Always a Friend

Chapter 8

If you like this story, please consider giving it a vote. Thanks! Amber. 

I pulled into my driveway, my head still spinning about my upcoming date with Jude on Saturday. I shut my car off and gripped my steering wheel as I slowly turned toward Ashton's driveway to find it empty. I was more relieved than anything that he wasn't home yet because I didn't want to hear him tease me about Jude. I got out of my car, turned around, and grabbed my book bag from the passenger seat. I was about to stand back up when I heard the roar of Ashton's engine behind me. I closed my eyes, praying I was wrong but knew I wasn't. Maybe if I acted like I was busy doing something in my car, he wouldn't come here and say anything to me. Who was I kidding? He would come over here no matter what I was doing. 

"Hey, Gem! What's this? I hear you've got a date." Ashton walked up behind me. 

I sighed, rolling my eyes. I pulled my book bag out of the car, resting the straps on my shoulder. "What about it?" My words came out a little more harshly than I had intended. I closed the car door. 

"Nothing. Just that I heard you had a date. And with Jude. How did you manage that one?" 

I couldn't tell if he was being a sarcastic asshole or not. And if by some chance he was, I didn't appreciate it. I was beginning to regret my decision to ask him for help. Again, the condescending tone wasn't appreciated. I raised an eyebrow, then turned and started walking toward the steps to my house. Listening to him make fun of me for having never dated wasn't high on my list of priorities at the moment. He tried talking to me, but I raised my hand as I opened the front door and hollered that I'd talk to him later. I dropped my book bag in the chair beside the table by the door and proceeded to the kitchen for a drink. There was a note on the refrigerator, letting me know Mom wouldn't be home until late tonight. I sighed, staring at the message, wondering if this would become a regular thing, me being at home alone at night. So, maybe it was a good thing I was starting to date after all. 

I got my drink and grabbed my book bag on the way to my room. I dropped my book bag onto the bed and went over and closed my curtains before putting my drink down on the nightstand. Ashton's parents weren't home, and I'm sure some girl was on her way over to his house. I closed my eyes and shivered at the thought. I didn't want that image in my head. 

                                                                                   *****

"Gemma! It's Ashton! Let me in!" He pounded on the door. 

I rose from doing my homework on my bed. I sat there for a second, debating ignoring him, hoping he'd get the hint and go away. Then again, it was Ashton, and he's probably stood out there forever and beat on my door until my mother came home. I shut my book, tossed it aside, and went downstairs to see what man-whore wanted.

I opened the door. "What do you want, Ashton? To make fun of me some more? Well, I'm NOT in the mood!" I started to close the door, but it wouldn't budge. 

"Gemma, you have every right to be mad at me. I told you I'd help you; instead, I made fun of you. Let me help you." 

"Why?" I peeked around the door. 

"Because I've dated and you haven't. Also, you won't ask Chloe, Sara, or Ava for help." 

I sighed, opening the door wider. I hated admitting when Ashton was right. I would've rather stuck a bar of soap in my mouth than tell Ashton he was right. He walked in and headed for the kitchen. He looked in the living room on the way to the kitchen, then looked over his shoulder back at me and asked if my mom was home. I told him she was out with her friends for the evening, and I was home alone. He continued down the hall toward the kitchen. 

"When is your date?" Ashton asked, getting a bottle of water out of the refrigerator and leaning against the counter. 

I hopped up on the middle stool at the counter. "It's Saturday night." 

"We need to come up with a plan." He took a drink of water. 

"A plan?" 

"Gem, do you think the football team goes out before a game without a strategic plan?" 

I started to shake my head yes, then quickly shook it no. I had no idea where he was going with this, but he intrigued me. I knew I was going to need something to drink if I was going to listen to him. I walked over to the refrigerator and grabbed a bottle of apple juice. I hopped back up on my stool and took a drink. "So, what kind of plan do I need?" 

"He'll probably ask you where you want to go. You'll want to pick somewhere happening that most teenagers would want to go—for instance,  The Breezeway. 

"The Breezeway?" I raised an eyebrow. "Isn't that an arcade place?" 

"Gem, trust me." He set his bottle down and moved closer to the counter. "It's got everything a teenager could want: games, food, dark lighting. Make sure they seat you at a corner booth. The lighting is a little darker." He smiled. 

I tilted my head to the side. "Seriously?" 

"What?" He raised his hands, looking innocent. "He'll give you all the signs first...He'll scoot closer to you, and when he thinks he's won you over, he'll lean in more for the kiss. Touchdown!" He threw his arms up. 

"I didn't know guys thought about all of this?" I sat there, staring at Ashton, baffled by what I'd just heard. 

"That's because you think jocks are mindless jerks." He lowered his arms, picked up his water, and took a drink. He screwed the lid back on, then leaned against the counter behind him. He set his water down beside him and crossed his arms. "Am I wrong?" 

"I don't think that."I pressed my lips together. He had no idea what on earth I was thinking half the time to make such an accusation. I wasn't going to admit that maybe a tiny part of me did think guys like him were incapable of thinking about anything else but themselves. I should say more so him than the other guys because I wasn't around them. 

"If you say so..." He chuckled. 

"Whatever." I rolled my eyes, picked up my juice bottle, and took a sip. I was about to say something when Ashton's phone rang. He stood with his arms crossed, pretending he didn't hear it. I raised my eyebrows at him, motioning my hand at him to answer his phone. He finally lowered his arms, reached into his front pocket, and pulled out his phone. I could tell by the way he was talking on the phone that it was his mom because he looked somewhat agitated by how the crease between his eyes got deeper the longer he talked. Finally, he let out an exasperated sigh followed by an annoyed fine, then hung up. 

He shoved his phone back in his pocket and looked to the right toward the window. "Sorry, Gem, I've got to head home." He ran his left hand through his hair. "I'll text you later. Bye." He turned and walked out of the kitchen. He left me there alone, wondering why the hell I ever agreed to go out with Jude on Saturday.