I hope in reality did not give Ashlee or Kevin authorization for this lesson!
The apartment smelled like stale...
September 14th, 2025
The apartment smelled like stale pizza and cheap beer. Friday night leftovers. Ashlee sat curled at one end of the worn corduroy couch, the flickering blue light of some forgettable sitcom washing over her face. Kevin sprawled at the other end, scrolling his phone, the silence thick and comfortable, just background noise.
"Hey, Kev?"
He grunted, not looking up. "Hmm?"
She shifted, tucking her feet under her. The silence stretched, punctuated only by the tinny laugh track. He finally glanced over. Her brow was furrowed, chewing on her bottom lip. Her thick, dark red hair was piled messily on her head, escaping strands framing her face. That tiny gap between her front teeth was visible as she worried her lip.
"You okay, Ash?"
She took a shaky breath. "Okay, don't freak out. Seriously." Her voice was low, hesitant. "But… I need a favour. A… big one. Like, monumentally awkward big."
Kevin put his phone down, fully attentive now. Ashlee wasn't usually this… fidgety. "Shoot. Can't be worse than the time you asked me to help bleach your roots and we nearly gassed ourselves." He tried for a grin.
She didn't smile back. Instead, she pulled her knees up to her chest, hugging them. Her oversized band t-shirt slipped off one shoulder. "It's about… um… sex stuff."
Kevin blinked. Sex stuff? With Ashlee? They were roommates, friends, but their boundaries were usually strictly platonic. "O…kay," he said slowly. "Hope giving you girl advice or something?" Hope, his girlfriend, was Ashlee’s friend too. The connection made sense.
"No. Not Hope." Ashlee squeezed her eyes shut for a second, then opened them, meeting his gaze directly. Her green eyes were wide, earnest. "It's about me. And… doing it. Specifically, sucking dick." The word hung in the air, stark and crude against the mundane backdrop of the sitcom.
Kevin felt his jaw loosen slightly. What the actual fuck? He stared at her, speechless. Ashlee, with her fiery hair and those Madonna-gap teeth, her curvy frame usually radiating confidence, looked utterly vulnerable. Fragile, even.
Her cheeks flushed crimson. "See? Awkward. Told you." She rushed on, the words tumbling out. "Mason comes back next week. He's been gone a month. And… we haven't… done that yet. Oral, I mean. We've done other stuff, obviously, but…" She trailed off, looking down at her fingers picking at the co
Chapter 5: Hope os gone
The buzz of her phone cut through the fog of her hangover. Ashlee fumbled for it, her throat dry as dust. “Hey, Hope,” she croaked, squeezing her eyes shut against the throbbing in her temples. Hope’s voice was crisp and clear, a stark contrast to the murk clouding Ashlee’s mind. “Just wanted to give you a heads-up,” Hope said. “I’ve asked Kevin to check in on you in the mornings and again before bed while I’m out of town.” Ashlee’s stomach tightened. “Just to confirm you’re in a good place,” Hope added, her tone laced with genuine concern. “Of course,” Ashlee managed, the words tasting like ash. “Thank you for that, Hope. I really appreciate you looking out for me.” She ended the call and let the phone fall onto the rumpled sheets, the weight of the lie settling deep in her chest. The silence of her room was suddenly oppressive. She could hear the low, rhythmic creak of Kevin’s bed frame from down the hall, a relentless metronome counting out her complicity. Each groan of the springs was a sharp puncture in the fragile bubble of their secret. She pulled the blanket over her head, trying to block out the sound, but it was useless. It was everywhere.
It was everywhere. The creaking from Kevin’s room seeped through the walls, a relentless reminder of what she had set in motion. She pressed the pillow over her ears, but the sound vibrated in her bones. Her mouth felt cottony from the wine, and a dull ache pulsed behind her eyes.
She had to get out of this room. Ashlee swung her legs over the side of the bed, the floor cold against her bare feet. She stumbled to the door, her hand trembling on the knob. The hallway was dark, save for a sliver of light under Kevin’s door. She could hear muffled laughter, Ciara’s low hum, and Kevin’s responding chuckle.
Her stomach twisted. She padded to the kitchen, seeking water to soothe her parched throat. The empty wine bottles on the counter stood like accusatory sentinels. As she filled a glass, the creaking stopped abruptly. Silence fell, heavy and unnerving.
Then, Kevin’s door clicked open. Ciara emerged, wrapped in one of Kevin’s shirts, her hair tousled. She saw Ashlee and smiled, a slow, knowing curve of her lips. “Rough night?” she asked, her voice raspy. Ashlee gripped the glass, the coolness doing little to calm the heat rising in her cheeks.
She didn’t reply, her gaze fixed on the hallway behind Ciara.
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