Esteem

Chapter 16

CLAIRE

The look in Jeremy's eyes turned from shock to hurt and then straight to dangerous. Paralyzed with fear and also an odd sense of wanting to know what will happen, I barely notice Ashton gently tugging on my arm. But Jeremy does.

And I know what he is going to do before he does it, it is not hard to figure out. Ashton is standing in front of me, painstakingly out in the open, glowering at Jeremy. Jeremy snaps forward and I cannot let this happen, not again.

Ashton is not expecting me to resist him, so it is too easy to push past his half-raised restraining arm. I see Jeremy's eyes widen when I step in front of Ashton, knowing that my face is the only thing that would stop him, if he can even be stopped.

And he can. Jeremy pulls his fist back before it is too late, hurt flashing in his eyes again. True to his nature, he will not feel emotional pain for more than a second before it is replaced with white-hot rage.

"So you're protecting drummerboy now?" He asks softly. I can detect the pain in his voice, buried under layers of malice. "Never did that for me, Claire, did you?" Jeremy's voice has turned mocking, taunting. My heart sinks. "But I guess there's a lot of things you never did for me, princess," Jeremy laughs without humor.

To the surprise of everyone in the hallway, Jeremy holds his hand out to Ashton. Ashton does not move, does not flinch, does not take his hand. Jeremy laughs again. "Nothing to worry about man, I'm just trying to wish you luck. You're going to need it with her; she'll lead you on for years and never let you fuck her."

I choke, barely recovering in time to grab Ashton's arm as he lunges toward Jeremy. I can't do it again, neither can they. Jeremy flinches as Ashton gets within three inches of him, but my touch on his arm calls him off. Jeremy laughs again before shaking his head and shoving away from the wall, back down the hall where he must have come from.

I watch him disappear, feeling none of the remorse that I felt the last time he stumbled away from me. I am frozen, rooted to the spot, metaphorically picking up the pieces of my shattered personal life. But there are too many; I cannot put them back together fast enough.

"Claire?" Ashton asks lowly, reaching out his arm for me. I step away from him, and he drops his arm, seemingly unchanged.

"Let's just go," I say, my voice coming out in a harsh whisper. I walk down the hall towards the elevator, Ashton following me in very pregnant silence.

I lean against the elevator wall, letting my hair fall conveniently over my face.

"Claire," Ashton says again, this time as less of a question and more of a spoken reassurance as he moves towards me.

"Don't," I whisper, turning away. "Please don't."

I don't want to talk, don't want him to hold me. Ashton backs away, respecting every unclear boundary I've ever set, as always.

The elevator ride is painfully silent, but not for being awkward. Jeremy's words burn in my head, my personal secrets spoken aloud exposed. There are lines that should not be crossed. Not for revenge.

The elevator dings loudly when we arrive in the lobby of the hotel, and I walk out with my arms crossed. Ashton follows behind me, not too close.

Never too close.

ASHTON

When we step out of hotel doors, I am once again seized by the urge to wrap my arm around Claire's waist. Not as a physical need, but a protective one. She is more fragile than I have ever seen her, though she is exhibiting a kind of industrial strength.

Fans are lined up and screaming for Claire the second we go outside, and I know that she is in no state to deal with that. But to my surprise, like everything Claire ever does, she goes to them. I stand in stunned silence and watch her interact with a few girls, smiling for pictures and chatting with them casually.

How does she do it?

It worries me, how good she is at hiding. Looking at her now, one would think that she is fine. Beyond fine, she seems to be excelling in life. But I know. I know that underneath the porcelain surface of her skin, she is cracking.

How long before she falls to pieces?

Claire walks back towards me but does not look into my eyes. She grabs my arm and pulls me to the car with her, surprising me yet again. I can never tell what she wants.

Claire stares out the tinted window as we pull away from the hotel, tears glistening in her eyes.

"I'm sorry," she finally breaks the silence.

"Claire, you don't have-"

"Ashton, please. I don't want to talk about it, I don't want to talk. I didn't mean for you to get caught up in this, and that is what I'm sorry for. Nothing else."

"You shouldn't be-"

"God damn it!" She practically shouts. "Jesus Christ, Ashton! Learn to accept an apology!"

"You shouldn't be apologizing," I say shortly. I shouldn't let my frustration get in the way, but she is infuriating.

"Don't talk to me," Claire mutters, rubbing her temples. She closes her eyes and leans her head against the window. The cool glass causes goosebumps to raise on her delicate skin, and I see her shiver.

My jacket is folded over my arm, I never put it on. Claire's eyes are still closed when I slide my jacket onto her lap, securing it around her legs without actually touching her body. I smooth my hand over the edge and when I glance up at her again, she is gazing down at me with those blue eyes that are hurting.

With tears and remorse in her eyes, her hand rests over mine on the seat and she squeezes it gently before laying her head back against the window.

And that is an apology that I can accept.