1
Princeton
November
Marc
Ash: What are you doing right now?
Me: Trying to sleep, but this annoying chick keeps texting me.
Ash: Is she prettier than I am?
I smiled. She knew exactly who I was talking about. Then I did the math in my head.
Me: It’s like four in the morning there. What are you doing up? Some early morning studying for Curtsy Class?
One of the saddest things I’d ever heard was that someone with Ash’s brain was spending time learning how to curtsy properly. Like she was ever going to meet the fucking Queen of England.
Ash: I get up early because I know this is when you’re getting to bed. Also stop bringing up curtsy class. I’m failing it! These fucking European royals are everywhere and they’re killing it. Right now me and some princess from Dubai are the only ones struggling.
Me: Is she hot?
Ash: Who?
Me: The princess from Dubai. If this whole finance degree doesn’t work out for me, maybe I can marry up.
Ash: …
Ash: …
I laughed. That had clearly pissed her off.
Ash: She’s exceptionally beautiful and you’re an asshole.
Me: Yeah, well, I’m tired. You know how grumpy I get when I’m tired.
Ash: Wait? You mean there are times of the day when you’re NOT grumpy? Please take video and send for confirmation.
Me: I might be an asshole, but you’re a smartass. Are you making friends?
Ash: Trying. But we’re just so different. Other than our mutual love of Jimmy Choo, of course.
I huffed.
Me: And you’re doing everything the doctor says?
She’d had a minor attack last month and the last couple times I’d talked to her, she sounded a little wheezy. The school understood her condition and had a doctor visit to confirm it was a minor event, but I still didn’t like it. She was too far away, too much out of my control. Daily texts and occasional calls mitigated my concern, but they didn’t remove it.
Ash: I shouldn’t have told you. I knew you were only going to worry. I’m fine. The cold air here just hurts my lungs a little more. But I’m fine. The asthma is totally under control.
Me: You tell me everything, Ash. No secrets.
Ash: No secrets.
Me: Okay, let me go. I need to sleep.
Ash: Because your schedule is too full. You can pull back next semester. I can handle Curtsy Class Level II. I’m fine.
She said it constantly. I’m fine. I’m okay. There’s nothing to worry about. I’m making friends.
I didn’t believe any of it. She was lonely as hell. She’d been so isolated by her father her whole life, her world revolved around George and me. Now he’d isolated her again. Only this time, no George, who was basically her surrogate father.
And no me.
Whatever I was to her.
Me: You worry about you. I’ll take care of my schedule. Now I really have to go. Some hot brunette is coming over to hook up with me. I don’t even know her name… how sick is that?
Ash: Wow, not even her name? Then you’ll probably have a tough time not calling out my name when you come. You might want to think about a ball gag for yourself.
I smiled. In the months since she’d been gone, it was not lost on me I wasn’t a person who smiled a lot. I didn’t have a really big laugh.
I chuckled. I smirked. And not very often.
But Ash…she made me smile. She made me laugh. I could acknowledge that now, when before, I would have tried to deny it.
I was also starting to appreciate how important that was. It helped to keep me focused. She’d sent plenty of selfies. Of her in her private room. Walking to class. Even a few from Glion, where the school was located. In all of them she was smiling, but it was nothing like seeing her. Actually having her in front of me so I could bust her chops. So she could come back with some smartass reply.
Which meant the extreme class schedule remained, and I brought her home sooner.
Me: Goodnight.
Ash: Goodnight back.
I tossed the phone onto the table next to my bed and settled in. There was no brunette. Hell, with my schedule this semester, I barely had time for food and air, which meant sex was relegated to jacking off.
Which I did, thinking about Ash.
Even though there was always a sense of guilt afterwards. Like I shouldn’t remember taking her virginity, knowing there’d been pain for her, as such an arousing memory.
I could feel the exhaustion roll over me and knew sleep would come easy. It always did on nights we texted.
I didn’t think about that too much, but, like the smiling and the laughing, it was something only now was I willing to acknowledge.
December
Marc
Me: Is he letting you come home for Christmas break?
Ash: I’m working on it.
It was another late night for me, early morning for her. Thanksgiving had come and gone, and she was still in Switzerland. I’d done everything I could with my class schedule, but I still wasn’t going to be able to finish by next semester. I needed two summer classes, then one more semester to be able to graduate next December.
Even that wasn’t guaranteed. There was a process I had to submit myself to, even to be eligible to leave early. A process I couldn’t get started until after my final grades from this semester were posted.
Knowing I wouldn’t see her for another year had become this weight on my chest. The stress of it was constant, and only served to make me that much more ornery. I almost made some freshman piss himself in front of me when he bumped into the table where I was studying at the library and knocked all my books off the table. I hadn’t said anything, just glared at him. It had been enough to make his face go sheet white.
I needed Ash around, if for no other reason than I could always snap at her to take the edge off. Except the six-hour time difference thing meant if we were going to talk, I had to try to fit the call in between my four o’clock and seven o’clock classes, or she had to get up ridiculously early.
Now there was a very real possibility her asshole father wasn’t going to let her come for Christmas.
George was going to be devastated.
I was going to be pissed.
Me: What does working on it mean? You’re rich. Buy a ticket home.
Ash: It’s not that simple. It’s not like I want to see him.
Me: George misses you. If you can come and you don’t, that’s not fair to him.
Ash: Guilt trips aren’t going to work, and we both know you’re the one who’s going to be angry if I can’t come home.
Me: Not sure what you’re talking about.
Ash: It hurts me, too. Every day here…hurts. But the more he believes I want to come home, the more he resists. Do you have access to a car?
Me: Yes. I just recently bought a used one. Why?
Ash: Hold on.
A number appeared on my phone I’d never seen before. It’s still me.
I frowned.
Me: Why are you texting me from a different phone?
Unknown number: A precaution. Update this as my second contact information for now. I’ll still use the other phone sometimes, but I’ll use this one, too.
I made her Ash2.
Me: Okay. What gives with the cloak-and-dagger stuff? Your father’s an asshole, but it’s not like he can see your texts.