Which do not involve being stuck in this fucking closet and being called a bigot, thank you very much.
"I told you, I amnothomophobic," Ashton finally replied, suddenly thinking of the perfect way to disabuse Dylan of the idea entirely. "I once hooked up with two chicks on the same date!"
Wait, why is he laughing?
"Look, I'll — Fine," Ashton sputtered. Because, for real — this fucker was really getting on his nerves now. "Youtell me how I'm supposed to prove it then."
"You wanna prove it?" Dylan said so damn smugly. "Easy: kiss me."
CHAPTER 4
Strawberry
What. The. Fuck?
"How does kissing a guy prove I'm NOT gay?!" Ashton snapped at the idiot he'd found himself stuck inside this closet with.
"If you're totally straight, then you've got nothing to fear. One kiss won't change anything. But we both know the truth, don't we, fresa?" Dylan said infuriatingly, as if that made any kind of sense at all."
Ashton blinked as Dylan's phone flashed on again to display the time. Then off just as quickly, leaving little spots wobbling in front of Ashton's eyes.
Or maybe it was him wobbling? Ashton was starting to feel the alcohol now, Dylan's ridiculous plan not doing anything to help his confusion.
"You're scared you'll like it?" Dylan mused, and Ashton shook his head quickly, forgetting the other man wouldn't see it in the dark. "And then you won't be able to keep lying to yourself any more."
"I'm not lying," Ashton spat.
"Then kiss me, and prove it."
With my fist, maybe.
"Fuck off."
"Such language, Ashton! You blow all the boys with that mouth?"
I will punch you in the dick.
"Screw you."
"Naw. Maybe if you ask nicely. And only after you kiss me. Y'know. If you're so sure of yourself."
And like, how dare him? How fuckingdarehim? He didn't know Ashton's life. He didn't knowshit.
"You don't know shit," Ashton muttered, just to hear it out loud.
Because he didn't. Dylan kept saying all these things, calling Ashton homophobic and everything, just to get under his skin. But Ashton knew that game. He was thechampionof that game. Deflect, diffuse, depose; dominate the conversation until the other guy was so twisted up they couldn't think straight, digging themselves into a hole deep enough for you to bury them in.
The only defense, really, was a strong offense right out of the gate. Or, failing that, to surprise them. Take the ball away and start chugging for the end zone, praying you could make it in time.
"What was that?" Dylan asked mockingly. Just like before, when he'd locked Ashton out of the lab, holding a hand to his ear like he — like he hadn't even beenlistening, when this asshole wasn't even a foot away, and —
"Shut the fuck up," Ashton growled, fury surging through him.
This jerk thought Ashton was a bigot, was a coward, was going to back the fuck down?
"Oh, that's real witty m— "
But then Ashton had him by the shirt collar with one hand, the other grabbing for Dylan's neck, curling to — to show him —
