Class was mind-numbing this morning. Sat in that room for almost two hours with nothing but clicking pens and obnoxious page flipping, I was about ready to scream out for silence. My mind was reeling from the last weekend to begin with, the last thing I needed was this. Luckily, it was my only class of the day since we had a pressing exam, and once you were finished you could leave. I was tempted to just scribble down chicken scratch and be done with it in fifteen minutes.
I finished in less than an hour, though. Even after the repetitive introduction by the professor and quick reminder lesson he insisted we needed that took up the largest chunk of time, I was out before lunch. Unfortunately, Alex and Jess were both stuck in classes for the remainder of the day. My giddy mood of celebration was ruined by their apology messages that they wouldn't be able to bask in the glory in honor of the shit show of an exam I totally aced. But after a couple minutes of pacing around my dorm, I realized there wasn't anyone else I'd rather celebrate with than the man whose shirt was still draped across the back of my desk chair.
He has to be home, right? He's always home.
My gleeful thoughts carried me to my car as I sped through town, feeling the smile widen on my face with each mile that passed down the familiar route. It was oddly hot today, the sun blared down without a blink all morning and by mid afternoon as I drove down the street, blurry waves of heat wavered from the roads. I pity the amount of flimsy flip flops that are probably melting to the sidewalks.
My mind wandered throughout the duration of the drive, my rear view mirror sending back reflections of my interchanging expressions with each thought that passed. The thoughts were positive at the beginning, memories of dancing under the vibrant lights and spilt drinks with my closest friends from the past weekend. Vivid details of us all standing in the kitchen, the fluttering in my chest from Ashton's hand firmly holding me close to him for anyone to see, tangled with each other in the hallway under the dim lights as I breathed out his name, cuddled in his bedsheets while his muscular arms and oversized shirt I wore swallowed me into an embrace of solace. Those arms that held me out of comfort when he was the one that needed it the most.
I wanted to apologize for prying, for my intrusive questions that I could tell were difficult for him to answer. His heartbeat increased with every word he spoke. I felt an angered sorrow with his answers, even more that he definitely hasn't spoken about any of it and kept it all bottled up. He didn't pull me out of the dark completely, with his vaguely short replies to each question, but the hint of dismay that tainted the normally vibrant hazel in his eyes told me he barely even scraped the surface.
I knew he had a rough childhood; Michael told me that once, but he spared the details as they weren't his to tell. Michael hinted that he was one of the very few that Ashton actually told, and he doesn't even know the whole story. I understood that. Ashton is definitely not an open book and with something as deep as this must be, I'll be sure he'll be the one to tell me on his own terms if he chooses to.
Besides, I've still got my own skeletons I keep hidden.
Humidity floods my car as I drove with the window cracked, trying to suck down the rest of my cigarette to tame the nerves without exposing myself to too much of the thick heat from the outside. We haven't spoken much this week since the party, aside from a few snarky texts and teasing pictures. He did tell me that he was at work on Monday when I asked him about his day, which confirmed that he does in fact have a job and doesn't sit in the house all day like I kind of assumed. Ironic that this man has been buried between my legs almost too many times to count and I don't even know what the fuck he does all day.
I could feel my back stick with an anxious sweat as my mind continues to feel. My air conditioning was working overtime, I wanted to bask in the artificial cool as long as I could and fucking relax.
My stomach leaps when I eventually reach the familiar house, the lawn covered in miscellaneous party decor and the drive empty of any cars, except one that was parked up by the garage. I feel giddy at sight of the old vehicle in the driveway, indicating that he is in fact home.
I pull off the street to be safe, I'm not sure when anyone else is getting home or where they usually park and I don't want to be in their way. I notice the hood of the vintage car flipped up when I undo my seatbelt. I didn't see anyone over there, not from where I was anyway. Maybe he's looking at something?
I swallow the butterflies and reach for my surprise from the passenger seat before I begin my uninvited arrival, sliding out of the seat and stabilizing my feet on the asphalt to aid my shaky legs.
Would he even want me here?
I circle around the front of my car and head up the drive. The sound of my door slamming must've caught attention, halfway up the pavement I see a shaggy head poke out from behind the hood of the black car. I have to bite back the grin threatening to split on my face at the sight.
Instead I give him a soft nod when he finally sees me, relaxing his furrowed brows and confused features to a warm smile that immediately soothes my racked nerves. He removes himself from the front of the car and waits for me at the top of the drive, crossing his muscular arms as he leans against the car door with intrigue. His eyebrows raise, cigarette stuck between his lips.
"What are you doing here?" Ashton asks with amusement, taking in my exposed skin and six rack clutched in my hand. His eyes survey me with approval as I make my way toward him. He seems to like my tight white tank and little denim shorts.
I nonchalantly suck in a breath at his typical black jeans and the dirty rag slung over his shoulder that appeared to be an old tee shirt, covered in a variety of grease a bleach stains. A thin layer of sweat coats his forehead, forming at his hairline under the thick curls that sat on his head a mess, leading down his neck to his bare chest.
"We're celebrating." I force a sweet smile, tearing my gaze from his rugged sweaty frame that made my mouth water. I reach into the cardboard carrier for a cold bottle. His lips curve when I offer one to him. Who does he think he is, strutting around and posing behind his car shirtless and sweaty for the whole world to see?
Slut.
"Celebrating?" His eyebrows frown with confusion, but he gladly accepts my alcoholic proposal I brought to sweeten the pot. He tilts his head to catch my eyes, beckoning my frazzled mind away from his nakedness for answers. I quickly blink to gather my thoughts and mirror the smug look on his face.
"Well, I just aced my business exam," I tell him with a smile when he offers the opened bottle for me. He reaches for a new bottle for himself. "And you're shirtless and sweaty, so what's not to celebrate?"
He lightly snorts at my proposal, his laughter muffled while he pops the bottle cap off with his molars like he did with mine. Once opened, the drink is raised to me.
"I guess I'll drink to that." His head softly shakes, but he can't hide the cunning curve in his lips. I clink my bottle with his, his eyes drawing to my lips as I take a large celebratory gulp. He hums in approval at my intake, surveying my body as it buzzes with glee.
"So, all this for a business exam?" Ashton muses with his brow raised. His arm drops to hold the bottle to his side while he shifts his weight to one leg, using his free hand to lift the cigarette back to his mouth. Heat floods to my cheeks under his suggestive stare. I didn't need him to know that I essentially made up an excuse to come see him.
"I brought you a beer and you're complaining?" I tease him with a mirrored expression, shifting on my other leg for dramatic effect. If I can't be firm, I know I can always be snarky. "I guess I should've taken this party elsewhere."
His eyes playfully roll and he tilts his head to the side, clearly enjoying my sassy remark.
"Didn't say I was complaining." He says lowly, hiding the subtle curve in his lips by taking a swig of his drink. His eyes drag down my body again, like he was studying each and every curve and crevice I held. I try not to shudder under his demanding gaze, so I clear my throat and give him a bright smile.
"What are you working on over there?" I quickly change the subject in hopes that he'll fall back. I can tell when he's trying to read me, observe my body language and facial expressions to see what I'm really thinking. And I hate that he does it so well, but maybe I'm just easy to read.
"Nothing special." Ashton shrugs, following my nod to the open hood of his car. I raise my brows at his vague answer and roll my eyes. He playfully groans when I practically skip over to the vehicle sat in front of the garage.
If there's one thing men love to talk about, it's their cars.
"Just a quick oil change." He finally answers when I reach the car, standing behind me to let me do whatever I needed to do.
"Seems easy enough." I say nonchalantly as I rest my hands against the frame of the vehicle to hold me steady. I duck my head under the hood to inspect the inner organs of the vehicle and I couldn't be more confused with what I was looking at. It was fascinating, but utterly lost on me.
"Yeah? Wanna finish it for me, sweets?" He challenges behind me. I look back at him over my shoulder, his eyebrows raised as if he's questioning my knowledge. I scoff.
"I could do it. No problem." I tease him and return to the operating table, my eyes running down each and every metallic tube, bolt, and wire that harnessed the soul of the car. Usually if I had a car issue, my dad would take over and figure that out for me or I'd take it to a shop and pay entirely too much for the service. We both know that I can't do it, but I don't even care. I was content bent over the front of his car and taking in each and every random part that had its own unique purpose.
"I'm sure you could, baby. Go ahead, just bend over a little more." Ashton muses behind me and I hear a squeak of metal. I quickly glance to find him now situated in a fold up chair further in the garage, his legs spread and head back as he watches me with enjoyment. I almost melt under the cheeky grin on his lips from my position, leant over the front of his car for his own viewing. I didn't mind, I knew him better than to assume he'd be anything but perverted no matter the situation.
"Where's the oil?" I ask over my shoulder, purposely leaning forward while I pretend to look for something deeper under the hood. He mutters something under his breath while I stare down at the engine, listening to his shuffles as he gets up from the chair. I hear him pick up a plastic jug and the seal cracks when he opens it.
"Switch." He tells me once he's by my side, offering the jug of oil in return for my drink. His intrigued expression coaxes me to listen to him, I grab the large jug once both of our drinks are in his hand. He holds them by the neck between his slender fingers.
"I'm a little rusty." I tell him with a sweet smile, not backing down from my lack of knowledge. A humored breath fans down my neck when he leans closer, but he reaches under the hood to grab the greasy funnel that was sitting to the side.
"Lucky for you, I handled the draining, so you get the easy part." He mumbles with a light laugh and inserts the neck of the funnel into its correct spot. I'm assuming, anyway.
"Draining's the worst." I blindly agree, watching him get everything ready for me to do my thing. Whatever that was.
"It really is." He chuckles to me. He holds his arm out and takes a step back, letting me get up close and personal with the inside of his car.
"Fill it up." Ashton says, taking an amused sip of his beer while he watches me. I do as he says. The jug is lifted to the mouth of the funnel, I eyeball the aim to ensure there's no spillage and I begin to tilt the jug. The oil pours from the bottle, slowly filling the funnel before it seeps down into the tube. I have to keep watch to avoid overflow.
"How long have you worked on cars?" I ask him, not taking my eyes off of my current project. I'm sure this is one of the easier jobs of working on a car, so I can only imagine how complex and precise other matters can be. It must take forever to learn how to fix.
"Since middle school, I'd say." Ashton says shortly, his eyes watching my movements as I continue to slowly fill his car with oil. My brows absently lower at his lack of elaboration, but he eventually continues.
"Used to work on my uncle's car when I was younger. He taught me the basics and eventually let me help out at his shop once I hit high school." He explains softly, his free hand resting beside mine on the frame of the vehicle.
"That seems nice." I tell him with a small smile. I wanted to show my gratitude for him, that he was able to open up to me about his past. I know it's not easy for him, but it means the world to me.
"It was." He hums, helping me with the heavy jug by grabbing the bottom to hold upright for me. "He was my main escape, really. I tried to go by his shop everyday after school just so I didn't have to go home, and he always had something laying around for me to do."
I nod along with his story, unable to find words to say and not wanting to interrupt him when he's sharing such vulnerable parts of himself. It felt as though he wasn't really talking to me, rather reminiscing and thinking out loud. So I stand silently, focusing on the task at hand while he just speaks about his past.
"My sophomore year he bought this old Pontiac that he saw on the side of the road and made that our project car. A 1970 GTO. I was over there almost every day, it was a real piece of work and needed a replacement everything. Thing didn't even run when he picked it up, but he's always had a soft spot for old Pontiac's." He lightly laughs at the distant memory. I can even see a slight smile creeping on his lips.
"By the end of the year we had it fixed up and ready to go, practically brand new. We took it out for a test drive and he pulled up this little dirt road. I had no idea where we were, but eventually it spit us out to this grassy field that overlooked the ocean. It was something I've never seen before, standing on top of a cliff looking down at the ocean below us. We sat on the hood of the car and just listened to the waves and the trees blowing in the wind behind us. And out of nowhere he handed me the keys. I figured he just wanted me to drive us back, but he took me there to tell me that the car was mine. Something of my own that I had. Something that wasn't tied to anyone but me."
"He bought you a car?" My eyes widen with glee. I don't know much about his childhood, but from what I heard it wasn't very happy. Hearing this was like a breath of fresh air, I'm grateful that he had at least one positive person in his life at that time.
"This one right here." Ashton mumbles, his hand resting back on the frame now that the jug was nearly empty. He pats the metal with a small smile, but I can't ignore the glint of sorrow that flashes in his eyes. "It's all I really have left of him."
My heart drops for him, at the shame in his voice as he looks down to avoid my gaze. I almost drop the oil can, but I catch myself and gently set it down before I look at him.
"He's gone?" My mouth speaks before I can even think. I immediately regret it, but he stops me before I choke out the words.
"About four years ago." He nods slowly, closing his eyes for a moment while a deep sigh pushes from his chest. "Right around the time I started school again."
"At Berkeley?" I ask softly, absently resting my hand on his for comfort. He doesn't flinch, I'm not entirely sure he even notices. He nods.
"Once my dad died and my mum split, Tom moved us out here to restart. We picked up what we had left in Loomis, he relocated the shop, and we moved my Nan out here. We found a decent spot in Albany and we all crammed in there and made do. Once it was time, I enrolled in school and started at Berkeley." Ashton explains almost nonchalantly, his tone absent of any readable emotion. I had no idea about this side of his life, it's overwhelming just listening to it. Let alone living in it.
"Did he reopen the shop close by?" I wonder timidly. I'm not sure how much he wants to open up, I've never heard him speak about his past this much before, but I'm hoping that my questions are a subtle reminder that I'm right here with him.
"He actually had a crew and a shop ready for him by the time we got here. He'd always answer my countless questions with 'I've got connections' and leave it at that. But eventually the shop was doing better in Oakland than it ever was in Loomis." He lightly laughs at the memory, shaking his head. I can't help but smile at his ability to find the light in such a dark situation. I'm glad he still has that.
"So he hired me at his shop to help out. I got close with all of the mechanics there, they pretty much let me do whatever I want which helps a lot. They all loved Tom, he was like a brother to them, so when he died they all kind of took me under their wing and made me one of their own." Ashton explains, a bittersweet smile curving on his lips. I squeeze his hand with my own and can't help but lean into him.
"I'm glad you have them in your life." I tell him truthfully, covering the breath of relief that pushes from my chest. He's had a tough upbringing, filled with pain and loss and constant disappointment. I'm relieved that he has some positive people in his life that he can call family.
"They really helped me out with Tom when he passed, and with my mechanic skills in general. I learn something new everyday with those guys." He lets out a deep breath of acceptance that overshadows the hint of dismay in his tone. Then he smiles. "Besides, I get paid a pretty penny to work on old cars whenever I want, so I can't complain too much."
"Sounds like you've got it made." I lightly tease him, now that the mood has lifted a bit. I'm sure the last thing he wants to deal with is me getting emotional over his depressing past, no matter how recent. So I'll help him lighten the conversation and grant him some mercy.
"I really do." He flashes a charming smile down to me, his arm snaking around my waist. "I've got a good job, play in a decent band, and I've got a pretty blonde who can change my oil."
"What more could you need?" I playfully gasp, grinning when he gently squeezes my hip. I lean further into his side with a hum, lifting my head to look up at him while I rest my cheek on his shoulder.
Hearing all of this from him was a lot to take in. I didn't expect him to go as deep into detail as he did, but I am endlessly appreciative that he was able to actually open up to me and bare his soul. It's a weird realization to come to, that we still really don't know that much about each other. We've never gone deeper with conversation than surface level things, it's a rarity for us to go further with ourselves. He finally let me into a part of himself, he let me take a step into the darkness that he calls his childhood, and after today, I know he truly trusts me and can only go further below the surface. And vice versa.
"The jug is empty." I remind him softly, refusing to move from my spot cuddled into him. I look to the empty can resting on the edge of the frame and feel a soft squeeze on my hip.
"You're a natural." Ashton tells me with a breathy laugh. Unfortunately, his arm unwraps from my waist and reaches for the jug that no longer contained oil. His arm stretches out to me, silently asking me to hold the two half emptied beer bottles while he does his thing.
"I told you it was easy." I say with a shining smile, feeling good that I actually did something useful. And that he walked me through it with no judgement, granting me a sense of pride that I've been missing out on.
"You're a seasoned vet. You could rebuild an engine if you wanted to." A sly grin is thrown my way before he tosses the empty jug across the garage, expertly landing into the rusted garbage can in the corner. I giddily smile to myself while I watch him clean up. The oil stick is reinserted into its spot and eventually the hood is dropped down.
"Wanna take it for a test drive?" Ashton glances to me over his shoulder from the hood of the car, shifting his weight to his opposing leg to half turn himself toward me. My eyes run down the length of his toned torso and heavenly waist, melting at the exposed band of his boxers before I can even find the words to say.
"Are you about to gift me a car, Irwin?" I raise my eyebrow at him with a teasing suspicion. His eyes playfully roll and he spins himself around to lean back against the hood of the car, relieving his legs.
Heat spreads through my stomach from the sight of him, relaxed against the front of his vehicle with his black jeans hugging his long legs, his broad sweaty chest and strong arms at his side, his various tattoos glistening on full display so effortlessly. His curls sat loosely on the top of his head, pushed back to let the sunlight accentuate his structured features on his sculpted face that was littered with a scruffy stubble. So complaisant. So beautiful.
The softness in his eyes beckons me toward him without me even realizing, each step agonizingly long until I'm finally in front of him. The beer bottles are set on the floor. By the time I come to, I'm stood between his legs with a racing heart.
"Trying to ruin my surprise already, sweets?" Ashton quips with a light smirk, letting his big hands settle on my waist. My hands reach for his neck while I relax in his hold, my fingers tangling in the damp hair on the nape of his neck. It was hot outside today, heat was sticking to my skin with the exaggerated humidity.
"Maybe you're more predictable than you think." I quirk my brow at him, lightly tugging on the curls on the back of his head. Even though he was partially sat against the car, he was still able to tower over me with his dominant nature. The height difference wasn't as severe with this angle, but still completely prominent nonetheless.
His head tilts to the side as he watches me, eyes drawn down each and every aspect of my features in an attempt to read my mind. He pauses at my lips that were threatening to crack before his eyes flicker to meet mine. He looks at me through his lashes with challenge.
"Bullshit." Is all he says, his tone laced with velvet and seduction. It's exaggerated with a conniving smirk that made my stomach churn. "Get in the car."
"You mean my new car, right? Seeing as I fixed it up and all." I tease him with a grin, poking the bear as far as I could. He's so easy to get wound up and irritated, I can see why Nova enjoys it so much. It's hard not to. "Bet she runs like brand new, thanks to me."
"Mhm," Ashton hums with an eye roll, only entertaining my snark. His grip on my hips tighten with his annoyance, his middle finger linking with a belt loop to my denim shorts. He tugs. "Get in."
"I'm not moving until you admit that it's my new car." I push him further, slyly grinning at his abundance of eye rolls. It was fun to annoy him, he got so bent out of shape for absolutely no reason. It's all lighthearted fun, but he wasn't used to my challenging nature. He can be stubborn, so why can't I tease him for it?
"Fine." He says shortly. He runs his tongue over his bottom lip before his lips purse together out of irritation. With a slight glare and a huff, his head falls back to dramatize his annoyance.
I watch him with lowered brows, wondering if anyone had ever told him how much of a diva he truly can be. My lips part to throw a snarky remark his way, but his grip on my waist tightens harshly and before I can comprehend his actions, I'm off of my feet and thrown over his broad shoulder.
"Put me down!" I shout out, kicking my legs out of protest as they dangle in the air. He shakes with laughter as I'm hoisted over his shoulder, his chuckle ringing through my ears while I try to stabilize myself.
"You said you weren't moving." Ashton says nonchalantly, gripping the back of my thigh with his free hand to make me squirm in his hold. His boots stomp out of the garage and scuff against the asphalt of the pathway to the house, leading us entirely out of the way he previously intended to go. He wanted me in the car, why is he taking me toward the house?
"You're so dramatic." I huff to him, purposely kicking my legs to make his balance a little more difficult. He didn't miss a beat with each step, effortlessly carrying me up the porch steps and through the front steps, that goddamn smirk plastered on his face the entire way.