Chapter 7 - Catch #3
Abuela would be upset if Ashton tried coming alone. Tio Carlos still sat at the kid's table after he'd tried coming stag two years ago, much to the obvious chagrin of last year's date.
Who…?
There's that girl in my history class, or the brunette from Rho Rho Rho…
He wasn't sure his family would approve of any of the women Ashton usually dated, or —
Beneath him, Dylan shifted slightly before settling, setting Ashton's entire world on its end.
Because — for a moment there? Ashton'd had a crazy idea flash into his mind.
An image, really, complete with a live band, and Christmas lights, and everything.
Of strolling into the annual party he'd been going to since he was six; smiling as he greeted his family and their friends, all with Dylan on his arm.
God, I bet he'd look good in a suit. Something sleek, with a classic cut. Old school, like Bond.
The mohawk would stay of course, as bright and unmistakable as the rest of him.
He'd laugh, eyes flashing with mischief as Ashton pulled him to the dance floor; always decorated to the nines in the middle of the morning show set, and still not as brilliant as Dylan's grin while Ashton spun him around.
And after? Oh, after — they'd go out on the town, right?
Still too keyed up to sleep, maybe they'd hit up the bars.
Or maybe back to a hotel room, a nice one.
The city skyline sparkling behind him as Ashton lay back and spread his legs; as Dylan knelt on the bed between Ashton's thighs, shoving his knees up and —
"Hey, wher'you goin'?" Dylan slurred drowsily as Ashton moved to get up, tucking his phone away in his back pocket.
"I…gotta get back. To the, uh… the house," Ashton answered him lamely, unable to meet Dylan's eyes as he brushed himself off.
Dylan tilted his head, confusion pinching his face. "Think there's a chance we can do this again sometime?"
No. It can't happen again.
It should never have happened at all.
Ashton had been stupid to let himself forget that, even for a moment. He'd been curious, but curiosity killed the cat. Before, he hadn't known what he was missing.
But now?
"I'm not…gay," Ashton whispered, the half-truth getting half-stuck in his throat.
Dante snorted, rolling his eyes. "Yeah, so you've said. What's that got to do with anything?"
Ashton barked a laugh so sharp it hurt his throat, but there was nothing like humor in it. "A lot, I'd think."
"Then maybe you think too much," Dylan snapped, his expression twisting into a scowl. "Be honest, Ashton: did you like it? Not just the blowjob or fingering or stuff anyone could do, but — jacking me off, holding my cock; all the things I said I'd want to do with you?"
Yes.
God help me, but…
Yes. Yes, I did.
And that's the problem.
"…Doesn't matter if I liked it," Ashton finally said, dragging his eyes up to meet Dylan's. "I can't."
He wasn't like Dylan; able to live and fuck whoever and however he wanted, then go bragging about it to everyone he knew after. Ashton was a Navarro. His family's history was literally the stuff of legend, his future planned out for him almost as soon as he'd been born.
And sure, he couldn't say the perks weren't nice. That being able to drop his mother and grandfather's names didn't open doors for him to saunter through. Ashton wouldn't deny he had it pretty easy, but that didn't come without strings.
Without his family behind him, who was he? If he disappointed them, failed to live up to their expectations, then what the hell kind of future did he have to look forward to?
"That's bullshit and you know it," Dylan muttered sullenly.
"Easy for you to say," Ashton muttered, looking away.
"Could be easy for you, too. There's nothing wrong with what we did here," Dylan said, gesturing between them. "Why do you have to act as if there is?"
Ashton's jaw worked, but no words came out. His chest rattled, ragged and hollow; like he'd just run a marathon in the heat. He pressed his hand to his ribs, blinking away the burn pricking at his eyes. Shaking his head, he took a step back, then two.
He was here to get his journalism degree, then a job as an assignment reporter, and eventually — hopefully — an anchor's desk once he'd put in the time.
Following in his mother and grandfather's footsteps so one day — one very far off day — he'd be ready to run the family business heading the station.
This? Tonight with Dylan? This could ruin everything.
No one could ever know that he'd been up here. That he and Dante had —
"I… gotta go." Ashton's face flamed as he beat his retreat. "Sorry to, uh… to waste your time."
He could feel it crawling, squirming in his bones with every step back down the stairs he took: the knowledge that he was being a rotten coward. But honestly, after the fight Ashton had with his dad —
What other choice did he have?
Ashton couldn't even say he didn't know the consequences either, could he? Known them, and followed Dylan anyway.
Stupid. How could you be so stupid?
His family could forgive a lot of things — his mom's drinking, Uncle Carlos's mistresses, his cousin's gambling problem.
But not this. They'd never forgive this.
They never have before.