Dance with the Devil - A CaptainSparklez FanFiction

Chapter Three

lul im writing the beginning of this while theres a tornado like ten miles away, buuuut long chappie comin' up yo bc 200 followers c;

also, sorry for scarce updates. going through some personal stuff atm.

>>ASHLYN'S POV<<

He seemed nice enough, holding out his hand to shake mine. But, of course, after living in fear for almost an entire year and talking to nobody but the roaches living underneath the carpets, I just nodded at him slightly.

He raised his eyebrow once again, sighing before pushing his plate to the side. "Sorry for getting all up in your business, but you're going to have to tell me what that whole thing was about," he said, folding his hands and leaning forwards. "I don't really fancy having a murderer sit in front of me in a restaurant."

I almost flinched at his words, closing my eyes as I sighed and looked down, pushing his water towards him.

"Nothing," I replied simply, not comfortable with talking to a stranger after months of being on edge. Especially an attractive one who might find out I'm not really who I appear to be, or at least not gender-wise.

He leaned back. "I really, really don't want to have to call the police, you know, Pete. I've dealt with the law before and I know that it's not fun."

I scoffed at him. This innocent looking man who dressed fairly nice, sitting in a fancier restaurant and talked slightly oddly said he had mishandled the law before. "Really, now?"

He cleared his throat awkwardly before sheepishly saying, "Speeding ticket."

I sighed. This man really isn't going to leave me alone, huh? I thought. What the fuck do I tell him? I fiddled with my thumbs under the table, biting the inside of my cheek. I knew I couldn't make myself sound guilty of anything, he sounded pretty sure about calling the cops.

"My, um, uh," I began, clearing my throat. "My dad, he was a bit of a... A gambler. He's got some debt on his hands and now those middle-aged punks are after me."

He narrowed his eyes, studying my face, making me look away uncomfortably. Don't see through my disguise, don't see through my disguise. I begged, holding my breath.

Jordan clearly was contemplating whether this story was believable or not, and I crossed my fingers underneath the table, hoping he wouldn't question it.

"Where's your father, then?" He asked.

"Dead," I responded immediately, truth ringing in my voice. My father died of lung cancer when I was fourteen. Sadly, his actions falled back on me, nicotine was something I could barely live without since I was only fifteen. 

He huffed out a breath. "Where are you staying?"

I shrugged. "I got a little shelter back in the other half of town, but for now, I can't stay there. I've got to wait at least a day, a week to be safe."

His eyebrows raised. "You in a gang that might pop out and kill me right now?" The gangs and reputation of the worse side of Lowell was well known, a lot of people who lived on the nicer half are terrified of even stepping foot on the cracked and broken down pavement.

"And increase my chances of those bastards catching me?" I immediately retorted incredulously, my voice raising slightly in pitch. I cleared my throat before he took notice.

He tipped his head back, putting his face in his hands. "God, I know I'm going to regret this, but my mom would probably want me to do this," he muttered, his voice muffled by his palms before he looked at me again. "Do you want to stay at my condo for a bit?"