terrible things - ashton irwin

nine

Song for cheaper nine is going to be banana pancakes by Jack Johnson. I really like this song and I've recently added it to my music collection! Keep reading! :)

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By the time we stopped at a campground in Huboldt Redwoods Stage Park, we'd been driving for seven hours. Ashton had stuck to the back roads, and I wasn't complaining. My fear of getting pulled over by cops looking for a black Harley with an Oregon plate hadn't completely disappeared, but I was thinking about it less as we got farther away from home.

The sun was low above the horizon when we pulled into the park, and it vanished completely as we endured he green canopy of trees. Ashton let out a low whistle as the shadows enveloped us.

Old-growth redwoods. How can I even describe them? They towered above us darkly, and they felt alive. Not alive like regular trees, but alive like they had souls. Like they were wise, ancient creatures, watching with only the smallest hint of interest as two road-weary teenagers walked beneath them. The air was cool and slightly damp, and the silence was profound. I felt like we were in church.

"'They are not like any trees we know, they are ambassadors from another time,'" I said.

"Huh?" said Ashton.

"John Steinbeck wrote that in Travels with Charley."

He sighed. "Another one of the books you gave me-"

"That you didn't read."

Ashton used to pretend he felt guilty about ignoring the stacks of books I passed him, but eventually he stopped bothering. "I thought I was supposed to read East of Eden first," he said.

"Let me know when you get to it," I said. "I won't hold my breath."

"Well you can let me know when you listen to that All Time Low CD I got you."

"I put it on my iPod but, as you know, it's broken," I pointed out. "Your eyeballs work just fine."

We found our campsite then, a small clearing surrounded by a ring of redwoods, with a picnic bench, a fire pit, and a spigot for cold, clear water. I unhooked my tent from the back pack. It was an army-green miracle of engineering: big enough to contain two people and their sleeping bags, it weighed less than a pound and, folded up, fit into a bag the size of a loaf of bread. Ashton eyed it, impressed.

"Watch how I set this is up," I directed.

"Because tomorrow night it's your job."

"I thought it was the woman's job to keep house and the man's job to hunt for food," he said, grinning slyly.

I shorted. "Are you planning to kill an k with your screwdriver? Good luck."

"I was thinking more along the lines of a squirrel," he said, but even that was ridiculous, because Ashton would never hurt anything. I mean, the guy had to grit his teeth to kill a mosquito.

I unpacked the veggies I'd bought, plus a chunk of aged Gouda and a bag of lavash, the thin flatbread I love and couldn't get in Klamath Falls because apparently it was too exotic.

"Well, well, well," Ashton said as he watched me skewer mushrooms and peppers on sticks.
"I guess you'd do all right in survivor."

I rolled my eyes at him. " I paid for this stuff, Ashton. I didn't forage for wild green peppers and cheese. Now, are you going to gather some sticks for the fire or what?"

"You couldn't buy firewood, too?" He asked, but he ambled good-naturedly into the brush to find things to burn.

Soon we had a nice fire going, and we roasted our kebabs over the flickering flames. I stuck slices of cheese between pieces of lavash, wrapped them in foil, and set them near the fire until the cheese melted. When everything was ready, we leaned against a fallen log that was covered with springy green moss, which made a surprisingly comfortable backrest. We didn't have plates, and the vegetables were a bit burnt in places, but it's the best dinner I've ever had. It tasted like freedom.

Ashton complimented my cooking, but within the hour he was raiding my back pack for junk food, claiming to be suffering for vitamin overdose.

"What else do you have in here?" He demanded. "I know you're keeping Oreos or something terrible and delicious from me." I watched as he pulled out the map, two featherlight rain ponchos, my Dr. Bronner's, my toothbrush, and my journal.

"Open that on pain of death," I warned.

Finally Ashton held up a chocolate bar, triumphant. "Half for you, half for me," he said.

"A quarter for you and a quarter for me," I corrected. "I'm rationing."

Ashton laughed. "You're a planner, I know. You always have everything figured out. But do you really think there's a shortage of chocolate bars on the West Coast?" He reached out and handed me a small piece of chocolate. When our fingertips touched, I twitched as if I'd been shocked. It surprised both of us.

"You're jittery all of a sudden," he said. "We're safe here, Lav. No ones going to find us." He walked over to the bike and lovingly patted its seat. "Or the hot Harley."

While Ashton fondled his new toy, I tried to calm down, breathing in that "sweeter, rarer, healthier air," as old Walt Whitman would say. Nigh was coming, bringing darkness and deeper silence. It seemed like in all the world, there were only the two of us.

I'd always told Ashton pretty much everything I thought about, but I couldn't tell him this: I wasn't nervous about being discovered. I was suddenly nervous about something else.
Sleeping arrangements.

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word count - 974

Damn that was a long chapter kind of get carried away... Sorry :)

Charlotte xxx