I’ve somewhat warmed up a few hours later when a key is pushed into the lock on the other side of the door. My heart jumps into my throat as I wait for him to slip inside.
I have no idea what kind of mood he might be in, and I brace myself for what might be about to come my way.
The second he emerges, the breath I was holding rushes out of me at the sight of the bags in his hands. He bought food.
“Well, don’t just sit there, help me unpack.”
I scramble out of his sheets and rush to the kitchen with him.
“We’ve got hot water and heating too,” he says.
“Thank you.”
“I didn’t do it just for you,” he admits, glancing at me out of the corner of his eye.
“I know, but I appreciate it. Coffee?” I ask, my lips twitching with a smile when I see him pull some cream out of one of the bags.
“Please. Black, no sugar.”
“Why am I not surprised.”
“Because I’m a bitter motherfucker,” he jokes, making my smile grow.
“Yeah, something like that. So I can have another shower with hot water now then?”
“Yeah, but you’re going to need to be quick.”
“Why?”
“We’re going out.”
“Out?”
“Yep, and you’re wearing this.” He throws a bag at me that I catch while narrowing my eyes at him.
“W-what is it?”
“A dress, little one.”
“I have clothes,” I sulk, unsure how I feel about the fact he’s been shopping for me. “Thank you for picking up my case by the way,” I relent after a few seconds.
“Your mom left it at the hotel reception, I just picked it up.” He shrugs like it’s no big deal, which I guess it isn’t really, but it shows he does actually have a heart because he thought of me and did something nice. “We’re leaving in an hour. You want a sandwich?”
“I’d love one.”
“You do that,” he says, nodding to the bathroom. “And I’ll do this.”
I follow orders and with the bag in hand, I make my way to the bathroom, grabbing my case on the way for everything else I might need.
Although it damn near kills me to do it, I don’t look into the bag before I get in the shower. I put off seeing what he thinks will suit me in favor of a hot shower.
The second the heat hits me, I sigh in relief. After being cold for so long, it feels incredible.
I take time washing my hair this time and scrub every inch of my body, washing the long journey off me.
I step out and wrap myself in a now warm towel thanks to the heated rack, and I set about moisturizing and spraying myself with perfume.
My need to know finally gets the better of me and I reach a hand into the bag. What I pull out can’t possibly be a dress, it feels like nothing more than a scrap of fabric.
“What the...” I hold it up, my eyes almost popping out of my head.
There’s no way I can wear any underwear under this thing.
“Ashton,” I snap, pulling the door open an inch.
“Yeah.”
“There’s no way I can wear this dress.”
“Why?”
“Have you seen it?”
“Uh... yeah, I picked it.”
“Why? To make me look like the whore you think I am?”
“No, Ruby. Because I think you’ll look hot.” He quirks a brow at me. “Now, show me if I’m right or not.”
“I’m not... I can’t...” I huff.
“Don’t make me come in there and put it on you myself.”
“You wouldn’t.”
“Wouldn’t I?”
My lips part to argue but I realize that yeah, he probably would.
“For fuck’s sake.” I close the door again and examine the fabric. I may as well go out naked. With a groan, I drop the towel and pull it up my body.
I secure the straps over my shoulders and look down at myself.
The fabric skims over my body perfectly. If I didn’t know he’d picked it in a shop, I would think it was made for me. The swell of my breasts are more than visible with the low-hanging neck and as if it wasn’t short enough, there’s a split up to my hip.
I can only see the top half of myself in the cracked mirror over the sink, but I can’t deny that the top half looks good, despite my wet hair that I’m not sure what I’m going to do with because I didn’t bring a hairdryer or my straightener.
Sucking in a breath and hopefully some confidence, I pull the door open and step out.
Ashton has his sandwich halfway to his lips when he looks up at me, and I can’t help but laugh when he drops the entire thing to the plate resting on his lap.
“Fuck.”
“I’m basically naked, Ash.” I lift my arms from my body in frustration.
He has to clear his throat before he says anymore. “You’re wearing it.”
“I can’t. If I even so much as bend over then—”
“Don’t bend over.”
“Fucking hell.”
“Here,” he says, pushing a plate toward me. I look down at it and my stomach growls loudly. “Eat.”
I do as I’m told but only because I’m starving.
“Mom’s got a hairdryer and all kinds of shit in her room, you can use it,” he says, resting back on the couch once he’s finished eating and runs his eyes over my body.
“I... I’m not sure.”
“It’s fine, little one. I’m going to have to start packing it all up tomorrow so it may as well get one last use.”
“Are you really sure, I don’t want to...”
“Go, it’s fine.”
I put my empty plate down, grab a few things before making my way into his mom’s room, and pull out the stool at the vanity unit.
He leaves me alone for ten minutes while I dry my hair, but he must get bored, or lonely because he’s soon standing in the doorway watching me as I apply my makeup.
“Where are we going tonight?” I ask, suddenly feeling a little excited about discovering another part of his previous life.
“Here,” he says, handing me a small bottle of vodka. “Take the edge off.”
“Thanks,” I mutter, lifting the already open bottle to my lips. It burns as it hits the back of my throat, but I welcome it.
“Just to our usual hangout.”
“You’re going to introduce me to your friends?”
“Something like that.”
I narrow my eyes at him but he doesn’t say anything more about it.
“You nearly ready?”
“Y-Yeah.”
I make my makeup heavier than I usually would, team that with the almost obscene dress and the vodka and I’m feeling good. I don’t know anyone here and I’ll probably never see them again. What the hell does it matter how I look?
“Is this place far?” I ask as Ashton directs me away from his dad’s car and instead, we walk down the street. Thankfully, he allowed me to pull on one of his hoodies before leaving so at least I’m not completely freezing as we make our way to his mysterious location.
“Nope.” He slips his hand into mine and tugs me along behind him. I’m wearing the shoes I packed to wear tomorrow, and they were certainly not made to walk the streets of Seattle.