You’re Still The One: An angsty second chances romance (NYC Singles Book 1)
You’re Still The One: Chapter 2

Morning had a way of unearthing all the dark things that should be stored away in hard-to-reach places. Like guilt.

And few things incited guilt as much as drinking binges. She’d drunk too much last night. Way too much. She was going to need a liver transplant soon if she didn’t cut back on her alcohol intake.

Her head defined the word agony, with its incessant pricking and throbbing. The gallons of health-damaging cocktails she’d downed last night were coming back to bite her in the ass.

Ashley rubbed her tired and blurry eyes. Her consciousness had returned five minutes ago, but her brain was already chaotic with thoughts of what had happened after she’d left the bar.

She’d kissed her possible future boss. While drunk. And enjoyed it, too. Her cheeks heated up. Another potential job down the drain. At this rate, she was going to be permanently unemployed.

Like any insecure twenty-two-year-old, she reached for her phone to affirm whether last night had been real. There was one new message. From an unknown number.

Hope you slept well. This is my number. I’m busy most of today, but I’ll call you after eleven, if you still want me to. Andrew.

Ashley buried her face in her palms. The thrill she felt was worse than a thirteen-year-old-girl’s. When was the last time she’d been so excited about going out with a guy?

She replied to him in a heartbeat, not wanting to waste a second.

I haven’t changed my mind about you.

The three hearts at the bottom were excessive, but in her excitement, she pressed send without thinking. Then she looked at the clock.

It was ten. Time to look at the emails that had come in, or rather the emails she hoped would have come in, from the companies she’d emailed her resume to. Scrolling down her phone screen, she saw spam mails, ads, a newsletter she’d subscribed to five months ago, two rejections, another ad, Amazon trying to sell her books, etc etc.

Of the twenty emails in her inbox, not a single one was a positive response from an employer. This was really depressing. She’d not had any responses this week. If this trend continued… she didn’t want to think.

Someone knocked on the door.

“Are you up, Ash?” Kat enquired, nervously, sticking her neck in the space between the door and the frame.

“Up and eagerly waiting to see the unfaithful bitch who abandoned me with a stranger last night.”

Kat sighed as she stepped in.

She’d returned from her binge-drinking spree with Bella only five hours ago, but Kat looked fresh as a dewdrop. Sometimes, Ashley wondered if she was a cyborg.

Kat was in work attire—a gray business suit. Brunette hair groomed into a pixie cut coupled with an air of professionalism made her look like the epitome of an efficient white-collar worker.

“I was leaving for work. Just wanted to check on how you were doing… and apologize for last night.”

Kat had managed to get a job at the New York Times. She’d interned with them for two summers and they’d snapped her up after graduation when a position had opened up for a rookie reporter.

“Traitor!” Ashley screamed. “How could you leave me alone?”

“Bella and I were both so drunk, we didn’t want to pull you down with us. Besides, you and Andrew looked so good together we couldn’t resist. I’m sorry. Really sorry.”

Ashley decided not to drag this out, since Kat had to get to the office.

“Okay, I’ll forgive you since I’m not big on holding grudges against friends, but if you abandon me next time, we’re through.”

“Thank you. I’m sorry, Ash. I was so stoned. I’m sorry you had to come back with Andrew. Did anything happen between you two?”

“We kissed.” Ashley cuddled her pillow close to her chest to contain her childish excitement. She could jump up and down her room for hours with her current energy level.

“What?” Kat’s mouth hung open. “Okay, that was quick. I mean… really? Oh, my goodness. So what now?”

“We’re going to start dating.”

“You met him yesterday and you’re already a couple today?”

“I know. I wish job applications moved this fast,” Ashley said sarcastically.

“Something will come up. Don’t lose heart.” Kat rubbed her shoulders. “Or you can always join Bella and get a graduate degree.”

“I’m not that smart or motivated.”

Higher education was out of the question. After four years at college, even one more day was too much. She wanted to be an adult now—an economically independent citizen, not a debt-ridden graduate accumulating more student loans.

“Bella loves philosophy, though. I could never imagine doing something so dull with my life. I like to be where the action is.”

Hence, Kat had chosen to be a reporter. Unlike Ashley, who had as much clarity on her career path as visibility in a fog, Kat had known since she was eight (or so she claimed) that she wanted to be a political reporter.

“Oh, look at the time. I need to go..” Kat pecked Ashley on the cheek. “Bye.”

The door clicked shut, leaving Ashley all alone in the two-bedroom loft. Skipping into the kitchen, Ashley made herself a mug of coffee and assembled a bowl of cereal for breakfast.

Expecting some saccharine hoops to give her her morning shot of sugar, she gobbled the first spoon in a hurry… and spat it out. Urgh! What was that disgusting flavor mixed in with the sugar?

Shuffling through the kitchen cabinets, Ashley hunted for the culprit. She found it, sitting in a plastic container, looking all innocent. Ashwagandha.

Kat had been bitten by the health-fad bug last year and she’d started putting exotic herbs with foreign names in everything.

Ashley dumped the vile-tasting mess of cereal into the bin and rinsed her tongue to erase traces of it. Her cells were still craving sugar, so she poured flour into a bowl and added spoonfuls of sugar and berries to it. It had been a long time since she’d eaten blueberry pancakes.

Despite being half burnt and completely deformed, they were sweet, which was the most important trait for a pancake. She smeared strawberry jam over them. The more sugar she could ingest in a single bite, the better.

They tasted as delicious as they should. The charring hadn’t significantly affected their flavor. This was the most satisfying breakfast she had eaten all week. She should make this every day.

The sound of a new email in her inbox made her jump out of the kitchen and hurtle to her laptop. Maybe it was an offer for an interview.

Hope left her lungs when she read it.

Thank you for applying for the position of entry-level equity business analyst at XO Consulting. We received many strong applications for this position. Unfortunately, your application does not match the exact requirements of the position. Due to the large volume of applications we receive, we are unable to provide individual feedback.

We look forward to receiving your application for another role in the future and wish you all the best with your career.

HR team

XO Consulting

Ashley deleted it immediately, before looking at it made her emotional.

This had been one of the positions she had wanted badly—she had almost become obsessed with it in the recent weeks. It was painful to watch it slip away.

Where was she going wrong?

She had no major work experience or internships to distinguish herself from the crowd, but a degree from NYU and being the leader of the brass band in high school had to count for something, right?

The familiar panic and anxiety overcame her. What if she never found a job? What if the four years of painstaking work she had put into her degree had been nothing more than a way to boost her ego and get a worthless piece of paper?

No, she had to stop. She had gone through these motions too many times to fall into the trap of negativity again.

She had to look to the future. Pick herself up, dust herself off and start all over again.

And she was going to start dating a hot guy now.

That had to be a good omen.

***

Dracosys was housed in an old commercial building in downtown Brooklyn. It shared the space with five other businesses—Shaw and Co accountants and three other legal firms whose logos were glued onto the front wall.

The roads were a little sparsely populated, as would be expected at this hour, but there were still people, mostly late-night workers, roaming about.

The pizza place and Starbucks on the ground floor of the building were dark. Except for one room on the thirteenth floor, all the other lights in the building were out. Ashley could guess whose room that was.

A sleepy security guy was watching something on the computer. By what Ashley could make out, it wasn’t CCTV footage, unless Katherine Heigl and Gerard Butler were in this building.

His head snapped up when she entered.

“What’s your business here?” He sounded irritated since his Netflix movie-viewing had been interrupted.

“I’m here to meet someone. Dracosys,” she said, pointing up.

He must’ve decided that a girl wearing a pink coat couldn’t be that dangerous, so he let her go. She was so grateful for stereotypes, sometimes.

Ashley pressed for the elevator and got off at the thirteenth floor. Industrial interiors and fading red-brick walls characterized the place. A lingering silence followed her all the way to Andrew’s room. She clutched her bag tightly, feeling like a character in a mystery drama. The only thing missing was the creepy background music. There was a lighted-up banner with the name ‘Dracosys’ in front of a door. She pushed the door and it opened. The first bullet of light made her head hurt, but her eyes adjusted to it quickly.

Dracosys’ office was a large room that had groups of desks and chairs facing the windows. Andrew’s business must be doing well. Rents in New York were steep. The cubicles were small and cramped and overflowing with papers, discarded food wrappers and colorful stationery. If someone gave her rubber gloves, she would have cleaned this place up free of charge. It reeked of startup—messy employees and constricted cash flow.

Three spectacled guys were huddled over a computer screen, having what sounded like a serious discussion about some bugs in the system. They were so engrossed in their conversation that she slipped by, unnoticed.

Ashley knocked on the door to Andrew’s office—a door with the words ‘CEO’ engraved on it—before opening it and stepping in.

Hunched over the chair, Andrew was talking to someone on the phone. He acknowledged her with a smile.

There was something different about him today. A certain lightness which made him look more charming.

In his flannel shirt and ripped jeans, he looked more laid-back than he had yesterday at the bar. He also looked more real—not at all like a hot illusion that had originated from her drunk brain, though he was still hot.

Andrew swiveled in his chair and stared out of the large window behind his desk, listening to the speaker who was on the phone with him and mumbling ‘yes’ and ‘okay’ at appropriate intervals. Periodically referring to the spreadsheet on his laptop screen, he tried to convince the person on the other end of the line of the merits of a product—a potential customer, Ashley assumed from his tone.

She wandered around the room, waiting for him to hang up. It was a small room, but it was packed. There was a green couch that looked like a St. Patrick’s Day cast-off, flanked by an open bookshelf which had no books but was stuffed with instant noodle containers, disposable chopsticks and a variety of other unhealthy processed foods. The old mahogany desk Andrew was tapping his fingers was the only impressive piece of furniture in the room. At least it looked antique.

Ashley made herself home on the couch.

“Okay, thank you,” Andrew said, putting the phone down.

He exhaled like he’d finished a trek up the Himalayas. From the expression on his face, Ashley could tell that the call had gone well.

“Somebody important?” she asked.

“Yeah. A really big potential customer. If I can nail this deal, it’ll do wonders for our finances.” Andrew popped the top two buttons of his shirt open and the sight of his chest made her throat go dry and her mind go wild with thoughts of running her red fingernails over him. “Sorry. I shouldn’t bore you with business on our first date.”

He offered her a plastic cup with water and she took it eagerly. “Thanks. I like your office, by the way. It’s quirky and compact.”

He laughed. “The last person who saw this place before you said it looked like something a bunch of eighteen-year-old geeks who were left to their own devices would come up with. But it’s not bad for two people who’ve never done anything artistic in their life, is it?”

“Not bad at all.”

He looked out of the window at the empty streets.

“Next time, I should make some time for you in the morning. It looks unsafe out there. Did you drive here?”

“I borrowed Kat’s car.”

He pulled the blinds over the window.

“Was it hard to replace this place?”

“A bit.”

“We’re planning to move. If the Johns Hopkins deal works out, we can get a bigger office.”

“Johns Hopkins, the university?” She stretched out her legs over the couch. It had been a smart decision to wear a no-fuss tee and jeans under the outrageous coat. Anything more would have been too dressy. Sometimes, agonizing over your outfit for two hours paid off.

“The very same. They’re interested in our technology. Once we have their stamp of approval, other universities might follow suit. This could be huge for the company.”

“That’s great.” Good to know that her potential boyfriend wasn’t going to drown in debt anytime soon.

Andrew walked up to the electric kettle and set the water on boil, ripping open a cup of instant noodles. He reached out for wooden chopsticks and got two pairs. “Instant noodles is all I can offer you today. Which flavor would you like?”

“I’m not hungry. I ate a lot for dinner.”

“What did you eat?”

“Steak. Kat took me out to dinner because she was in a good mood.”

He exhaled. “Sounds luxurious. It’s been a long time since I ate proper food like that. For the last year and a half, I’ve been subsisting on a diet of instant noodles. All part of the startup life, I guess.”

He sounded tired. Ashley wanted to tell him that if he got a job he could eat proper food every day.

“Do you wish you didn’t have to make these sacrifices?”

“It’s not really a sacrifice. It’s a lifestyle. And instant noodles kinda grow on you once you’ve been eating them for long enough.” He mixed up the stuff in the plastic cup with his chopsticks and pulled out a string of noodle.

“So how long will this supply of noodles last?” Ashley asked, looking at the tens of containers.

“Not very long. I’m not the only one eating them. My business partner—Drew—has an insane appetite. He eats five cups a day. I share this office with him.” Andrew paused to chew. “But today, I had him vacate this place early so we could have some privacy on our first date. I wanted to set something up here, but then the call from Johns Hopkins came in and you were here before I had a chance to.”

Electric guitar riffs popped out of nowhere inside the tranquil room. It was his phone ringing. She hadn’t pegged him as a rock music loving guy, but she was glad to see that he was. He abandoned the noodle cup in his hand and grabbed his phone from the desk.

“Mind if I take the call? I’ll make it quick. It’s Drew.”

“Sure.”

Ashley looked around some more while Andrew excitedly conveyed the details of the possible deal. His hands flew around and he became so wrapped up that a bead of sweat appeared over the crook of his neck.

This company and its success must mean a great deal to him. Seeing him so passionate about his work was making her feel insecure about her own lack of vocation. Ashley checked the mail on her Android to distract herself from her less-than-desirable feelings.

No new emails.

A sinking feeling took hold of her. She didn’t know why she let every rejection, every lack of response do this to her—make her despondent and pessimistic.

Her self-esteem, her place in society hinged on what she did with her career. It was the only way she had of making her mark in the world. Without a career, who was she?

“I’m really sorry. You came out here all the way to see me and I’ve been ignoring you.” Andrew pulled a chair opposite her and resumed his noodle-eating. “So I’m quite curious to know more about the stranger who kissed me so passionately last night. I hope you’re always that forthright because I found it very refreshing. Let’s just say I’m an impatient guy.”

“I thought men like making the first move.”

“They do; but what they like even more is when a woman has the confidence to do it.” He tossed the empty plastic container into the trash can. “But that aside, I hardly know anything about you except that I’m wildly attracted to you.”

“What do you want to know about me?” She leaned closer to him.

“Everything,” His breath stroked her skin seductively. “But let’s start with whatever you’re willing to reveal.”

“I’m a business graduate. Currently unemployed. Single child. My parents live in Greenport. My mom’s a teacher and Dad is… was… a hairdresser. I guess I’ve had a really boring life.”

That was the most dry and uninspiring intro. Even her resume read better.

So she could forgive Andrew’s lack of excitement.

“Tell me something I can’t replace out using Facebook or LinkedIn. Things you like. Things you hate. Your eccentricities.”

“I hate reptiles, rain and rudeness. I like hugs. Hugging is my favorite thing to do.”

“Is that a cue for me to hug you now?” He swept her with his roguish smile.

“It could be.”

His arms closed around her body and she was swathed in his masculinity. A whiff of perfume from his chest relaxed her.

“Why do you like hugging?”

“Because it makes me feel connected to people. I can feel their warmth. I can hear their heartbeat. Yours is faster than normal.”

“Might have something to do with being so close to you.” He kissed her forehead gently. It was unexpected… and tingly.

“Or you could have tachycardia. Better get yourself checked,” she joked.

“It’s our first date and you’re already worrying about my health? I stay away from cholesterol-rich food, so I think I’m going to be all right.”

“Thank goodness.” She giggled and then climbed up his chest with her gaze. “Tell me something about you. What do you love? What do you hate?”

“I love your blue eyes.” She shivered at the way he looked into her, absorbed her, like she was the center of his universe.

“That’s not something about you; it’s something about me.”

He took her fingers in his and brushed his lips over them. “Okay. Here’s the weirdest thing about me—I have a fetish for nice fingers. It was the first thing I noticed about you, by the way.” His teeth closed over her index finger and a spark shocked her. To have her fingers between his teeth was strangely erotic. “Yours are soft and firm and so tasty.”

“You make them sound like tofu.”

He laughed, sinking his teeth further in. “No, they are more delicious than tofu.”

“You know you’re the first person to compliment my fingers? My piano teacher used to tell me they were too stubby.”

“You piano teacher doesn’t seem to have a discerning taste for fingers.” Ashley couldn’t help a smile from stretching her lips. Andrew moved his teeth and surveyed her fingers against the light from the lamp on his desk. “You have really clean nails. Ultra-clean.”

“Don’t tell me you have OCD? Because then we’re in trouble. I’m the messiest person alive.”

“As long as your fingers remain clean, I can ignore the rest.” At her surprised expression, he elaborated, “Yeah, I know it sounds freaky. I have a bad case of finger obsession.”

“I’ve never dated anyone with that particular ailment before. I need to take special care of my fingers from now on. Any other parts you’re obsessed with that I should know about?”

“All of you, actually.”

“Mmmmm, that’s naughty.”

“It is, isn’t it? Now you know my darkest secret.” She felt his fingers on her lower back. It jerked her senses awake, and a slow burn coiled around her groin.

“That is your darkest secret?”

“Yes. Not a lot of people know about my finger fetish. It is not a commonly accepted fetish, unlike a shoe fetish. Just so we’re even, I think I should know about your secret too.” He poked her with his finger.

“Mmmmm, let me think. You know, last night was the fourth kiss of my life.” She blushed all the way up to the roots of her hair saying that. It was embarrassing to admit it.

“You didn’t seem like a novice, though. You have really smooth delivery.”

“It’s a natural talent, I guess.” She put on a confident demeanor. Fake it till you make it—she was a firm adherent to that philosophy.

“A good one to have.” He leaned back against his chair. “Definitely beats stuff like singing and piano playing.”

“I wish Mrs. Lim, my piano teacher, had thought that way. It would have saved me a lot of hours of playing Chopin and getting no better at it.”

“It takes a connoisseur to appreciate a talent like that.” He picked up a pen from the table and tucked it into his pocket.

“Do you have any natural talents?” Ashely asked.

“Staying up for twenty-four hours. Does that count?” Behind him, the clock flashed the time. One-thirty. It was late. Ashley felt the tiredness tug at the muscles in her eyes. She was usually asleep by this time. Noting that Andrew looked energetic and not in the least sleepy, she tried to push her eyelids up.

“It’s not exceptional enough.” she shook her her head.

Andrew rubbed his chin, ponderingly. “Oh. When I was in middle school, I managed to get Fs in every subject for two years in a row. How’s that?”

“Your mom must have been so proud of you.” She narrowed her eyes.

That brought his gregariousness down a notch instantly. “I don’t have a mom. I mean, I have one, but I’ve never seen her. My parents divorced when I was three. I’ve lived with my dad ever since.”

“I’m sorry.” Ashley said, resisting the strong urge to pull him into her arms and comfort him. “Don’t you have a step-mother?”

“I did, at one point. But she lasted barely a year.” Andrew pressed on his mop of brown hair.

Ashley inched nearer to him. “You must be close to your dad, then.”

“We can’t tolerate each other for more than five minutes, if that.” His voice was a strained rasp. There was something there. Something deep.

“I had nasty arguments with my parents when I was a teen, too,” she confessed.

Hers had been outbursts of rebellion, which were part and parcel of growing up, but they had not fractured her relationship with her parents majorly.

“Our animosity goes beyond that level.” A faint anger rolled from his tongue.

Ashley didn’t push him further on the topic, but she couldn’t keep herself from imagining what the reason for his anger was.

As he turned his head to the ceiling and took a few deep breaths, she looked down and caught the glow of the midnight lamp from the crack under the door.

“You have very hardworking employees. They’re still working.” She remarked.

“I pick them carefully. I need industrious staff to keep the business afloat.”

Said like a business owner, she thought.

“You thought I had the ability to work that hard?”

“Am I wrong?” There was not a moment’s hesitation. He had more faith in her than she had in herself.

To be fair, she’d worked hard during college. She’d burned the midnight oil before essay submission deadlines and taken all the challenging classes. She liked pushing herself to grow.

Her mood nosedived as she started to wonder whether all those hours in university would ever amount to anything. She’d been unemployed since July. It was more than six months already. With every passing day, the economy was getting worse. Youth unemployment was rising. How was she ever going to get a job?

Ashley clenched her fist. The grimness of her employment situation could send her into a mini-depression with startling predictability.

“Is something bothering you?” Andrew touched her forehead, which made her snap out of her self-induced trance.

“It’s nothing,” she shrugged. There was no need to spoil her date with Andrew by complaining about the economy.

“I know that look. I’ve seen it on the face of too many of my classmates. Got rejected by an employer?”

Her silence cemented her agreement more clearly than any words she could have said.

“My offer of employment still holds if you want to work sixteen-hour days. No weekends off.”

“It’s tempting, since I’d get to spend my whole day with you.” That got a grin from him. “But I don’t think I can work that hard after living the life of a couch potato for seven months. And I want to work in finance, not tech.”

Light flickered in his silver irises, like he was pondering over the possibility of something, before he dismissed it. “I wish you all the best then.”

If only all wishes could come true.

She yawned, involuntarily. Drowsiness was catching up to her. “Sorry.”

He ruffled her hair. “I’m surprised you’ve managed to stay awake for so long. I’d expected your eyelids to start drooping sooner.”

“I thought I could fight it, but I guess I can’t. Can I sleep over here?” She rested her head on one arm of the sofa and swung her legs over the other arm.

“My apartment’s not far, you know.” Andrew said.

All the hair on her body stood up. So they were at this uncomfortable topic already. “I’m not having sex with you yet, Andrew. Our relationship is too new. I don’t blame you for thinking I’m a slut after last night, but I’m not. That wasn’t me. I’m very prudish, actually.” He was gorgeous, funny and engaging, but that was not enough reason to have sex with him. Sex needed something else—trust.

“I didn’t mean it that way. The office is really uncomfortable and there’s no space to sleep. But I’m glad I got to know your views on first-date sex.”

Ashley cringed inwardly. “It’s an awkward topic, isn’t it?”

“An essential one, though.”

She shifted her head, and her neck bumped against something hard. Sleeping on the couch was indeed uncomfortable.

“I’d sleep at home, but I don’t want to drive alone at this hour. But if you’re dropping me, I’ll go.”

“How can I refuse when you ask me so nicely?” he said, mimicking Hugh Grant’s British accent.

“That’s a good imitation.”

“I was in drama club in high school. For three days.”

Rising from the couch, she got to her feet and shook the lethargy out of them. “Why did you quit? You’d have made a great actor. And I could have been dating a celebrity.”

With his photogenic face and natural charisma, he was Hollywood material all the way.

“I’m flattered you think so highly of my acting skills.” He bent over the drawers, opened one and retrieved his car keys. “Let’s go.”

A sense of déjà vu shook her the moment she entered his car. The kiss… the memories… they inflamed her.

“Getting used to riding around in my Accent?” he asked, trying to replace a station playing good music. “What kind of music do you like?”

“Jazz. And rock.”

“I like jazz too. I’m happy we have similar musical tastes. I hate couples who argue about what to listen to. Sucks all the romance out of a drive.” Andrew pressed the buttons on the car stereo, until the sensual tones of Julie London’s ‘You and the night and the music’ played out.

Andrew sang along in a funny impersonation of the songstress, which made Ashley laugh. Oh, God, it felt so good to laugh. She hadn’t laughed this much since graduation. She sang along too, throwing her insecurities about her vocal ability to the wind. She ended the song with flourish, holding the long note at the end. Her voice cracked and was terribly breathy, but whatever, she was having fun.

“After the night and the music die, will I have you?”

The last line faded, but the question still lingered.