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“You didn’t drink that much,” he reasoned. “Think it’s a bug?”
“No. I’m starting to feel better already.”
He lifted a brow at me, but still hurried to start the car and get me home.
We got back to Mom and Dad’s home, my home, and I knew I had to make a decision. I could either keep playing the little dance of so close, yet so far, or I could take a chance, throw caution to the wind, and go for what I wanted. And that thing I wanted was him.
“There,” Ashton said as we stopped on the street outside my house. “How’re you feeling now?”
“I’m ok,” I murmured, my voice shaking almost as bad as my hands. “But I asked you to take me home, not to my home.”
He stilled for a second the truck idling outside the house, absorbing my words for what they were. An invitation.
I saw his tongue poke into his cheek as he finally looked over at me, his intense look almost making me take it all back and pass it off as a joke.
But I couldn’t. I wasn’t a pussy, and I knew what I wanted. The only question was if he wanted me, too.
“You want me to take you home?” he asked slowly, meeting my eyes.
I nodded,
“To my house?”
Another nod.
“And then what, Frey?”
I hadn’t gotten that far.
“I don’t know,” I admitted.
He licked his lips and turned away from me.
“Tommy is my best friend,” he said quietly. “We’ve been through a lot of shit together.”
“I know.”
“Yeah, I don’t think you do,” he countered, voice heating up with anger. “You fucking infuriate me, Frey.”
Tears welled in my eyes with that dagger to the heart.
I started fumbling with the latch to get out of the car, but he moved, quick as lightning and grabbed my wrist, stopping me from moving as those tears started to plunge down my cheeks.
“Fuck,” he hissed, wiping up the tears. “Don’t cry, Frey…”
“Just let me go, Ash,” I begged, unable to look him in the eye. “I obviously read this all wrong.”
“No,” he ground out, voice gravelly and brittle. “You didn’t read shit wrong. That’s the problem.”
A breath hitched through my clenched teeth, filling my burning lungs as he shoved away from me and put the truck back into drive squealing away from the glowing living room windows.
I silently sat in the seat beside him as his jaw worked, angry, while he stiffly drove through the bright streets of suburban Las Vegas.
Eventually we stopped in front of his house, though he didn’t move from his seat, fingers white-knuckling the steering wheel.
“What are we doing, Ash?” I finally asked, but he lashed out, crashing his fist against the wheel.
“I don’t fucking know, ok?” he bit out. “Tommy is my boy, but you…you…”
