Manipulative || A.I.

Conduct

Could you possibly read the authors note after the story?

Ashton's POV-

Boyfriend. He was a boyfriend. He chose to be with one person and only that person for a period longer than a singular night. 

And he enjoyed that fact. He liked calling Sarah his girlfriend. He liked being with only her. She kept things interesting, she kept him on his toes, and she kept him in line. Not that he wanted to completely be on the straight and narrow, but it always helped to have someone on his side. 

"Now I have to ask, before we walk out of here, and you make me visit the people I wish I didn't have to call my parents, I want to know one thing," She grabbed the bag filled with his old clothing. 

"Shoot," he grabbed her hand as they walked out of the building and back down the street. 

"Are you really doing this, being here, with me, for us? Or are you doing it for a hidden, and hurtful reason?" she asked. 

He stopped dead in his tracks. And looked at her. He knew why she asked. He was not offended, he understood but he wished there was some way he could show her he was there for her. 

"I know that no answer I give you will be the right one," he admitted, "Because you still don't trust me. And I think for right now, that's a good thing," she was about to yell but he stopped her and continued, "But one day, whether it be today, tomorrow, a week, a month, or a year from now, I will prove to you that I am true to my word. I never make promises I can't keep. When I told you I was only at your office to see you, and I promised, I was being serious. I may not have known it at the time but I-"

He was cut off by her arms wrapping around his neck and her lips covering his own. They fueled him. Using one hand to keep his newly purchased wide brimmed fedora, and the other to wrap an arm around her waist, he kissed her just as strongly as she was kissing him. 

He never wanted to stop kissing her. Her lips just left him in what felt like a drunken stupor when they were gone from his. He just wanted to keep drinking them in. 

When she pulled away his mind just let him spit out words, "I really, really, like you."

She covered her mouth as she let out her tiny giggle, "I really, really like you as well." 

He grabbed her hand from covering her mouth, wove his fingers through hers and said, "So where is this penthouse you used to watch people on the concrete below?"

"Near central park," she spoke. 

"Well damn. You're not kidding about rich white kid problems," he joked, but he could tell she was nervous. "Sarah, it's going to be ok. If they step out of line, I can handle it. I deal with critics all the time, your parents are no different." 

She didn't say anything but she did give a gentle squeeze of his hand and a nervous smile. They walked down the streets and he watched all the high class people, decked in furs, designer handbags, designer briefcases, designer everything, he knew he didn't fit in. 

But neither did she. She wore the clothes but she was nothing like the people they walked past. They bought these items to prove they were wealthy. To show the world 'Hey! I make more money than you!'. Sarah bought them because they made her happy. She didn't weat half the things she had in her apartment. She didn't flaunt them, she in a way hid the fact she liked them. 

"I know why you buy so much clothing," he spoke out loud. 

She snapped her head to him and laughed, "I would love to hear this. No one has been able to get it right on their first guess. Pretty sure Amelia still hasn't fully gotten it."