Chapter 29
ALLIE
I wake up to the most grating sound imaginable.
It sounds like a deranged rooster on its deathbed.
What the fuck is that? I feel around for my phone so I can text Emory to see if she is hearing this when I realize that it’s not on my nightstand.
I sit up, rubbing my eyes, and look to my right.
I almost jump off the bed at the sight of the half-naked man lying next to me.
He’s on his stomach, his arm shoved under the pillow, his back muscles tensing with each soft intake of breath.
Looking around the room, it all comes back to me.
It’s funny how even without alcohol, it’s sometimes hard to remember where you are when you first wake up.
After I made us dinner, Ashton asked me to stay a little longer.
We ended up watching a movie, and I must have fallen asleep on his couch.
I remember stirring when he lifted me up and started carrying me to his bed, but I snapped my eyes shut when he looked down at me.
I’d rather him think I slept over by accident.
“I have a surprise for you,” he mumbles. Is he sleep-talking? I’m about to ask him when I hear that shrill crowing again.
“Okay, what the hell is that, and how do we get it to stop?”
He turns over onto his back, raising his knee. “It’s just Juniper,” he says through a yawn. “He usually stops after an hour or two.”
“An hour or two?” I have to listen to this shit for another two hours? I could always just leave…
But I don’t want to.
“Who the fuck is Juniper?” I ask.
“My neighbor’s rooster.” He says this like it’s completely normal for your neighbor to own a rooster. I mean, anything is possible in this town. Emberfield does have several farms and even a few horse ranches.
“Jesus, Ash. First the bunny and now this? Any other animals in your life I should know about?”
“Clover,” he corrects me.
“What?”
“Her name is Clover.”
“Of course,” I say sweetly. I whip off the covers and hop out of bed. “Look, I’m sorry I crashed here. I must have been so exhausted from all the…” I wave my hand around, looking for the right word.
“Fun?” he supplies.
“Sure.”
“Two rules in one night,” he whistles, earning a glare from me.
He means the kiss.
I walk into the bathroom and run some toothpaste over my finger. I don’t have a toothbrush, but this should help with the morning breath. I rinse my mouth out and comb my fingers through my hair, doing my best to smooth out the bed/sex hair combo I have going on.
When I walk back in, Ashton is already out of bed and completely naked.
“Is this the surprise?” I deadpan.
He chuckles. “No, but you’re welcome to join me in the shower, and I’ll tell you all about it.”
I shrug because what the hell? I could use a shower.
Ten hours later, we’re pulling up to a concert venue in New York City.
After our shower, which we stayed in until the water ran cold, Ashton pulled out two tickets to the Noble Rot show tonight in Manhattan.
I knew they were on tour and would be coming to the Northeast, but I didn’t even bother looking up tickets, knowing I couldn’t afford any extra indulgences right now.
Of course, I had to fuck with him and tell him Emory and I would have a blast. He just chuckled and told me the car would be at his house at five to pick us up.
I was so excited that it didn’t even occur to me that it would technically be a date until we got to the city and Ashton took me to his favorite falafel restaurant.
It wasn’t fancy. Just a casual eatery in the East Village, but the food was amazing. It wasn’t the first meal we shared together, either, but it was the first time we ate at a restaurant, and it definitely felt like more than what you would do with a casual sex partner.
Ashton holds his hand out for me as I swing my legs around to exit the car. I’m wearing a leather skirt, my oversized Black Flag T-shirt, fishnets, and white Chucks. Ashton’s wearing black jeans and a gray button-up, his hair a mess of light brown waves.
I take his hand and we walk into the venue.
It’s not small enough to be considered intimate, but it’s also not a huge arena.
There are some tables around the perimeter and a balcony which also has some seating, but I assume it will be mostly standing room.
We got here early and the show doesn’t start until eight, so I head over to check out the merch tables.
“See anything you like?” a smooth voice drawls from behind me.
I’m looking at the T-shirts while Ashton is over by the record display.
I spin around, and standing in front of me so close I can taste the cigarette smoke and tequila wafting off him is Ryder Steele, lead singer of Noble Rot.
He’s tall. Much taller than I would have expected.
He’s wearing all black, except for a studded denim vest, and almost every square inch of his skin, aside from his face, is covered in tattoos.
There’s a thick diamond-studded choker around his neck, and his right eyebrow and both sides of his bottom lip are pierced.
When I don’t answer right away, he runs his hand through his bleached blonde hair.
He actually kind of reminds me of Declan.
He’s not my type. I much prefer clean-cut pretty boys…
but I do have eyes, so I can see why women notoriously line up around the block for a chance to be in the same room as him.
“Oh, yeah, these are great,” I reply, realizing I still haven’t said anything.
“We have some special edition ones backstage if you want to check them out after the show.” He leans his arm on the wall and crosses his feet at the ankles. Is he flirting with me? “I can give you a pass if you want.”
I’m completely dumbfounded. It’s not that I can’t get any words out; it’s that there are no words.
Ryder bites the side of his lip, his tongue darting out to play with the ring on it.
Just as I’m about to mumble something unintelligible, I feel a presence behind me.
A hand wraps around my waist, pulling me into a hard chest.
“That would be awesome, man,” he says. “We’ll take two.”
Ryder’s eyes drop to where Ashton’s hand is pressed firmly against my hip, and he chuckles. “Sure thing. I’ll have my manager send them right over.”
A blonde with a skin-tight Noble Rot tank top and ripped jeans comes over and wedges herself in front of him, giving us her back.
“Ryder,” she whines. “Come backstage.” I don’t miss the double meaning as his eyes rake over her giant fake tits before turning back to me.
“Duty calls,” he says, pushing up from the wall and causing the girl to stumble forward.
He slaps her ass, and she giggles as they disappear into the crowd.
Yeah, I’m not holding my breath for those backstage passes.
“Can’t leave you alone for a second,” Ashton whispers in my ear.
I break his hold so I can turn around and glare at him. “Should have just dropped your pants and pissed on me,” I sneer.
Ashton laughs, completely unbothered as he brings his hand to rest on the small of my back so he can guide me through the mass of people now filing toward the stage.
As we make our way through the crowd, a frazzled-looking older man with a goatee stops us.
He shoves two rectangular plastic cards at me.
“Passes for after the show.” He pants, completely out of breath.
“Compliments of Ryder.” Then he turns around and is gone before I can respond.
How did he even find us? I guess Ryder wasn’t lying.
Ashton narrows his eyes but doesn’t say anything as we continue up toward the stage.
The concert starts half an hour late, and I’m not surprised considering Ryder didn’t look like whatever he was about to go do with blondie was going to be quick.
It doesn’t matter. It’s worth it. The show is better than I expected.
I’ve been to live concerts before, but it’s been a while.
Ashton holds my waist the whole time, even as I jump and bob my head, going wild every time I hear the opening chords to my favorite songs.
We’re pretty close to the stage, so when a pit forms in the middle of the crowd during a really fast bridge, Ashton immediately pulls me over to the side away from the sweaty bodies slamming into each other.
We’re right on the edge of it, though, and it’s hard to tell who wants to be involved or not.
At one point, a guy is shoved into the girl standing on the other side of me, and she goes to push him back, but slips on something and goes down.
I lean down to help her up, but when I do, someone knocks into me and I fall on top of her. Ashton pushes people away as he helps us both up, and then I feel my feet being lifted off the ground. He carries me further back where the dancing is less rowdy.
“Thanks,” I pant, smoothing out my shirt. I’ve never been in a mosh pit before. As much as I love the chaotic energy, getting trampled by punk rockers high on adrenaline and who knows what else is not my thing.
We watch the rest of the concert from the back, but it’s still the most fun I’ve had in a really long time.
About midway through the set, Ryder starts shedding his clothes, so now he’s rocking out in nothing but black ripped jeans.
Every single time he removes an article, the crowd goes crazy and Ashton rolls his eyes.
Other than that, he’s been a pretty good sport.
I know this isn’t his jam, but he’s here anyway.
Every once in a while, I look over and notice he’s not actually watching the show.
He’s watching me watch it.
After their last song, Ryder throws his guitar pick into the crowd and another pit forms as people rush to grab it. Then he squeezes the mic as if he’s choking it, says, “Fuck you, New York,” and walks off the stage.