“Ashley,” I say seriously to get her attention. “Before you make your decision, can I tell you something?” I don’t wait for her response. “I know you might have heard a lot of stuff about me but half of that is only rumors, thirty percent lies and the rest… well the rest is actually true.”

She chuckles.

“I guess what I’m trying to tell you is that I want you to get to know the real me, not the stud/player I’m perceived to be. Do you get what I’m saying?”

“Definitely.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

We had a few more shots during the course of the night but managed to make it home in one piece.

I stumbled up Ashley’s front door trying to help her inside.

“Spencer, I think we had too much to drink,” she giggles in a drunken manner.

“Nonsense! I’m okay to drive, I swear. We already made it this far,” I slur slightly.

“No. No, I don’t think so.”

We weren’t wasted but we were somewhat loopy though. Honestly though, I think I could pass a breathalyzer.

“Well how am I supposed to get home?”

“Don’t. You can stay here tonight.”

“I don’t know. I don’t want to intrude or anything.”

“Intrude? Of course not. I’ll make you a bed on the couch.”

Hesitantly, I agree although I’m not sure that being with Ashley when there’s so much sexual tension in the air is a good idea, especially when we’re drunk. Wait a second. When has something not being a good idea ever stopped me?

Never?

Yeah, that’s what I thought. In fact, I think something inside of me urges me to do the worst possible thing every chance it gets.

That would be me, Jude smirks, although, you practically do my job for me.

Oh yeah.

And I’m your conscience! Don’t forget about me! Marty piped up.

“Alright. So do you want to watch TV or pop in a DVD or something while I do this? They’re over there,” she says, pointing to the cabinet under the TV.

“I’ll help you but maybe I will after we finish.”

By this time we’re practically sober… well, at least we can form coherent sentences and the room isn’t spinning.