Piece of Cake | Ashton Irwin [au]

Eight

Ashton's POV

I'm going to kill Michael. How dare he not tell Ruth that I live here? No wonder he wanted to talk to her alone while I made my design for Serena's wedding cake. It actually pissed me off that he was able to be alone with her while I had no choice but to work. I didn't want them to be in the kitchen alone together for a long time so I sped up my pace when I drew the design out. Thankfully even though I was rushing, it came out looking pretty damn good if I say so myself.

After Serena and Ruth left, Michael told me that Ruth would consider living in the almost-vacant apartment. Well, it was more like she was sold on it after finding out the ridiculously cheap monthly rent. I figured that he told her that I lived here since I am going to be her future neighbor, but I was wrong. Asshole.  

I don't know what his motives are, but when I'm done showing Ruth around my apartment, I'll be damn sure to find out.

"Why does it take two flights of stairs to get to each floor?" Ruth complains behind me as we curve around and climbs up the second set of stairs that reach the third floor. "This is ridiculous. I had to climb up two just to get up to Michael's floor, and now another two to get to yours. My calves are killing me."

I turn and look over my shoulder to see Ruth holding tightly onto the rail guard and using it to help pull her up each step. With her skinny blue jeans, shaping her long legs and blue semi-form fitting shirt that's being revealed through her unzipped jacket, it surprises me that going up stairs is wearing her out. With her figure, I figured that she works out or something.

"There is an elevator, just so you know," I inform and she stops mid-step and glares up at me to which I respond by turning back around and climbing the remainder steps and waiting patiently at the top.

"That would have been nice to know before we started going upstairs," she huffs and continues making her way up the last few steps.

"Exercise is good for you." In my attempt to see the positive of taking the stairs, Ruth shakes her head in disagreement.

"This is more exercise than I need," she pants. "I already do pilates and even then, I do it half-assed."

So she does work out—at least a little. Even if she doesn't give it her all, her body figure says differently. "For future reference, the elevator is right there." I point to the metal door adjacent to the stairwell that I've only used once since living here and that was when I was moving all my stuff in.

She nods and places her hands on her knees and inhales and exhales deeply.  

When she finally catches her breath and composes herself, I place my hand on the small of her back, which she flinches at, and guide her down the hall to my door. I pull my keys out of my pocket and slip the right one in the keyhole; unlocking it and pushing it wide open.     

"Ladies first," I grin and she rolls her eyes with an amused face as she walks through the threshold.

I follow behind her and flip the switch to turn on the lights before shutting the door behind me and tossing my keys into the glass bowl sitting on top of the short table by the entryway. Ruth doesn't say a word as she walks out of the entryway and into the spacious apartment. She may not be saying anything, but from how far her jaw has dropped and her widened eyes, it's obvious that she loves the look of the place.

First in view is the living room that attaches to the open kitchen and dining area. The cream suede couch and matching loveseat are positioned to face the large flat screen TV that hangs above the mantle of the slate fireplace.

"I'm not great with interior decorating," I start, "so that's why there's not much to see in the living room." I don't spend a lot of time in there anyway, so I didn't feel the need to add extra furniture or décor.