Only If She Stayed

12. Three Big Words

"I'M SORRY FOR YOUR LOSS," I said, wishing I could've gone back to the past to stop my moronic self from asking Ashton about his motorcycle helmet.

I hadn't expected it to be so significant and pertinent to his life. "I can't fathom what you've gone through after losing your dad. I shouldn't have brought it up."

"I don't need your sympathy, Rose. I didn't tell that so you could feel sorry for me," he stated, sitting upright. "I told you because you asked. I don't tell everyone, but if they ask, I answer. I'm not a sheltered person. I'm relatively transparent."

"I'm not giving you pity." I muttered, unable to look him directly in the eyes.

"Yes, you are." He fidgeted with the buckle of his belt. The latch appeared to be broken. He continued to tuck it into his jeans belt loop. "It broke this morning," he responded to my watchful gaze as he readjusted it. "I ended up falling on my bike and the metal buckle popped out of place. I'm going to have to buy a new one next month..."

"You can't buy it sooner than that?" A month was a long wait.

Ashton didn't reply right away. His claim of being an open book didn't seem to be as true as he first made it out to be. I wasn't going to insult him or push him to talk. My big mouth got me in trouble twice today. I didn't need to stack up on my dumb actions.

"I should go back to the party," I suggested. "You clearly would be better off if I didn't bother you."

"You're not bothering me." Ashton informed with a glint of sincerity, glimmering in his eyes. "Staying here alone wouldn't be as much fun."

"Fun? You're having fun?"

I had just forced him to tell me about the importance of him carrying around a helmet around, in a rude way may I add. Him saying that he was having fun struck me as a surprise.

"Well, I wouldn't be having any sort of fun if I sat here alone."

I was hoping he didn't think I'd do anything intimate with him simply because were somewhat seceded from the party. He knew I had a boyfriend, but I couldn't really be one hundred percent sure with most high school boys.

I'd known Ashton for only a few days. It wasn't long enough for me to get a vibe off of him. From what I saw, he was doing okay. My bar was set low though. It was so low that I had to dig a hole in order to set the bar.

I have him a shot though and carefully observed him while we talked, gazing at the twinkling, shining lights.

•••

"I CAN'T STAND THAT EITHER," I bellowed, flatting my hand on the surface we sat on. "I've seen numerous scary movies and none of them have a sense of reality to them. Don't get me wrong, I love watching them, but I wish there was a movie that didn't simply stick to all of the cheap clichés of scary movies and predictable jump scares, you know?"

"Or how about how dumb some of scenarios are? I can't tell you how often I see a horror film where the character screams: 'Hello, Who's There?' as if the psychotic axe killer is going to respond back and say, 'Yeah, I'm just chillin' in the living room, munching on some Potato Chips. Want some?" We both laughed, "The poor depiction of reality is what makes it enjoyable in the end though. It's escapism. Like what you said about the stars and planets."

"That's true, too," I nodded.

I had lost track of time, talking to Ash about an array of topics. It ranged from how his life was like in Vermont, my experience on the dance team, and talking about a few pet-peeves we shared. We equally agreed that we had a love-hate relationship with horror films.