Ashton

I rotated my shoulder to ease some of the pain. Another injury from work. Nothing new.

Sam and I were standing against a short wall in the parking lot. We spent the last couple of hours driving across town to buy a joint, then stopped by a grocery store for munchies. Now the sun was setting, and Sam was staring up at the tree on the other side of the wall.

"Oh! Check this out." She tapped the butt of the rabbit nightlight she put on the wall.

It glowed a pink light, then slowly turned purple to blue.

"Wait..." She took a long puff—enough to raise my eyebrows—then blew the smoke in the light's direction. "Isn't that cool?!"

I didn't have the heart to remind her I worked at a night club with actual strobe lights and smoke machines.

"Very cool." I smiled.

My shoulder pain stabbed again, so I stretched against the wall. Sam seemed spaced out somewhere around my chest, then snapped back when she caught me staring.

"Do you want a massage?" Her eyes widened with genuine concern.

"Nah. It's probably just a pinched nerve."

"Okay." She took it as a rejection, but it really wouldn't help. I've tried before.

"It's probably"—I hunched forward, pumping my fist over my cock—"from jerking off like this."

"Oh my God!" She shrieked with laughter behind her hand.

I ducked my head with a quiet chuckle.

The sky bled from cotton pink to cold blue as we passed the joint. The tree Sam was admiring earlier slowly became a dark silhouette. Funny how something so full of life suddenly could look so lifeless, all because of a small difference.

"You ever think about what you'd change?" I wondered.

"You mean like in the world? Or in myself?"

"I guess both."

"Hmm..." She looked aside in thought.

Her chest moved up and down with shallow breaths. She looked so soft, like she'd melt into the wall if I broke the distance and kissed her.

"In the world..." She bit her lip. "Mmm, honestly you might think it's stupid, but, I wish there would be more fairness."

She kicked the ground as if regretting the words.

"You know, like I wish people were kinder to each other?" she added. "I wish they cared more. I think it'd be much easier to live that way. Anyway, that's it for me. What about you?"

"What would I want to change in the world?" I took a deep breath.

What would make Luka happy? What would make my parents happy? Killing all the bad people? Making more money? None of that could reverse what had already happened.

"I guess, me too." I admitted. Fairness would've kept my parents home with us instead of running day and night to put food on the table. It would've kept Luka from losing his childhood.

"Okay, you go first for the second one," Sam said. "What would you change in yourself?"

"Umm, not my temper." I smirked. "Even though that's what most people would say."

"Temper is just a response from stress." She tilted her head as if she could see right through my jokes. "What would stop you from stressing so much?"

"Jerking off more."

"Come on! You've already damaged your shoulder from that."

"That was a joke!"

"Uh-huh. Sure. Go on, answer the question."

I rolled my eyes. What would I change in myself? I don't know. It was hard to pinpoint anything specific when my day-to-day life was a chase. Looking back, nothing seemed important. I was killing time. I was never really in the moment.

"Maybe... I'd stop living in the past so much."

"Me too."

I mean, there had to be a reason she was so scared of the dark. Why she was so insecure. Why she had no one, but a single friend. Someone had hurt her. Badly. Maybe even at a young age.

I'd learned about trauma from Luka's therapist. How it affected kids as they grew up. How to react if they became triggered. I doubted Sam had ever received professional help. I think that's what I found so amazing about her. Most people would end up cold and selfish in her shoes.

"Look at us bonding and shit," she smirked.

I pushed off the wall. "Ready to go back in?"

When we walked out of the parking toward the apartment, our door was slightly cracked open.

She gasped behind me. "Oh, crap! Did I forget to lock it?"

"It's fine." I turned the lights on, then headed straight to the kitchen to eat.

"Um... don't you think we should check around first?"

"No?" I chuckled, grabbing my leftover sandwich from the fridge. "It's fucking⁠—"

She was frozen in the hallway with panicked 'help me' eyes. This was a super safe neighborhood though, she had nothing to worry about.

"Oh. Okay." I put the sandwich back and took her hand in mine. "Okay, let's go look around."

"Slow down!" She squatted in a crab-stance, scanning left and right as if an armed burglar was going to jump out and kill us.

"Wait." I warned her when we reached my bedroom and stared at the door.

"What is it? What do you hear?"

"Shh..."

I pushed the handle, then kicked the door open. Sam yelped behind me. I stuck my arms straight forward, pointing my fingers like guns. I aimed left and right while Sam giggled behind me.

"It's clear." I turned to her with a dead serious face. "Go, go. Hurry!"

I twisted her around and grabbed her shoulders, using her as my shield. We tip-toed next to the bathroom, which was open with the lights off.

I pretended to throw her in. "ARE THEY THERE?!"

She let out a scream, then crumbled to her knees, bursting into uncontrollable giggles. I pulled her up by the shoulders, laughing my head off too.
My job was done. Back to the kitchen.

"You're such a jerk..." She whined. Her eyes were all watered and her cheeks were bright red.

I wasn't worried though, she was smiling ear-to-ear. Grabbing two cinnamon slices from a bag, I put those babies in the toaster oven.

"Oh, this shit is SO good."

"You're kidding me, right?" She ran up to me in horror. "Hellooo, why aren't you using foil? The frosting is goin' to drip. It'll stick to the bottom!"

"So?"

"So? Do you know how hard it is to clean?"

I smacked my lips. Women. So dramatic.

She scoffed, turning to wash the leftover dishes from earlier. "I hate doing the dishes when I'm high. It's so hard to focus." She frowned as if someone was forcing her. "I need water."

Oh my God...where was I going to find water in this apartment? Oh, right. The fridge.

I suppressed my amusement and uncapped a water bottle. Her hands were busy, so I tipped it toward her mouth to help her drink. She kept going, making a noise for me to lift it higher.

"Wow. Such a good girl." I smirked. "You worked too hard washing that one cup, huh?"

As expected, she choked. Water dripped down her chin as she glared at me. "Asshole."

"I know." I sat on the counter and put music on my phone. One of my playlists I thought she might like. Sugar and spice from the oven made me groan. "Man, those cinnamon—"

"Hey, can you dry this?" She stretched her arm out with a pot, waving it at me as if I was actually going to take it. "Come on! There's no space on the drying rack, I'm doing the dishes."

"Here you go." I gave her a towel.

"Oh my God, come on! It's one pot."

"Dry it. You wanted to do the dishes, not me."

"Ashton, I can't? My hands are all lathered!"

"Are they? Because—"

"You're still a man. You're still a man—"

I cracked up. "That's not why—"

"I'm not taking advantage of you." She pushed the pot into my hands with cheeky victory.

"Oh my God. It has nothing to do with being a man!" I laughed.

"It'll take you ten seconds."

"You know, I have people who do this for me," I grumbled.

"It's such an easy thing to do." She returned to the dishes. "Team work makes the dream work, you know?"

A tiny woman in a pink sweater and polka-dot socks just roasted me into domestic work. I glared at her back, drying the damn pot.

The toaster made a ding sound, alarming me that the cinnamon slices were ready. I hurried to take them out on a plate and set them on the counter.

"Did you heat one up for me too?" she asked.

"No? Fine. Come grab one."

I left one slice for her and broke mine into smaller pieces. That way I could enjoy it longer. These things had a ridiculous amount of sugar.

"Mmm." Sam squatted on her heels, bringing her face all the way down to the plate. "Yummm..."

I laughed at her, but she was too busy in her own world, enjoying the toast with eyes closed. Then she squinted like a food critic analyzing the ingredients. "Hm." She approved.

"You're really cute, you know?" I smiled.

She stopped. "I am?"

"Sure."

Her reaction wasn't what I expected. She looked down as if I said something hurtful.

"What's cute about me?"

"What do you mean?"

"Is it my eyes?" she asked sarcastically.

"No?" I mean, it was one of the things, but I didn't like the way she said it.

"Is it... my mole?" She scowled.

"No." On her whole entire face, she thought a dot was why I called her cute.

She grimaced, then raised her eyes at me with fearful suspicion, like I was mocking her or something. "What else could it be? My nose?"

"It's everything. I mean, you have a very soft feminine face, but it's also a little masculine."

"MASCULINE? You're saying I look like a man?!"

"No, it makes you stand out, you know?" I moved my hands down my jaw. "You have like these straight lines, but then you have a soft chin."

"What does that mean?"

"You don't look like a little bitch."

"So it's a good thing." She narrowed her eyes.

"It's a very good thing." I shook my head with the image of her body on me this morning. "You're fucking hot too."

"What! I am?"

"You're so fucking hot." And on top of that, she was so funny and thoughtful, and a little feisty sometimes. She had everything. "You're just the perfect package. The perfect. Package."

After a moment of silence, Sam scoffed and stood up. "That's not how I see myself at all."

"Really?"

"I mean..." She looked down. "Wouldn't you want anything to be different? Like if you could make my—" Her voice was so small, it was hard to hear. "If you could change anything, wouldn't you?"

"No?"

"Why not?"

"Because then it wouldn't be you." Duh.

"See, I think I could be a better version of myself. At least that's how I look at it," she mumbled. "I think that's why I'm always so hard on myself."

"Hm. Then I'll get more rough with you too."

The way her eyes rounded told me her mind flew straight to the gutter. "What do you mean?"

"I said, I'd—" I paused, noticing all my cinnamon pieces were gone. When did I eat them? Sam's slice was still there—"Did you just eat MINE?"

"It was already cut so nicely," she said it so coyly as if that made it okay. Jackass.

I shook my head and ate hers, but I was still hungry, so I went back to the fridge. Salami, fuck yeah. Salami cinnamon sandwich?

"But damn. Can you imagine how unhealthy those cinnamon toasts are?" I asked.

"Why?" Sam ducked under my arm to grab a green apple.

"You know how much sugar it has? I have four of them, every day."

"Oh, that's a lot. Then I'm not going to buy more." She took the biggest crunchy bite.

"Well, I wouldn't say every day. I don't think I eat this every day," I muttered. "It's not even that bad."

Sam chewed her apple and watched me the entire time.

I kept my poker face on. "It's actually—"

"Did you say that 'cause you want me to buy it?"

"I did." I dissolved into laughter. God damn it. "I want theeem! Don't do that to me."

I cut myself some salami while she yawned like a Chewbacca.

"Ohhh, that felt good." She cracked her spine like those possessed women in exorcist movies. "Woot woot. Woot woot. An apple a day keeps the doctor away. I'm super high though. I'm super, super high. I'm super super high."

Okay, then. I guess we were losing our marbles tonight.

"I'm having so much anxiety." She was rubbing her chest when I turned.

"From weed? Do you want to watch something?"

"No..." She pouted. "Sometimes the sounds just make it more overwhelming, you know? It's too much. Can we just chill maybe without the TV?"

"Sure." I moved to the living room and slumped back on the couch, putting my feet up.

Sam stood in front of me and fumbled with the tips of her hair.

"What?" I popped a salami piece in my mouth.

"Can we hang out in my room? It's just..." She scrunched her nose. "This living room is so ugly, no offense."

"Wow, thanks."

"No, seriously. Imagine a colorful salad bowl. Like with dark kale. Cherry tomatoes. Orange bell-peppers. Mango cubes. That's my room." She threw a dismissive arm at the white walls. "And this is a dryyy cold sad piece of chicken."

"Have I told you, that you're a very rude person?"

"Actually, that means a lot coming from you." She wiggled her brows. "You know, considering you're the king of assholes. The lord of the dicks."

"You know what, screw you. You can go hang out in your room, I'm fine right here." Not only was her room too fucking girly for me, but it was her room. I wasn't down to torture myself.

"Please!" She pulled my hand. "Come on. Just 'cause you don't have any taste, doesn't mean I have to suffer for it? Come with meee."

"Jesus, alright!" I chuckled, standing up. "You know, just cause' you—"

"Are you bringing the salami with you?!" She doubled over that I was still holding the plate. "Ashton, it'll stink up the whole room!"

"It won't!" Ain't no way I was going to behave in there without food to distract myself. Especially on her bed. "This salami is coming with me."

~A/N~
This chapter was mostly fluff and hanging out, but I hope it was enjoyable to read <3

Do you think they'll give in tonight or behave?