's a pretty one, Ash." He was just loud enough for Scarlett to hear who blushed but didn't comment. Ashton nodded at Davy, bug-eyed, and moved on to the next character.
"This is Paul, he's a real estate work-"
"Actually, I like to call myself a writer," Paul jumped in, shaking Scarlett's hand. She smirked.
"A real estate novelist?" she asked.
"Precisely," Paul laughed. "I'd like you to read my book sometime. I'll have Ashton bring it to ya." Ashton only smiled, proud of Scarlett and wanting to show her off like a brand new trophy. Except that she wasn't a trophy, is what he thought, she was more like a treasure.
She was intelligent, she was gorgeous. She could make it out with these fools which said more than the majority of the squealers in there.
"I used to write too," Scarlett said.
"Like what?" Ashton asked, intrigued.
"Little stories, poems, some songs even." He knew she was special and this small fragment proved his point. It couldn't have been just luck that they shared common ground.
"I write songs."
"Of course you do, Piano Man."
"I've been lacking inspiration."
"A poor case of writer's block."
"Would you..." Ashton trailed off.
"Hmm."
Ashton leaned into Scarlett, his face hovering above hers. His hair was swept to the side, and little beads of sweat dotted his forehead. As soon as his nose dipped by hers, Scarlett pushed him away with her hand.
"Very funny, Ash," she said, shaking her head at him. He had been joking, but he had also planned kissing her in all seriousness. That would be a step in the right direction - at least, for him it would have been. Her cheeks were hot, but Ashton didn't press the subject.
"Will you accompany me?" he asked, taking a step backwards. Scarlett nodded and followed him, leaving Paul by himself.
The piano stool was cool, no one had used it except for Ashton. With Scarlett by his side, there was a different sensation that came over him when he sat down. Maybe this time it was the presence of another warm body that made his skin prickle all over instead of the usual draft from the door. Maybe it was just her.
He didn't know where to start. Other nights he could place his hands over the keys and something would make its way out of him whether it was a tune that made glasses clink or one for the sad souls under the snuffed out lamps. He was so aware of the fact that Scarlett was watching him. Her eyes could be anywhere, on any curve. His hair, his eyes, his nose, his fingers, his lips. She could explore him like he was new terrain and he wouldn't be able to put a sign down to say, "Stop. This is private property." When he could play, it was because he was convinced that no one was watching. She was attentive.
Ashton picked out the faintness of scribbles. The distinct scratch of pen on paper. Where did she get paper, and what was she doing? Ashton's eyes drifted over to find Scarlett writing away on her thigh, her hand quick but also cautious so as not to poke any holes on the surface. He hadn't played and she was already inspired.
"Scarlett," he said, placing his hand between them.
"Mm?" she hummed, focused.
"Am I allowed to know what this is?"
Scarlett stopped for a moment. She wasn't sure if he was talking about the song in her hands or the intimacy they shared. The song he wouldn't be able to know completely, and the intimacy would not be what he wanted. She spoke up.
"No."
"We were doing this together," Ashton reminded her.
"We still are," she said. Her ideas were clear in her head. They were friends. That's why they were together. She was not willing to be persuaded by anything else, not even his flirting attempts. She knew that and he probably didn't, but maybe he would understand or find out later. As for the song, the lyrics were coming to her in stages. That was something he also did not need to know.
Ashton rolled his eyes, but didn't complain.
Scarlett then stood up and dusted off the microscopic fuzzballs littering her dress. She smiled to herself and turned towards the glowing exit sign.
"Where are you going?" Ashton asked, jumping from the stool with a screech.
"Home to finish the song," she called back. The action seemed independent, but she was still counting on him. On her way out, she waved to Davy and Paul.
a/n: this edit turned out crappier than i would have hoped. :) oh well, enjoy?
