I couldn't say I was unbothered by the fact that I hadn't heard from Ashton in about forty-eight hours because I was extremely bothered by it. We had exchanged numbers over breakfast, plus he followed me on Twitter, so I didn't see what the issue was. I hated to feel like I was something for the time being to pass time away and I hated to feel like I was being intentionally ignored. And as much as I tried not to think about it, I still thought about it and let it bother me.
I wasn't the best at distracting myself. I could only manage to keep my mind off things for an hour or two then I'd start worrying again and creating fake scenarios and possibilities in my head to make me feel worse or convince myself to hate Ashton. I sketched out a few designs but couldn't finish them since I was so distracted by the worse possible outcome. I made about three trips to the 76 gas station off PCH because I felt like I needed more cigarettes. And with each stick I lit, I knew I needed to kick the habit.
The rational part of me also reminded myself that he was likely busy with the band and was most certainly having issues getting away from Sarah therefore I couldn't be that upset with him. In the time that had gone by, I had seen Luke twice and every time I was on the verge of asking him what Ashton was up to, I'd bite my tongue, not ready to answer the millions of questions that Luke was going to ask out of suspicion.
Xander and I spent a typical Friday night together. Pizza night. Mom and dad went out for dinner per usual.
"I can already tell you that USC is going to win." Xander rolled his eyes referring to the college football bowl game we were watching. He loved USC more than he loved working out. He finished high school early so he could start classes at USC early and he just recently graduated.
"I don't know...Nebraska looks promising."
The sound of the doorbell filled the house, causing Xander and I to look at each other with skeptical looks.
"Were you expecting Sofia?" I questioned as I stood up, smoothing out my over-sized sweater over my frame.
"She's working...?" His eyebrows knitted together with confusion. It could be a package one of us forgot we had ordered.
I carefully padded to the door, bringing the sleeves of my sweater over my cold hands.
"Ashton?" I took a step back to see if it was really him. His head was hanging down as he leaned against the house with one arm. His curls sprawled out randomly. He wore all black, the ensemble topped with a leather jacket that looked like it was more for fashion than for warmth. Which was bold of him to do in Malibu during January. There were overwhelming feelings that hit as soon as I pulled Ashton into the house.
He lifted his head, revealing blood dripping from his nose. Some of it made its way to his hand as he probably tried to wipe it away. My heart sank.
"What happened?" I closed the door behind me, grabbing a few tissues that were by the front door because my mom believed in having tissues at every corner of the house just in case.
"I went to," He removed his hand from his nose and cautiously took the tissues from me. "Sarah's...And - I don't know..."
I sighed. "You can tell me after the bleeding has stopped." I grabbed his arm and led him to my bathroom.
Ashton took a seat on the toilet after he put down the lid. He continued to try cleaning the mess from his nose. For a second, I could see his eyes fill with tears and his jaw clenched as he held them back, uncomfortable crying in front of a stranger.
"I'll be right back."
This was a random situation that I never thought would happen to me. I wanted to be prepared for something like this to happen, but I panicked on the inside. Xander would know what to do. He used to get bloody noses in high school all the time when he played basketball, so I considered him a pro with these kinds of things.
"I don't know how to say this..." Butterflies formed in my stomach and almost made me puke. I hated to admit to things. "Ashton's here with a bloody nose and I don't know what to do..."
-
"Rough." Xander cringed at the sight of Ashton's nose. "Hold the cloth to your nose until it stops bleeding. Don't lay down, don't tilt your head back." He handed a black cloth to Ashton. "You have a bruise coming in on your eye."
Ashton groaned. It sounded like a mixture of annoyance and sadness, as if this was something he was used to.
"I'll get you some ice. Your nose is bruised pretty badly too." Xander patted Ashton's arm before walking out.
"Thanks for answering the door." Ashton tapped his foot against the ground. "The guys are throwing a party at the house. I didn't want to show up there looking like this and I didn't know who else to go to, but then I remembered how sweet you were. Here I am."
His words pierced my heart with sadness. I also felt proud that he would trust me enough to come here in such a situation. But Ashton of all people didn't deserve this. No one deserved this. I couldn't properly articulate my support and regret for all of this. What did a person want to hear in a time like this? How should I comfort someone in this situation?
"You're welcome." I stood in front of him, gently wiping off excess blood that stained his hands with a damp wash cloth.
"Who would've guessed Sarah's left hook was thing strong." Ashton laughed like everything was a light-hearted joke to him. That might have been the way he coped. We were all different.
"This is all because of Sarah?" I asked tentatively, my heart starting to race. He was dropping bomb after bomb, my head and my heart could only handle so much in one night.
"You can laugh." He scratched the side of his head. "It's silly when you think hard about it."
"It's not funny...like, at all..." I gave him a stern look. "What happened?"
"Here's your ice." Xander handed me another cloth that was wrapped around a few ice cubes and then he left the room again.
"She called me over to her house...I go over, we start talking about New Year's Eve. A couple minutes later her doorbell rings and the guy she cheated on me with is there. He was pissed when he saw me, so he started yelling at Sarah and I intervened like the idiot that I am. What would possess me to help Sarah anyway, right? Things just started to get violent between everyone. I guess I was running on adrenaline at that point..."
I leaned my back against the wall opposite from Ashton. Only a couple of feet separated us.
"I think I still am because none of this hurts yet." By now Ashton's nose had stopped bleeding, so he switched the bloody cloth for the one filled with ice. "I can't even remember everything. I just remember Sarah turning to me and punching my nose and kicking me out. I wouldn't doubt it if she hit my eye too."
"You have to tell the police about this. What if she does it again?" I argued.
Maybe they were all heated in the spur of the moment, but there was no denying that she'd probably hit him again if she'd be given the opportunity.
"I don't know..." He chuckled. "As soon as some gossip site finds out I've filed a report or some charges, how will that make me look? I don't know how that will impact the band...I don't wanna be the center of everyone's jokes. I've let it go on for three months since she cheated. It's my fault."
"What?!" I suddenly felt a swarm of negative, disgusting feelings hit me. People like Sarah were the people who deserved no place in this world.
"Yeah." He whispered barely audible as he stared at his feet. I knew he felt ashamed, embarrassed even.
"Ashton." I knelt to catch his gaze. "You need to tell someone. I can help you." I placed my hands gently on his knees, but he jumped. I felt awful. He might've expected me to hit him. I removed my hands, respecting his personal space. "I'm sorry."
"I can't tell anyone, Talia." He refused to make eye contact with me. "I'll be seen as a coward. I'll ruin everything the band has done."
"I don't think so."
I watched as he shook his head with refusal and shame. It made my heart physically ache, knowing that someone could put their hands on such a sweet, caring person. It made me feel disgusted that anyone could ever be abusive towards someone they said they cared about. But I doubt Sarah ever really cared about Ashton. All I wanted to do in this moment was hug him tightly and reassure him that everything would be okay, and she wouldn't do it again, but I couldn't give that kind of false hope. He looked so innocent and vulnerable sitting in my bathroom. It was a completely different Ashton sitting in front of me. Not the same giggly, happy Ashton I had seen in passing before.
"I should get going." Ashton placed the ice in the sink and slowly raised himself to his feet. I stood with him. "Sorry for bugging you tonight. Thank you for helping me."
"You can stay."
"It's not right. If Sarah finds out this won't end well."
"She won't find out. I can't let you leave considering the emotional and physical state you're in." I caught myself practically begging him to stay. "My brother can lend you some clothes for the night and my parents won't even care if you stay."
If there was any where he was safe it was here. Few people even knew these houses were down here because the turn was so easy to miss. Especially at night.
"Alright."
"You'll stay?"
He nodded. "I'm too embarrassed to go back to LA right now."
-
"I left my clothes in your bathroom if that's okay..." Ashton looked so casual and nice in the sweatpants and t shirt that Xander let him borrow.
"That works." I nodded as I pulled the sheets down so Ashton could get comfortable for the night. He was hesitant about getting in the bed but did it anyway.
"Did you know people who sleep with multitudes of pillows on their bed are found to be lonely and depressed?"
"What?" I looked at him, cocking an eyebrow as I mentally counted how many pillows were on my bed.
Ten. Maybe he had a point but that wasn't a topic I wanted to touch on with him. I couldn't scare him off just yet.
"Some study I read."
"You got me there." I chuckled, taking a seat next to Ashton and flipping the television on. "People can't just be severely obsessed with pillows these days?"
"I guess not." He laughed. "People tend to read too far into things."
He was right. We were always on the search for the deeper meaning of each detail in life, whether it be the way someone looked at you at the grocery store or how many pillows you had on your bed. We rarely stopped to just appreciate what was in front of us. I was guilty of being one of those people.
He finally broke our silence. "Your sketches are incredible. I don't think I told you that the last time I was here..."
I looked to the wall full of colorful sketches I never thought would see the time of day.
"Thank you. Just something I do to pass time."
"Ever thought about becoming a designer?"
"I've thought about going to the Art Institute in New York, but realistically...leaving doesn't settle well with me. I have everyone I need here, if I move, I have no one. Nothing." This wasn't a conversation I had with anyone. Not even Luke. Luke would scream if I ever left Malibu. My parents would probably tell me they were for the idea of leaving across the country but would ultimately convince me not to leave.
"Why don't you go to the one in LA?"
I scoffed. "I try to avoid going into LA as much as I can. It's such a horrible place."
He hummed a response. I couldn't decide if he agreed with my comment or not, but I got the feeling that conversation was over, or he wanted it to be over. Most people loved LA and if I ever said anything negative about it, I was automatically the bad person.
"She hadn't hit my face before tonight."
I muted the television, sitting there quietly trying to think why Sarah would ever think any of the pain she caused Ashton was okay.
"She'd only hit my stomach or my legs, anything that could be covered with clothing. She said it was because she didn't want any questions to come up with fans or anything..."
"None of that makes it okay." Was all I could respond with.
"I know." He whispered.