Rich Bitch // malum & lashton

nine

ASHTON GRUMBLED, kicking Calum in the shins with his expensive shoes under the table. He had never planned on going to a rich party again, but there he was, sitting around one of the rather large table-clothed circular tables. The suit was chaffing in awkward places and some people gave him nervous looks.

Calum was too busy flirting with some rich girl to notice. She spoke with such intelligent words that he didn’t understand her, but he pretended he did, like always. He gave the girl a confident smile, his dark eyes darting to her lips and then to her eyes, giving her the impression that he wanted to kiss her. He really didn’t, but he’d heard about her and felt sorry for her.

Her name was Rosie Risington. She was quite a lanky, pale girl that no boy ever went for. He knew she was insecure about what boys thought about her. So, to boost her confidence, he flirted with her. It was a sweet gesture, and her mother loved him for it.

Ashton rolled his eyes, cutting up his napkin with one of his four knives out of boredom. He’d forgotten his phone, so he couldn’t text Luke or play Piano Tiles. He just hoped somebody interesting would come and talk to him.

Once Rosie left, Calum turned to him and tried to look apologetic about bringing him there. “Sorry, Ash. The colony wanted to see how you were doing, so I figured . . .”

“Yeah, whatever,” he said, looking down at his hands. “Pen?”

The Kiwi nodded, tossing him a pen. Ashton always had a thing for art. He drew wherever he could – on his arms, on the school desks, on walls – and in this case, it was the fancy table cloth. He knew the snotty bitch he had to politely call Miss Huffings would be angry, but he didn’t really care.

He started to draw absentmindedly. Accidentally drawing a picture of Luke, he blushed, crossing it out a little. It caught the attention of his best friend, who sat up a little and looked over the centrepiece of the table (a vase of flowers). He smirked.

“You’re wrapped around little Lukey’s finger, aren’t you?”

“He’s just so cute,” the shorter boy gushed, smiling wide at the thought of him. “He has this cute stutter thing and he blushes a lot and he trips over things lots and his eyes are the bluest blue ever and his giggle is so high-pitched and I love it so much . . .” Now Calum knew why Ashton had been acting so weird – he was crushing on a certain blond boy.

A waiter walked up behind Ashton with a plate of steak in his hand, “That’s a very nice drawing, Mr Irwin.”

“Thank you.” his eyes flicked up to the waiter’s and he gasped, seeing the bluest of blues. “Luke!” he grinned. “Y-You’re – how?”

Luke smiled, making a single dimple pop out. Him wearing a long sleeved shirt and a vest was a turn-on, Ashton found out. “I’m here with Michael. I think Charlotte’s around here somewhere too . . .” he looked around to quickly search for her, but Ashton knew she was there; that was how they met. “Anyway, I have to get back to work.”

With the reminder of Charlotte, he furrowed his eyebrows, mentally reciting how they met. She was a waiter and he was sitting between his parents, playing Flappy Bird on his phone. Calum said he was sick, so he was all alone.

“Flappy Bird; nice choice,” she had said, putting his plate down in front of him, “but you’re nowhere near my high-score.”

She revealed that it was five hundred and fifteen and his mouth was open in his shock. He’d only ever got somewhere around the two hundred mark, so he felt like a loser. When he asked to be excused and she was done working, he wouldn’t leave her alone until she taught him how to play Flappy Bird really well. Maybe it was just an excuse to talk to her, but whatever. They sat on the hood of her car as she told him what he was doing wrong.