“I hang out with them, but I’m here with you.”
“Because you’re different. I can feel it.” He hoped she would respond to that statement. It would supply him with plenty of information about her. But she looked away and took a sip from her mug.
“Well, we should probably get going.”
CHAPTER FOUR
“On second thought,” Scott said, “I’m not going to let you get away with it. So here goes. You’re different than them. Stronger. And weaker. You want more. I can see it in the way you hold yourself. The way you observe others. You’re deeper than most other people. And that’s too bad. Because they’ll talk with you…but they’ll never get you.”
Ashley had a lump in her throat the size of a golf ball. He’d summed her up perfectly. And that scared her. Because over the past two days, she’d spent just over one hour with Scott, and he seemed to know her better than the “friends” she’d spent the past two years with. So what did that say about them? More importantly, what did that say about her?
“Look at me,” Scott said.
She felt helpless to do otherwise.
“I don’t know the first thing about you. But I want to.”
Those comments made tears enter her eyes. “I’d…like that.”
“Good,” he said, getting up from the booth.
She scolded herself for an inability to tear her eyes away from biceps that seemed just as strong as his willpower and determination. But when she managed that feat, her gaze settled on his powerful shoulders. Still, she didn’t want to meet his eyes. They were filled with trust and sincerity. And she had very little experience dealing with what should be the foundation of every relationship. Not counting Ashley’s relationships with her brother and sister, she couldn’t think of another close bond that lived up to those expectations.
Knowing that Scott had taken the time to look beyond her popularity to try to understand her, even from afar, further solidified her initial instinct to trust him. That’s why hanging out with the popular crowd was so easy. They didn’t ask her for more than just a topical friendship. And that had suited her fine. Until now. Suspecting that Scott sought more than just getting anointed as a popular kid, Ashley realized that she’d missed out on those who wanted to share their feelings to make a deeper connection.
Her other friends were apparently satisfied with generic friendship, something she disliked but lived with, obviously another shortcoming in her character. And she only accepted it because she feared they’d dump her if they discovered that she wasn’t as outgoing as them. Ashley hadn’t lied by saying that she just wanted others to accept her. But because she gave in to her “friends” and their limited expectations of what friendship meant, she just now realized that she would never get it.
Knowing that Scott had few friends but seemed genial with everyone, a characteristic that she could relate to, she felt closer to him. He relied on himself and didn’t seek approval from others. That certainty, that confidence made her heart flutter. Ashley wanted that same self-assurance. It would make life so much easier.
And she tried to live up to that example. At least, that’s what she told herself. It explained why she always wanted to include others and never ignored those who spoke to her, unlike some of her “friends,” whom others told her had gone out of their way to bully some kids, although she’d never seen such mistreatment.
But if the rumors were true, what did that say about her? That’s probably what Scott meant when he said she was “weaker” than others. And how could she dispute that? Given that he’d only spent a short time with her and managed to sum up her existence, had others been able to do the same?
Scott lowered his eyes and nodded, appearing as though he pitied her.
Ashley found it annoying that he judged her. “What makes you so much better than me?”
“I never said that. You did. But that doesn’t surprise me, considering the people you hang out with.”
She hadn’t expected him to blind-side her like that. That insult shot animosity rushing through her. “You sit by yourself, silently judging other people. That makes you just like my ‘friends.’ The sad thing is that you don’t even know it.” She got up and hurried away from the table, leaving Scott behind without a second thought.
Tears built in her eyes, but this time, Ashley knew why she’d reacted that way. She thought she’d finally found someone deep and trusting, someone who wouldn’t judge her, someone who thought of her as an equal.
It seemed she’d asked for too much.
Just as she stepped out the door, Ashley realized that she would need to walk over three miles to get home. She hadn’t thought that far in advance. In all honesty, she hadn’t expected to accept Scott’s invitation to chat, not to mention get on his bike. Her father had asked to do likewise countless times over the past two decades, but she’d shut him down every time. It seemed like her dad’s attempt to bond with her, but she had never viewed riding with him as a method to strengthen their relationship: they wouldn’t talk or even face each other. But now that she thought about it, Ashley realized that going for a ride with her dad would have extended him a certain amount of trust…that she felt he hadn’t earned. Perhaps she had subconsciously grasped that concept before she had been ready to accept the truth.
Now she faced a long walk home.
“Hey,” Scott called out behind her.
Ashley kept going and didn’t look back.
“Hey!”
She spun around, irritated. “What?”
Scott caught her in his arms and pressed up against her, searching her eyes with a deep-seated hunger. He slipped an arm around her waist and, without removing his gaze from hers, maneuvered her up against the brick building behind her. His eyes flickered to her lips then returned to her eyes. He clutched onto her, unwilling to let her go.
Ashley couldn’t believe the possessiveness that came over him, and she wanted to give in to him, wanted to feel those strong arms around her, wanted to feel his lips pressed against her own. But it seemed like he only gave her the impression that they shared a connection. Otherwise, why would he have judged her? For that reason, she had no intention of letting him get too close.
“I’m sorry,” he said in a deep voice thick with regret. “I didn’t mean what I said. I just haven’t met anyone like…me before. I didn’t expect that.”
The sincerity in his tone and the hurt look on his face made it easy to forgive him. And his presence was so overwhelming that she wanted to let her entire body talk, not just her mouth. But she didn’t say a word, fearful that his bad-boy reputation might indeed have some truth behind it.
He pushed up against her, tightening his grip on her hips. He stepped closer.
Ashley never stood this close to a man before. And she wanted to feel him all over her.
Scott moved in without notice, without hesitation. He pressed his lips against hers, those muscular arms of his drawing her tight against him.
She had never kissed anyone on a first date before. And this wasn’t even a date. She’d only just gotten to know Scott. Yet there she stood, kissing those delicious lips and feeling his heat joining her own. She felt his excitement down below, resting against her sweet spot, and it elicited a slight moan from the back of her throat. She couldn’t get over how soft yet insistent his kisses were, and she felt no shame in pulling him harder against her.
The aching need, from meeting someone so similar, so honest consumed her. And she needed those sweet kisses to prove that she wasn’t asking for too much in wanting to find someone who understood her flaws…and accepted her anyway.
Scott pulled away as though he needed all of his strength to accomplish that feat.
And as much as she didn’t want him to do so, Ashley knew that was probably best, given that they were out in public. “Don’t start something you can’t finish.”
Where did that come from? She sounded like she’d been in this position dozens of times. This from someone who had o
nly kissed three guys. She pinned the cheesy line on having watched too much television.
“Oh, I’ll finish it,” he said.
The way he looked at her, as though nothing could tear her from his grasp, made her want to clench her fists in his coat and bring him in for another kiss. But she’d just met him. And she had enough self-respect not to give in to her hormones.
“But first I’ll give you a ride home,” he said. “Your parents must be worried.”
“Who knows?”
“Yeah, I bet you have a tight-knit family.”
She couldn’t deny that. But she didn’t want to say that her parents made her feel like an outsider. And it frustrated her why no one else saw it or felt it. “Well, you thought wrong.”
Scott strode away from her, every step strong and assured like every move he made, and got on his bike. He started it up and looked back at her. “Come on.”
This time, although still a little hesitant, Ashley got on the bike behind him. That’s the only reason she accepted the ride here – because she trusted him. More than anyone else in her entire life. Even though she just met him, Ashley presumed that when it came to her, Scott wouldn’t lie to her, nor would he hurt her. And that meant everything to her, even if it scared her silent. Because how could she believe in someone more than her parents, the couple who’d spent seventeen years raising her?
And although Scott doubled the speed he’d taken on their way to The Cocktail Hour, which only now seemed like a ridiculous name, she felt free – from worry, from suspicion, and from uncertainty. She felt liberated for perhaps the first time in her life, and she wanted to spend more time with the man who made that possible.
Within minutes, however, they reached her home, and Scott pulled into the driveway. The bike’s pipes sent forth a tremendous amount of noise on such a quiet street. And Ashley noticed the blinds split open behind the window on the first floor of her parent’s two-story white Colonial house. Basked in light, her mother peeked outside to check on the disturbance.
Her father opened the front door, stepped onto the porch, and stared at her with a harsh expression. “Where’ve you been?”
Sighing, Ashley got off the bike and turned to Scott. “He’s not mean or anything.”
“I’d like to say I’ll see you soon, but…I get the feeling that I won’t.” He glanced downwards, the weight of reality bearing down on him.
“Meeting you,” she said, “meant a lot to me.”
“Yeah,” he said, still not meeting her gaze.
Sad that he expected her to blow him off, Ashley stepped forward, grabbed hold of his leather jacket, pulled him toward her, and kissed him on the lips. After a moment, she pulled away, disappointed that she had to do so. She looked him in the eye. “I’m serious.”
“This is going to be a Breakfast Club kind of thing, isn’t it?” he said. “We have this connection, and then we’ll go our separate ways afterwards.”
That he’d seen the ’80s teenage classic made her feel even closer to him, since she related to the pop culture movies and music from that era. “You’ll see.” Then she turned on her heels and hurried back to her father and rushed into the house.
“Who’s the kid?” her father asked.
“A close friend.”
“A friend? I don’t think so.” He nodded at Scott. “I want to meet him.”
“Please don’t embarrass me.”
“I guess we’ll see. Get him over here. Now.”
Ashley stood on the first step of thirteen that led toward the second floor of their home. “Why are you doing this? To humiliate him?”
“Because I’ve spent seventeen years protecting you, and that’ll never change.” He took in a deep breath, as if to call out to Scott.
She hurried past him, wedging her way through the doorway. She motioned to Scott. “Come on over,” she said, feeling tremendously awkward. Ashley had never brought a guy home to meet her parents, although even this time, she wished she didn’t have to.
“Who is that?” asked her mother, stepping away from the window, her expression full of apprehension.
“Someone from school.” She looked out the door, only to find Scott raising his index finger, indicating that he’d join her in a minute, before checking out his back tire.
“A boy with a motorcycle? And you went with him? This from a girl who never dared to take a ride on her father’s bike?”
Ashley didn’t know how to explain away that answer. She still had no idea how Scott had persuaded her to get on his bike. Yesterday, if anyone told her she’d soon take a ride on the back of a motorcycle, she’d have laughed at them and called them insane. So she understood why her mother looked so confused. Besides, ever since Ashley had been a little girl, her mother had always wanted to know where her daughter went and with whom, but Ashley had always gotten the impression that her mom had done so out of obligation, rather than love.
Her mother hit Ashley with a piercing stare. “I asked you a question.”
“He gave me a ride home.”
“Who is that boy?”
“His name is Scott. He’s in a band.” She’d added that last part to show that Scott wasn’t a loser. But listening to that line in her head, she realized that it would only make her parents even more skeptical of the guy walking toward their house.
“He seems like more than just a friend,” said her father. “You never mentioned that you had a boyfriend…who owned a Harley.”
“He’s not my boyfriend.” She wondered if he was so upset because she’d taken a ride on a bike with someone other than him. It made sense. Putting herself in her father’s place, Ashley understood why he’d been upset by that fact. As she’d only recently realized, riding on a bike with someone equated to trusting that person with your life. And she’d trusted someone she just met, instead of the man who’d raised her. But a lifetime of letdowns had informed that decision, whereas she and Scott didn’t have the same amount of baggage. Despite that, she felt the sting of shame color her cheeks.
“I just met him last night,” Ashley said, trying to redirect the conversation.
“You’re getting a ride home from some guy you just met?” her father asked. “What are you thinking?”
“It’s not like that.” How had this situation gone so horribly wrong? She started toward the stairs opposite her.
“Where do you think you’re going?” her mom asked, stomping up to her. “We want an explanation. And you’re going to give one.”
“For what?” Ashley asked.
“For what?” her mother asked, incredulous. “For what?” Her perfectly coiffed hair shook with indignation. “You absconded with this…this—”
“He has a name,” Ashley said. “It’s Scott. And I didn’t… whatever you just said. I’m home, aren’t I?”
Her mom shook her head, trying to come up with a response, but she was too flummoxed to do so.
“Just say it, Mom. You don’t trust me.” The earnestness behind that statement hurt more than she’d ever thought possible. But she continued on: “Get it out. Be honest.”
Her mother gasped and took a step back. “I said no such thing.” Shaking her head again, approaching her daughter with short steps, she said, “I taught you to be a—”
“Good girl?” Ashley said. “Have I been bad? Is that what you’re saying? Have I let you down?”
Her father stepped forward. “You’ve been irresponsible. And inconsiderate. And—”
“I’m home. It’s 10:30. It’s not even close to midnight. So why are you interrogating me? It’s not like I robbed a bank or killed someone.”
“That’s not the point,” said her mother. “You’ve got to respect—”
“I do respect you. Both of you. But you don’t respect me. Haven’t I earned that? I get good grades. I don’t go out drinking and doing drugs. You treat me like…someone who isn’t even related to you. Like a distant family member.”
“Hi,” said Scott, stepping up to the door
with a cordial smile. “It’s great to meet you, Mr. and Mrs. Lawford.”
Her father stared at him for a long moment, no doubt attempting to rattle the young man’s nerves, but Scott held her father’s gaze without the least bit of apprehension. Her dad turned his attention to Scott’s bike. “A Harley, huh?”
“Best bike ever made.”
“Damn right,” her father said with approval and the beginning of a smile. Realizing that he’d lost the “bad cop” act, he flattened his lips into a sour expression. “How do you know my daughter?”
“School, sir. We’ve been friends for…” He glanced at the spot on his wrist where a watch should have been. “A couple days now.”
Her father raised his eyebrows, surprised by that fact. “So picking up girls you barely know is some kind of sport for you, huh?”
“This is the first time. And I wouldn’t say I picked her up. I mean, I work out, but I’m not that strong.”
Her dad had a difficult time crushing his smile again. “Uh-huh. And who do you think you are? Coming here, dropping off my daughter this late on a Friday night?”
“I started talking with Ashley. We went to The Cocktail Hour and had some hot chocolate. She even stole my marshmallow. But don’t worry,” he said, turning his grin onto Ashley, “I won’t call the cops.”
“I’m the cops,” said her father, doing his best attempt at an intimidating tone.
“Cool,” Scott said, staring into her dad’s eyes. “But I won’t press charges or anything: I’d hate for a petty crime like that to affect your job.”
This time, her father couldn’t flatten his grin. He nodded and said nothing. Those unfamiliar with him might be confounded by that combination, but close acquaintances knew that those two characteristics meant that he approved of Scott.
Ashley chuckled at the way Scott had managed her dad. After all, how could her father peg a young man who drank hot chocolate as a bad guy?
One More Chance (A Bedford Falls Novel Book 3) Page 6