How to be Famous

Date with the Wrong Person?

Chapter Thirteen: On a Date with the Wrong Person?  Who Cares?

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 Chapter 13: No, Now it’s Ashton

He opened the door for me, which, although a small gesture, touched my heart.  Not many people longed to reach out for me and be this polite and stuff.  Yet, he closed the door on me, enclosing me in the soft, plush interior.  He swung the front door open, got in, and shoved the key in the ignition.  

“Ready to go for a ride?  I might have one or two things up my sleeve for later,” he said, winking at me as my house got smaller and further away.   Hopefully my troubles would stay there as well, remaining with my mother in our small, dark house.  

We drove in silence until he turned on the radio. Before long, we were both bouncing up and down(that might’ve been mainly me) and singing along to the song.  

“You’re insecure, don’t know what for!”  He sang, staring pointedly at me.  That, of course, was enough to start a stoplight-red blush on my cheeks, which he then started crying from laughter when he saw.  Much too quickly we arrived at a park, dark except for the occasional street light which only offered a cone of white light.  

Ash pulled over into one of the white-lined parking spaces that shined bright against the dark asphalt.  Once again, he opened the door for me, waiting until I exited to shut the door promptly.  Taking great care to lock the limo, which looked quite interesting in the empty park, Ash then grabbed my hand and led me towards our destination.  

What I saw next was massively cliche, except also still very sweet.  He had laid out a blue-checked picnic blanket, and on top he had placed a basket.  Several lanterns had been placed around, letting off a piney scent in the already rainy air.  

Ash grabbed my hand and led me over to a lawn chair, sitting down next to me once he made sure I was comfortable.  

“So....” he started awkwardly.  “Tell me more about yourself.  Besides what I know already, I mean.  I know you’re a model, that your mom has cancer--sorry about that by the way--, and you love Haribo.”  When he saw the confused look on my face, he laughed.  “Oh, I saw the bags in your purse whenever you would jump in in a hurry.  That really made sound like a stalker, didn’t it?”  He stated, laughing again.  

I laughed in return, a kind of fake laugh.  “Um, well, I like the color purple, and obviously red....” I left off, this time laughing for real.  “When I died my hair, I kind of just did it on an impulse.  Kind of like getting a tattoo, except I didn’t really need parental permission for this.  I do love the gummy bears, we’re in a serious relationship,” I uttered seriously before following it up with laughter.  I laughed so hard that I was sure that the tears were falling steadily by now.  This extracted a confused look from Ashton, before he, too, burst into laughter.  

I got cold easily, as would be expected with the small amount that the dress covered.  My knees down were cold, as was all of my arms and neck.   I ignored it, and just moved closer to both the candles and Ashton.  Not that I minded...

The rest of the night contained much more laughter, quite a few wonderful pb&j’s contributed by Ashton’s mother, and learning much more about Ash, as I had begun to call him.  For instance, his favorite color was orange, and his favorite animal was a baboon(just because of their pink butts, which I totally sympathized with).  He likes it when people do random outbursts that make him laugh, which I related to--seeing as my best friend is Alyssa.  His favorite drink is Mountain Dew, which makes him really hyper, and his candy of choice would be M&M’s.  

Apparently, as he explained to me while we were talking, Three Musketeers were a big issue with him.  “This may sound odd,” he told me, “but I love that chocolate more than anything.  Secretly, when I was little, my father would give me one whenever I did something big.  A really big project aced, first goal scored in soccer, graduating middle school, getting my first job, any little thing that he deemed worthy of chocolate.  Which, to tell the truth, was a lot.  Soon, I became addicted to the chocolate.  Then, two years ago, my dad left.  We don’t really know where he went, he just up and left us.  Of course, my mother was heartbroken.  Since then, I try to avoid them.  So if you are planning to give me chocolate any time soon(just checking), it probably wouldn’t be wise to get me that candy.”  A little creeped out, I just stayed silent.  He saw the odd expression on my face, and quickly changed the subject.