I Still Hate You by Marie Skye (most popular ebook readers .TXT) 📗

looked back to the couple on the air mattress, seemingly ignoring me as they continued. I quickly slammed the door as I went out into the hallway. What the hell is going on here? I slid down the wall, my knees to my chest, trying to figure out not only what I just walked in on, but why? Oh, and what the ever-loving fuck?

At least twenty minutes went by before the door slowly opened and the couple that was having sex in my living room both walked out, looking at each other happily. I suppose them being happy was justified. The girl glanced down at me and waved. “Thank you,” she said before getting into the elevator. I didn’t even know what to say back to her. What the hell was she thanking me for? I let at least another twenty minutes go by before I took a deep breath, stood up and made my way into my apartment.

The air mattress was gone, the furniture was moved back into place, but the smell of sex still lingered in the air. I heard something sizzling in the kitchen along with a waft of something that smelled amazing. I’m guessing he had a date coming over. My stomach growled, reminding me of the granola bar I had at lunch that didn’t suffice. I walked slowly toward it. There at the stove stood Ash stirring something on the stove, before moving to the counter to gather the fresh basil and chopped garlic and throw it into the pot. He peered over his shoulder and smiled. “I was wondering when you were going to come back in.”

I gave a half-smile as I peered into the cabinet and grabbed a pack of microwavable mac and cheese which was horrible by the way. “I’m making spaghetti, interested?” He didn’t even wait for me to respond as he grabbed two plates out of the cabinet. I stood frozen in my spot not sure of what I should do. I didn’t say anything and watched as he dished up pasta onto both plates, followed by a generous scoop of sauce. He placed them both on the table before walking to the fridge and peering inside before taking out a bottle of wine.

“I wasn’t sure if you were a wine drinker.” He held up the bottle. “Cabernet okay?” Again, he didn’t wait for me to respond as he took two glasses from the cabinet and filled them both halfway. He placed a glass in front of each dish and pulled the chair out. That’s when I noticed he was waiting for me to sit down. When I didn’t move, he motioned for me to sit. Hesitantly and ever so slowly, I sat as he pushed the chair up to the table before taking his own. I watched as he swirled his noodles in the sauce and took a bite. He briefly shut his eyes and nodded as if he gave himself the seal of approval before he really dug in. I finally picked up my fork, taking a bite.

Damn, this was good. “You made this?” I asked him as I took an even bigger bite. Thoughts of being classy be damned.

“Secret family recipe, although don’t you dare tell my mom I didn’t have time to make real pasta and used boxed instead.” He winked at me as he took a sip of his wine.

“I’m not that great at cooking. I mean, I know the basics but I guess even that can be questionable.” I took a long drink. “My dad said it was okay but I’m sure more often than not, he was just being nice. I think it was because he was tired of drinking nutritional shakes so any food was practically gourmet.”

“You two must have been really close.”

I paused, not realizing I was talking so freely about my dad, which was something I never did. I quickly changed the subject. “Wow, your family goes all out, don’t they? Homemade pasta, what else can you do?”

He shrugged, taking another bite before pouring us both more wine. It was odd how much we didn’t know about each other considering we were practically in a relationship, only not really in a relationship during university. I suppose we spent more time in the bedroom not really talking unless he was giving me a command. After a few minutes, the wine finally did its job by giving me the encouragement I needed.

I cleared my throat. “So, about earlier.”

He looked up at me, waiting for me to continue. I didn’t. We just stared at each other. I guess he wasn’t going to make this easy for me at all. “The people in the living room?” He nodded, still not saying anything. I sighed. “I thought you were a bartender?”

“I am. Sometimes. Mostly on call.” He took another bite of his food.

“So, what? When you’re not bartending, you’re watching people have sex? You don’t think that’s something you should’ve shared with me?”

“Firstly, I’m not watching people have sex, at least not unless they want me to.” I started to say something but he cut me off. “Secondly, it’s my job to offer advice when needed.”

“I would definitely like for you to elaborate on your answer.”

“Think of me as a... a life coach, who happens to specialize in sex.”

“Sex? So... a sex coach?”

He smirked, probably because I said it as if I had never heard of it before. “Not just sex. Relationships go way beyond intimacy. Don’t you agree?”

I blinked several times before throwing out an answer. “Yes, yes of course. I completely agree.”

“Besides, you tend to learn what your partner is looking for when you used to get paid for it,” he said so casually, and he shrugged.

Wait...what? Was he a prostitute? Did Ash become a prostitute and now he’s just sitting at the table, casually eating spaghetti like it was the most normal thing in the world? What does this mean? Is that why he was on Sextee? And is the whole not