terrible things - ashton irwin

sixteen

We were lucky that night. Not only did we get away with trespassing, we got a ride home. The gardener from across the street had seen us emerge, wet and shivering, from the gate and had offered to drive us back to town.

I was pressed up against his side in the front seat of the truck, trying to the warmth of him through our damp layers of clothes. "See? You totally can't call me GG anymore," I said sleepily. 

"Maybe BG," he suggested. "For Bad Girl."

My eyelids were so heavy, and the they were closing. "Or MB Mixed Bag..." I murmured.

And honestly, that was the last time I remember.

I must have fallen asleep in the truck, and Ashton must have carried me up to the room and laid me down on our shared bed. Maybe he fluffed up the pillows for me, and maybe he even kissed me. But is he did, I'll never know.

I woke up several hours later to find him staring a me.

"Before we leave, we should actually see a star," he said not just a pink symbol on a sidewalk, or the house where one lives."

I burrowed under the covers. " Why can't we just turn on the TV? There're plenty of them there."
"We need to see one in real life," he insisted.

But this isn't real life, the old Lavender insisted. This is a crazy adventure. And as great as it is, it can't last. Of course, as both the old and the new Lavender knew well, real life didn't necessarily last, either.

I peaked my head out of the blankets, then ducked it back under again. Ashton was at the end of the bed, and he suddenly yanked the covers off me. I tried to grab them, but he was to strong. "Did you being a nice dress?" He asked, raising one dark eyebrow at me.

I scoffed. "Runaways tend not to pack formal wear."

"Well put on what ever you've got, because we're hitting the red carpet."

I assumed Ashton was pulling my leg, but I rose and took a shower, when put on a forever 21 dress I'd packed just incase. I put on a. Little mascara, too, and a dab of lipstick.

His eyes lit up when he saw me emerge fro the bathroom. You cleaned up good Lavender Moore," he said. Ashton did, too. In a slightly rumpled oxford and a clean pair of jeans, he looked like an ad for Levi's 501s.

He led me down the hall and out on to the street, where we hopped into a cab. "Now it's my turn to surprise you," he said. And then ha held Mia hand over my eyes until we pulled up in front of the hammer museum. "Ta-da!" He said.

Ahead of us snaked a long line of black limos. There was red carpet laid over the sidewalk, and a bunch of people milling around, and a giant banner that said children's hospital Los Angeles anniversary gala.

I saw the word hospital and my stomach suddenly felt like it was full of stones. "What is this?" I asked.

"A benefit," Ashton said brightly. "A party. Major star power, because as you can imagine, no one in Hollywood wants to be accused of not helping sick kids." He climbed out of the cab and held his hand. "Come on, lets go inside." 

"You are a sick kid, Ashton," I said. "Mentally, I mean. They don't just let random crash on the red carpet."

"But we're not ransoms, as you so u generously characterise us. We are Lav and Ashton, the G rated Tate and Violet." He lifted me into the sunshine and smiled his dazzling smile. "If we don't belong here, who does?"

What could I do but laugh? "I don't think stealing a Harley ought to at least earn us a PG," I said.
"I'm in complete agreement," Ashton said. Then he help up a finger, signalling me to wait. "As the kids say, BRB."

He walked up to the nearest gatekeeper, a middle-aged woman in jewel-coloured cocktail dresses filed past her through the doors. The gatekeeper was trying to ignore Ashton, but I knew she wouldn't last. When Ashton turned on the charm ray, few could withstand it.

Sure enough, a moment later, she nodded and beckoned me over. As I approached, she looked at me with...concern, or maybe even pity. I shivered under her gaze. What exactly has Ashton told her? "You two go in over there," she whispered, and pointed toward a side entrance. 

And then we were inside, and there were famous people everywhere. I saw Matt Damon talking to Katy Perry by the potted fern, and Mark Wahlberg posing in front of a giant stand of paparazzi. Camera flashed popped like fireworks, and in a matter of seconds, I was no longer worrying about what Ashton has said to the gatekeeper. All around us were bona fide superstars, talking and laughing and guzzling free drinks, just like regular people.

"I'm seeing a lot of excellent facial work," Ashton noted. Somehow he'd got his hand on a flute of champagne. 

"I love Los Angeles. I love Hollywood. They're beautiful. Everybody's plastic, but I love plastic," I said.

"Huh?"

"Andy Warhol said that."

Ashton held out his arm, and I tucked my hand in to crook of it, as if we where on our way to prom. He leaned in close, and I could feel his breath in my hair. "I told you we'd get in, didn't I?"

"And you were right," I said.

"Which makes you...?" He waited, an expectant smile teasing the corner of his mouth.
I sighed. "Wrong."

He laughed and pulled me close. "Lav admits fallibility," he said "I'm going to treasure this moment forever."

My cheek pressed against his shirt, I smiled up at him. I would, too, I thought, but for a wholly different reason. Just days earlier we were in Klamath Falls, and now we were on the red carpet. We couldn't we do, as long as we were together?

- 

word count - 1018