The Pretend Boyfriend

Chapter 4

Picture of Ashton to the side >>>

It was a long two hours of writing and revising, but finally, Ashton had a finished paper that seemed to be presentable.

"So, how old is your brother?" I finally asked, breaking the silence as I stared at the completed essay.

"Charlie's four." Ashton stood up from where we had been sitting on the floor. "Do you want something to eat? I'm starving."

"Sure," I answered, standing up as well. "Where are you parents?" I asked, wondering why Ana was taking care of Charlie. Maybe they were just busy at work.

"They aren't here," Ashton replied tersely, his amber eyes darkening at the mention of his parents. I could tell from his tone that he didn't want me to question him further, so I dropped the subject, although I was still curious.

There was an awkward silence as I followed him downstairs to the kitchen. When we got there, I saw it was spotless with stainless steel appliances and a black marble countertop.

"What do you want to eat?" Ashton asked as he opened the refridgerator. I didn't want to be picky, so I told him he could make whatever he wanted.

"Okay, then I'll cook some pasta. How does spaghetti sound?" He pulled out the ingredients: pasta sauce, olive oil, and the raw pasta.

"You can cook? Who would have guessed, the bad boy can cook." I grinned cheekily at him, sitting down at the island table to watch.

"It's pasta, anyone can make it," came his response, as he put a pot of water on to boil.

I looked at the ground embarrassed. "I can't." This earned a chuckle from him. "Don't laugh!" I glared at him. "I'm serious! Last time I tried to make pasta, it spilled all over the stove and burned my hand."

This only made him laugh harder. "What are you, seventeen? And you can't make a simple pot of pasta! You know that's sad, right?"

"Sixteen," I continued to glare at his smirking face. His smirking, attractive face. Wait, what am I thinking? He's a player, jerk, and a man whore.

"Wow, thanks," his smirk turned into a frown. "Glad to know your opinion of me."

Oh god, did I think aloud?

"Yeah, and you just did it again," he added, laughing and my startled expression.

"Oh sorry, I didn't really mean you were a jerk and a man whore. Well, I mean I did, because otherwise I wouldn't have thought it. Or said it, or whatever. But I mean, you could be nice, I guess? It's just you have a bad reputation. I'm not judgmental or anything, I just hear a lot of rumors, you know? How could you not know, actually?" I realized I was babbling once again and quickly closed my mouth. Way to make an awkward situation even awkward, Evelyn. I mentally face palmed.

"Umm... wow?" Ashton looked like he didn't really know what to say in response to my word vomit, and I didn't blame him.

"Yeah, hehe." I giggled a bit, feeling extremely awkward again.

"You are one strange person," Ashton finally said before turning back to the stove to put the pasta into the water.

We didn't speak for the next few minutes; I just sat there staring at his back as he stirred the pasta in. I really did find it strange that he could cook. I know pasta is easy to make, but guys don't usually know that kind of stuff. My brother, for example.

Tony was my nineteen year old brother, with no job and no college. His best friend currently happened to be a bottle of Jack Daniels and he was almost always hungover.