Spencer smiled back. “You won’t regret it. I promise. What flavor do you want?”

Ashley turned back to the menu, eyeing the mocha section, reading over the different flavors, trying to figure out what she was in the mood for. Just as she was about to reply, a large man chatting away on his cell shoved passed her. She was wearing boots with a nice sized heel, so the collision knocked her completely off balance and sent her falling into Spencer. She felt the photographer’s hands move to her waist, holding her there, steadying her. The brunette looked down and saw that her own hands were wrapped around the upper part of Spencer’s arms. “Shit,” she muttered, quickly dropping her arms to her sides and stepping back. “I-I’m sorry.”

Spencer’s eyebrows furrowed. “It’s not your fault.” She flicked her eyes over to the man who had pushed Ashley. He was back at his table. “I can’t believe that asshole didn’t even apologize. Are you okay?”

Ashley nodded, while removing the hairs that had gotten stuck to the gloss on her lips. “I, um, I’m gonna go find us a table.” She slipped the purse off her shoulder, unzipped it, and fished out her wallet. “Just get me a hazelnut.”

“Hey, no, I’m getting this one.” Spencer laid a hand over Ashley’s, stopping her from taking any cash out.

Ashley’s eyes lowered to the hand covering her own, lingering there for a moment, before she finally pulled away. Licking her lips, she asked, “Are you sure?”

“Yeah, I’ve got it.”

Ashley snapped her wallet closed and shoved it back into her purse. “Okay, thanks.” With that, she stepped out of the line and began making her way to the restrooms, which were opposite the entrance. She had seen the sign when she walked in.

There were three women in the ladies room when she entered; two were in stalls, one was using the electric air dryer to dry her hands. Ashley went over to the sink, dropped her purse onto the counter and wrapped her hands around the edge. She stood there, staring at her reflection in the mirror. “This has to stop. Now,” she whispered.

The woman at the dryer gave her strange look. “Excuse me?”

“Was I fucking talking to you?” the bartender snapped.

The woman muttered something under her breath, then walked out of the bathroom.

Ashley jerked a paper towel out of the dispenser on the wall and roughly wiped at her lips, removing the gloss. After it was gone, she balled up the paper and tossed it into the square-shaped whole cut out in the counter top. As she was reapplying a new coat of gloss to her lips, a toilet flushed, and a woman came out of one of the stalls and joined her at the sink. She eyed the woman in the mirror, wishing there was a way that she could trade places with her, saving herself from anymore torture. Yes, torture. She thought she could handle hanging around Spencer for an hour. But ten minutes alone with her and she was all ready going crazy.

With a sigh, she turned back to her own reflection. Why is this so goddamn hard?

– – –