terrible things - ashton irwin

seventeen

There is a limit to the success of any partnership- and we discovered ours later that evening when Ashton decided it was time to teach me to drive.

I said, "Ashton, I can't learn how to drive in a stolen car."

He shrugged. "It's just like any other car. Gas pedal on the right, brake on the left. Four gears forward, one reverse."

He was so confident. But maybe that was because everything came easily to him: he could hot-wire a Harley, sweet-talk just about anyone, and play whatever music instrument he was given. His free-throw percentage was ridiculous, and no matter where he was, he could always find true north.

Me, I was not so sure of myself. About anything. "I don't know how I feel about this," I said softly.
Ashton reclined the passenger seat and pretended to close his eyes. "I feel good enough for both of us. Time for me to relax and enjoy riding shotgun."

I clenched my hands on the steering wheel. You can do this Lav, I told myself. You've played Grand Prix Legends! Then can the other voice: Yeah, and you sucked at it! You always crashed right out of the starting gate.

"Ready?" Ashton asked.

I nodded, even though I wasn't. Ashton had to lean over and start the car, because I didn't know how to work the screw-driver. 

"Okay. So check your mirrors answer if it's clear. Then you're going to step on the brake and shift into drive." He made it sound so easy, like I wasn't behind the wheel of a two-ton death machine.

I must have said this out loud, because Ashton said, "That is a bit of an exaggeration. We're  in an empty parking lot, Lav. How much damage can you do?"

"I don't know," I said grimly. "We'll see."

For a second I thought of my physics class, the one I'd skipped the day I met Ashton at the cafe. A body at rest will remain at rest unless an outside force acts on it. In other words, I was totally safe-until I stepped on the gas.

But I took a deep breath and somehow successfully shifted gears. When the car didn't explode, I forced myself to lightly press the gas pedal. The car moved forward. Slowly. Jerkily. But it moved. "Oh my God, I'm driving," I said.

Ashton chuckled. "And the prize for stating the obvious goes to Lavender Moore!

"Shut up," I squealed.

Ashton laughed. "Sorry, I couldn't resist, your normally a much more subtle thinker." 

"I hate you," I said, but I was laughing too.

I was going twenty miles an hour and it felt like flying. I was also quickly nearing the edge of the parking lot. "What do I do now?" 

"Why don't you try turning,"Ashton suggested. "So we don't, I don't know, barrelling into traffic?"

I slammed my foot on the brake the whirled to face to him. Sure I'd had a good thirty seconds of decent driving , but some thinGs just weren't funny yet. "This is hard for me, you know." I yelled.

Ashton reached over and out his hand on my arm. It was...calming. "Lav," he said gently, "is it really hard for you? Think about it before you answer."

I frowned. It was scary, yes. U familiar. But hard. Well, not really. It was like Ashton said: gas pedal on the right, brake on the left. Four gears forward, one reverse.

All I needed to do was move forward. It was almost as if Ashton could see the fear leaving my body. He gave me arm a squeeze. "See?" He said. "You get it. You're going to be fine."

And it was fine. I drove around the parking lot for almost an hour while Ashton, the human karaoke machine, sang at the top of his voice. I loved it when he sang, my heart fills with joy from the first note. When we were younger and both him hospital he used to sing to me, it filled me with joy when it felt like there was nothing left.

Finally Ashton said , "I think you're ready for the street."

"I think I'm ready for you to stop singing." I said giggling. 

"You love it really." He said playfully hitting my  shoulder.

"You can see right through me can't you?" I asked. 

"I like to think that."

"Fine, where's the exit?"

So at the edge of the lot I looked both ways-and then pulled into traffic.
"Pedal to the metal, Lav!" Ashton said. 

I was giddy, thrilled, scared. I was behind the wheel of a car, in fantastic Los Angeles, with the boy who possible the love of my life sitting next to me.

"Whoa, you cut that guy off there," Ashton said. 

"I did?"

"Don't drive like you own the road; drive like you own the car." 

"That's funny," I said, checking my mirrors and accelerating. "because I don't own the car, and neither do you." 

"Oh where taking the long way home. Take me back to the middle of know where, back to the place only you and I sha-"

"Hey, stop distracting me!" I laughed cutting him of. He ignored me and started singing a different song.

"Get me of the LA freeway, without getting killed or caught." He sang, it was some old country song. I'd recognised it from the many albums he's given me. Wasn't he supposed to not sing?
"It's not a freeway." I pointed out.

And it was a good thing it wasn't, because what happened best would have been a lot worse. The other part of Newton's First Law? 'A body I'm motion will remain in motion, unless acted upon by an outside force.'

In this case, the outside force was a parking meter.

I don't know how it happened. One minute everything was fine, and the next we were at a dead stop and blood was pouring out of my nose.

-

word count - 1032

Lol cliff hanger ain't I evilll. Writing this with a dead injected arm was a bad idea, do not recommend. Hope you liked the chapter anyway. Feels like it's been ages since I've left an authors note.

Charlotte xxx