I shouldn’t have said yes. I shouldn’t have said yes. I shouldn’t have said yes.
The thought echoes around my head over and over, interrupted only by flashes of Ashton’s face as he leaned towards me after bowling and moved to kiss me. I’d seen in his eyes that he wanted to, and I couldn’t deny that the urge to give in had crossed my mind, but there was still that part of me that couldn’t let completely go just yet.
After the Halloween party, I’d gone on the date with Chad. I’d sat in the fancy restaurant in a respectful dress, with my hair in a suitably date-worthy ponytail and my heels a perfectly acceptable half inch in height. I’d been talking to a guy who understood every aspect of being the child of well-known business owners.
And all I’d been able to think about was that moment on the ferris wheel.
Chad hadn’t noticed how distracted I’d been, luckily, but that had been due to his uncanny ability to talk about himself for a solid two hours.
I had to give it to him, he had
tried
to ask me questions about myself, but the answers I gave were exactly what my mother had always trained me to say; they all led him to believe I was interested in him, not me, and that his likes and values were above mine.
And so two hours had passed, in a rush of polite dinner conversation and a constant feeling of “this isn’t right”.
And since then, I’d been on three more additional dates with Chad, with appropriate text messages spread throughout.
I saw my mother and father once in that time, over Thanksgiving, and they’d reacted with shock over the color in my hair. It was a testament to how often I usually saw them that they didn’t realize it had been changed. However, much to my surprised, they’d admitted it looked good. I’d been happy with that response, until my mother added, “Of course, it should have occurred to me that the style you’d been getting was out of date. It was time for an upgrade, wasn’t it?”
That had killed the relief pretty fast. I couldn’t say anything, so I’d just smiled slightly and nodded, taking a sip of the coffee the waitress at a nearby country-club style coffee house had served me. I’d been brought here for one reason, and one reason only: to give my mother information on how my relationship with Chad had been progressing. The fact that it was around a holiday was just a bonus for them, seeing as now anyone who asked could say we’d spent Thanksgiving together as a family.
When I’d said it was fine, my mother had taken that to mean Chad and I were exclusive. I couldn’t say we weren’t, because that would just lead to questions about
why
we weren’t, so I again stayed silent, letting her talk about how great this was for the company, for us.
Meanwhile I’d been seeing Ashton every so often. Nothing date like, not really, just occasionally talking on the phone or during GDC. But we talked a lot, and often, and I found myself liking him more and more with every conversation; the way he talked about his family, his art, his dreams with Sofia, I couldn’t deny the passion in his voice attracted me with every word.
So when he’d asked me to go bowling, I couldn’t say no. Despite apparently being in a relationship with a man I never wanted to have to be with, I wanted this stolen time with Ashton. I
needed
it. However, I knew that if I went alone with him, someone would find out.
So I said we should invite Jackson and Sofia. They’d talked a little at the Halloween party, but maybe if they became good enough friends, I’d be able to see Ashton after I had to end it, whatever
it
was, with him.
But, god, when he’d leaned in to kiss me at the end of the night… just the thought of how he’d felt pressed against me, the way he’d held my face in his hands as though I was something he treasured, made my heart race in a way I’d never felt before. I’d wanted it too, just as bad as he had, if not more; but I knew I couldn’t do it.
And like a coward, I’d turned away, and I’d known it would have to be the last touch we had between us. I’d turned my phone back on after bowling, and found a missed call from not only Chad, but my mother as well. After listening to the messages, I’d known any time I’d thought I’d had left with Ashton was up; Chad’s message was innocent enough, wanting to know if we were still on for our date later that week, which caused me to feel irrationally guilty as I knew we were. My mother never leaves a voicemail when she’s disappointed, preferring instead to remain distant in her dismay. So I read the text she left, getting a sinking feeling in my stomach with each passing word.
Mother: You said you were going to be with Chad tonight, and your father and I decided to stop by the restaurant to speak with you both together. Imagine how mortified we were when they told us you didn’t have a reservation tonight. You never used to lie before you started seeing that boy. I thought you promised me you would stay away from him. You need to stop seeing him. I let you be friends with that other boy, even allowed you to make him your roommate, but I will do what I have to do to ensure you understand how important this deal with Chad is. We will talk later.
Since veiled threats were a lesson I learned from her from a young age, I knew what she’d been saying; she’d kick Jackson out of the apartment she and my father paid for if it meant keeping me away from Ashton.
I’d sent her a quick text to let her know I understood, leant against the front door, and taken a deep breath.
How had such a great night turned into this?
I’d wondered, but the answer had been there without me having to think about it too hard; it was all me. I couldn’t say no to my parents, and I couldn’t lose my best friend because I wanted to be selfish and keep someone I had no claim over.
As I’d exhaled, I’d let go of the hurt, the pain, and told myself I’d end it the next time I saw him. I had to.
We do what we must for the Redford name
, I thought to myself, but for the first time in my life, I seriously questioned why.
▼
That had been three weeks ago. And despite my attempts to courageously tell Ashton I couldn’t see him anymore, I hadn’t been able to. Every time I’d seen him, he’d been smiling in that way that made me wonder just how hard denying my parents would be.
So I’m avoiding him. I’m lucky, I have the excuse of finals right now, so I don’t have to see him too much. Jackson knows something's up, but he hasn’t said anything just yet. He will as soon as Sofia tells him when I break up with Ashton, since they seem to have become pretty good friends over the past couple of weeks, but for now I’m sticking with using finals as an excuse.
As soon as they’re over, I’ll be out of reasons.
I’ve kept up a steady stream of texts with Chad, and though I have no romantic feelings for him, I can’t help but realize there are many guys who are, and have been, worse. With every date we go on, I know he’s wanting more than I’m giving him, and I’m starting to learn that what I have with him will be settling. Maybe I’ll be lucky, and one day I’ll feel some sort of love for him.
But ever since meeting Ashton, the real him, not the him I’d thought he was, anything less than a connection feels like I’m cheating myself out of happiness.
Stop thinking about it, and study
, I order myself. Seeing as studying is all that has gotten me through the last couple of weeks, I feel like I must have memorized every single one of my textbooks. I only have one more final left, and it’s in the morning, so I give up on my attempts at looking over the facts and information I need to know.
Instead I pull out my phone, and I start scrolling through all the messages I’ve collected between Ashton and I.
I know I’m torturing myself, reminding myself of all the times he’s said something that makes me laugh or times we’ve talked about something he loves, but I can’t stop myself; when the time comes, I’ll have to delete these. I can’t give my parents, or even Chad, something that will make them think I’m not dedicated to the company, to them.
I just can’t.
So I look at the messages, and I recall the story he’d told me about begging his parents for a little brother, and instead making friends with Sofia, who unabashedly claimed him as the brother
she
didn’t have. Since he’d wanted a sibling, he’d settled and ended up with the best friend he’d always wanted.
Maybe something that good will happen when I settle,
I think, before quickly brushing the thought away; this time right here is for me to think about Ashton, focus on the positives I’d learned while being with him.
As I continue to scroll through three months’ worth of messages, I realize just how little I’ve told him about myself; it doesn’t help that I know I’ve added even less when we’ve talked on the phone. All he seems to know about me, on a personal level at least, is that I like web design, am an only child, my parents are a little controlling, and that I’m following in their business-owning steps. Any time he’s asked me anything, I’ve brushed him off.
Maybe that’s for the best
, I think to myself.
Maybe he won’t be hurt if he doesn’t really know me.
I know I’ll be hurt, but I can’t let him know that either.
I continue through the messages, until eventually, with three months of stolen memories racing through my mind, I fall asleep.
▼
Unsurprisingly, I breeze through my morning, and last, final. Despite my attempts to make it last as long as possible, it was over in less than twenty minutes; there are only so many times you can quadruple check a multiple choice test with ten questions. At the moment, I’m the only person in the world who wishes her professor had been tougher on her students.
With a slightly queasy feeling, I turn my final in and leave the classroom, pulling my phone out to let Ashton know I’m going to come over, and that we need to talk.
The reply is instantaneous, and makes my heart beat uncomfortably in my chest.
Ashton: Sure, everything okay? Can’t remember if you’ve been here or not so here’s the address
It hits me that I actually have not been to his place, and I hate that the first time I’ll be going there is the last time, too.
But now I have no excuses, no way to get out of this. I’m stuck in this position, and I have to follow through.
▼
As I pull up into a parking spot in front of Ashton and Sofia’s apartment complex, I find that my hands are shaking slightly; I can’t remember ever being this nervous, this scared, in my entire life.
But I also know it’s not just nerves. I
know
I’m doing the wrong thing, yet I’m still compelled to see my parent’s wishes through to the end, no matter what the cost.
I can’t sit in my car forever, though part of me wants to, so I force myself to make my way to his apartment. There’s a small little bit of me that hopes Sofia is there so I have an excuse to just say what I need to say and go, but I know Ashton deserves more than that; he deserves the full truth. Part of me is relieved that I have to go to my parent’s house after this, giving me an excuse to leave as soon as I’ve said what I need to say.
It seems to take mere seconds to reach his door, and with a final, unsuccessfully calming, breath, I knock.
The door opens, and I feel everything in me simultaneously relax and tense up, a sensation that leads to me feeling awkward and clumsy, something else he’s made me feel that I’ve never felt before.
“Hey! Just have your last final?” Ashton asks, grinning at me, and I nod.
“Yeah,” I say, not sure how I’m supposed to begin this. Seeming to sense how much of a turmoil my emotions are right now, he opens the door wider.
“Finished mine yesterday. We finally have a break. I’m gonna spend it eating potato chips and binge watching trashy TV shows. Why don’t you come on in? It’s freezing out there. Do you want water or something? You said you wanted to talk? Sorry, that’s a lot of questions. Talking is never really good, I’ve found,” he rushes out the various questions and statements so fast that I hardly have time to process most of them.
“Ah, no water, thank you. But I do need to talk to you,” I tell him, entering the cozy apartment. I’m about to sit on the couch and start talking, but I’m distracted by the fact that Ashton seems to be covered in paint. “Did I interrupt something?” I ask, gesturing at his clothes.
He blushes slightly, a twinge of pinkish-red covering his dark cheeks, and I can’t help but smile a little at that. “Uh, Sof’s not here right now, so there’s this painting I’ve been working on since I need the solitude to concentrate. I’d normally use the garage in my parent’s house but I just started this a couple of days ago and… ” He looks a bit uncomfortable, but I jump at a chance to see something new of his; everything I’ve seen until this point has been amazing.
It doesn’t hurt that it will help me procrastinate longer.
“May I see it? Please?” I ask.
He looks nervous, but after I give him a look that I know shows how much I want to see what he’s working on, Ashton takes my hand, and I let him take me back to his room.
The fact that I’ve never actually been in a guy’s room alone with him before, since Jackson doesn’t count, heightens every emotion. I can practically feel my blood racing through my veins, feel the way Ashton’s slightly rougher hands fit so perfectly in mine. My clothes almost feel too tight, too confining, but I know the business-style floral dress was custom made for me and wouldn’t shrink like that.
“Wait, before I show you this, why don’t you tell me what’s up?” Ashton asks, opening his door and flipping a light switch. He seems to want to procrastinate too, but I refuse to let him. Instead of telling him why I’ve come over, I walk into his bedroom.
I’m a little curious as to what his room looks like, but instantly my eyes are drawn to the canvas in the corner.
And I lose all ability to speak.
I know my jaw is on the ground, and I know I look like a moron, but I can’t help it.
I’m looking at a painting, and though I can tell it is incomplete right now, there’s something about it that just captivates me.
“Is that-?” My voice is low; overcome with some emotion I can’t name. I look away just long enough to see Ashton’s reaction.
He nods, looking slightly embarrassed. “Yep. That’s my view from the top of the metal deathtrap you tried to kiss me on,” he says, his voice taking on a light, teasing quality.
I turn back to the painting in shock. There was so much detail in the skyline, the way the lights played off the buildings. I couldn’t stop staring. I couldn’t imagine a photograph capturing the emotions I’d felt so perfectly, and the fact that Ashton had painted them had to mean he’d felt them too.
“So? What do you think?” Ashton asks, and I realize I probably haven’t said a word in a really long time.
“God, Ash… This is amazing. You somehow captured the entire evening in a single image.” It’s all I can say, and I hope he understands what I’m saying.
He gives me that smile, the one that makes me the kind of girl who does something stupid, and I know he understands what I meant. “Thanks. That means a lot to me.” He seems to hesitate a second, and I’m starting to wonder how I could ever say what I came here to say in the first place.
But before I can try to say what needs to be said, Ashton moves, standing up straighter. He almost looks determined as he makes his way towards me, and there’s not a doubt in my mind that he wants to kiss me.
I want to. I really, really want to. And though it’s tempting to stand still and let him make the move, the determination in his eyes makes me automatically take a step back, and into a can of paint.
The unexpected can throws me off balance, and I stumble sideways to the floor before Ashton can catch me.
He freezes, eyes wide, as he looks down at me, and I groan, letting my head fall to the floor; I know there’s blue paint down my leg, and since the can fell over when I did, I know the contents are running all over the painting tarp Ashton luckily had on his floor.
But all I know is that I’m lying on the floor, paint slowly spreading out around me, and I’m completely embarrassed.
Before I can say a word, before I can try and figure out a way to recover from this, Ashton starts laughing.
I prop my head up to glare at him, only to see him looking so happy I can’t resist letting myself go. I’m a mess, but his smile is contagious, and I know right then and there that I have to do whatever it takes to make at least
something
work between us.
Because despite the threat my parents made, despite everything they want for the company, they don’t know Ashton, and they don’t know yet how unbelievably happy he makes me without even having to try.
With that in mind, I wait until he’s looking at me to send him a quick grin, knowing it’s portraying the evil plan I have in store. There’s a playful glint in his eyes as he calms down slightly.
“What are you planning, Miss Redford?” He asks, slowly making his way towards me.
I just keep my expression in place, carefully placing my hand in the pool of paint. “Nothing. Why would I have something planned?” I let out a heavy sigh, overly exaggerated to make him feel bad; it’s a trick Sofia taught me during our bowling win.
“Help me up?”
Ashton is cautious, but he still pulls me to my feet. “You okay?” He asks, standing me in front of him and placing his hands loosely on my hips.
I nod, and before I can second-guess my decision or think too hard about how good it feels to be this close to him, I run my painted hand down his face.
The shock registers in his face first, and I find myself laughing at the bright blue streak. I barely have time to get a few feet away before he’s back to grinning. “Oh, Carter,” he chuckles, grabbing a paintbrush and brandishing it in my direction.
I don’t give him the chance to get close. I’m aware the painting is still on display, and I’m trying to make sure we stay away from it because I know we’re about to get messy, but the second Ashton is chasing me, I stop caring and start running.
Part of me knows I should be worried about the paint I’m trailing behind me, and that later we’re going to have to clean this up. That same part of me is trying to get me to stop, to start acting like the lady I was raised to be, but for once I shut that part of me up.
And I run. I laugh, I run, I dash through the empty apartment, and I wish I’d thought to grab my own paintbrush so I’d have some defense against him.
And I let out a small scream when Ashton catches me around my waist in the kitchen area.
And when he turns me around, I don’t stop him.
And when he finally looks down at me, letting me see the excitement and happiness in his eyes, I make the move.
My arms wrap around his neck, and before the Redford name can convince me to stop being happy, I kiss Ashton with everything in me.
His lips are soft, warm, and they feel comforting, somehow. He’s kissing me back, and nothing seems to matter but him and this moment between us. I’m not thinking about what he’s doing or how he’s kissing me, I’m just feeling every little nibble, every stroke of his tongue mixing with mine. His arms tighten around me, pulling me so close I can feel his heart beating against my chest in a rapid tempo my own is surely matching.
I can’t seem to stop. I don’t even
want
to stop, because for the first time in my life, I’m understanding how someone can feel like home.
And I like it.