Painting Flowers // Ashton Irwin [au]

Fourteen

Ashton's POV

He looks completely ridiculous standing there in his pristine dark grey suit with his checkbook in hand. This is a campus-funded event-he doesn't need to dress to the nines like he's going to some award show.

The crowd surrounding my painting dissipates and moves to the next sculpture down the line. Michael and Lola are panting behind me, probably from sprinting after me and Emilia, but I'm too confused and irritated to check on them. Dad takes his time as he fills out the check before ripping it out of the book and handing it to the auctioneer.

"Dad," I call, camouflaging my surprised tone with bitterness.

He turns and slips his checkbook into his inner coat pocket, his features stoic as he takes notice of me. "Ashton," he says monotonously before looking down to Emilia. "Emily, right?"

"Emilia," she corrects.

"My apologies," he says, but I highly doubt he really cares what her name is. "Have you decided on a major yet? Surely, you must have found an interest by now."

She nearly cowers next to me, subtly shifting her feet back and trying to escape his hard stare and intrusive questions. She has only seen him twice and yet his harsh demeanor freaks her out.

"Dad, leave her alone," I say, but he ignores me.

"You're wasting money and time by dipping your feet in every subject until something jumps at you," he continues.

"Don't act like you can't hear me," I seethe. "Leave her alone."

His eyes flicker between mine and hers before letting out a short scoff. He looks past my shoulders and nods. "Good to see you boys."

Behind me, Luke and Calum join Michael and Lola and from their worried expressions, they know just as well as I do that this conversation isn't going to end well. Any conversation with my dad ends badly or at least with me extremely pissed off.

"So, you painted this?" Dad asks, craning his neck to examine my work.

"Yes," I say sharply.

"He also painted this," Lola adds, holding out the rose painting.

Michael whispers in her ear, probably telling her not to get involved which is the wisest thing for anyone right now.

"What are you doing here?" I ask, bringing his attention back to me.

"I called you several times, but you never answered your phone," he says, avoiding my question.

"I changed my number."

"Why?"

"Because you gave it out to Natalie of all people," I say, throwing my arms in the air, already losing my cool. "She's the last person I want calling me. If you've forgotten, she's the reason I'm here in America. Not to mention, you were stupid enough to give my address to a psycho who filled your head with nonsense and barged inside our house and attacked Emilia. So, excuse me for changing my number without telling you in order to protect her and myself." For a second, I thought I saw a glimmer of sympathy, but the sun must be hindering my sight.

"I'm sorry to hear about that. I hope you're okay, Emilia," he says, and Emilia nods.

"Why are you even here? I thought you said art isn't a way to make a living."

"It's not," he says bluntly. "But Cathleen told me your name was on the roster for submitted work and wanted me to buy a few pieces to donate to her sister's children's hospital."

"Cathleen?"

"Don't you remember her? She was my secretary back when I worked at the firm."

"Oh, you mean the woman you fucked behind mum's back?" I say with a fake grin. "Yeah, I remember her."