Remembering You

Chapter 22

When we arrived at the suburb style home in total darkness with only the light casting from a nearby dim street light, Ashton stopped the car and whispered to me. “My family is asleep.” He stated, wetting his lips and examining me as I examined him. “We need to be very quiet… alright?” I felt like a toddler being instructed on what I could and could not do. But I nodded.

We got out of the car and I pulled my bag over my shoulder. One hand gripped onto the strap, and the other was laced in Ashton’s. As we walked in silence his free hand fumbled with his keys until he found the right one. Getting to the front step I paused and looked around as Ashton unlocked the door. There seemed to be no lights on in his house… how late was it anyway? The door opened, and Ashton offered me in first. I smiled and walked through the door into the pleasantly warm house. It smelt like Ashton with the hint of green-tea. I noticed Ashton take off his shoes so I set mine next to his on the ground.

The house reminded me of Michael’s: obviously white walls with light colored carpet. The furniture looked nearly untouched and clean. I liked it in here. There were pictures along the walls and on some small tables next to vases of flowers real and fake. I followed Ashton as we walked past a couple rooms until we got to the staircase. Slowly Ashton walked, holding my hand, and lead me. The stairs creaked lightly under our weight and that made me blush.

We tiptoes down a hall to the only bedroom that had its door open. Once inside Ashton closed the door and flashed on the light. My eyes squinted and I grumbled lightly. He walked over to a dressed and opened the middle drawer. Grabbing a t-shirt Ashton turned to look at me, “Do you want to…” He held up the shirt, offering it to me, before throwing it over.

I caught it, not knowing what to do. I was covered in sand and that was uncomfortable. Pulling the strap of my bag off of my shoulder I tossed it onto the floor and the shirt on his bed. Turning so I wasn’t facing Ashton I started stripping. I shimmied Ashton’s zip-off from my shoulders, tossing it on the ground to start a pile. I could feel the sand on my body, and could hear it against the hardwood floor of his room. My shirt came off fast, and my skin had some sand stuck to it. My hands reached and wiped the sand off, I grumbled. This made Ashton laugh.

When taking my bra off I was quick, throwing it, and shoving my head and arms through the holes of Ashton’s Nirvana t-shirt that came to my upper thigh. Now that Ashton could see me in the light I felt completely insecure about my legs… about my thighs. I held a secret scarred on my skin. Looking back to him I caught him watching me with his arms crossed over his chest, leaning against his dresser. He smiled at me, and I had a distressed expression. “Don’t look.” I told him.

“This again?” He laughed.

“Just don’t look…” I demanded. He followed, shifting his weight and turning so he didn’t face me. I watched until he was turned completely around. I then quickly pulled my skinny jeans down and kicked them into the pile I made. I felt so exposed, more exposed than at the beach. Reaching I grabbed the shirt and pulled it down so it started to cover the discolored scars along the top of my thighs, “O-Okay…” I said, and Ashton turned back around.

I looked at him as he looked at me. His eyes went straight to where my hand was pulling in question. Shooting his gaze up to my eyes he smiled. I bit my bottom lip, walked over to his bed, and sat down. Reaching he grabbed his shirt and pulled it off. My eyes examined his arms and chest carefully. I admired the definition in his chest and stomach. I admired the ink across his arm and neck, but the more I stared the more curious I got. As he started unbuttoning his pants he glanced at me, catching me this time in the act of staring. “You seem tense.” He observed.

Drawing in a long breath I blinked away before shrugging, “Just thinking.”

“You think a lot, don’t you?” Ashton’s voice was teasing, but still cusped on the seriousness of our conversation.