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“Ash, I don’t want a dad. I want a companion. Yeah, if someone came and tried to rob us, I’ll expect you to throw yourself in front of a bullet—”
He gave me a wry smirk.
“But you know what? I will too. There’s nothing one way in this relationship. Except maybe the P in V. I’m not equipped for that, and I don’t think you’re the kind of guy who’d want to be pegged, anyway.”
Ashton scoffed out an amused laugh, then pressed his fingers further into his forehead like the sound hurt him.
“Yeah, that’s not for me,” he assured, then opened the driver door again.
I waited in silence until he said the words I needed him to.
It took a good minute, but eventually he looked me in the eye and said, “would you mind driving until the headache passes?”
That was all I needed.
“Not at all. I’m happy to.”
I sank down into the seat and he went around and got into the passenger side, then we were off again, clipping on our seatbelts.
“Why don’t you try closing your eyes?” I asked him. “Maybe try and cover your head with my sweater to block out the light. That might help.”
He did both of those things, covering his head and leaning against the door in what I hoped was an effort to sleep.
I flicked on the radio and turned on soothing classic rock and lowered the volume until Pearl Jam was softly crooning in the background.
When we got back home, I gently shook him awake. The sweater over his head immediately swooped off as he met my eyes, hands clenched into fists around the fabric.
“We’re home,” I told him in a whisper.
He blinked and looked around, and I watched his grip ease as he registered his surroundings.
“Awesome, thanks for driving, Frey,” he said, opening his door to stumble out.
I did the same, grabbing the bag full of stuff that we’d shoved behind the passenger chair. Inside was our dirty laundry and the few things we’d picked up in Huntington Beach.
He grabbed the bag from me as we got to the stairs and I didn’t fight him. His male ego required him to lift all the heavy things, so he could have it. His body had already tested his ego enough today by making him get in the passenger seat.
“How’s your head?” I asked him.
“Still hurts,” was his quiet response.
“As bad, better, or worse?”
“A little better. Still pretty shitty.”
“Then you go to the back and lay down. I’ll get some food for us and we can have a night in.”
“I think I’ll take a hot shower, too. That always helps.”
I agreed and lifted onto my toes to kiss him, then I left him in my apartment before going back downstairs to my car.
Once inside, I sat there and took a long, needed breath. Ashton was kind of the man of my dreams, but that didn’t mean he was perfect. His pride drove me absolutely crazy, and I loved it and hated it in equal measures. It kept him going when all else failed, but it also kept him going when he really needed to stop and ask for help. Ugh. Frustrating man.
Now. Back to food… The one thing I’d been dreaming about for a while was an ooey, gooey, cheesesteak. There was no such thing to be found on the beach, so I’d put the craving on hold. But not today, Satan! I was getting that yummy, cheesy goodness.
Not mad at all about taking a few extra minutes to go to the sandwich place near the dealership that I knew Ashton liked, too.
The line was pretty long, so I waited there, standing around for over fifteen minutes before I finally got to the counter to order.
