Lunch with Ashley Wright

The leggy blonde catches your eye as you approach her on the side of the pitch. She’s changed into a plain white t-shirt and tight-fitting jeans which accentuate her ass, an ass which you find yourself appreciating just as much under denim as when half-exposed by fluttering shorts.

Ashley Wright

“Got any plans for the rest of the day?” you ask, and she takes a second to look around. Your team has mostly disbanded, people heading back to campus or to grab lunch, while the majority of the Kale team still seems to be hanging by the locker rooms, hunched over their phones and talking over something.

“I think the guys are figuring out where they want to snag lunch,” she says. “We’re probably going to drive back in a couple hours. But they’re a boring bunch, so maybe you have some bright ideas?”

“There’s an Italian place down the street—Leoncavallo’s—that does good pasta. But the tables are a bit small, so I don’t know if those guys—” you nod at the oversized Kale soccer players “—will make a good fit. I say we should just go as two.”

“Small tables, how dreadfully inconvenient,” she says with a roll of her eyes. “Lead the way!”

The two of you stroll off the pitch, leaving your respective teams behind. As you walk on over, you reflexively check your phone—not much going on, some texts in the econ study group chat that you don’t bother reading.

Leoncavallo’s is doing good business this Saturday noon, and you barely manage to snag a small table by the back, the two of you scrunched tight next to each other on barstools under the low light and loud conversation. The waiter almost haphazardly tosses you two menus, and you and Ashley flip through a copy together, her head poking over your shoulder as you try to figure what you want.

“So, do you guys usually split up after a game?” You turn to face her as you ask the question, your cheek brushing up against hers.

“Not if there are hot guys to be found,” she says, and her grey-blue eyes meet yours, faintly pinching together.

“Right, ‘cause the guys and girls both go for them at Kale.”

“Exactly,” she says. “Half the reason why I joined the team was so I could get off campus and meet some guys who’d actually be interested in me.”

“Looks like you found yourself one,” you say, slinging an arm around her shoulder as the waiter comes around.

She smiles back at you, and the two of you make your orders. The food comes a few minutes later, steaming plates of pasta drenched in thick garlic and tomato sauces, and the two of you chow down eagerly, stomachs emptied from all the exercise.

While you’re stuffing yourself with pasta, making conversation on the side, you hear the door swing open, and spot three people sliding into the restaurant. They make eye contact with you, and you freeze for a second. Shit, of all places, they came here for lunch?

Helen, Mal, and Jack take seats on the restaurant’s other side, and they strike up a lively conversation, though they each shoot you intermittent glances that you steadfastly fail to return. Ashley, however, picks up on the action going on, and eventually shoots you a questioning look, nodding her head towards their table.

“Angry ex?” she asks. “Or three of ‘em?”

“Would that they were,” you say, gaze lingering over the girls. Helen and Mal are looking good today, dressed in matching summery tees with jean shorts. Now that it’s well and truly autumn, this is probably one of the last days of the year in which the outfit would make sense.

“The girls are looking like snacks,” she says, giving them a second glance. “That’s a lucky guy with them.”

“Not as lucky as I am,” you say, running a hand through her hair. “You’re hot as Helen and Mal combined.” The sweet talk earns you a wide smile on her face.

“Really, you’d take me over a threesome with the two of them?”

“Now hang on, I never actually said that,” you say, pulling away from her with a rueful grin.

She sidles up to you in the moment that follows, and whispers into your ear: “Well, you’d better then.”

You meet her eye, and you can’t tell if the twinkle there is a dare or just her being playful… you decide not to risk it.

“Then I choose you,” you say, and she pats a hand lovingly against your arm.

“Good, good,” she says, turning her attention back to her food.

Ashley +50
Helen -10
Mallory -10
Jack -15