It was the trip from hell. From the moment Tad had sent Ashton a ‘good morning get your ass to my office right now’ text she had known her day was screwed. Apparently there was a new gourmet ice cream stand in Venice Beach that was set to be the next big thing on Pictogram and Tad wanted her and her new BFF Apricot to get their tushes down there before someone else beat them to starting the trend. As if Ashton wanted to spend her first free Saturday in six months with Apricot Persnickety. She’d made plans to sneak over to Matt’s house for some much needed Netflix and chill. Now, thanks to some raspberry lemongrass sorbet she was stuck in Apricot’s car. Literally stuck. The black leather seats were sticking to and burning the backs of her legs.
“Could this traffic, like, be any slower,” Apricot grumbled, her pink glossed lips falling into what Ashton liked to think of as the ‘poor Apricot isn’t getting her way’ pout. “Don’t these losers have anything better to do than clog up the freeway?”
“I would imagine that they’re on their way to go something,” Ashton muttered, adjusting the rose gold Krewe sunglasses Tad had insisted she wear. Apparently, they paired well with the white shorts that were currently crawling up her ass and digging into her coochie; which complimented the sundress Apricot had been forced into.
“Ugh, I really don’t want to admit you’re right…” the other woman sulked.
A smirk tweaked the corners of Ashton’s lips. Of course she was right. It didn’t take a genius to figure out that the freeway was bumper to bumper because every dog and the fleas was headed to the beach. Her smirk slowly fades as she wiggles in her seat, trying to get comfortable. Between the shorts and the scorching hot leather seats, she was ready to climb out of the cramped car. God, if Tad had to force this outing on him couldn’t he of at least sprung for another limo? “I’m surprised Tad didn’t order us a car.”
Apricot sighed, her pert nose wrinkling. “I know, right? Like what was he thinking? I can feel the skin on the back of my legs starting to blister, which is so not a good look.”
“Tell me about it,” Ashton complained. “He’s going to be lucky if these pics don’t include these raspberry lemongrass sorbets doubling as burn care.”
“Make that one raspberry lemongrass and one lavender mint.” Apricot’s eyes darted in Ashton’s direction for a split second, amusement dancing in the dark irises. “I have lavender mint bath bombs at home. I swear to God, if this ice cream looks like a bath bomb in a cone I’m going to loose my shit.”
Scooting in her seat so that she had a better view of Apricot, Ashton let out a sigh. “I wanted to loose my shit when he text me about this outing. No offense but taking pictures with herb infused ice cream is not my idea of a good time.”
“No offense, but being stuck in bumper to bumper traffic with someone I don’t exactly get along with isn’t my idea of a good time,” Apricot clapped back.
“Fair enough,” Ashton murmured. “Since we are stuck in bumper to bumper traffic because of Tad’s brilliant plan for us to make herb infused ice cream the next big thing…why don’t you like me?”
As soon as the question came out of her mouth Ashton regretted it. Apricot’s fingers visibly tightened on the steering wheel, her knuckles turning white. Her face slowly turned a brilliant red color. “Maybe I don’t want on board the ‘oh my God Ashton is amazing’ train. News flash, you’re not all that.”
“Newsflash, Apricot, I never said I was all that,” Ashton turned her gaze to the line of cars slowly inching forward. In the distance, as though it were teasing them, she can see the exit for Venice Beach. So close, yet so far away. “I’m just trying to understand what I did to make you hate me so much.”
“Can’t I just…not like you? Do I really have to have a reason?” Apricot muttered.
Biting back an aggravated sigh, Ashton tipped her head to the side, her blonde curls following over her shoulder as she laid her head against the window. “I guess not,” she conceded. She doesn’t know why it bugs her so much that Apricot hates her for no reason, but it does. It felt like high school, where the cheerleaders hated her just because she was in drama club.
“Look, its not you, okay. Its…this whole thing.” Apricot’s eyes narrowed as a gap opened in the lane next to them. Without warning, she jerked the wheel and hit the gas. Behind them brakes squeal and horns blare. “Fuck off,” she snapped, flipping the honker off in the rear view mirror. “This traffic is going to give me premature wrinkles.”
No honey, your constant sour expressions are going to do that, Ashton thought cattily. “At least we’re moving forward now,” she said out loud. Traffic had picked up. They were actually going over 5 miles per hour now. Maybe, just maybe, they would make it to the stupid ice cream stand, pretend to enjoy their herb infused ice cream, take the fucking picture and then be done with the whole ordeal. And, if things worked out well, she could change into some sweats, cuddle with Matt, and watch cheesy movies the rest of the afternoon.
“This ice cream better be hella good,” complained Apricot as they, finally, exited the Freeway. “And there better be decent parking. I don’t know about you, but I’m not in the mood to walk a mile in these ugly ass shoes.”
The ugly ass shoes were a pair of metallic gold wedges that matched Ashton’s sunglasses a little too perfectly. All part of the picture aesthetic. Thankfully, Tad had seen fit to put Ashton in a pair of flat sandals. Ugly and just as shiny as Apricot’s, but still flat. That was a small concession, but Ashton was willing to take it. “Maybe there will be valet parking,” she joked, wincing at how pretentious that sounded.
“We’re not that lucky,” the other woman countered. Her face brightened up as they neared the board walk and a parking spot near their destination opened up. “Maybe our luck is changing!”
Five hours and twenty five pictures later, Ashton curled up next to Matt. They were peering down at the screen of her phone. Tad had wasted no time in having hers and Apricot’s Pictogram’s updated with the ice cream photos. “It is a nice picture,” she grudgingly admits. Two beautiful girls cooling off with ‘healthy’ ice cream on a hot day in Venice beach. The number of likes the images were receiving was ridiculous. Would people still like it if they knew the truth behind the image? That it was all fake?
“You two almost look like you’re enjoying yourselves,” Matt teased.
Ashton gasped, slapped his shoulder playfully and shook her head. “Shut your mouth Matteo Rodriquez!”
She let out a squeal as Matt’s muscular arms wrapped around her waist. He easily pulled her onto his lap, his mouth hovering inches from hers. “Why don’t you make me?”