Half Hearted

Chapter Twelve

| Ash |

He could tell that she was slightly starting to get nervous, especially after he closed the door behind him, making himself comfortable on her green and yellow bed.

Cautious, she sat on her stool, trying hard to stay as far away from him as possible. "What's the deal?"

Ash surveyed the room before saying anything. He was taking his time, since Oria took her time showering. "You know, I never took you for one who even had a dress in her room. You're always jeans and converse."

Teresa raised an eyebrow, clearly confused about his actions. She saw the white dress laid out on her pillows. It was supposed to be what she'd wear for Tyler's birthday, but now that she thought about it, she knew it was too much. "Cut the crap, Stymest. Tell me what you need to talk about."

He nodded, knowing that she wouldn't tolerate his act any longer. "Last night, I told you everything about Cheryl. Don't even try denying it. I might have... bad memory, but I know what I told you."

Teresa nodded, staring down at his hands, ashy from the coming winter. "What about it?"

Ash leaned his elbows on his knees in an attempt to get a closer look at her features. Her face remained unreadable. "Why didn't you tell your best friend about it?"

"Because it's not my business to tell," she replied, casually shrugging.

"But it was your business to ask?"

She sighed, "I was curious, alright? I wanted to know why you ran away, and Steven's answer didn't satisfy me."

"Steven's answer?" He already knew, thanks to Oria, that Steven was also a best friend. Oria had made him sound like he was gay whenever she talked about him. He felt that there was a story bigger than that.

"He told me he did some research on you and the media said that you were running away from your management because you owed them some money. Something about drugs and a minor, and some lawsuit you couldn't pay for," Teresa informed. Ash chuckled bitterly at Peter's attempts.

"So you believed him, and wanted the truth out of me while I was piss drunk?"

"No," she defended slowly, still staring at his hands. He was starting to get peeved. Did this girl want to hold his hands or something? "I didn't believe him, and that's why I asked you. I wanted to know the real reason."

His heart suddenly warmed up at the thought that someone in the world didn't give way to the media's lies. But then he remembered the circumstances, and his isolation wall was still as high as it was before. In an attempt to bring back his cold edge, he spoke in annoyance, "stop staring at my hands."

"They're dry," she stated, pursing her lips together. Then she grabbed a bottle from behind her, and handed it to him. "Lotion?"

What kind of girl...

"No," he retorted, looking at her like she'd just lost her mind. She shrugged and then put the bottle back on the table. "Anyways, keep doing what you're doing. Don't tell anyone anything, you got it? Let everyone else believe in those lies, because I'm too tired to deal with the truth right now."

Ash stood up to leave, but Teresa asked, "what about Oria? What do I tell her?"

"Whatever the hell you want," his tone was back, and he left her sight, slamming the door behind him. 

| Teresa |

Who the hell did he think he was, barging into my room and slamming my door like that? It took me about five full breaths before I managed to calm myself down. I was known to have a temper, and I didn't want to unleash it now.

Getting into bed, I started going through my phone. A part of me wanted to call his management myself, and tell them where he was so that he could finally get out of my sight, but then I thought about the repercussions. What would happen if he was taken back?

Somehow the asshole made it so that I was able to feel for him. Sympathy, at least.

It was in nights like these when I couldn't sleep. So I decided to get up and get a glass of water. Trying to step over Ash's sleeping body, I made it to the cupboard and grabbed myself a glass without waking him up. I then filled it with water, the sound of liquid sounded like Niagara Falls in the middle of the night, and then sat at the couch.

Then, going through Facebook, I saw that Steven was online. Deciding to chat him up, I sent him a message. 

He replied with a phone call.

"Hey," I spoke, whispering into the phone and sneaking into my room, hoping he could still hear me. I was always a bit peeved when people called without warning, as I liked the comfort of my text bubble.

"Oria awake?" Steven asked.

"No, she's in her room. What's up?"

"Can I tell you something?" He sounded weary, and I sat up straight on my bed, ready for whatever was about to hit me. My silence urged him to keep speaking. "I think I'm in love with Oria."

A slight chuckle made its way out of me, "I'm pretty sure we all knew that. Well, Claire and I. Oria's as oblivious as she is smart."

"Really? You knew?" He breathed into the phone. He must've felt a huge weight being lifted off his shoulder after telling me. "Well, at least now it will be more of a surprise to you when I tell you I'm moving to Vancouver. If that makes things any better."

My eyes went wide. "What?"

"My dad told me today that I'd have to study business management over there, and I'd have to start soon, since the semester already began," his voice was low and hoarse. Had he been crying?

"No, you're not moving," I tried to reassure him as well as myself. "Are there no business management options in here? There are like five universities here, there's bound to be at least one that offers it."

"All of them offer it as a minor. I need it as a major," his voice hushed. The silence creeped over us until he spoke again. "Let's not talk about it for now. The more I think about it, the more I can't sleep. Anyways, how are things going over there with you and Ash Stymest?"

I decided not to tell him about the little scene I witnessed today with Ash and Oria. "He's - uhm - fine. He still hates me though, but loves our little Oria. Anyways, can you give me some advice?"

"Yeah sure, anything."

"What do you think about me calling his management?" The words got stuck at my throat, but I forced myself to say it. "He's tearing himself apart, and I don't know how to help him but call back the people who actually do know him, you know? Maybe they know best how to deal with him, because I know I can't help. He hates my guts."

"Come on, I don't think he hates you," Steven chuckled a little. "Maybe he just gets bothered by your bushy brows."

I smiled. He was back at it again with his old jokes. "Shut up. They aren't that bad."

"Even Sierra's stylist couldn't fix your brows up," he laughed, referring to his sister. "Anyways, why would you care? If he hates you so much, you should have already made that phone call to get him out of the house? I'll do it, if you don't want to be blamed."

"No," I shook my head. "I don't know. There's honestly something... vulnerable about him. I can't place my finger on it, but I just worry, is all."

"Vulnerable?" He questioned. "The only thing vulnerable about him are the girls that spread their legs when they make eye contact with him."

"Right," I pressed my lips to a thin line. "Hey, I gotta go. Forget I ever said anything. Goodnight."