Just Love

Go For It

Ashton

I sat staring out my office window contemplating why I could not stop thinking of her. I was consumed by everything about her.  Her eyes haunted me as I got dressed. The way her body moved had me distracted in traffic. And the need to hear her voice, kept me from getting any work done. I was enamored. Everything about her seems addictive. But the issue was, I did not know my next move.

I had already found her. Before I could even get my keys out of the door Saturday night, I googled her address. There I got a name. Skylar Marie Jones. Then, the stalking began. I spent the bulk of my Sunday on her Facebook, Twitter, Snapchat, and IG. I even looked at her LinkedIn profile. I was obsessed. Every snap, tweet, or post I could devour.

Anything I could learn about her. Where she went to high school, college, her favorite food, her favorite color. I wanted to know it all. I probably should not have taken notes, but I just could not stop myself. Account after account. Post after post. But my favorite of her social media, was her IG.

It was packed with pictures. Some of her and her Mom, a beautiful peanut butter skinned middle aged woman who looked strangely familiar. Some of her and a huge dark skinned guy she called her brother. Some of her and her "best bitch", a long legged banger who I had seen several times at the club. And then there was one picture. Of her and a girl at a house party. The girl was snuggled into her neck, so you were not able to see her face. But the thing that got me was the smile on Skylar's face. She was elated. Her whole face had that glow you get when you're in love. The caption was just "Her😍".

I was so jealous, I swore my eyes turned green. My first thoughts were who is she? Are they still together? But, there were no other photos of her anywhere on her page. The next thought was, I wanted to be that girl. I did not care who she was, hell she might be in jail right now. All I knew was that I wanted nothing more than to put that smile on Skylar's face. I knew I had gone overboard at that point, and resigned to spend the rest of my Sunday productively. I cleaned up, organized some of my records, and ordered groceries for next week. Then drank the remainder of the day away in front of ESPN.

But no matter what, I could not stop thinking about her.

A knock broke my thoughts.

"Come in."

"Hey." Kari said poking her head in. I gave my friend a soft smile and waved her in.

"What can I do for you?"

Kari shifted her body into one the seats in front of my desk. Her tailored gray suit making her look sharp. Her long hair in a low ponytail.

"I need you to review the budget for Q3, but your desk looks like shit." She said with a smile.

I laughed. "The graphics interns dropped off some designs based off the meeting we had last Thursday. And I also stopped by the club, and picked up the hard copy of the inventory from there. But I can look that over at home tonight."

I took off my glasses and ran my hand down my face. Leaning back into my chair, I let out a deep sigh. I need to focus.

"You seem wistful." Kari said out of nowhere.

"What?"

"Wistful, you know contemplative..."

I waved my hand for her to stop. "Yeah, I know the word. What of it?"

Kari burst out laughing. "Well that's you right now. Staring off into space over a mountain of paperwork."

I nodded my head. "So."

She evaluated me with a hard gaze. Tilting her head to the side, with squinted eyes she said, "You met a girl."

Not honoring her with an answer, I put my head down, and began sorting through the papers on my desk. I was not ready to discuss this. I had been acting like a stalker for the last two days, and shame was the primary reason for my silence. A huge smile spread across Kari's face.

"A girl you like." She said with a teasing manner. I just kept "working" refusing to meet her gaze. "Oh you like her a lot." She continued with a chuckle. "You didn't stalk her did you?" I gave her a warning glance then returned to my work. But this only made her laugh.

"So now you're trying to figure out how to make a move." Kari hummed in thought. "Does she not know who Ashton Brighton is? I mean women usually throw themselves at you once you say your name." I kept my head bent hoping she would go away. She hummed again. "Well, if you want my advice, all you have to do is ask." I sighed and continued my task in front of me, whatever it was. "I am happily married so..."

"I was also happily married at one point Kari. It does not make you an expert on the subject matter of relationships." I said bitingly, hoping it would silence the topic.

With a cheeky grin, she stood. "Hey no need to get gruff. I'm only trying to help in any way that I can. Which is hard to do if you're not saying anything."

She stood there looking down at me. I knew she was expecting an answer, but I refused to meet her gaze. My eyes focused on the paper in my hand that I was not reading.

Kari sighed. "Well, I guess I'll let you finish. But, I'm just going to throw this out there before I go." I sighed again with all the annoyance I could muster. I looked up at my friend, signaling that I was actually listening.

"Go for it." And with a small smile she left.

I huffed. How could I just go for it. The ink just dried on my divorce paperwork. Not to mention all the associated trauma that I'm still healing from. My family was waspy dysfunctional. And to top it off she did not seem like she was interested in getting to know me better. She refused to tell me her name or give me her number. And she possibly has a girlfriend. I sighed.

But I could not stop thinking about those eyes. Or the stoic, enigmatic way she sat in my car. He eyes darting from my form to the road. Observing, calculating. Her hands soft, but sure of what she was doing as she pulled my face closer. Her voice, that sounded as if it was covered in honey, tickling my ear. Whispering softly as her breath sent a shiver down my spine. I was shook. Stuck in between a school girl crush type existence, and a lustful haze. I wanted to giggle and blush, as I grabbed her into my arms.

And she did not know who I was. She seemed shocked that I owned the club, and I had never seen her before in any of my social circles. A fresh start for me was rare. My Grandfather, Carter T. Brighton, had become a millionaire through a series of strategic land deals and buying patents. My uncle Jonathan Brighton was a third term Senator for the state. And me, I was currently labeled as a "Trust fund socialite". A Black Queer Paris Hilton. Not exactly the legacy I want to leave behind, but I had to be honest about who I was.

This was complicated. She was complicated. I was complicated. But, those eyes. I felt insane. I grabbed my hair in frustration, then slammed my head on my desk. I have to get her off of my mind. But, that smile.

"Damn it!" I said into the air while brushing my hair back with my fingers. I was never going to finish this work.

Brushing the matter off, I went back to work. Trudging through another 4 hours before I decided to go home. I drove silently to my house, then went inside. Where I spent the rest of the night thinking about her eyes. Rule number 3 of business never get distracted.