Heterochromia ● a.i

14

(Ashton's P.O.V.)

Dylan is currently changing back into her clothes in my bathroom, and I'm sitting on my couch. Today, we're going back to Laith's house to get my car.

I can't wrap my head around what happened last night. She was crying. She asked me to lay with her. She voluntarily cuddled with me. She stayed. She didn't get up in middle of the night and leave like I thought she would. Not only that, she hugged me this morning and thanked me, 'for everything.' I don't even know what that means but I'm happy and incredibly confused.

I look to my right and Dylan is holding a pile of clothes and is wearing her old ones. She stares at me, and her eyes are red and puffy. I furrow my eyebrows and stand.

She sniffles, "I thought you might want these," she smiles at me weakly.

I smile back and take the clothes, "is everything alright?"

After my question, it looks like she's having an internal battle of whether or not to be honest with me.

"Yeah, everything's okay," she walks past me to grab her phone.

I guess the lying side won.

I turn to face her, "you sure?"

"Yes, Ashton. I'm fine," her voice stern, and her eyes cold.

"Sorry. I just wanted to make sure."

She rolls her eyes, "do you want your car or not?"

I take in a deep breath and walk out to get my shoes, she follows. I put them on, followed by my coat. We both grab our keys and walk out the door. She unlocks the car, gets in, slams her door, and starts it. I'm beyond confused. I hop in the passengers seat, as soon as I close the door, she backs out of my driveway. At the end of my street she stops, and we sit there for what feels like ever.

"You have to tell me where the fuck to go," she says, her tone clipped.

I turn my head to look at her, and her jaw is clenched, "turn left."

She turns her turn signal on and obliges. I instruct her to the highway and then it's silent. There is no music or talking. I can feel the air in the car become thicker and Dylan is radiating anger. After ten minutes, it all becomes too much, and I lose patience.

"What is up with you?" I ask.

She looks at me and crosses her eyebrows, "what do you mean?"

We're both pissed. She's pissed for god knows what, and I'm pissed because it's evaporating from her skin.

"After breakfast you've been a bitch, to bluntly put it."

She rolls her eyes and her lips form a hard line, "what are you talking about?"

"What words are you having trouble with?"

She lets the air out of her lungs, and changes lanes, "none of it. I'm just wondering how I've been a bitch."

I huff, "you've been moody, and rude. You've barely said a word to me since you got out of the bathroom. Last night you were so open an-"

"Forget about last night, okay? I was just tired, it meant nothing. I wasn't myself and you should know that. I don't just give myself to people, okay. Forget it," she interrupts.

"What the hell is your problem? I was trying to be nice. Hell, I laid in bed with you, scratched your damn back, and hummed to you until you fucking fell asleep. Let's not even mention breakfast, or the fact that you asked me to lay with you. Why are you being so awful to me?" I raise my voice.