[chapter trigger warning: violence/abuse]
ASHTON
I'm an idiot. A full-blown, colossal idiot. In what world could I possibly do what I did and think I'd come out of it without repercussions?
I'd convinced myself it was all for the sake of the contest. That misleading Summer was the only way to throw her off her game, and that kissing her would fulfill the temptations I have when I see her every day. Getting her out of my system and ending these conflicting thoughts for good.
But really, I just wanted an excuse to kiss her. And now I'm screwed because my hormone-driven decision making has only intensified those temptations. It's like I injected her straight into my bloodstream and she's more in my system than ever.
Idiot.
I shovel popcorn into a bucket and go back to the teenage girl chewing on her straw behind the counter. This second part-time job at the movie theater has been my longest gig, aside from working for my dad.
There aren't many options in this town, and movies were my regular escape as a kid. I even had crazy dreams of getting behind the camera before my culinary path was planned, but my interest in movies is only part of the reason why I chose to work here.
It's lucrative. Especially on weekend shifts. Between the giggly girls and the frisky cougars, these generous tips are the foundation of my savings. I'd be dead in the water without this job.
So now, when my mind is preoccupied in Summerland, it's imperative for me to pack it in and lay on the charm. Good thing temporarily shoving away my problems is one of my specialties.
The starry-eyed girl smiles up at me, her friends ogling behind her. "This is totally random, but do you maybe wanna, like, hangout sometime?"
Nope.
I cock my head. "Only if you ditch your friends so I can have you all to myself."
She erupts in nervous giggles, her face flooding beet red as she searches for her purse. A slip of pre-written paper accompanies the twenty she slips into the jar. I fish it out when she leaves, glancing at the name and number before throwing it in the trash. Sorry, Shelley.
Janice shakes her head at me while she fills a slushie. Not technically my boss, but she runs the concession stand. Even though tipping is optional, my jar is the only one that ever gets filled.
In order to prevent Janice from telling our boss about my 'unprofessional behavior', we struck up a deal a while ago. I give her ten percent of my tips and she turns a blind eye. A small price to pay. Doesn't stop her from throwing disapproving looks from the next counter over, though.
When the worst of the snack rush is over and the lobby is emptying out, I recognize two familiar faces coming my way. Lola and Fawn, with a little girl who looks like Lola's clone jumping along the tiles like she's avoiding lava between them.
"Oh, hey Ashton," Lola says. "Congratulations on the win today."
"You gonna abuse those bragging rights?" Fawn asks, fixing her parted bangs.
"You know it."
As I'm getting their food, I slip in glances to the door, thinking Summer might be with them. She usually is. But she's not among the stragglers coming in. I have to wonder if she told Lola and Fawn about what happened. They're not acting like they know, but they could be playing it cool.
Lola edges the little girl forward. "Tell him what you want, Ava."
She can't be much older than seven. With big doe eyes and chubby cheeks, she's one adorable kid. She smiles shyly before burying her face in Lola's coat. Lola lightly rolls her eyes, letting Ava cling to her waist while she orders for her.
"What do you say?" Lola asks her as I hold out her popcorn.
Ava steps closer like a wary cat coming out from hiding. "Thank you."
"No problem, cutie."
She beams before clutching onto Lola again. As they head to their movie, I think about what it must be like having a sibling. As much as I consider Nick to be as close to a brother as I have, it's not the same as growing up under the same roof.
Having the same experiences and childhood. Being protected by someone older or being the protector of a little brother or sister. In my case, it would be a burden.
I used to long for a sibling when I felt the most alone, but the reality is that having an extra person you care about only ties you down more. I could never leave Cloverbrook. It would be impossible to leave them behind, so I'd be stuck.
It's a selfish thought, anyway. I wouldn't want any kid to have the same upbringing I've had.
About five minutes after they've gone and when it's quiet enough for me to go out back for a smoke break, my pulse spikes. Summer is walking across the lobby, furiously typing on her phone with a look of exasperation.
I change my mind and stay put.
She stuffs her phone in her handbag as she approaches the counter, coming to a stop when she sees me. "Ugh, you work here?"
I tug at my waistcoat. "Nah, I just put on this dorky uniform so I can spend my Friday night giving people food."
Summer rolls her eyes and makes a start for the other counter, but Janice is busy with a small group. She reluctantly comes back to my side.
I rest my hands on the counter. "I take it you're here with Lola and Fawn, then."
"I am, but I wouldn't have come if I knew you'd be here."
"Sore Loser doesn't suit you, Cupcake."
Her eyes turn to slits. "Well, Cocky Winner doesn't suit you."
"Think it does, actually." I grin, urging my gaze away from those downright edible lips. "What can I get you?"
"Medium popcorn, M&M's, and a bottled water. Thanks."
I gather it together while she waits with impatient foot tapping. It's crazy how much dislike I felt for her, and now all I feel like doing is pulling her into the backroom and re-creating this morning. No tricks up my sleeve this time round.
I'm thinking about it again before I can stop myself. The way she responded so forcefully, her fingers gripping my hair, that moan she made. God, that fucking moan. It was the signal that told me I had successfully secured myself in the root of her mind for the rest of the contest. I've never wanted to hear something again so badly.
If I could get her to moan like that with one kiss, I can only imagine the other heavenly sounds she'd make if my tongue traveled away from her mouth. The things I'd do to her...
I snap out of it and stop her when she reaches for her wallet, dipping into my tip jar. "It's on me. Least I can do for being a dick today, right?"
"Every day," she mutters, taking her food. "But thank you."
Summer steps away but pauses, turning back. "How come you told Chef Kent you wanted to stay partners?"
Because I'm selfish and I can't stand the thought of anyone else but me getting to stand across from you every day.
While true, I leave that part out. "Because I think the challenge is good for the both of us."
"The challenge?"
"Yeah... I'm gonna be straight with you, okay?" I fold my arms on the counter, leaning down to her eye level. "I played you today because I saw you had a chance of winning. You think I haven't noticed how much you've improved since last week? And I think I'm part of the reason why you've been pushing yourself, and seeing how fast you upped your game made me push myself."
"By manipulating me."
"Yes, which I'm sorry about. But having you as my competition really did make me try that much harder cooking today." I lean in closer like I'm telling her a secret, her emerald eyes locked on mine. "For what it's worth, Summer, I wasn't lying about what I said in that fridge. I do find confident girls hot, which you are, and I definitely feel sexual tension with you. And competitive wise... I think we've both found a match that'll only drive us to do better, don't you?"
She searches my face with stony emotion, trying to tell if I'm messing with her. Understandably, there's zero trust.
A couple gets in line behind her, and I stand straight. "Enjoy the movie, Cupcake."
❖❖❖
Inhaling a bunch of cigarettes in the parking lot behind the theater doesn't do jack shit to keep my mind from running. Should I have been so straight with her? Was it a mistake? Kissing her was a mistake.
My brain has been spiraling with no sign of slowing down, and now I've made it worse. She left an aftertaste so sweet that it's impossible not to crave more, but I don't want to think about it. I don't want her embedded in my mind. I'm done letting this girl overrun my thoughts.
I grind out my cigarette, get my phone out, and pull up Charlie's number. Twenty minutes later, she opens her front door for me.
With wild hair, skimpy pajamas, and a burning joint between her fingers, Charlie looks me over. "I thought you didn't want any distractions."
"That's all I want right now." I cross the threshold and take the joint from her. "Your parents home?"
"Sleeping."
"Good." Her fingers weave through mine as I take her hand, leading her back to her room.
❖❖❖
I roll away from Charlie, breathless and hazy.
She sidles up next to me, panting between kisses on my neck. "So, did that distract you enough?"
Not even close. Part of me knew this would be a temporary solution to a permanent problem.
"Yeah."
She holds herself up on her elbow. "You're lying. What's up with you, anyway? I thought you'd be all psyched after your win, you earned it."
Can't earn something you won by playing dirty.
"Wanna talk about whatever's on your mind?"
"No."
"Fine, then let's carry on not talking." She leans down and closes her mouth over mine, her tongue pushing its way in and coaxing me. She tastes like weed. I guess I do too. When she resurfaces, she keeps her hand on my cheek, sapphires drifting over me through the darkness.
When Charlie and I started hooking up, we both agreed it would stay casual, and it has. She's even called herself my 'slam piece'. Her words. But now, the way she's looking at me so softly, so un-Charlie-like. It's putting me on edge.
"It's pretty late. I should get home."
She climbs on top of me before I can get up, her hands sliding over my chest. "You're still worked up. I can see it. So what you're gonna do..."
She rolls her hips, working to get me hard again with the friction. "Is lie right there and relax..." She then reaches for the nightstand, her pale breasts in my face as she lights a pre-rolled joint, placing it between my lips. "Smoke that... and let me do the rest."
Charlie slithers down my body, taking me in her mouth with a groan.
I close my eyes and try to relax as she gets into it, filling my lungs with clouds of calm. Something in life I'm certain of is that when you're getting a blowjob, it should literally be the only thing you're focused on. So when my mind wanders to Summer again, it's time to face facts.
Pushing whatever I feel for her away is becoming more of a distraction than not getting involved with her at all, so what's the point? This tug of war I've been in with myself needs to end.
The thing I've realized is—sex with Charlie doesn't even feel as good as that one kiss with Summer did. It used to, but it's like kissing her erased everything I thought I knew about what adrenaline is supposed to feel like.
The electricity that coursed between us... I still feel it lingering in my veins. No one has ever had that effect on me.
❖❖❖
I leave Charlie's after midnight. I didn't say anything, but it felt like the last time. For real. It's not fair of me to run to her whenever I need to blow off steam, and my gut tells me she's on the brink of catching feelings I can't return.
My head is light, body heavy and in the way. My attempt at skateboarding high in the dark results in a wipeout on the gravel, so I walk through the cool night air. The moon casts a white glow on my skin and makes my misty mind drift to vampires.
I laugh to myself, thinking of how Nick and I used to mess with kids in our class and convince them I was a vampire because of my sharper than average incisor teeth. We got away with it until our teacher told us to stop freaking people out.
It feels like I'm walking for hours, dragging my cinderblock feet through tar, but the lively talk from my dad's poker buddies proves it's still the middle of the night. I hoped it would be empty and dark, that he'd be passed out.
"Ashton!" Dad scrapes his chair when I walk in, staggering over to me with a cigarette dangling from his mouth. "Thank Christ, I was justa bout to give way my watch."
He holds onto my shoulders, words slurred and bathed in the stench of beer. The floor seems to tilt with his weight on me.
"Give me some cash so I can win mine back."
I pull away as he grabs my cheeks, his unfocused eyes inspecting my bloodshot ones.
"High as a fuckin' plane. This what you spending my money on?"
I shake my head out of his grip, turning to go to my room, but he tugs my backpack and I stumble as I snatch it away from him.
"I know you got cash in there, c'mon hand it over."
He wasn't meant to be awake. I wouldn't have come back if I knew he'd be here drinking, waiting to take my tips before I can stash them.
"I don't."
His hand grasps for the bag again, face twisting. "Don't you fuckin' lie to me, boy!"
The blow to my eye jolts me back, the pain not fully processing as I find my balance. Another hit to the mouth, knuckles crashing, the taste of metal on my tongue. I fall onto the kitchen counter, watching my father's miraculous intoxicated clarity I've become so accustomed to.
His friends all hush down at the table, still holding their cards and turning their backs on what they've witnessed time and time again. Dad waits for my next move, checking if his cigarette is still lit as I catch my breath.
My limbs feel like lead as it is, fighting back sober is already tough enough on its own. The last time I did that, I wound up with a concussion.
He walks closer as he speaks. "So, are you a liar? Am I gonna find a wad of cash in that bag you're hidin' from me?"
I spit blood on the floor before I answer. "It's mine."
"Yours? Well I'll be damned."
In one fast move, he grabs the back of my head and slams my cheek to the counter, his fingers tightly wound in my hair to hold me down as I struggle. My energy is drained.
"So I let you go to that snobby school, put a roof over your head, and you think you don't owe me anything? Is that how it is?" He crouches down, flicking ash on my face. "Tell me how I got such an ungrateful prick like you for a son."
"There's nothing to be grateful for in this shithole."
I catch the darkened rage fly over his eyes before he pulls me up by the hair, scalp stinging like a thousand tiny needles are jabbing it. He then takes my arm, twists it back and digs his cigarette into the crook of my elbow. I grit my teeth in agony, suppressing the cry in my throat as the ember sears my skin.
He lets go and shoves me away. When he's taken all my money, he flings the bag at me and starts counting the stack. "Get outta my face."
A/N: rough part to end on :( but I hope you still liked this one. remember to tap that star and vote, I really appreciate it!