Snap Out Of It || Ashton Irwin

4

"Here are the rules: you will not touch me, you will not call me or text me after 10 pm, we do not speak of our past, you will be attending New York Fashion Week wearing the finest clothes alongside me, this is strictly professional, no hanky panky. I'm not here to build you up since you've been torn down. Got it?"

I sat in on a lot of business negotiations that my dad used to make. I took a few pointers and negotiated a higher pay and eventually Mel and Joe were putting out our contractions and handing us pens.

"I'd like to revise your rules if you don't mind." He cleared his throat, cracking each of his fingers as preparation for his proposal. I anxiously tapped the pen against the pad of papers. "You will treat me like a human being, we can forget our past happened, fine by me. You'll attend the Video Music Awards with me as my girlfriend who is beyond ecstatic that the band is nominated for two awards. And I don't need a pretentious individual to fix me, there's nothing wrong with me. Are we clear? Or do I need to go over things again?"

"Understood commander," I teased with a salute, having no further sass to exchange to Ashton and I's contract within a contract. Like hell I was going to show up to the VMAs as his girlfriend. Ashton's approach at PR was shit, wouldn't the media frown upon him having a new girlfriend so soon? The articles would be filled with misinterpretations. That was what I was technically signing up for.

The pen gracefully marked the document with my signature, inscribing another mistake into my life. I never learned my lesson.

Mel and Joe happily clapped and cheered at their success. The thin-lipped smile I flashed was enough to show my excitement towards this matter. Absolute dread, was what I was really feeling.

"We called a group of paparazzi to capture you guys leaving together." Mel's eyes peeked out of the window blinds. I could already hear the mumbles of strangers assembling outside. Paps were always punctual when it came to getting that money shot.

"Your first appearance will be at a pre-VMA party tonight at 8." Joe smiled at us, pointing towards the door, kindly encouraging us to leave so we wouldn't anger the paparazzi with our horrible timing. People with jobs like theirs were not meant to be pleased though.

I bitterly thanked the two people who had no interest in my past and wanted a nice public reputation for me for the present and the future.

"Have you thought about what you're going to wear tonight?" Ashton's hand traveled to the small of my back, guiding me through the yelling men as we both faked happiness. One rule of mine was already broken: touching.

"Desolation and resentment. Versace Couture, obviously." I said in an exaggerated snobby voice.

"I was expecting Tom Ford discourtesy-and-arrogance-winter-2019," Gold comeback. He said it without even stuttering. Props, honestly. "but even I should expect the unexpected with you."

I ignored his judgment, playfully rolling my eyes at him to make it appear like we were joking around instead of taking jabs at each other's pride. "I've an idea on my outfit, but it doesn't matter. What matters is that you don't show up looking like the opposite of arm candy."

"Meaning?" We locked eyes, the sun brightened his hazel eyes, making the green in them prominent. His eyes didn't cling to sadness, they seemed happier or the sun was simply playing mind tricks on me. My gaze into his eyes lasted too long and I immediately felt like 19-year-old Talia, the one who was dumb enough to get involved with Ashton.

Snap out of it, T.

"You need to look decent, at the least."

"Oh come on! You're going for me! You could show up in a fucking rainbow leotard and I wouldn't give a shit." His annoyed pitch could convince myself and passerby's differently.