We're Getting There // A.I

Chapter 3 // Ashwyn

I've re-written this chapter like 15 times now aha

~*~

April 6 : 219 days till due

"So he just...fell asleep?"

"No, you misheard me. I fell asleep" I say, balancing my mobile between my shoulder and my ear as I slide a drink to someone at the end of the bar.

I work at The Georgia Hotel, a couple of blocks away from my house, in the lobby bar. It's not too glamorous, but it pays the rent for my tiny flat and it's something to keep me busy.

"How could you fall asleep?! You were making out with your hot babydaddy Ashwyn!" Jamie exclaims on the other end of the phone.

"Ashton," I correct, mopping up a spill with a napkin and pivoting around to grab a free glass. "And I was tired! So sue me!"

"I might, actually" she grumbles.

"Charlie, oi!" Calum, my co-worker, snaps his fingers in front of my face between my eyes to catch my attention. "No phones, it's a distraction. There's a customer over there."

He points to a woman down at the end with her hand out, and I nod. It's an exceptionally busy night tonight, and I don't blame Calum for being snappish with me. He's flustered, his cheeks pink and his black canvas apron on backwards.

"Okay I gotta go Jamie, I'm working" I say, taking the phone away from ear and getting ready to press the red button.

"Kay, I'll call later, we need to talk about baby daddy" she says, hanging up before I can on purpose.

I stuff my phone into my back pocket and serve the lady, finding myself not being preoccupied enough to forget last night.

Ashton and I were in my bedroom kissing on my bed and then I'd just collapsed back against my pillows and fallen asleep. I didn't even know that was possible to do. I guess he'd left then or at some time in the morning because he wasn't there when I woke up, but he'd left a note written on my fridge in whiteboard marker telling me to get to bed earlier.

"Charlie, does this taste weird?" Calum asks, suddenly by my side. He's a whirlwind of a person, Calum. Always darting around, always in a hurry to get something done.

He shoves a drink at me in a cocktail glass, a nibbled olive still on its toothpick on the side. It's half drunk and there's cherry red lipstick on the rim.

"What?" I question, pushing the drink away a little.

"Does it taste weird? Some girl gave it back because she said it didn't taste right" he says, trying to give me the drink again.

"I'll check" I mutter, sipping from the opposite end as the lipstick stain and when the alcohol touches my tongue I remember.

I spit the drink back into the glass in a really gross way, spit trailing out of mouth as I set it down on the counter and wipe my tongue on a napkin.

"Oh, shit, is it really that bad?" He asks, his eyebrows furrowing confusedly. "Do you think I should give her a refund?"

"No, no" I struggle for words with my tongue sticking out of my mouth. "It tasted fine."

"Then why'd you spit it out?" He asks, defensive over his drink. He obviously thinks that I didn't like the way he made it, which is probably the opposite of the real problem.

I search for an answer that isn't 'because I'm pregnant'.

"I don't want to get drunk on the job" I lie, turning my chin up and walking away. Out of the corner of my eye I see Calum toss the remainder of the drink in the sink and get on with his job.