"Knock knock..."
"Who's there?"
"Orange."

A small giggle from both sides of the conversation ensues, all from anticipation. They've been on the phone for way over thirty minutes, Aiden eager to share a book that Marissa gave to him - a book full of jokes - and Ashley was eager to hear each one.

"...Orange who?"
"Orange ya glad to see me!"

The boy crows over the line and Ashley is kicking her feet against the hallway floor, laughing without breathing.

"Wanna hear another one?" Aiden asks and Ashley nods her head before her voice catches up.
"Sure!"

She isn't sure what her parents are up to, they've been in the living room for a long time now. And with the nanny gone for the night, Ashley is taking full advantage of her father and mother being distracted.
She twists her body around the side of the wall and looks at the clock, noting with a happy grin that it is now - officially - two minutes past her usual bedtime.

Of course, Ashley has stayed up late before, in her bedroom with a flashlight on and looking at picture books under the sheets.
But this is different.
This is being awake and downstairs, like adults get to do.

"Okay... Knock, knock..."
"Who's there?"
"Cow go."
"Cow go who?"
"No, cow go moo!"

They laugh some more and who knows just how long that would have continued, how long Aiden would have told knock-knock jokes and how long Ashley would have sat there on the floor, giggling like there was no tomorrow.
She figures that it could have been a long time, because she's never had a friend like this before. Sure, all those girls in first grade are nice, but they are rarely fun.
And Aiden might be a bit shy, but Ashley doesn't mind.

She likes the boy as he is, accidents and all.

It is a sharp sound that halts her laughter, the sting of a distant slap. The sound stops that laughter cold in her throat and the humor gets lodged there awkwardly as she listens to the voice that cuts in on this somewhat late-night conversation.

"Neither of you should be on the phone this late."

It is Aiden's mother.
And Ashley isn't fearful of too many things.
She has faced down spiders and that one snake that one summer. She has fallen into the deep end of Aiden's pool and didn't drown, just sputtered and kicked until she reached the surface, until she reached the metal ladder.
But Aiden's mother scares Ashley just a bit.

"Say good night, Aiden. Now."

And the boy mutters a 'good night', which is followed with a very harsh click of the phone being hung up.

Of course, it wouldn't be the last time that Ashley heard what she should not, wouldn't be the last time that Ashley was made aware of the life that her best friend was living.

That night, though, she crept up the stairs and to her bedroom. And she stayed up until she fell asleep on a stack of notebook paper, colored pencils still strewn all over her bed.
She was drawing something for Aiden, because she didn't know how to fix things.
She just knew that the boy liked dinosaurs and Ashley was pretty certain she could draw one - greens and browns and lots of teeth.
Because she didn't know what to do at all, except be a friend - to be the best friend ever.

Of course, that wasn't the last time that Ashley didn't know what to do or how to fix things, for Aiden or for herself.

It was just one of the first times.

/ /

The phone buzzes in her hand and the sensation slowly drags her back to life.
She blinks in the darkness and wonders why she is asleep at all - it is only two in the morning - and yet she is still completely clothed, shoes on as if she were going out and then suddenly passed out.
She wonders why she is even home at all, because this is not the place that Ashley likes to spend the night.
She'd rather be anywhere else at all.

And the blue glow of the screen of her cell-phone tosses up a string of numbers, numbers that Ashley wouldn't be able to recite if anyone needed her to do so.
Numbers that don't mean much, not in the grand scheme of life, but they mean enough to make Ashley pause and allow her thumb to rest over the button to answer.

And it won't be a knock-knock joke to greet her if she answers.
But it'll still be a joke, just not the funny kind.

And she could put the phone away. She could set it to silent and turn onto her side and kick off those shoes. She could sleep here for once, imagine that outside of those doors is not a farce of a family or a friend that kind of depends on her, and rest like a child again.

Ashley could do those things, but the dawn would bring her back down.

And she is already about as far down as it goes these days.

/ /

It's not pretty and a part of her wishes it was.
And that is a part of her that gets brutally ignored.

Instead, she counts each breath. One, two, three, four - so quick and so rough to her ears.
And when she feels Spencer's fingers dance inside of her, curling with insistence and hooking her and reeling her in - helpless, terribly helpless - Ashley's back curves upward and her hips buck hard and the leather underneath burns hot against her skin as she moves with abandon.

And, really, it is the funniest thing ever.

Because no one has ever felt better there, pushing deep into Ashley's wet heat, no one has seem to fit so well and settle so quickly.
Because Spencer is cutting her to the ground, saw to the trees, and Ashley is barely fighting it from happening.

And the laughter is a guttural groan, dragged out beautifully.
And the orgasm is merely as wasted opportunity between them.

Again.

/ /

TBC