Chapter 3 - Heaven
Heaven
"Hey, sick kicks, bro," a guy said as Ashton passed him, leaving the kitchen just as Ashton entered, looking for a drink.
"Thank you," he slurred grandly, before muttering, "Glad someone's finally noticed."
He fished the cheap plastic ladle from the alcoholic fruit slurry known far and wide only as 'jungle juice', filling his red plastic cup back up to the brim.
This was only Ashton's second cup tonight, but he'd had to skip dinner to make his evening class, and the handful of cool ranch chips he'd just stuffed into his mouth did not a nutritionally balanced meal make, now did it?
Ashton giggled, muffling it in his drink.
A roar of laughter spilled into the little kitchen from the living room. Trevor and Jeremy's house party was already in full swing by the time Ashton had gotten here tonight.
He wandered in that direction, curiosity eating at him, finding the whole room crowded with people forming a ring around a circular patch of carpet, at the very center of which lay a brown beer bottle on its side.
Spin the bottle? Isn't that a little childish?
Ashton watched as the bottle whirled around, before finally landing on a cute brunette. She laughed as the — hey, is that Matt? Nice. — as Matt offered her a hand up, pulling her into a nearby waiting closet.
"Good luck you two," sing-songed a deeply tanned bottle blond as she shut the door. "Start the timer!"
Ah — Spin the Bottle and Seven Minutes in Heaven. Guess that could be interesting.
It might be about the only thing at this party that was.
Noah was …around here, somewhere. He didn't usually come to these things for very long, though, more to make an appearance than anything else.
Ashton had seen the seniors rushing around, too; making sure their party went smoothly, probably.
So were a lot of the other guys from Minotaur House, and even Logan had promised to swing by at some point.
If he can bother to stop being so gay for studying, even for just an hour.
God, it's like that's all he does anymore, aside from football practice and games and classes.
Always up in that room he shares with Oz, their door locked as if he's worried someone's gonna come busting it and interrupt his precious essay writing, or whatever he's doing up there.
Ashton scowled into his reflection, undulating on the dark magenta surface of his drink.
He thought it'd be cool having one of the university's football players for a fraternity brother.
Bring a lot more girls to parties like these, at the very least. And sure, Logan had tried to warn him that first day there when Ashton had given him a tour of the house, hadn't he?
Still, Ashton had figured they'd have at least some time to hang out.
Meals in the house dining room, parties like this, functions…
Time without Oz that was. Ashton's eyes narrowed to see the front door open, Oz too busy talking excitedly about some nerd thing or other to watch where he was going as he stepped through.
He stumbled, bumping into people like the klutz he was, Logan having to grab his roommate by the shoulders to help keep him steady, following like a big St. Bernard just behind.
Behind him came a zoo full of catcalls, hooting, and wolf whistles, and Ashton twisted around just in time to see Matt and the brunette emerging bashfully from the closet, holding hands.
"Who's next?" the bottle-blond asked.
"Me," Ashton said loudly, throwing back the rest of his drink as he turned and set his cup down on a nearby table covered with its fellows. "She better be hot though."
The room tittered — tilted? — laughed, the blond spinning the bottle with the sparkly white grin of a Cheshire cat.
It made Ashton dizzy to watch, wobbling slightly as he tried to follow where it would land…
Oh, shit.
"Oh, mierda."
Ashton stared in shock at a furious pair of dark eyes set into a too-familiar face, the mockingly bright pink mohawk an even more unwelcome sight than it'd been in the computer lab this morning.
"I said hot, Ashton called out, trying to play it off with a lopsided, 'what can you do?' grin. "Redo!"
"Uh-uh, no re-spins!" The blond wagged her finger at him. "Now get into the closet and take it like a man."
"Nope," Dylan said, already standing and backing away for the safety of a doorway waiting on the far side of the room. "I'm out. Peace and good night."
Ashton tried similarly to turn and head back for the safety of the kitchen, but he found his way blocked, a sea of bodies and hands herding him, pulling him toward the depths of the closet instead.
He caught flashes of a pink mohawk as well, a yelp and snatches of "?Ay, get your hands off me, cabrón!
" before he was shoved into a small space padded with coats and another body, and then the world disappeared.
"Aw, let's give our new happy couple a hand!" the blond yelled from the other side of the door amid a mocking round of applause and shouting. "Start the timer!"
Just fucking great.
"I fucking hate you," Ashton hissed into the darkness.
"Aw, really?" Dylan snapped back at him. "Because I was over here writing sonnets about your eyes, pendejo."
Crossing his arms over his chest, Ashton blew out a deep breath.
He tried leaning back against something, but the springy wall of coats offered no support, swaying under him on their hangers.
The shelf just above hit his chin, forcing him to either curl up uncomfortably or shuffle closer to the door and, hrm.
Maybe lean against the frame? Sorta like —
"Either back off or lube up, Papi," Dylan muttered, hands shoving Ashton roughly.
"Fuck off," Ashton snapped at him, shoving back.
And, okay. He'd like to think it was because of the surprise factor, or the darkness, or the difference in their heights giving the guy some weird kind of leverage, or… something.
Whatever it was, before Ashton knew it, Dylan had him up against the closet door; one thick arm pressed painfully hard against his windpipe as the hollow thump of Ashton's body rang in his own ears.
"Don't. Fucking. Touch. Me." Dylan hissed, pressing hard enough to turn breathing from uncomfortable to questionable.
"K! A'ght! Sssthhp!" Ashton choked out, slapping at the forearm currently interfering with his ability to breathe.
With a loud "T'che!" he was released, stumbling, sucking air back into his lungs as Dylan moved away, returning to his side of the space.
With a sharp hiss, Ashton flinched away from a bright flare of light as Dylan checked his phone, before making another disgusted noise at whatever he saw.
Glaring at him, Ashton rubbed his throat in the glow cast by the phone screen before Dylan noticed, and cut off the light.
"What's your problem?" Ashton muttered in the darkness, his voice unusually raspy.
"Don't like assholes," came the answer, as if Ashton was the one being a problem here.
Ashton scowled bitterly. "Really?" he spat. "Not what I'd heard."
"Then I guess I just don't like you," Dylan responded.
There was a shuffling sound. Ashton braced himself, ready if Dylan tried anything again.
He didn't.
Yet.
Ashton waited, hating the darkness, the silence, the utter boredom that was all this game ever brought.
Half of Rho Rho Rho is here. Why did it have to be him?
"I hate you," Ashton muttered.
"?Ay! the fuck you think I care?" Dylan exploded. "Not exactly thrilled to be in here with you either, asshole."
Ashton snorted. "Yeah, right."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"Oh come on," Ashton scoffed at him. "You were practically panting to be shoved in here with me. Don't think I didn't notice the way you've been checking me out in class. Bet you've been watching me all night since I got here."
"Um, excuse you? You're the one who's spent the entire night staring at me like a dog drooling over a steak."
Ashton couldn't believe this guy. "Please. Don't try to act as if you haven't been thinking about me jumping your bones in here."
"Are you fucking kidding me?!' Dylan sputtered. "No one's that desperate. Wake up, cabrón — you ain't God's gift. What makes you think I'd let you even this close if I wasn't tricked in here by that stupid game?"
Weird. There was absolutely no reason why that should've stung.
"You are so full of shit, dude," Ashton said, shaking his head and not caring that Dylan couldn't see it.
"I know the stories. Hell, I've seen you, with that big flashy pink mohawk of yours.
Always too busy to work on our term project, but plenty of time to make out with half the guys hanging out on the quad, huh? "
"Not your 'duuude', asshole," Dylan replied, and — doth protest too much, hey? "And I don't know what you think you've heard or who's been running their mouth, but you sound like a fool repeating it. A stupid, jealous fool who — "
There was a dangerous sort of pause.
"Oh," Dylan gasped out. "Oh, you're trying to bait me."
Wait, what?
"Didn't peg you for the type to play coy, but… Somehow you’ve gotten it into your twisted fat head that I’d go for a narrow-minded, bigoted, fresa like you.
But you want me to make the first move, don't you?
Shove your pathetic ass up against the wall and show you what a real seven minutes in heaven is like, Papi? "
"No!" Ashton huffed, backing away quickly. "Like you could. I'd stop you before you could even try it."
Dylan chuckled, the sound low and full of teeth.
"Pretty sure I just proved you can't — or won't — stop shit.
Or is that it? You gave up and let me win, hoping to get a piece of this?
Wishing the villainous homo would have his wicked way with your sorry ass?
Hard pass. I'm not here to seduce you, no matter how bad you want me to. "
"I'm not gay!" Ashton sputtered, practically folding himself in half to put as much distance between himself and — and this utter lunatic as possible.
"Yeah, you'd like everyone to believe that, wouldn't you?" Dylan scoffed, sounding pretty damn pleased with himself now. "But we know the truth, don't we, Asssss-sh?"
"Fuck you," Ashton spat back at him, the little space around them growing uncomfortably warm.
"Oh look! You can use your words after all," Dylan cooed. "But again, no. I'm not interested in helping you pull your head, or anything else, out of your sorry ass. Your homophobia's just too exhausting."
Ashton bristled. "I'm not homophobic!"
"Yeah, sure," Dylan taunted, the feigned boredom thick in his voice. "You walk into a closet with everyone and start in on how much you don't want to fuck them? Fuck off."
"You fuck off," Ashton shot back at him, snarling as Dylan just chuckled.
"Told you, you're not my type."
Ashton snorted. "Got a dick, don't I?"
"Eh… Got one, are one, sucks one; I don't fucking care man," Dylan replied. "Just keep it the hell away from me."
Ashton was silent; beyond irritated this bastard thought he knew anything about Ashton's life, and trying to think of a way to rub Dylan's nose in the fact he didn't know shit about fuck all.
"Fine, I'll prove I'm not homophobic," Ashton found himself saying. "If you're so picky, then tell me what is your type."
"Tall," Dylan replied before his brain could catch hold of his mouth, because apparently Ashton's chatty germs were spreading. "Athletic. Shoulders I can hang off of. Massive swinging cock, and he knows how to use it."
"Thought you said I wasn't your type?" Ashton smirked.
Hah. Take that, asshole.
"Intelligent, which immediately rules you out," Dylan gritted out. "Brave; not afraid to stand up for people, no matter the consequences to himself. Oh — and doesn't hate me. That one's pretty important."
"Yeah, well," Ashton grumbled as some sulky beast skulked around in his chest. "Makes you a bit of a hypocrite, then, doesn't it? Pretty sure I saw you in the bathroom by the science labs, blowing the guy who keeps getting chased off the quad for passing out bible tracts."
"Blew him, changed his religion, and the world is now a better place for it.
Why, you looking to chat with God too?" Dylan bragged, the dramatic little ass.
"You can't seriously be giving me shit for this.
Weren't you in the computer lab bragging to your friends about all the women you've dated?
In fact, pretty sure it was right before I gave you a warning for the noise, then banned you from the lab when you called me a 'fucking cocksucker'. "
"So?" Ashton huffed, a bit embarrassed now, actually. He wouldn't have said it if he'd known Dylan was actually gay, but anyway — "It's true, isn't it?"
"?Ah la verga! Eres un idiota," Dylan snapped at him. "Un idiota homofóbico."
Ashton grunted, annoyed that he hadn't paid better attention in his high school Spanish class.
But the teacher had been so impressed by his essay on 'Important Latin Figures in Texas History' Ashton had written about his own ancestor, José Antonio Navarro; from drafting the state constitution to being a slave owner, and all the other sordid, grisly bits between.
He'd even been allowed to bring in the quill his ancestor used to sign the Texas Declaration of Independence, and from then on Ashton had pretty much been able to coast for the rest of the year; enough to earn the language credit he'd needed to graduate, and then on to bigger, better things.
Which do not involve being stuck in this fucking closet and being called a bigot, thank you very much.
"I told you, I am not homophobic," Ashton finally replied, suddenly thinking of the perfect way to disabuse Dylan of the idea entirely. "I once hooked up with two chicks on the same date!"
Wait, why is he laughing?
"Look, I'll — Fine," Ashton sputtered. Because, for real — this fucker was really getting on his nerves now. "You tell me how I'm supposed to prove it then."
"You wanna prove it?" Dylan said so damn smugly. "Easy: kiss me."