The Get-Go [Ashton Irwin]

19: Get In Bed

   He’s still staring at me, a worry line creasing his forehead. “That’s not all… um, the reason Luke just called is that… well, Twitter is blowing up, and uh… they think Amanda is my girlfriend.”

 

    It’s only after he drops the bomb about Amanda that I suddenly realize he’s finally wearing mine on the middle finger of his left hand.

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    “Wynter? Baby, can you say something?”

    My eyes blink back into focus, resting on the lower half of his face. Almost unconsciously, my hand reaches up to cup his jaw, thumb running over his morning stubble. “Is she okay?”

    As I watch, his lips purse slowly. “Who?”

    “Amanda. Is she okay?”

    “I haven’t heard otherwise,” Ash replies slowly. He raises his own hand to cover mine that’s resting on his jaw, and I catch another glimpse of the shiny silver band on his middle finger. “Are you okay, Snowflake?”

    “Probably.”

    “Probably?” He repeats. “What do you mean, ‘probably’?”

    I sigh contentedly, and try to cuddle as close as I can into his torso. “My mind feels numb. And everything’s bubbly. It’s like that time on our first date.”

    Ashton’s lips purse again, just slightly, and his hand moves away from mine. I feel the back of it resting on my forehead, presumably checking for a fever, but coming up with nothing. “Why’s that?”

    Dropping my right hand from his face, I reach over to take his massive hand in my comparatively tiny one. He watches quietly as I switch hands and clasp my left with his, feeling the metal on both our rings run smoothly against each other. “You’re wearing my ring.”

    Even though my voice is smaller than I’d like, the room around us is silent, and Ash has no trouble hearing me. His face breaks into a smile and he squeezes my hand gently, taking care to make sure he doesn’t overwhelm me again. “Of course I’m wearing your ring. What kind of terrible boyfriend would I be if I didn’t wear my girlfriend’s ring?”

    I can’t help smiling back at that. “I love you.”

    “I love you, too,” He murmurs, giving me a small but lingering kiss on the lips. It sends a spark down my already fizzing spine, and I can’t stop myself from shuddering at the feeling. “Shit. Are you cold? Are you going to pass out again?”

    Shaking my head slowly, I tighten my hold on his hand. “No. Just… don’t drop anymore bombs for a few minutes, please. Need to process.”

    For as long as I lie there, held tightly in his arms, contemplating and processing everything that’s happening, my boyfriend remains absolutely silent. My head finds its way right next to his heart, the sound of its rhythmic beating and Ashton’s breathing soothing my nerves. I can feel my eyelids getting heavier, but I fight against it, remembering that I told Ash I wouldn’t pass out again.

    “How are we going to fix this?”

    Even though I’ve been able to feel his gaze on me the entire time, I’m still surprised when my eyes meet his. And he seems equally surprised that I’ve spoken. He starts playing with my hair while thinking through my question. “Are you ready to show everyone…?”

    I close my eyes, squeezing them shut as tightly as I can manage. For the last three weeks, the only trace of information that Ashton has posted about me was the Instagram photo he posted on my grad, and even that was just a close-up of our clasped hands with our matching 11.06.13 bracelets on display. As far as anyone else might know, I could be a disembodied hand and wrist.