A Certain Romance || Ashton Irwin

Explanations

"You have an hour." Sam tried to take a sly glance out of my window with his back pressed against the wall. Really, all he was most likely going to see was Ashton naked. That was nothing to be suspicious about, unless he was curious about his own sexuality and wanted a peek of Ashton to prove something to himself. If that was the case, Ashton should feel very flattered if I told him.

"For what?" I brushed my bangs from my forehead, trying to tame the awful helmet hair I had received. Riding a motorcycle was not what I thought it to be, it was a lot less flattering than I had imagined. The hem of my skirt kept flying up, the strap from the helmet was itchy, and the uncomfortable seat was giving me a wedgie. I'd had enough five minutes into the ride and highly considered jumping off at the first stop light and getting home by foot.

Sam shut the window blinds, further masking the window with the beige curtains I'd meant to dust about a month ago. "30 minutes to pack yourself a bag and 30 minutes to ask questions."

"Why do I need to pack a bag?"

"29 minutes." He sang, sitting back in my desk chair, his fingers locked behind his head.

I suppose I had to choose my time wisely and not be the typical pain in the ass that I was. By the sound of it he wanted me to pack first then play twenty questions with me. I wouldn't have things my way today.

I pulled out a second backpack, bringing it over to my dresser and began shoving under clothes inside. "Where am I going?" He could at least answer that and help me figure out what I needed to pack. I could be going to Guatemala for all I knew and I'd be packing a shit ton of winter clothes, appropriate for a heatstroke.

"Just pack enough clothes to be away for two days, three tops." He ran his hands over his bruised up face and I didn't understand how he was not crying because I felt the pain and I was not even the one who looked bad. "Do you have any friends you can stay with?"

I took notice of an envelope on top of my dresser, my name written out in cursive and a line drawn out below it. This wasn't here this morning. Filled with apprehension, I tucked the envelope away in my underwear drawer. If it was my mom, the last thing I would do right now was read some bullshit letter from her. It'd be a waste of time and with Sam properly timing me, I needed to wisely use this hour. He wasn't paying attention and I was glad he wasn't. He'd ask questions and I'd be forced to open the letter, taking time from getting my explanations.

"Not exactly..." I trailed off, walking to the bathroom to grab my toothbrush and face wash and tossing them in my bag.

"What happened to Michael and Luke?"

"I have a feeling Calum brainwashed them both." I zipped up my backpack, turning to Sam. I was in the too-angry-and-confused mood to sit down. And if I had to be honest, the more I looked at his face the more I wanted to add to the painting of bruises because of how difficult he was being.

"What about those girls you were with at school?"

"Sam, I can't just invite myself to stay at someone's house. That's rude."

"Mud." Sam spoke.

"What?" I looked at the carpeted floor, searching for any tracks. I'd get in so much trouble if I fucked up the carpet. "Do I have mud on my shoes?" I checked the bottoms of my shoes. Nothing.

"You're such an idiot." Sam laughed, standing up and picking up a picture frame on my nightstand. It held a picture of us with our parents six years ago in California. My hair was longer, our smiles were wider, each of our faces looking happier. We looked like a family. Now, we were like those awkward acquaintances who could barely look at each other. "Mud...The biker club."