Examine

twenty-one

ASHLEY

"Did you sleep with her?"

Sheets are pushed aside and the bed lifts slightly as Michael stands up. "No, fuck."

He heaves out a breath.

I push upright in bed, the sheets falling in my lap, as I blink slowly at the sight before me.

Jack is standing at the foot of my bed.

A face fit for a king - or some bedroom deity that women and men fantasise over to get themselves off - a noble forehead and delicious locks of brown hair grazing it.

Troubled eyebrows frame smouldering hazel eyes. A faded black t-shirt sits lightly over his broad shoulders. His hand is clenching the handle of his suitcase behind him.

Jack's eyes rake over me in my bra. His gaze is scolding. It's the first time I've felt coldness seep into his expression. It's an icy burn.

"It's not what you think Jack," I'm echoing words similar to Michael, and that's when I realise my mistake.

Not only do Michael and I sound guilty as fuck, I don't really have an excuse. If I were in Jack's situation, I wouldn't want to find him in another woman's bed.

I hadn't physically cheated, but I'd been imagining Michael in my mind for much longer than last night.

And even though Michael likes someone else, it's too late for Jack and I.

My chest tightens as Jacks cold eyes meet mine, and I know. I know his heart is breaking. That he'll never be vulnerable with me again. Like a blank slate, I can see decades of friendship wiped clean.

Sometimes excuses aren't enough.

This is one of these times.

"Is that it? If it isn't what it looks like - then what was happening?" Jack narrows his eyes at us.

I'm surprised he's giving us the benefit of the doubt. Or maybe he wants to get to the bottom of this.

"Ashley was sick, I stayed to look after her," Michael states calmly.

"And you just happened to fall into her bed?"

"No, I was vomiting and Michael was helping me to the bucket all night," I interject, my heart pounding as Jack's impervious stare lands on me again.

Suddenly I'm gripped by the urge to cover up. I feel stripped bare under his stare. And not in a good way.

"Ashley didn't stop vomiting until 5 am, we must have fallen asleep sometime after that."

"Am I supposed to feel bad?" Jack glances scornfully in my direction. "Ashley is down to her underwear. And despite what you're saying, it's obvious something is going on between you two."

"Nothing is going on between us. And you should feel bad." Michael steps forward threateningly. "Your girlfriend has been through hell the past few weeks - not to mention the last ten hours - and you've only just arrived to save the day. And your first reaction when you see her is suspicion rather than concern?"

Michael raises his hands in exasperation, and it's the first time I've seen him come close to losing his temper. "Ashley isn't an afterthought, she should be your first thought."

"Michael," I cut in quietly, but he isn't finished.

"Do you think I would be here if you were a decent boyfriend? Ashley wastes so much of her time waiting for your calls and for you to deign to visit her."