Hazel Eyes | Lashton

Chapter Two

"If I didn't know you, I'd rather not know. If I coudn't have you, I'd rather be alone." -Falling In Love At A Coffee Shop (Landon Pigg)

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Ashton saw him from where he sat in the bakery. He was cute- unbelievably cute- with crystal clear blue eyes and blond hair in a gray beanie. He was tall-amazingly tall ohmygod- and had the best cheekbones Ashton had ever laid his eyes on.

Ashton forced his eyes back to the book in his hands because he could not get caught staring at this stranger (even though Ashton was totally "not" looking at the stranger he couldn't help but notice he was looking for someone).

Ashton lived a very book-filled life. If he wasn't reading, he was writing. It was the same schedule for him every day. He lived above the little bakery he was sitting in at this moment- waking up to the smells of cinnamon and spices. Maria, the bakery owner, needed someone "young" to live-in the bakery- Maria being an Italian who absalutly loved how Ashton brightened anyone's day, just by smiling at them. She knew he needed a place to stay and kindly offered after a day of him working for her. It's easy to say Maria treated him like her own.

There was a time of day where the rush wasn't hectic so Ashton often read. Fantasy, Horror, or Love-stories-that-made-you-vomit-from-cuteness, Ashton would read it. He didn't just want to read books though, he wanted to write them. Stories that were cunning and extraordinary with twist endings that made readers grab their hearts and demand for a sequel that would never come because what's the fun in that? You're supposed to think of your own ending (that's what Ashton thought anyway). That ending could be the straight main character falls for his best friend- or the other way around. Instead of having cancer, they could grow fins and live under the blue waves. It was about taking something and turning it into something new. Something different. Ashton absolutely loved that. He loved being able to take someone's words, someone's world, and twist and turn it, making it his own. Some people call it fanfiction. Ashton calls it his own little world.

So in between making cinnamon-twists and banana nut bread, Ashton read. And wrote. Maria would enter the counter area and whack him on the head and mutter something in Italian about "stupid boy with his stupid obsession" and Ashton would blush and stick the book under the counter because a customer had just walked in.

As soon as he'd served the young-looking women he'd gone straight for his notebook and wrote. He wrote about a man in shining armor with crystal clear blue eyes and blond hair. He had no resemblance to the stranger he'd seen not so long ago outside the bakery. None at all.

All in all, Ashton was happy.