93 Sampler (8 page)

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        Monday, as usual, comes too
fast
, and I take a few extra seconds to prepare myself for Graphic Design Club; I find that I’m nervous about Ashton’s reaction to my hair.
        Inside, I know his opinion shouldn’t matter as long as I’m happy. But I still want him to like it.
        Will he hate it? Love it? Even notice it’s different?
        Will he acknowledge me at all?
        “Carter, get out of the bathroom already!” Jackson yells. His class has been canceled, so he’s making sure I don’t lose my nerve.
        “I’m coming!” I call back, giving myself one final mirror check.
        
Here I go.

▼

        The first thing I notice when I get to GDC is Ashton is already here. He’s leaning outside of the doorway, looking at his phone.
        
Guess it’s up to me to talk to him
, I think.
        Taking a deep breath, I make my way over to him, and I guess I create enough noise to attract his attention, because he looks up, and I grin when his jaw slackens just a little.
        He slips his phone into his pocket and stands up straight. “Well, hi. Not sure what’s different, but you look good.”
        The hug he gives me is unexpected, but I wrap my arms around his waist and enjoy the comfort his touch brings me.
        
When was the last time someone hugged me?
        The thought is sobering, and I step back before I can let it dampen the smile seeing him brings to my face.
        “Thanks. I got my hair done.”
        Ashton leaves one hand loosely on my waist, ensuring I don’t get too far away. Again, I love the warmth that spreads through my body. It’s reassuring, and I’m content when I realize how natural it feels to be this close to
him
. I don’t know what’s going on with us, but with this feeling running through me, I do know I want to see where it will go.
        “I like it. It looks good on you,” he says, and his free hand brushes some of my curls behind my ear, stopping to rest on my cheek; it’s oddly soothing. “And I need to ask you something.”
        I look up at him, curious. He looks kind of nervous, so I take another risk and do something I’ve only seen in movies; I cup the hand on my cheek, and reassure him through touch. It feels weird, but in a good way, to do something so intimate with him. It may not be that way to others, but I never do this; it’s a whole new world for me, and I find that I like that Ashton is the one introducing me to it.
        “Sof told me about a party on Halloween. Maybe you’d like to accompany me or something?”
        I don’t hesitate. Even knowing my mother won’t be happy, and even knowing I shouldn’t, I smile at him. “Why sir, I’d be delighted to accompany you,” I say, and I can’t resist the urge I get to tease him just a little further. “Though I don’t believe we’ve reached an ‘or something’ level just yet.”
        The smile Ashton gives me makes his green eyes sparkle, and right then, I know I’m making the right choice, one with no regrets.

        I really should clean my car but the thought of doing manual
labor
 is less than appealing. Unlike my friends, I haven’t let my car become a garbage dump, however, it could still use a good scrubbing. My parents and I had split the cost of the sedan, with me being glad it could go fast for a smaller car, and my parents loving that it was safe. I’ve had it since I was seventeen and I don’t think I’ll ever get rid of it. I love this car too much.

Sofia takes forever climbing into the passenger seat, careful not to damage her glittering angel wings. She’d decided to go as an angel, despite my protests that she should be Elizabeth Swann to match my Jack Sparrow costume. When all of her is finally inside the car, I crank the engine and we speed off toward the party.

I have no idea who is throwing it or who is supposed to be there but a friend of Sofia’s told her about it and now we’re going. I’m supposed to be meeting Carter there, and part of me wonders why she always insists I meet her for our dates and I’ve never been to her house. I push that thought from my mind and we keep cruising along. The windows are down and the crisp autumn air is hitting me in the face. The GPS tells me that the house is only a couple more miles away, on Coven Avenue.

        I notice that the radio suddenly gets quieter and I look over to see Sofia messing with the volume dial. “So,” she begins, finally speaking, “you and Carter… ”

        I roll my eyes. “Why do we always have to talk about me and Carter? Can’t we talk about you and, oh right, you’re single.” I would feel bad about that but Sof and I tease each other all the time.

        “Single and loving it,” she corrects. “We have to talk about you and Carter because the two of you are the biggest source of entertainment in my life right now. Can you believe that? I’m twenty one and single but the only action I’m getting is living vicariously through my best friend and his girlfriend.”

        “She’s not my girlfriend,” I say far too quickly

“You’re not official yet?”

        “Not really. Well, I’m meeting her at this party. And that’s pretty much it,” I explain.

        “You kissed her yet? Have you guys had sex?”

        “That is none of your business, Sof.”

        “I’m your best friend, your sex life is
totally
 my business.”

        “Please don’t ever refer to it as my ‘sex life’ again,” I beg her.

        “Okay, I’ll call it your ‘boner satisfaction measurement,’” she says.

        I groan. “I hate you,” I say.

She’s cheesing as we pull up to the party. I park at the curb, between a pickup truck and a Beetle. There is loud hip hop music playing, people are shouting, someone’s probably doing a kegstand. I turn off the car and go to her side to help her and her massive wings out. “You never answered the question, though,” she says while I take her hand.

        We link our arms together and make our way inside. “No, I haven’t kissed her yet. And she hasn’t satisfied my boner.”

        We navigate through the mass of bodies and go towards the kitchen. Sofia grabs a solo cup and fills it with liquor, while I grab some soda. “You’ve been dating for a month and you haven’t kissed yet?”

        Now that she says it, I guess it sounds a bit odd. “If she’s not ready, she’s not ready. Maybe she’s one of those people who wants their first kiss to be at her wedding.” I take a sip of my drink. I’m not drinking alcohol tonight because I’d like to avoid setting up another app dating profile, plus I’m driving. “There’s nothing wrong with her wanting to wait for a kiss,” I say.

        “Yeah, I know,” Sof says, “I was just curious.”

        We start to head back out to the party when I notice something from the corner of my eye. It’s a girl dressed like Audrey Hepburn, a conservative black dress with a slit up her thigh hugs her curves. She’s wearing a jeweled necklace and has a silver tiara on her head. Her deep red hair is pulled back in a bun with a few pieces falling into her face.

        It’s Carter and she looks like she just stepped out of a dream. The entire party fades into the background and I know that I’m staring at her and it’s probably creepy as hell but I can’t take my eyes off of her. Someone could drive through the living room and I probably wouldn’t even notice.

The only thing that moves me out of my focus on her is the fact that she’s moving closer to me and I can now see Jackson behind her, wearing a police hat, a tie and a speedo with dollar bills shoved in the band. Several girls (and even a few guys) cheer at his costume and he quickly makes his way to the living room where everyone is dancing. Carter reaches me and I have to remind myself how to speak. “You look great,” I say. Wow, what an understatement. That dress makes me want to start singing ballads.

        Her cheeks turn a light shade of pink. “Thank you,” she says.

        “And I thought Sofia and I were mismatched,” I joke, nodding to where Sofia is doing a horribly offbeat dance with Jackson.

“I think an exotic dancer pairs well with Audrey Hepburn,” Carter answers me.

        “Of course,” I say. “Do you want to get a drink?”

        Her eyes widen and she nods. I take her by the hand and lead her through the mass of people. I set my soda down on the kitchen island and grab another red cup. This one I fill with something that looks fruity, that I think she’ll enjoy, and I hand it to her.

        Carter leans in and smells the drink, then  makes a scrunched up facial expression.

        “What?” I ask her.

        “Nothing,” she says quickly, “I just don’t think I’ve had anything like this before.”

        I lift an eyebrow. “Do you not drink alcohol?”

        “No, I do,” she assures me. “It’s just that I typically drink wine or champange, not,” she breaks off and looks at the label of the bottle I was just pouring from, “Lemon-lime Wild Hen.”

        “Oh,” I say in surprise. “Well try it, and if you don’t like it, I will…” I trail off. I need to think of something good that would make up for the bad drink. “I will ask your friend Jackson for a striptease.”

        This cracks her up and I’d be lying if I said seeing her smile didn’t make me feel good.

        “I would love to see that,” she tells me. She raises the cup to her mouth and takes a small sip. Her face twists again but she doesn’t set the drink down. “Wow. That’s strong,” she says.

        I can’t help the grin that breaks across my face. “So that means I don’t have to see Jackson stripping?”

        Carter shakes her head. “No, you win this one.”

        “Good,” I say, “because I think I’ve seen enough of his body to last me for at least a few years.”

        She laughs again. This is the most I’ve heard her laugh in such a short time.

        “So can you please explain why you decided to show up with an exotic dancer on your arm?”

        “Is that jealousy I hear?” she questions.

        I shake my head no.

        “A woman told him he looks like Channing Tatum. He used that reasoning to excuse himself for going full on
Magic Mike
.”

        I give her a tight smile. “Well I’m glad that he’s just your friend. I don’t think I’d be able to compete with someone who gets compared to the Tatum.”

        Carter groans. “Please never utter the words ‘the Tatum’ ever again.”

        I scoff. “Why not?”

        “Do you really need me to explain why that sounds weird?”

        “Good point,” I concede.

        “Besides,” she says, “I think if I can feel secure when your best friend is
Sofia Cruz,
 you have nothing to worry about with Jackson.”

        “What is that supposed to mean?”

        Her eyes get wide and she points past me to the living room where Sofia and Jackson are still dancing in a way that I never wanted to see either of them dance. “She’s literally an angel, Ash,” Carter responds and I look back at her, beaming like an idiot.

        She looks me up and down. “Why are you smiling at me like that?”

        “You called me ‘Ash,’” I answer.

        Her gaze lowers and her cheeks turn pink. “I didn’t know you were so fond of that name.”

        
Only when certain people say it
, I think but don’t answer.

Carter takes another sip of her drink and I pick my soda back up, leaning against the kitchen island and listening to the rap song that’s playing in the living room. “Do you like rap music?” I ask her.
        I think the question was unexpected because her eyebrows raise by just a fraction before answering me. “No, I’ve never listened to it.”

        I tilt my head. “How can you know you don’t like it if you’ve never listened to it?”

        “Easy,” she says with a sigh. “My family has reported on numerous drug scandals and abuse crimes with rappers and rockstars. I prefer to stay completely detached from their lifestyle in any way possible.”

        I take a few moments to mull over this. “So that’s what you do? A few rotten apples ruin the whole bunch?”

        “Yes, pretty much,” she answers.

        “That sounds like a sad way to live. So afraid of being hurt or something going wrong that you’re afraid to do much of anything.” I curse at myself right after saying this. I should’ve kept my mouth shut but the words just came spilling out.

        Carter doesn’t respond to me. She just continues drinking from her cup.

        “Do you wanna dance?” I ask her.

        She purses her lips. “Not really,” she says quietly.

        
Good going, Ashton
, I think to myself.

I can’t believe him. I had to lie to my parents and Chad and tell them I had a Leadership function just to get here tonight, and instead of a fun night with the guy I like, I get
judged
?
        It’s just music, and it’s just my opinion, so I’m not sure why he got so upset. I make my way over to Jackson, and Sofia, who is still with him.
        “Uh oh, what happened?” Jackson asks when he sees me.
        I roll my eyes, and realize I must be a little tipsy already; I guess the drink Ashton gave me hits faster since I’m not used to it.
        “Apparently I’m afraid of everything, so I’m deciding to ignore him. He’s judgy and mean.”
        Jackson glances at Sofia, who sighs. “I’ll talk to him, you talk to her, they’ll be making up again in ten.” She stalks off, and I take a long drink of the Lemon-Lime Wild Hen. Despite the burn it gives me, I find the taste is actually not that bad; it’s not something I’d have chosen for myself, but making me try new things just seems to be part of Ashton’s charm.
        “Alright, what did you say before he said that?” asks Jackson, reminding me I’m supposed to be mad at Ashton, not mentally thinking of his good traits.
        I frown, Jackson’s words finally making sense in my head. “Why does it sound like you’re accusing me for this?”
        Jackson crosses his arms. “Just answer the question.”
        I groan, the action another sign that I should cut back on drinking.
I’m totally not acting like myself right now
, I think, taking another sip.
        “Fine. I told him I don’t listen to rap music because of the bad reputation the genre has.”
        Jackson stares at me in shock. “Carter. That is the dumbest thing you’ve ever said. How are you going to get mad at him for judging you when you just judged an entire group of people?”
        Instantly, I feel myself getting angry.
        “It’s not my fault I’m forced to know all the worst parts of someone’s life. I’d love to be able to listen to whatever I want, but I can’t. I’ve seen pictures of things there shouldn’t be pictures of, and most of the time it’s related to the rappers and rockers. How is that
my
 fault?”
        Jackson looks surprised by my outburst, and I have to admit I’m feeling a little unnerved at the words coming out of my mouth as well.
        
I’ve definitely had too much to drink.
        “It’s not,” his voice is kinder, but still has that firm tone to it. “But you can’t be judgmental and get mad when someone does the same to you. It’s hypocritical, Carter. And honestly, it sounds like something your mother would say.”
        My mouth drops open and I want to argue back until a memory flashes through my mind.
        
I was sitting in the back of a car, and my mother had allowed the radio to be on so she could make sure there was nothing the rest of the world knew about that hadn’t been reported by Redford Entertainment first. I was eight years old.
        A new song came on, but there was something slightly different about it. Instead of the sweet singing voices I was used to, there was a fast beat and quick-words spoken faster than I could understand.
        I glanced over at my mother to ask her about it, but she had an expression on her face of such disgust, I stayed quiet. “Change that… filth. Now.”
        The song cut off, and was quickly replaced by a commercial for something-or-another.
        “Rap music,” my mother said to herself, “I will never understand why people waste their time on that violent garbage.” She turned to me. “Stay away from those kinds of people, honey. They’re bad influences.”
        I merely nodded, making a mental note. Despite the fact that I hadn’t noticed anything wrong with the sound, I knew my mother was one of the smartest women I’d ever met; she knew what she was talking about.
        
“Oh God,” I mutter, coming back to the present and realizing Jackson is right. “I’m my mother.”
        I don’t let Jackson answer. All I know is I need to find Ashton
now
.
        I locate him fast, especially when I notice he hasn’t moved from the spot we were in. He’s talking to Sofia, and I almost want to laugh at how ridiculous, though incredibly cute, he is - arguing with an angel when he’s dressed head-to-toe like a pirate. As I make my way to him, he looks up and bites his lip.
        
Alcohol or not, that is one attractive guy. How could I have been my mother to him?
        “I’m going back to Jackson. Again. You guys going to be okay?” Sofia asks, and I nod when I notice Ashton doing the same thing.
        Sofia quickly hugs Ashton, before surprising me with my own hug. “Don’t hurt him,” she whispers in my ear, “I have a
killer
 left hook.”
        “Got it,” I mutter, not making any promises. I know she’s only partially joking, but I still take it seriously. Slightly uncomfortable with how long the hug has lasted, I quickly return the gesture; her and Ashton both seem more touchy-feely than I’m used to, but I know if I want to figure out a way to keep Ashton, I need to get over it.
        When she’s gone, there’s an awkward moment of silence between Ashton and me, broken up by the music in the distance, as we figure out what to say to each other.
        “I’m sorry,” we both say at the same time, and I give him a shy smile when he lets out a quiet laugh.
        “Sorry, you go,” he says.
        I take a breath. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have been so harsh. My parents tend to judge first, ask later, and I never really questioned whether or not I was doing the same thing. I guess I just never realized I could be like them, and for that I’m sorry.” It’s the only way I know how to explain it, but the look Ashton gives me says he understands.
        “I’m sorry, too. I was way out of line, and I know I was right, but I could have been nicer about it.”
        I smile fully at him. “So, we’re good? I’ll try not to judge too fast, and you’ll try to be tactful when you tell me I’m messing up?”
        Ashton laughs loud enough to draw attention, and places his cup on a nearby table before holding out his hand to me. “Sounds like a plan.”
        I take his hand, placing my own drink beside his. “Good. Now, I think I owe a very attractive pirate a dance.”
        “Oh yeah? Going to dazzle me with your skills?” He teases, and I can’t help the slight blush that I know is appearing.
        “Actually, I’m hoping you’re going to show me.” We make our way to a crowd of people, and Ashton pulls me close to him, so close I can feel myself heating up.
        “Hm, giving dancing lessons to Audrey Hepburn? Now that
definitely
sounds like a plan.”