SADIE

U ntil Friday, I thought I’d made some bad choices in my life. You know, stupid, reckless, childish decisions that all teenagers and young adults make—the choices we make, learn from, and move on from. The stuff we laugh about later when we’re older, and wiser.

But, now that it’s Sunday morning, and I’m still lying in bed, staring at the ceiling in an aimless stupor, wondering what they hell was going through my mind on Friday night when I did...that , I know with absolute certainty that screwing Mr. Seduction Room wasn’t just a bad choice.

It was the worst choice. Ever. Not only had regret immediately washed over me the moment it was over, but knowing that I’d done something that I could never speak of in regular conversation—that was the definition of having done something that was beyond reckless. I’d been impulsive for the first time in my life, edged on by the slinky dress I’d borrowed, and Chelsea and Kelly’s eager support, and I’d given in to the hype of the situation.

Everything Nash had said in his sexy, raspy voice, and every single touch he’d offered me with his strong but tender hands had only fueled the fire inside me. A fire that I hadn’t realized had been quietly smoldering away within my core until he’d unleashed it.

He’d made me feel alive, made me feel desired. Hell, he’d made me feel .

But that didn’t make what I’d done any less wrong.

As promised, Lydia and her designer suit had been waiting for me on the other side of that door—the door I still can’t believe I’d been able to find in my state of shock and exhaustion and utter inability to process what I’d truly just done—and she’d said absolutely nothing, her face stoic and expressionless. But I’d known damn well she’d heard me only moments before, gasping out Nash’s name, and the thought only made my face burn hotter with embarrassment. I couldn’t look her in the eye—just like I couldn’t look myself in the eye when she’d led me into a tiny bathroom, wordlessly giving me a moment to freshen up and compose myself.

In the mirror above the sink, the woman who’d looked back at me wasn’t me at all. My hair, once meticulously styled with Chelsea’s curling iron, was now a disheveled mess, and may as well have screamed, “I just fucked some guy in a dark room down the hall.” And my eyes, though still lined with makeup, looked haunted, and guilty as hell. Rightly so, I thought.

After that, Lydia had stayed silent while leading me back down the hallway, taking a different corridor than the one I’d been led down on the way in—I thought it was, at least, but my sense of direction could’ve been off, though hopefully not as badly as my judgment—and I was led out into the bar once again. Sure enough, I was on the other side of the club completely, nowhere close to the door I’d disappeared into, and nowhere close to the Seduction Room sign.

I found Kelly and Chelsea easily, still camped out in their spot near the bar, one with a vodka cooler in her hand and the other still downing shots like it might be the last one she’d ever get to have.

Chelsea, being the adventurous one, was wide eyed and squealed with delight at the mere sight of me, begging with a drunken slur to know every raunchy detail. Kelly, who’d obviously been nursing the same drink the entire time I’d been gone, could see it written on my face that explaining was the last thing I wanted to do right now. She’d given Chelsea a look, which seemed to register in her intoxicated brain, and Chelsea just nodded.

Kelly drove me home then, never once asking any of the questions that must have been plaguing her mind.

Both of them slept over at my apartment though, staying all of Saturday, letting me divulge the truth a little bit at a time while Chelsea got over her hangover and vowed to never drink again.

Even now, two days later, I’m not sure I’ll ever forget the way I looked after that hour spent at Club Sin. And, seeing as I did admit to my two friends that I did, in fact, screw Nash, I’m just as sure that I’ll never be allowed to forget that, either.

“Nash. That’s kind of a hot name, though, right?”

Both women are curled up on my living furniture, hanging on every word I say. Kelly reaches across the arm of the couch and gives Chelsea a smack on the arm. “I think you’re missing the point, don’t you?”

“I’m just saying!” She rubs her arm gently, scowling. “Okay, fine. So, neither of us actually expected you to screw him, I’ll give you that, Sadie. But, damn, it’s hot! Think about it. On your birthday, you had sex with a smoking hot, muscular dude in a completely dark and mysterious setting. At Club Sin, no less! And you never have to worry about seeing him again, because you never actually saw him in the first place!”

Kelly looks on the verge of hitting her again, but I hold up a hand, halting her. “It’s fine, Kelly. I know what she’s trying to say. I just...shouldn’t have done it, that’s all.”

“Why?” Chelsea challenges me. “Because it was ballsy and totally unexpected? Girl, I’m not saying to go fuck random dudes in clubs on a regular basis. But you were spontaneous, and you did something you normally wouldn’t do. Don’t beat yourself up over it. Live a little, hmm?”

“I think I did a whole lot of living in that one hour, thanks.” I stand up, unsure where I plan on going, but needing to do something. “It was just a stupid way to do it. That’s all I’m saying.”

“And it was just hot. That’s all I’m saying.” Chelsea purses her lips in defiance, daring me to say otherwise.

I roll my eyes, but a faint smirk tugs at the corner of my mouth. “Maybe he’s not hot at all, Chels. You ever think of that? I’ve never seen him.”

She plucks the pillow from the armchair she’s sitting in and tosses it at me. “Oh my God, are you serious right now? It’s over, Sadie! Now, all we get to do is analyze the situation to death and dream about the hottie. He’s hot, got it? In our heads, Nash is hot. Besides, how can he not be smoking hot with a name like Nash?”

I steal a glance over at Kelly. “There really is no hope for her, is there?”

“None.” Kelly holds her hands up in surrender. “She’s a lost cause.”

“Shut up, both of you.” She laughs, dramatically swinging her legs over the arm of the chair. “I happen to be a hopeless romantic at heart.”

Kelly and I just stare at her, our mouths partially open.

Chelsea sighs. “Well, I am! I just happen to really love the idea of a hot, half-naked man whispering in my ear and letting me call the shots while I save a horse and ride a cowboy.”

My cheeks flame bright red. Leave it to Chelsea. “You’re relentless,” I say, looking away.

It’s her turn to hold up her hands. “I just call it how I see it. Sounds like a damn good birthday, if you ask me.”

“I didn’t,” I snap, once again too humiliated to keep my tone in check. But I see her face falter slightly, and immediately feel bad. “Anyway, speaking of birthdays. You two are both coming to my parents’ house with me for the dinner tomorrow night, right? I can count on one hand how many of these formal family get-togethers I’ve gone to other the last few years, but I can’t get out of it. Our neighbors are going to be there.”

“The infamous Butlers?” Chelsea’s face perks up.

I point a finger at her. “Just because I’ve told you everything about them, doesn’t mean you can show up there tomorrow and bring it all up. Got it?”

Chelsea glares at me, appalled. “What am I going to say, Sadie? Hey, is that the asshole that you had a crush on when you were a kid that acted like a dick? Give me some credit.”

“That’s exactly what I think you’ll say,” I admit, unable to hide my amusement. “I’m just begging you not to. Please?”

“Best behavior, I swear.” She holds her hand over her heart.

“Your best behavior still makes us worry,” Kelly interjects, making me laugh.

Chelsea shakes her head. “Just answer me this. Is he still hot?”

“Who?” I wrinkle my forehead in confusion.

“The neighbor you had a crush on! Focus, Sadie.”

I bend down and pick up the pillow she’d tossed at me, throwing it back. “I told you, I haven’t seen him in years.”

“This should be fun, then.” Her devious smile makes my stomach turn.

“In case you haven’t realized, we’re not exactly kids anymore, and we don’t exactly live with our parents. And Ashton is even older than we are, so he won’t be there. I told you, it’s my parents’ friends that are coming over. I never said anything about Ashton Butler showing up.”

“A girl can always dream, can’t she?” Chelsea gives me a wink, shrugging.

I give up. Kelly’s right, she’s hopeless. And the truth is, I’ve found myself thinking about Ashton far too many times over the years, wondering and waiting to see if he’ll show up at the family barbeques and events my parents hold at their place. I’ve truthfully only attended a handful of them since I moved out, preferring to keep the prying questions and wistful comments about my lack of a love life at bay, but not once has Ashton ever graced us with his presence at any of those gatherings. He’s always too busy, according to his parents.

But, Chelsea’s right. A girl can always dream.

***

I ’m far more nervous about this damn dinner than I should be. Hell, it’s with my family; just my brother and my parents...and our neighbors, who may as well be family, too, considering how often they’re around. People who know me inside out and backwards.

Except, they don’t. Because I highly doubt any of them would guess what I’d done on Friday night, and I know for certain that none of them would ever be able to handle it if they found out.

I’m Sadie Mitchell, Daddy’s little girl and Mommy’s little angel. And in their eyes, I’m not grown up, still a bouncy little ten-year-old with pigtails and a Barbie Corvette in tow. Gunner, my brother, sees me no differently.

I’ve also spent my teenage and adult years doing as I was told. Taking the courses in high school and college that were suggested to me by my parents. Graduating with a boring business administration diploma and heading straight over to my father’s company to work for him, as recommended by him. Hell, I even rented the apartment my parents liked best, because it looked out over the city from the fourteenth floor, and because it was safer than a ground-floor unit. You know, because my parents said so.

So, to say that they wouldn’t expect Chelsea, Kelly, and I to frequent a place like Club Sin would be an understatement. To say that they would never believe that I’d have casual sex with someone I couldn’t even see—even thinking about it might give my family a communal aneurysm right then and there.

Thinking about it was giving me quite the headache, too. But I can’t stop thinking about it. Each time I close my eyes, I can feel the way his lips felt crushed against mine, the way every curve of his muscles felt under my own fingertips. And, each time, I gasp, my eyes snapping open as I realize how much my body is craving him again.

Maybe I don’t regret it as much as I initially thought I did. There might be parts of it that I wish I hadn’t gone through with—like the fact that I chose a complete stranger that I couldn’t see to experience my first taste of sexual freedom with—but there were definitely parts that I couldn’t bring myself to regret, too. Like the fact that I hadn’t known what it was like to feel like that with someone, to allow someone to have me in the most intimate way possible without having to face their judgmental eyes and personal preferences and desires. That night had been about what I wanted, yet, I couldn’t help but feel that Nash had gotten what he wanted as well.

Nash.

I’ve been saying his name over and over in my head since the moment I escaped from that room. And that’s exactly what it was, an escape, because if I’d stayed any longer and allowed him to say something to me after what we’d just done together, he’d have ruined it by giving me a harsh reminder that it was a business transaction, nothing more. My friends had paid for him to pretend like he wanted me.

Christ, when I think about it like that, it all seems even worse. What was I thinking?

That’s just it, I hadn’t been thinking at all. No analyzing, no scrutinizing, no exaggerated contemplation. I’d just done it. Done him .

And, now, all I can think is that I pray to whomever might be listening that my sexual encounter with Nash isn’t hanging over me like a neon effing sign the way I think it is, because I won’t be able to handle it if my family finds out about it.

***

“S adie! You girls are late, as usual!” My mother calls from the kitchen before I’ve even got the front door closed.

“Traffic was bad,” I lie, knowing full well that she’ll know it’s not the truth. I kick off my shoes, tucking them in beside Chelsea’s, who has already disappeared in the direction of the kitchen. She’s a sucker for my mom’s cooking, and I don’t blame her. Having a mother who knows her way around a kitchen better than Betty Crocker herself definitely had its perks while I was in college, and saved me from countless nights of eating frozen pizzas and mac and cheese from a box.

The truth is, I dragged my feet after I got home from work, and Chelsea and Kelly had shown up to pick me up before I was ready to go. I’d tried a few excuses as to why I couldn’t—or shouldn’t—go, but Chelsea wasn’t listening to me. Mostly because she wanted the home-cooked meal, I think.

“Chelsea, darling! So glad you could come.”

I trudge into the kitchen, seeing my mother embracing my friend like she’s her long lost daughter. My parents love both Chelsea and Kelly, which I guess is a good thing. Good, solid, level-headed young ladies, as my father calls them, who’s currently pushing a wine glass into Kelly’s hand before the greetings are even finished.

“Wouldn’t miss it, Mrs. Mitchell.” And Chelsea’s not lying when she says it, because I know she’d have left me at home and come by herself if I’d refused for much longer.

“Enough with that Mrs. Mitchell stuff, hmm? It’s Anna, dear. Now, Rick, get this girl a glass of wine while I finish up with the garlic alfredo sauce, please.” She gives Chelsea a pat on the shoulder, smiles affectionately at Kelly, then turns back to the stovetop, her own wine glass in hand, picking up the conversation she and Mrs. Butler had obviously been having before we arrived. I didn’t notice her sitting there, a stool pulled up near the oven as my mom works away, the two of them tittering over some gossip column they’d read in the newspaper that day. I give her a little wave, smiling at both women, but choose to follow my dad into the pantry, where he’s in search of another bottle of wine.

“Glad you could make it, Sadie Baby.” My dad stands up from where he’s crouched, eyeing the vast selection of wines that are displayed along one wall of the pantry, and leans in, kissing my cheek tenderly. “Didn’t know if you were feeling up to it, seeing as you seemed a bit off today at the office.”

Immediately, I feel guilty. I had been off today at work, choosing to keep to myself and just focus on my duties of answering the phone and getting some invoices sent out, instead of making small talk with Dad and singing along with the radio like I usually did. “Sorry, Dad. I’m just tired, I guess. Thought you would’ve appreciated not having to hear my tone-deaf singing for one day.” I smirk, and so does he, but the smile doesn’t reach his eyes.

I’m such a bad liar.

“You’ll never hear me complain about you being there,” he smiles, handing me the bottle of wine. “Even if you are tone deaf.”

“Oh, one point for Dad,” I laugh, raising my hand to make a stroke in the air, mimicking keeping score. “Be careful, I’ll get my retaliation soon,” I add, turning away from him to head toward the cupboard for glasses. That’s the thing with my father—my whole family, really. Everything is so easy with them. They never harp on me very much about anything, and everything is always a game, a joke, or lighthearted banter. Then again, maybe I’ve never given them a reason to give me a hard time, and maybe it’s the constant teasing manner that irks me most. Maybe part of me yearns to know what it’s like to have parents that feel compelled to admonish me for something. Or, maybe I want to know what it’s like to have done some worth being admonished for, as messed up as that is.

For the thousandth time that day, Nash and his sexy voice and tantalizing fingertips enter my mind, and I remind myself that I had done something worth being scolded for, and I don’t ever want them to know about it.

“Where’s Gunner?” I ask as I pour the wine for Chelsea and I, trying hard to push Nash back into the deepest depths of my mind. I don’t overly like wine, and I certainly don’t appreciate it the way my mom and dad do, but I would have a glass with them...just because I know they like that.

“He’s upstairs,” my mom explains, just as a deep voice announces, “I’m right here.”

I turn at the sound of my brother’s voice, a genuine smile on my face as I hold one of the wine glasses out to Chelsea. I hadn’t seen him in months, and we’d always gotten along well, so the sight of him should have been a welcomed surprise.

And it is a surprise I get when I lay eyes on him. Well, not on him, exactly. It’s the tall, muscular man beside him that catches my attention and turns my stomach inside out.

“Ashton.” His name falls from my lips in a breathless whisper, my smile faltering as I struggle to process the sight of him after all these years. He is a man, too. A lot of man. Taller than Gunner, and broader in the shoulders than him, too, Ashton Butler is as ripped as any man could be. The curves and contours of his muscular arms and chest show through his black t-shirt, and his jeans are worn with utter perfection, as though made just for him.

He is breathtaking, and the collective intake of breath beside me indicates that Chelsea and Kelly wholeheartedly agree.

“Well, hey there, Sadie.” Ashton’s mouth twists up at the corners, watching the three of us as we stare at him.

My mouth is hanging partway open, and I quickly clamp it shut. Smooth, Sadie. Real smooth. “Uh, hey,” I choke out. Clearing my throat, I try again. “How’s it going, Ashton?”

My cheeks are burning up, and I hate that both his parents and mine are watching with amused grins, like this is some kind of reality show and we’re tonight’s entertainment.

“I’m good,” he chuckles, nodding his head toward me. “Are you planning to drink that bottle all by yourself, or do you think you’d be willing to share?”

Stifled laughter ensues around me, only making me blush a deeper crimson color. I lower my gaze to the wine bottle clutched in my finger, staring at it as though I can’t figure out how it got there. “Crap, yes. I’ll share, I mean. Sorry.” I stumble over my words as I hold the bottle out to him, not daring to take the steps forward to bring it to him in case I stumble over my own feet just as badly.

Ashton takes the bottle, his gaze never leaving mine. “Thanks.”

I wish I could bring myself to look away, but I’ve been teleported back to my teenage days and I feel like the schoolgirl crush I had on him in elementary school hasn’t dissipated like I thought it had. If anything, it’s just exploded wide open and multiplied into a living, breathing, heart-crushing entity of its own.

There’s no getting Ashton Butler out of my head now. Of that, I’m certain.