She's told this story before, words rattling around her brain and embellishing the facts just a bit, but it's all still reality – from the asshole that left her standing in some club all the way to the girl who slowly removed that short skirt – it is all true.
But she's told this story before, at night and in her own bed and staring up at the ceiling, wondering if her own fingers might feel like someone else's – tripping down the abdomen, skimming over the hips, dipping an oar into new waters – she's stayed awake and dreamed of so many women.
And she's told this story before, rehearsed it like an actor with a script and knows just where to pause, where to bite her bottom lip…
…and it is all true, all real… and she still teases the outline of her body when the clock strikes midnight…
…but it'll be a friend she imagines this time.
/
Camera on her face and Spencer is up, turning off the television.
And they stare at one another.
And Ashley rolls her lips upward, a slow smirk that speaks where her voice is not needed.
And everyone wants a new first time, that's what Ashley wants to say, everyone wants to feel special instead of used – whether it is L.A. or Ohio, boys or girls, in love or in lust…
Everyone wants it to feel like a movie.
/
She's told this story before.
But, if she is lucky, she won't have to tell it anymore.
/
:END: