Chapter Text
The first glass of wine is to unwind from a long day at work, Ali tells herself as she sits alone at the bar, crossing and uncrossing her legs. The second is because this theater is stingy with its pours, but when she takes her first sip of the third glass, she finally admits to herself that she's nervous and uncomfortable with the situation.
When she heard on the radio two weeks ago that the touring company of her favorite musical, If/Then, was coming into town and they were giving away two tickets, she didn't think twice before calling.
She probably should have, though, because once she gets past the high of winning, she realizes she doesn't have anyone to accompany her. It's a Tuesday night, so most of her friends and coworkers will be too tired to see some random musical they've probably never heard of anyway.
She could have gotten Kyle to come, but he's out of town on location for some photoshoot for which he's styling a bunch of pop stars’ hair, so he “regretfully” declined. She got so desperate she almost posted a notice on Facebook for any local acquaintances who wanted to join, but she finally decided that would be more awkward than going alone.
She spent the whole day coming up with excuses to not go, from the poor weather forecast (rain, rain, and more rain) to her exhaustion from work before realizing she’d regret it forever if she didn't take such a great opportunity. She just hadn't considered how weird she’d feel at a theater all by herself.
Maybe it's less the theater and more the bar, she considers. Sitting at a bar alone will always make her feel like the star of a romantic comedy who just got stood up for a blind date minus the handsome knight in shining armor to save her.
With that in mind (and the lights flashing, indicating that people should make their way to their seats), she closes out her tab and ventures inside to find her seat. It's easy enough, as she has two seats smack dab in the middle of the floor, row K, seats 11 and 12.
She figures she’ll decide which one she’ll actually use when she sees her neighbors, and it ends up being an easy choice. There's nobody in 10, but 13 houses a man crunching loudly on pork rinds, so 11 it is. She silently prays to herself that 10 stays empty so she can pretend she's completely alone.
It doesn't, of course, and she tries to hide her audible sigh when the woman shuffles down the row, whispering “sorry” and “excuse me.” Ali smiles tightly, tucking her legs under her seat as if that will make a difference, but the woman is able to slide by easily anyway, taking her spot next to Ali and returning her own genuine smile.
Ali could have done worse for a neighbor, she decides. She looks and smells like she just showered, which is always a plus, but she smells better than just soap and water, leading Ali to believe she put forth an effort with some fragrance. Ali almost wants to ask what it is, it’s so nice. She's dressed up for the show in a blazer over a plain white T-shirt that Ali can tell was probably $50 based on the material and straight-legged black jeans. She wears a simple gold chain and an eyeroll-worthy fedora hat for accessories, but she pulls it off.
“Did I miss anything?” she whispers jokingly even though the house lights are still on and people are milling about.
“Oh yeah, we’re about to start Act II,” Ali jokes back.
“You better make sure your friend gets back in time,” the woman says, raising an eyebrow at the empty seat beside Ali.
Ali blushes slightly, embarrassed about being alone despite the fact that this woman clearly is as well. “No friend,” she says. “I mean, I have friends! Just… not here.”
“Mm, likely story,” the woman says with a smirk. “Well, I can be your friend for the evening. Ashlyn.”
“Ali,” she replies, extending a hand to shake, which Ashlyn takes after taking her hat off.
“Have you seen this before?”
“Only a few times,” Ali shrugs. “But I'm obsessed with the story and music. How about you?”
“Never seen it,” Ashlyn says, and Ali almost gasps. “Am I missing out that much?”
“Oh, absolutely,” Ali says. “So why are you here then?”
“My ex is in the ensemble.” Ashlyn flips open her program to a page she already bookmarked. She points to a grainy black-and-white photo of a gorgeous woman whose previous credits include Mimi in Rent and Maria in West Side Story.
“Does she know you're here?” Ali laughs, trying to imagine a world in which she wants to be involved in any of her exes’ lives.
“Who do you think got me the ticket?”
“Very nice,” Ali nods as the lights go down and Ashlyn closes her program to stash it under her seat. “I'll be watching for her.”
As it turns out, it’s hard not to spot her right off the bat, as they’re close enough that Ali doesn’t even have to squint to see her eyes. She’s gorgeous, all dark hair and caramel skin, and she finds her mind drifting to whether she thinks Ashlyn has a type, and if so, would Ali fit into it?
She catches herself before she lets herself have these thoughts while staring at Ashlyn, who is captivated by the performance, though Ali makes sure she’s only watching out of the corner of her eye. When the first act ends and and house lights come back on, Ashlyn turns to her, eyes wide.
“That was amazing!” Ashlyn breathes. “She was really good, right? That wasn’t just me?”
“She was wonderful,” Ali laughs. “How do you like the rest of it?”
“I’m having trouble following, to be honest,” Ashlyn confesses.
Ali smiles, having expected as much. She explains, careful not to give anything away that hasn’t happened yet, and Ashlyn nods slowly, murmuring every now and then when something clicks.
“You really like this play, don’t you?”
“Love,” Ali says, and Ashlyn grins.
“I can tell,” she says. “I love watching people talk about what they’re passionate about.”
Ali blushes, trying to think of any other way to steer the conversation. “So,” she says, looking around before her eyes land on the program peeking out from below Ashlyn’s seat. “You’re a lesbian.” Her eyes widen as soon as she says it, and her tongue feels thick in her mouth from the wine.
Ashlyn looks surprised, but she smiles and laughs. “Maybe less passionate and more drunk, then,” she realizes. “I thought the tint to your lips was just your lipstick, but I take it you’re a red girl.”
“I’m so sorry,” Ali rushes to say.
“Stop,” Ashlyn laughs. “I’m a lesbian, yes. Have you ever met one of us before?”
“Met one?” Ali says before she can stop herself. “I’ve slept with plenty myself.”
Ashlyn’s eyes go wide, but in amusement more than shock. “And yet you aren’t one?”
“I don’t label myself.” The words tumble out of Ali’s mouth, but she figures there’s no point in stopping now.
“Fair enough,” Ashlyn says, deciding it’s best to leave it at that. “So what brings you here all by your lonesome?”
Ali explains the radio contest and everything leading up to her final decision to just go for it, and Ashlyn watches as she speaks, nodding and taking everything in like it’s the most interesting story she’s heard all week.
“Independent,” Ashlyn says when she’s done. “Very cool. What do you do?”
“I’m in HR for a pharmaceutical company,” Ali says. “I actually really like it, but it’s a lot of work some people might find tedious. I’m just slightly Type A. How about you?”
“I’m O-Negative,” Ashlyn jokes. “How much do you know about soccer?”
“More than I want to,” Ali admits, rolling her eyes. “My dad’s obsessed, so he was coaching me and my brother from when we could walk. He wanted me to be on the national team, but I stopped playing when I got to high school because I wanted to be a cheerleader.”
“Well, I'm on that team,” Ashlyn laughs. “But I'm intrigued about this cheerleader venture.”
“Oh I was amazing,” Ali says. “My toe touches were out of this world. But wait--you play soccer? Nationally? Didn't they just win that thing?”
“The World Cup?” Ashlyn suggests. “Yeah, we won.”
“Shit,” Ali breathes. “That's way more interesting than accounts payable.”
“Sometimes I think it would be kind of nice to have that kind of stability and routine,” Ashlyn admits. “I don't think I could work a desk job, though.”
“It's not for the faint of heart.” The lights in the house go down, signifying the start of the second act, and Ali leans over. “Are you a crier?” she whispers.
“Oh God,” Ashlyn says. “Why?”
Ali reaches into her purse and pulls out a package of Kleenex, setting it on the armrest between them. “Just in case.”
No matter how many times Ali sees the show, it still emotionally wrecks her, but she manages to keep it to one tissue, gently dabbing her eyes and nose.
Ashlyn, on the other hand, starts crying at the part Ali anticipates she will and doesn't stop till the curtain call, sometimes sniffling quietly and other times sobbing her eyes out till she's depleted the entire package.
“Oh my God, I'm so sorry,” she says when she notices. “I'll buy you more tissues. Why didn't you warn me that would be absolutely awful?”
“It's more organic that way,” Ali laughs. “You poor thing.”
“It was beautiful,” Ashlyn says. “I can't believe I know someone who does that every single day. How cool?”
“Very cool,” Ali agrees, gathering her things to stand. “It was nice meeting you, Ashlyn. Thanks for keeping me company.”
“Wait!” Ashlyn says, grabbing Ali’s wrist gently. “I was going to go meet Denise and go for a quick drink. Please come.”
Her voice is so earnest that Ali forgets the time it'll take her to get home and get ready for bed. Even at this point she’ll probably get far less than her ideal eight hours, but she can't bring herself to say no. “Yeah, okay,” she agrees. “Just one drink, though.”
The lobby is crowded when they get out there, all the old people who attend Tuesday night showings waiting for their rides because it's storming hard outside.
“Man, it's really coming down,” Ali says, cringing as she realizes she's now one of those people who comments on the weather.
“Denise!” Ashlyn exclaims, apparently not noticing Ali’s complete lack of creativity as she tracks down her ex and walks up to her for a hug that's more friendly than intimate. “Meet my friend Ali.”
“Ali!” Denise says, her voice taking on Ashlyn’s excitement. “I've heard so much about you!”
Ali laughs, and Ashlyn rolls her eyes. “Good etiquette, babe, but we literally just met so you've already outed yourself as a liar.”
“Oops,” Denise says, her cheeks gathering color.
“When can you get out of here for a drink?” Ashlyn asks.
“Don't kill me,” Denise says, cringing. “My parents are here and they're taking me to dinner.”
Ashlyn groans.
“We still have six more shows here!” Denise says. “Tuesdays are just the easiest for tickets. Later this week? Rain check?” She smiles at her own joke, and Ashlyn smiles back.
“Only because I love you,” she says. “Have fun with your parents. Send them my love.”
Denise almost snorts as she leans in for a cheek kiss. “Oh, you bet.”
When they've said their goodbyes and she's disappeared through the crowd to find her parents, Ashlyn turns back to Ali. “Still up for a drink?”
“Sure,” Ali says slowly, looking outside where the wind and rain hasn't let up.
“Oh, come on, a little rain can't stop us,” Ashlyn says just as a bolt of lightning flashes, followed immediately by a loud crack of thunder that makes Ali jump. “Jesus, what the hell is going on?”
Ali's already scrolling through her phone for updates. “Hurricane,” she says. Neither one is fazed considering they're in Florida, where hurricanes are par for the course, like old people clogging the left lane and people getting arrested for doing things that should be in Ripley’s Believe it or Not. “Shit! Shit shit shit.”
“What?” Ashlyn asks.
“They closed the turnpike because of flooding.”
“They can do that?” Ashlyn asks incredulously.
“I guess!” Ali exclaims, running a hand through her hair. “I don't know how I'm going to get home.”
“Well, it would be dangerous to drive anyway,” Ashlyn says. “There are plenty of hotels around here, it's probably best to bunker down for the night.”
“They're all so expensive though,” Ali mutters under her breath, racking her brain for a Holiday Inn Express nearby.
“Not if we split,” Ashlyn offers, nice enough not to mention that her salary as an international soccer star is probably far better than Ali’s. “If there are any Marriotts I can probably call my employer and work out a deal anyway,” she says with a wink. She sees Ali's hesitation and smiles softly. “Come on, it's going to get worse before it clears, and you don't know how long it'll take for the roads to open back up. It's either a warm hotel room with clean sheets and room service with some stranger you just met or this stuffy lobby with pretzels and candy and a ton of old people.”
Ali looks around, knowing her answer somewhere deep down before she actually decides it for herself. “Fine,” she concedes. “I'll follow your lead.”
She literally does just that, slipping off her heels to hold them and sprinting after Ashlyn through the rain till they finally reach the first hotel they see. It's only a block away, but it feels like miles in the downpour.
The hotel is completely booked, the woman at the front desk says, and Ali groans, knowing the plan was too good to be true. Chances are, all the hotels in the vicinity are dealing with the same sudden rush, and if it isn't one stuffy lobby they're stuck in for the night, it'll be another.
That is, until Ashlyn manages to sweet talk the clerk into “double checking,” at which time she miraculously “discovers” an extra room on the top floor.
“They have to hold those rooms for people they think are VIPs,” Ashlyn tells Ali as they walk to the elevator. “Apparently I didn't quite fit the bill at first.”
“But now?”
“I have my ways,” Ashlyn says, smirking. “The name rang a bell even though my face didn't.”
“So people really like soccer that much?” Ali asks, crinkling her nose. “I never really got the appeal.”
“You're killing me,” Ashlyn groans.
“I know,” Ali says. “My dad can’t stand it.”
“For what it’s worth, I never got the appeal of musicals before Denise, so maybe I could change your mind.”
“Maybe,” Ali muses, stepping off the elevator into a lush hallway, where their room is located.
“2020,” Ashlyn murmurs as they walk down the hall to the properly marked door. “Here we go.”
Ali gasps when they walk into the room, a lavish suite that probably costs more for a night than she makes in a week, but Ashlyn had insisted on using her credit card (“for points!”), so Ali may never know. She doesn’t even notice until the second time she looks around that there’s only one bed.
“Umm, Ashlyn?” Ali asks, and Ashlyn follows her eyes, groaning when she realizes her mistake.
“Oh, shit,” Ashlyn breathes. “I didn’t even think to specify. Don’t worry, I’ll call down and have them bring up a cot. You can take the bed.”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Ali says. “You paid for the room, I’m not letting you stay on a cot.” She smirks. “If you wanted to get me in bed, all you had to do was ask.”
“Really? That’s all I had to do?” Ashlyn jokes. “You’re a lot easier than I anticipated.”
“Hey!” Ali exclaims, feigning offense. “I’ll have you now I’m not an easy lay.”
“Of course you aren’t, just look at you,” Ashlyn agrees. “I’m sure you have suitors knocking down your door.”
“Oh, yeah,” Ali says sarcastically. “Drooling.”
“Do you want to shower?” Ashlyn asks, looking pointedly at Ali’s drenched clothes and her own.
“Oh,” Ali says as if she’s just realized she’s still soaking wet. “I don’t have a change.”
“Neither do I,” Ashlyn laughs. “I didn’t plan in case of a hurricane.”
“Right.” Ali blushes with embarrassment.
“Luckily, nice rooms come with nice bathrobes,” Ashlyn tells her, sliding open the closet to reveal two incredibly soft (and probably disgustingly expensive) white bathrobes. “We’ll let our clothes dry on the radiator. If the weather lets up early enough, I’ll make sure you’re up so you can get to your house for a change before work.”
Ali’s face softens at Ashlyn’s thoughtfulness, and she takes the robe Ashlyn holds out to her. “Thanks,” she says, pressing the material to her face and breathing it in. “I feel a little like Julia Roberts in Pretty Woman.”
“Never seen it,” Ashlyn admits.
“No way,” Ali gasps. “I’m finding it on Pay Per View, and we’re watching it. Who failed you so much in entering adulthood?”
“Where do I begin?” Ashlyn sighs dramatically. “Luckily we have all night for you to psychoanalyze me.”
“Good, my favorite.”
As Ali lets the shower heat up to near-scalding and washes her hair with the shampoo and conditioner that smells—and feels—like a hair salon, she feels a shudder upon realizing she’s really about to have a sleepover with a complete stranger. An attractive and funny and generous stranger, sure, but a stranger nonetheless.
Her initial reaction upon seeing the bed wasn’t even the obligatory awkwardness until she considered that Ashlyn may not have planned on sharing a bed. She actually felt weirdly excited about it. She hadn’t let herself consider sleeping with Ashlyn until she saw the bed, though she figures it may have been in the back of her mind from the moment she saw her.
Her excitement wasn’t even about the possibility of sex, either. Ashlyn is clearly still in love with her ex, at any rate. She can’t remember the last time she slept in a bed with someone other than Kyle after a night out, and even then, she can’t remember the last time she slept in a bed with a woman. Growing up, sleepovers had been her favorite. She only considered later that middle-to-high-school Ali hadn’t quite figured out her attraction to other girls, but still, there is something so pure and nice about platonic bed-sharing and staying up late whispering in bed with another girl.
She towels off her hair and wraps the bathrobe around her body, grabbing the lotion the hotel provides before exiting the bathroom so Ashlyn can shower. “Amazing water pressure,” she announces as she walks back out into the room, where Ashlyn’s already changed into her own bathrobe and queued up Pretty Woman on the TV.
“Excellent,” Ashlyn says, standing up to trade places. “Take whichever side of the bed you want, I made sure I didn’t get too comfortable. And don’t start without me!”
Ali smirks, her mind going to all the other things she could start without Ashlyn, but that’s probably the wine from earlier and her lightheadedness from the hot shower talking. Instead, she flips through the room service menu, only realizing how hungry she is when she spies a mouthwatering burger and fries combo. She gets so into the wine list she doesn’t even hear Ashlyn emerge from the bathroom.
“Find anything good?”
Ali jumps practically off the bed in surprise. “Um, I don’t know anything about wine except that I like the red stuff. Really anything that gets me tipsy.”
“Me neither,” Ashlyn laughs. “I’m more of a whiskey girl myself.”
“Whiskey it is, then,” Ali agrees, closing the menu. “You probably want something fancy, but I can’t think of anything better than a juicy hamburger.
“Whiskey and red wine to share and burgers and fries for us both?” Ashlyn asks, picking up the phone to dial. Ali nods. “I knew I liked you.”
Ali finds herself unsure of what she should do with her hands. The only belongings she has are her purse and its contents, like her phone (no charger), wallet, keys, and mints, and Ashlyn seems to have even less, till Ali gets a whiff of her. It’s the same scent as before, in the theater, and Ali realizes Ashlyn must have sprayed herself after her shower.
“What is that scent?” Ali asks, closing her eyes as if that’ll help her breathe it in more fully.
“Tom Ford,” Ashlyn answers. “Black Orchid. Do you like it?”
“Do you always wear perfume to bed?” Ali asks instead of replying, and it’s finally Ashlyn’s turn to blush.
“Only when I’m going to bed with a beautiful woman,” Ashlyn flirts.
“Ah, but I take it I wasn’t the woman you packed it for,” Ali says.
“Maybe not quite.”
“What’s the story there? With her?” Ali asks.
Ashlyn shrugs. “Childhood friends, but I was always the one who was supposedly bad news,” she laughs. “I think they were right thinking back on it. We secretly dated in high school, but when her parents found out, shit hit the fan. Needless to say, they approved of me even less afterward.”
“Damn,” Ali sighs. She had always considered her journey a bit easier because Kyle had done the hard part of opening her parents’ minds to being gay first. All she had to do was jump on the bandwagon when she started dating her first girlfriend in college. “So when did you get back together?”
“We never did,” Ashlyn laughs. “She went to New York for college and I went to North Carolina. We never dated again, but we’ve certainly… reconnected plenty of times over the years.”
“Now I’m even more honored you invited me to join for a drink,” Ali murmurs, wiggling her eyebrows.
“You know, I didn’t even consider that till you just said it, but I’m sure she’d be down.”
Ali laughs. “Um, no. I wouldn’t even know where to begin in that situation.”
“You’ve never had a threesome?” Ashlyn asks like she just found out Ali had never seen a dog or heard Taylor Swift’s “Shake It Off.”
“Can’t say the opportunity has ever presented itself,” Ali says, her face heating up. She hears a knock at the door and breathes a heavy sigh of relief at being saved from the conversation as Ashlyn gets up to get it.
“Now that we have alcohol, I can’t wait to see what else you haven’t done,” Ashlyn teases as she rolls in the cart, having presumably tipped the room service person an outrageous amount. She pours the bottle of wine into a glass for Ali and mixes her whiskey with some ginger ale from the minibar. “Never Have I Ever till we’re drunk then the movie?”
Ali rolls her eyes. “Fine,” she says. “I’ll need a few bites of this burger to start, though.”
Ashlyn clinks her glass against Ali’s and bites into her burger, thinking about questions to ask as she chews. “Never have I ever slept with a guy.”
“Not fair,” Ali grumbles, sipping her wine. “Really? Never?”
“I knew who I was when I was 10,” Ashlyn shrugs. “Never had an interest. Never even kissed a guy.”
“Gold star,” Ali teases, and Ashlyn crinkles her nose. “Never have I ever had a threesome.”
“Boring, you already knew that,” Ashlyn sighs as she drinks. “Never have I ever slept with someone I just met.”
Ali takes a subtle sip as if Ashlyn won’t notice when she’s the only other person playing. “College!” she whines by way of explanation, and Ashlyn just nods.
“Like I said, easy,” Ashlyn teases. “Never have I ever… I really can’t think of anything I haven’t done.”
“That’s because you can only think of sexual things.”
“Well, duh, that’s the point of this game.”
“You’re worse than a 15-year-old boy trying to guess the color of my underwear or my bra size.”
“Trick question, you aren’t wearing any underwear,” Ashlyn says. “But I know they’re black because I hung them on the radiator.”
“Never have you ever seen Pretty Woman,” Ali says, desperate to change the subject away from her underwear. “Maybe we should change that.”
“I thought we weren’t watching till we got drunk,” Ashlyn pouts.
“Then I’ll fall asleep in the first ten minutes,” Ali protests. “How’s this? If we aren’t drunk enough or you don’t like the movie by 30 minutes in, I’ll give you a chance to change your earlier Never Have I Ever.”
“The one about sleeping with a guy?” Ashlyn asks, well aware that isn’t the one she was talking about.
“Nope,” Ali says. The truth is, she has to be on the right side of tipsy to even say something so suggestive, but Ashlyn doesn’t know that yet.
“I hate this movie,” Ashlyn announces after the opening credits.
“Shh,” Ali whispers, setting their empty plates back on the cart and pouring herself another glass of wine. “Do you need the light?”
“Do you?” Ashlyn asks, settling under the covers with her drink on the nightstand beside her.
Ali answers by crawling in beside her and flipping the switch on her side of the bed, the one closest to the window. She whispers her apologies when her foot brushes Ashlyn’s ankle, and there’s a bit of shuffling and movement before they both finally settle, a comfortable distance between their bodies.
Ashlyn’s illusion of not being interested in the movie dissolves about ten minutes in, and Ali laughs to herself at her enthralled face as she becomes invested in the storyline and the characters.
As the movie progresses and Ali drinks her wine and gets sleepier, she curls her body and shifts to the side, unbothered by the way she’s nearly touching Ashlyn. Ashlyn, on the other hand, stiffens as to not let a single hair brush one of Ali’s.
Ali’s eyes flutter shut as she hears the familiar music of the movie ending, and Ashlyn reaches over her for the remote to turn off the TV. Suddenly, Ali is wide awake with Ashlyn’s warmth surrounding her and that amazing, sexy fragrance overtaking her senses. She can’t help it when she buries her face in Ashlyn’s neck without thinking.
“Sorry,” Ashlyn whispers, assuming she miscalculated the distance between her body and Ali’s, but when she pulls back to look down at her, Ali pulls her back down for a kiss.
Ashlyn’s lips taste even better than Ali imagined, and she’s glad she got to shower and wash off her lipstick before this inevitably happened, well aware of how annoying it is to have a waxy, messy first kiss.
“Ali,” Ashlyn breathes when Ali finally lets go of the back of her neck and breaks for air.
“I’m sorry,” Ali says. “I couldn’t help myself.”
“It’s okay,” Ashlyn says. “You’re a good kisser.”
“I know.” Ali smirks, brushing a hair out of her face in what looks like a calculated move.
“My biggest concern is that I don’t know your last name.”
“Krieger,” Ali says. “As you know, I’m so easy I don’t have that requirement of you.”
“Harris,” Ashlyn says.
“I know, I Googled when you were in the shower,” Ali confesses.
Ashlyn rolls her eyes playfully. “Nice to, um, meet you, I guess,” she says, suddenly sounding nervous and shy.
“We don’t have to sleep together,” Ali says. “I know you have certain standards.”
“I don’t think we’re getting around sleeping together,” Ashlyn says, looking at their surroundings. “But I think maybe I’d like to take you on a date before I make you scream my name.”
“First and last?” Ali teases.
“Here’s hoping,” Ashlyn says. “What are you doing this weekend?”
“You,” Ali retorts, pleased with the extra shot of snark her glasses of wine have provided so far.
“Perfect,” Ashlyn laughs.
“More kissing for now though?” Ali asks. “I mean, we could practice for this weekend. I know how you athletes like to do that.”
Ashlyn answers with another kiss, one that she's considerably more prepared for, therefore already a million times better than the first, and Ali murmurs in protest when she pulls away momentarily to quip “Practice makes perfect.”