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They say that little boys pick on the girls they like. If a boy steals your favourite dolly, he's really trying to steal your heart. Ash Carlyle wasn't the kind of boy to steal your doll. He was the kind of boy that would take the doll, burn it and hand back the smoking remains. I find it easier not to speculate on how that corresponds to his heart-related intentions. He and I first met in school at the tender age of five. Even then he looked like trouble, all tousled dark hair and wild grey eyes. It took him one week and several unsavory incidents (including, but not limited to, the legendary theft of the class hamster) to gain a reputation as the school firebrand. Looking back on it now, I'm surprised it took that long. I was a shy and fumbling little thing back then, lacking even so much as an ounce of the self-assurance that Ash possessed. I had just one friend - Lucy Carlyle, Ash's twin sister. She, unlike her brother, was a quiet and self-contained soul, and she shared my discomfort in social situations. We clicked immediately, our mutual awkwardness somehow resulting in a lifelong friendship. I met Ash through Lucy. Little upstart though he was, he always took the time to check up on his sister. On the third day of mine and Lucy's friendship, Ash plonked himself unceremoniously down at our table during lunch break and helped himself to a bite of my sandwich. I stunned myself by outright telling him off. "That's rude!" I hissed. He flashed a careless grin. "Sorry, Carrot Top." He tugged on a strand of my (admittedly, at the time) hideous orange hair and snickered. And that was how it began. After that Ash would visit our lunch table every day, always armed with a cheeky smirk and a new taunt for me. What had begun with ginger jokes evolved into jabs at my shyness, my freckles, my clumsiness. Lucy soon grew weary of his behavior and began demanding that he stop, but this only increased his zeal and before long he was sitting with me in class too, just to throw wadded up bits of paper at me or knock my pens off my desk. At first I endured his behaviour with scandalised awe and flares of temper, though my terminal shyness would continually interfere with that. I'd end up red-cheeked and stammering like a moron and he'd chalk up another victory for himself. After a while, I simply gave up on responding. It took me several years to achieve complete aloofness, not an easy feat while simmering with hatred, but that more than anything seemed to drive him mad. As time went by, Ash's teasing remained an unfortunate constant in my life. Lucy and I spent our educational years wearily awaiting his next onslaught - there were times when Lucy would find me close to tears after one of his taunts. Every single time, she'd give me the apology that I'd never get from her twin and then she'd sit quietly at my side until I was ready to face the world again. Some days she'd say that she felt more like my sister than Ash's. As much as I'd like to say I outgrew my hatred of Ash, I never did. I did, however, eventually outgrow my habitual stammer, shedding my nervous shell as my confidence increased. Puberty was kind to me; after the expected lashings of pimples and hormones, my gangly body grew into something resembling a feminine form, all curves and breasts and long legs. My hair left its ginger roots behind and deepened into a much-welcomed shade of red. By the time I left school, I'd had several boyfriends - much to Ash's well-vocalised befuddlement. By age twenty, I was living in a flat with Lucy and attending University. I studied Literature while Lucy followed her passion for Psychology. Ash lived nearby with several of his friends and consequently I still was not free of him. He made a habit of dropping by uninvited every now and then, ostensibly to visit his beloved sister, though he spent most of that time finding new ways to irritate me. One particular summer day, he invited himself into the house as I was attempting to write an essay. I was curled on the sofa, my laptop perched on the coffee table in front of me, when I heard the familiar sound of his footsteps coming up the stairs. I didn't glance up from the screen of my laptop as he sauntered through the door, bringing with him a welcome Escort Erenköy waft of fresh air. Even with a popsicle stuck in my mouth and every window in the flat open I was overheating. Consequently I was dressed only in shorts and a tank top. "Lucy home?" Ash's voice interrupted my essay musings. I removed the popsicle from my mouth. In a bored drawl I asked, "What day is it, Ash?" "Tuesday," he answered promptly. "Has your brain fried in the heat, Carrots?" I gritted my teeth but very maturely did not rise to the bait. "And how many times have you been told now that Lucy has classes all day Tuesday?" A brief pause. "You might have mentioned it. Can't honestly say I pay much attention to you." Finally, I glanced up. As always, the sight of Ash provoked an instinctive response from me. One look at his stormy grey eyes and I wanted to hit something; one look at his artfully messed-up dark hair and I wanted to tear my own out. The same old mischief lingered in his expression, from the slight arching of one dark brow to the hint of a smile playing around his mouth. Even I had to grudgingly admit that he was handsome in a bad boy-ish kind of way, with his tattooed arms and his nose ring. He'd hinted once that his body modifications continued beneath his clothes, but I tended to actively block that thought. The fact of the matter remained that he was a smart-mouthed nuisance. I dragged my gaze off him and made a show of typing away on the laptop. "Well, you know now. Lucy's not here; I recommend that you follow her example," I said curtly. As usual, Ash ignored my obvious lack of patience with him and dropped onto the sofa next to me. He wore jeans and a tee with some band logo on it, and he was obviously too warm. He blew out a breath and fanned himself with one hand. "If I didn't know you better, Olivia, I'd think you were trying to get rid of me," he grinned. The use of my actual name was a once-in-a-blue-moon phenomenon. I stifled the urge to comment on it. "I'm working; go away." Of course, it was entirely impossible to concentrate now with him just inches away from me. A breeze, invited in by the open windows, coaxed the delicious scent of him toward me. I could feel his body heat from where I sat. I stuck the popsicle back in my mouth, in drastic need of a cool-down. Ash made no reply. When I flicked a glance his way, I found that his gaze was riveted to my mouth. He licked his lower lip. Puzzled, I removed my icy treat from between my lips. His eyes flared, following the movement with hazy intensity, as if he were only half-aware of what he was doing. "Want one?" I ventured. He blinked, swallowed hard. His gaze found mine. "I - what?" I waved the popsicle in his face. "There's plenty in the freezer. You look a bit flushed." "Oh." His dreamy expression shut down. He seemed to struggle for words for a moment before recovering. "I see what's going on now - luring me in with phallic-shaped ice products, all the while hoping to seduce me. I'm sorry, Foxy Locks, but I'm just not interested in you." He flashed a smug grin, evidently pleased with the new nickname. I rolled my eyes and shut the laptop, giving up on my misguided idea of getting him to leave. He'd hang around until he got bored or until Lucy came home and ousted him. "Am I that transparent?" I asked, dripping with sarcasm. "Please, take me now." "Don't you wish." He paused, a contemplative look crossing his handsome features. "Bet I'd be better than that last boyfriend of yours - Mick, was it? He looked like a one-thrust wonder. That is, of course, assuming he could get it up." I bristled. Ash had absolutely no conversational boundaries. He especially loved to provide unwanted commentary on my past boyfriends. "It's Mark," I corrected automatically. Ash made a dismissive gesture. "Is that why you broke up? He was shit in bed?" he pressed. His eyes glinted. "Ash," I said warningly. "What? I'm just curious. Your relationship escapades are a source of great entertainment for me. Now tell me how shit he was in bed." I pressed my eyes shut. Maybe when I opened them he'd be gone. Nope, still there. "Your face is a source of great entertainment for me," I shot back with venom. He was undeterred. içerenköy escort Leaning in close, he invaded my personal space. I inhaled the smoke-and-peppermint smell of him and edged away. Ash smirked. "It's okay; I'll show you a good time if you beg for it." My temper broke free of what meagre restraints I'd held it under. "Never in a million fucking years," I snapped, launching to my feet. I paced when I was angry; the sudden and savage rage that only Ash could inspire in me was near impossible to control but pacing helped. Ash surged up and prowled after me, each step annoyingly graceful in comparison to my own jerky movements. His expression was a study in opposites, triumphant and yet enraged at the same time. His gaze dragged downward from my face, clinging to the arch of my neck and the curve of my waist and sliding south to my exposed legs. I felt the weight of those smoky eyes on me like a tangible thing, as if he'd trailed a finger down my skin. I didn't know how to deal with these lingering gazes, didn't want to know how I should interpret them. All I knew was that there was a hungry look on Ash's face and it was doing strange things to my heartbeat. My mouth felt suddenly dry. I backed away from him, striving to return to my calm indifference, but my world felt off balance and calmness eluded me. I was angry and confused and then angry some more. I let out a shaky breath. Ash looked similarly affected; he was breathing hard, his jaw tight and his hands clenched at his sides. "Never?" he asked in a low voice that sent flutters to my stomach. "Never," I confirmed, with more conviction than I felt in that moment. A moment of silence stretched between us, the tension thick and unruly. Neither of us moved. The moment broke abruptly when my melting popsicle dripped blue water onto my foot with an audible sound. The rising heat in the room had given form to several slick droplets, which trembled their way down the length of the ice. I skittered to the side, caught off guard, and let out a yelp. "Fuck!" Ash chuckled, amused at my expense, and the tension dissipated. "Graceful as ever. I'm off home - you coming to the party on Friday?" His flatmate, Seth, had invited me to the upcoming party at their shared flat several weeks ago. They hosted several parties a year for no other reason than 'because we can', and Lucy and I usually showed our faces for a while. "Probably," I answered hastily, still dodging dripping water as I made my way to the kitchen in search of a cloth. Ash made a noncommittal sound. "Fine." For someone who could barely take his eyes off my legs, he did an awfully good job of acting like he didn't give a shit. Without even so much as a goodbye, he headed to the door and walked casually out. The second he was gone I took several deep breaths and leaned against the nearest wall. What the fuck had all of that been about? The staring, the heat, the tension... It had happened before, usually while Ash was drunk, but never like that. It had never been more clear that Ash was attracted to me. Lucy had insisted as much hundreds of times over the years, but I'd always protested - how could a guy so good at winding me up be attracted to me? Why hadn't he just acted like it, instead of all the years of taunts? He'd done a damn good job of making me resent him and now this? It just wasn't right. I deserved better treatment. It was with this in mind that the plan slowly formed. Now I'm not one for being bad usually, but by the time I'd settled all the details in my head, I felt like all that was missing from my evil genius persona was a wicked cackle and a cat to stroke.* "You clean up nice," Lucy commented from the doorway to my bedroom on Friday night. She was dressed modestly in a teal off the shoulder top and skinny jeans, which complimented her slim frame. Her dark hair was, as usual, styled neatly. Her grey eyes, so like her brother's, were thoughtful as she scanned my outfit. She'd helped me pick it out, though she remained unaware of my plans regarding her nuisance of a brother. I rarely wore dresses, preferring to stick to the comfort of jeans and shorts, and Lucy had picked up on that. I told her that I wanted Tuzla escort bayan a confidence boost, which was entirely true. The thought of what I planned was making me nervous - I'd second-guessed myself all day. Ultimately I wanted to feel sexy and this certainly fit the bill. The corset of the dress was white and it molded to my curves, highlighting them subtly. A slim belt around the waist marked the point where the material became black and silky, falling delicately to mid-thigh. My hair was a riot of loose waves, a flash of colour amidst the black and white. I added a spritz of perfume to my throat and wrists, smiling at Lucy. "You're not so bad yourself." Understatement. She was stunning. She gave an indulgent chuckle, still eyeing me. "Ash asked me what time we'd be at the party. He also asked if we wanted a ride over and if we wanted to stay the night afterward." Her voice carried undertones of significance. She'd more or less given up on last year's insane quest to pair me off with her brother, but that didn't stop her from slipping various implications into conversation. I shot her an 'I know what you're doing' sort of look and she held up both hands in surrender but didn't vocally acknowledge it. Instead she said, "You ready to go? Drunken frivolity awaits." Was I ready? I dragged in a shaky breath. "Bring it on."* The party was in full swing by the time we arrived. The thumping music - mostly indie rock with a few heavier songs thrown into the mix - could probably be heard all the way up the street. And if it couldn't, then the drunken laughter echoing from each room of the flat certainly could be. There were people everywhere - squashed on the leather sofa, sharing the mismatched chairs, dancing in the living room, grinding against the walls, dashing off to the bathroom, mixing drinks in the kitchen... It was a hive of activity fueled by alcohol, and within seconds of entering the flat Lucy and I found ourselves thrust into it. The warm weight of an arm settled around my shoulders and I glanced up to see Seth, Ash's flatmate. Seth was tall, blond and, at that moment, extremely topless. His broad chest was covered in what looked like written instructions, scrawled in thick black ink. "If found, please return to Ash Carlyle," I read from his chest, my brow furrowed. A mobile number was scribbled below the name, along with a smiley face. Seth grinned down at me. "I wander off and go on adventures when I'm drunk." And that, apparently, was all the explanation we were going to get. With his arms firmly around Lucy and I, Seth marched us off toward the kitchen. It later occurred to me that we were probably all that was keeping him upright. We certainly weren't enough to keep him walking in a straight line but he did his best. The kitchen was seemed smaller than usual, filled as it was with people. Bottles and cans covered almost every available surface and a giggling girl lay across the table, which creaked ominously. Someone was making a doomed attempt at cooking, which involved pouring random things from the fridge into a pan, and I swiftly leaned in to turn off the hob. Didn't need the house exploding before I managed to go through with my plan. I angled a nervous look at my handbag, where the tell-tale clink of items announced the presence of the special item I'd bought yesterday, and I swallowed nervously. "Drinks!" Seth announced, and, in a great display of how even the drastically drunk can operate their basic motor functions if alcohol is involved, opened bottles for Lucy and I. He pressed them into our hands. Lucy took hers and sipped delicately, while I took a fortifying swig. "Fire in the hole!" a familiar voice called out from behind me. I rolled my eyes. Ash's varying ginger jokes were a great source of pride for him and a great source of annoyance for me. I whirled and found him standing right behind me, wearing jeans that hung low on his hips and a v-necked shirt that exposed glimpses of his chest tattoo. His scent rushed at me in a delicious wave. I opened my mouth to snap back some (hopefully) witty retort, but the look on his face struck me dumb. Ash was looking at me like he was drowning and I was oxygen. His eyes darkened rapidly as they swept over the form-fitting material of my dress and I couldn't help but shift nervously under such scrutiny. He opened his mouth, made a soft sound, shook his head and raked one hand through his hair in an oddly helpless gesture. His eyes never left me, never stopped drifting up and down my body, my face, my hair.