Four Brothers and a Bride

Chapter 19: Chapter 19

ASHTON

I haven't had a woman knock the breath out of me with a simple kiss in a minute. I would never in a million years have expected such a stimulating kiss to come from Demi. If she was thinking about Ashely when she went for it, then she must have fallen hard for him. To be frank, I am surprised she managed to hold out this long. He's too charming for the ladies to resist.

Demi's cheeks go from a deep red blush to a stunned, ashy pallor as she stares from me to Ashley and then back to me. Her lips move but fail to form words. Shocked Demi is an amusing sight.

"A-Ashley? What? I thought..."

Ashley draws closer to us, reeking of a fragrant bath gel. "What are you doing in here?" His eyes dart from her embarrassed ones to my amused ones and a slight frown mars his facial muscles. "What happened?"

"I...um, I came looking for you. I wanted to apologize for earlier." She pokes a finger in my direction. "I thought he was you."

That's it? I wonder in my head, stifling a clawing need to chuckle. Damn. She'll make a terrible storyteller. How could she leave out the heart-racing, blood pumping, lip locking part?

"Well, that's the boring version." I tell Ashley, licking my lips to Demi's horror. She glares at my shamelessness and looks away. Ashley sighs.

"Ashton, could you give us a minute? Demi and I need to talk."

"Right. Was already heading out. Thanks for the car keys, Ash."

"Yeah, anytime. Have fun at your date." Ashley calls back to me. Before I close the door behind me, I lock eyes with Demi's shocked and slightly miffed ones.

My date is all the way across town. She's the first young lady who didn't cancel on me after I refused to play or be called Mr. Fantasy. Most women cancel because I wouldn't fulfil their weird fantasies.

Ever since I turned down Hannah's friend who happens to be Olivia, word spread amongst a small pool of spinsters in Danvarr. Hannah had the phone number I got for this purpose circulated and now I get random calls and desperate texts from women prepared to do anything for me to play myself or any of my brothers.

I kept turning them down but like they say, women just don't listen. Few days ago, I got a message from a young lady who calls herself Mila. What attracted me to her message was the way she addressed me; as Will and not Mr. Fantasy. She indicated an interest in going on a date with Will.

At first, I thought it was just a ruse to get me to respond to her message but then she sent one more message telling me to text her whenever I felt like hanging out with a stranger with no pressure. I thought it was cute of her to be so friendly to a person she had never met, to a man like Will.

So, tonight, Will is being introduced. I am hoping she finds me likeable. My appearance isn't significantly altered for this. Unlike the last time, I am rocking my natural, curly black hair, topped with some nerdy looking glasses. I think it's a good look for Will and silently hope it distracts from Ashton's sexual appeal. This is going to be a test. If all she wants to talk about is Ashton behind the glasses and not Will in front of her, I am walking away.

I park outside the diner and scan the area. Unlike the business and Alpha districts, this area is quaint and quiet. Very few business lights are turned on and fewer people are on a night stroll. I flick on the security mode of the car to prevent theft or vandalism before strolling, with my hands in my pocket, towards the diner.

The small diner is bathed in the yellow glow of light. Based on my view from the outside, two tired waiters are on their phones, chattering by the counter, possibly waiting for their three customers to wrap up and leave.

My eyes skip an old man and his teenage grandson to settle on the lady in a secluded booth. She frowns at her phone and grudgingly takes a sip of her drink. I check my wrist unit. I'm barely ten minutes late. What is it about my dates and them always being on a time crunch? Or better still, what is it about me and always being late? Right now, I don't know if it's an Ashton or a Will problem because both are perpetual latecomers. I push open the door and stride in.

old one leaving. After a proper view of my face, their forced smiles become patronizing and flirty. I ignore their quick mutterings and long stares as I walk straight to my date who is already regarding me

says with a soft smile on

really sorry for being late. Car troubles." I don't know why I can't think of a better excuse. Is Will such a lame liar? Before we

the Masons Diner. What can I get you?" Her eyes remain trained on me. She flutters her thick lashes and hovers close like

calls with

chose comfort over style for our date. Her sweatshirt and jeans go terribly well with my own plain clothes. A big, bucket hat hugs her head, nearly concealing her eyebrows. Her

and chuckles. "I was thinking you could

My eyes drop to the menu. "Um..." The waiter makes no fuss while

fries and diet cokes." Mila smiles

doesn't do diners. Her hapless smile is oddly satisfying, being without judgment. I find it strange how I can be so in control and overly confident as

food arrives a few minutes. Mila finds it cute that the waiter slipped her number under my dish. I ignore the note which lays

upsetting her. I just find it odd that she hasn't said anything about my uncanny resemblance to the Danvarr quads. The hair color and glasses

still lingers in my mind as we

for tonight.

We stare at each other for another testing moment before she

look in her eyes, I lean down and kiss her properly.

fact that I am not wearing my wig or my dyed hair but just my natural black hair. For years, I have been wary of strangers touching my

Mila asks nervously.

I reacted, I can't really explain or justify my reaction. I just hope she can overlook it. I help her hail a cab, kiss her forehead goodnight and watch the car drive off. I

her thoughts on the Danvarr quads in hopes of steering the conversation towards my looks. I

long time since I felt genuinely content in my own skin. Being Ashton, the blonde is more pressure than most people think, from father's demands of perfection to sustain the company and family's image to keeping up with quad rules. Hence, it feels liberating to just walk on the street, under the moonlight while the night breeze whooshes in my ears, with the

"Ashton?"

I turn around coming face to face with a brunette whose short

just left in a cab less than five minutes ago. But then there's the crazy part. Did she just call me Ashton??? Mila edges close to me coyly

a creep, I

you'll regret it." I warn her with a death stare. "What's behind you? Let me see

a frustrated sigh, she reveals her hands and the blonde wig

me explain." She tries to take a step closer and halts in her tracks at the burning look I give her. I don't know what the fuck is going on. Who the fuck is she and how the hell can she tell exactly which quad I am. Rather than demand answers, I slide

think.

don't want to hear it. I don't know who this woman is or what she wants from me. My mind is spinning as I back off from the curb and swing the car onto the road. In the side mirror, I watch Mila standing and calling

her name, I chuck the phone to the back of the car, cussing. I can't believe she played me or whatever it is that was. I might eventually need to find her and wheedle the truth from her

ready to face. The wig is one thing but knowing my real identity with pinpoint accuracy and contacting me through a very private channel

shallow dent due to my rough driving and bumping it into a lamp

before I step out of the car, I notice my dark curls in the rearview mirror. I grab my blond wig from the pigeonhole and put it on. Then I dig around for my discarded phone at the back