Page 17 of Ashley & the A-Listers (Sweetverse)

17. NERVOUS

DYLAN

Dylan wiped his hands against his pants and cursed his sweaty palms once more.

He didn’t even know why he was so nervous. This was Ashley.

The door opened before him and he grinned sheepishly at her mom. “Hey, Ms. Lorie.”

“Dylan, come on in. She’s almost ready,” she said, and stepped back, pulling the door open. “And as always, stop calling me that. It’s been years.”

He shrugged. “Hard habit to break.”

Her eyes rolled affectionately and she reminded him so much of Ashley in that moment it made his chest hurt.

“Want anything to drink?” She eyed him. “She’s been talking about this concert nonstop since you got her the tickets. She’s so excited.”

“Me, too,” he said honestly. “We’ve both liked this band for a few years. It’s about time we got a chance to see them.”

She glanced up the stairs before motioning for him to follow her to the kitchen, where she got him a bottle of water despite his protests. As she handed it to him, she slipped a crisp bill into his hand.

His face flushed, and his stomach dropped. “Ah, Ms. Lorie, I’ve actually been picking up a few extra shifts at the mall, so I don’t ? —”

“Just in case of an emergency,” she said. “If you want to give it back when you drop her off later, you can. Otherwise, consider it yours.”

Lorie was a single mom, so he knew this extra cash wasn’t any easier for her to come by than his own. “I can’t just ? —”

“Dylan,” she said softly, and caught his gaze. “You’re taking my baby across state lines. Take it.”

It pained him to stuff the bill in his pocket, but he did. “Fine. Expect it back later tonight, then.”

“Fine,” she echoed, and squeezed his arm.

The steps squeaked beneath feet and Ashley practically skidded into the kitchen. “I’m so fucking ready,” she said, face glowing with excitement.

“Language,” Ms. Lorie reminded her reflexively. They both knew she hadn’t cared about their use of curse words in years.

Lorie was the coolest mom ever.

“Ready?” he asked.

“As ever,” Ashley responded, and patted her pockets. “I can’t believe this is happening.”

“Believe it, kid,” Ms. Lorie said, and gave them both a stern look. “Now, drive safely. And make it back to me, both of you.”

Dylan’s throat hurt suddenly, and he nodded. “Of course.”

“I’ll be quiet coming in,” Ashley said, and waggled the key. “I think it’ll be late.”

“Alright, you two,” she said, and pulled them into a group hug.

Ashley chuckled and Dylan tried not to cry. God, what was up with him? He was never this weird around either of them. “Love you guys. Now get out of here.”

“Love you, too, Mom!” Ashley said, and dragged Dylan toward the door. He awkwardly raised a hand in a wave, a poor declaration but the closest he could get to returning the sentiment.

The door shut behind them and the crisp air filled his lungs. “Do you have the tickets?” he asked.

Her eyes widened, and she dropped his hand before pushing him toward the car. “I’ll be right back.”

Dylan snickered as she ducked back in the house, and made his way to the car. “Dude, chill the fuck out,” he muttered to himself.

It did not help him chill the fuck out.

He started the car and turned the headlights off so he wouldn’t blind Ashley as she returned, and then she was spilling out of the house again, hectic energy making her jittery.

She looked cute, he realized. Her eyeliner was sharp as ever, her hair perfectly straight. She was wearing her favorite ripped black high-waisted jeans and a cropped shirt with the knock-off leather jacket he’d gotten her for her birthday last year.

“Okay, I have the tickets this time,” she said, breathless as she yanked the door open, pulling him out of his thoughts and sinking into the seat.

“That would’ve been a nightmare,” he teased.

“Yeah, yeah. Well, lucky me you’re here to remind me.”

“Lucky you,” he drawled, and pulled the car onto the road once she was buckled and settled.

“So I made a playlist of the setlist. Can I play it or would you rather be surprised?”

Surprise or not, they both knew every word of the band’s discography, so he told her to decide, but asked her not to tell him.

The trip went relatively quickly, the car filled with angsty rock music that they both sang along to. Traffic got intense closer to the venue, but Ashley was surprisingly a huge help, turning down the music so he could focus and cursing out the cars that cut him off on his behalf.

He found his lips twitching more than once at her antics, and something big filled his chest that he just couldn’t recognize.

By the time he was parking in a huge gravel lot down the street from the venue, they were both squirming with nerves and anticipation.

“God, this is so crazy. I can’t believe this is happening,” Ashley said as they met around the hood of the car. He double-checked that it was locked before stowing his keys away.

It went smoothly until they were walking into the venue and someone bumped into them, shoving Ashley ahead a step or two. Dylan jerked his head around to glare at the person behind them. His gaze fell down to a twig of a guy with dyed hair, who blanched as he clocked Dylan’s height.

Dylan bared his teeth and steadied Ashley, wrapping an arm around her shoulders as they waded through the crowd. She stiffened under him, and he leaned down. “Just until we get to our seats,” he said. “Fuckers.”

She glanced up at him through her bangs, eyes wide as she clutched her bag closer.

That feeling in his chest flared and he swallowed against it. God, it was like he wanted to… fucking put her in a bubble. Stuff her in his pocket. Keep her safe.

Kiss her.

Dylan blinked as the thought rocked him, and turned his attention to the crowd around them, ushering them through the other couples—not that he and Ashley were a couple. Fuck.

He scrubbed the thought from his brain and lowered his arm from Ashley’s shoulders as soon as they located their seats, which weren’t terrible. They had a great view of the stage even on this upper level, and he spied the logo of the opening band on the drum kit.

“Okay, since we know where the seats are now… do you wanna go check out the merch table before it gets crowded?” he asked.

Her eyes went even wider, downright sparkly amongst all the lights in the venue. “Oh my god, of course!” she said.

Dylan grinned, and then they were off. He was hyper-aware of all the people around them, practically stalking behind Ashley like a guard dog as she led the way to the table.

“Why are you following me? Walk beside me, idiot,” she muttered, and tugged him up next to her.

“Just looking out. Lots of people here.”

A frown and she glanced up at him, brushing her bangs out of her face so she could see him clearly. “You hate crowds, don’t you? How’d I forget that? Are you okay?”

“No, no, I’m fine,” he said, unsure how to tell her he was only anxious because of… her.

Not her, but making sure she was… safe. And maybe a little bit her, but he didn’t know why, or how to articulate such emotions, even in his own head. “I’m excited to be here, promise.”

“Alright,” she said, lips pinching. “If you start freaking out, let me know, okay?”

She squeezed his hand and it was like she’d reached into his chest and squeezed his heart instead.

“I will, promise.”

“It’s only fun if you’re having fun, too,” she told him.

“I know, I know. Once we get back to our seats I think I’ll chill out,” he admitted.

“Okay, bodyguard,” she teased. “Then let’s look at this merch super-fast,” she said, and dragged him through the crowd and to the line. It wasn’t terribly long, since the show hadn’t started yet, and he watched her attention dart from shirt to shirt to hoodie to hat to poster and watched the indecision eat away at her.

“Which one do you like?” he asked. “I’m undecided.”

“I think…” She chewed on her lip. “Okay, it’s gonna be too hot for the hoodie and the sweatshirt soon, so…” She clapped her hands together and closed her eyes. “Pick a number between one and three.”

A smile tugged at the corner of Dylan’s lips. “Two.”

She opened one eye and squinted at the hanging merch. “Okay, pick again.”

“One,” he decided.

“Great! That’s the one I wanted anyway,” she said.

Dylan bit the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing. When they got to the merch table he was already prepared with his card, and swiped it before she could even consider pulling her wallet out.

“Dylan!” she warned.

“Happy birthday,” he said, and grinned down at her.

The height he’d grown into was an adjustment for both of them, and he wasn’t sure if he’d ever get used to seeing her from up here, looking so fragile and small, and he wanted to protect her, god dammit. And also spoil her a little.

It was her birthday, after all. That was his excuse.

“Well, thank you,” she said softly, and accepted the shirt from the guy as Dylan scrawled his signature on the slip of paper and passed it back over.

Then they were on their way back to their seats, only stopping for two outrageously overpriced bottles of water before finally sinking into the plastic chairs.

“You good?” she asked as they sat.

Dylan sipped his water and nodded. “Yeah. When does the show start again?”

Ashley pulled out her phone and checked the time. “Another twenty minutes.”

She shrugged off her leather jacket and passed it to him. “Hold this,” she said, and Dylan did as he was told.

Ashley tugged the new shirt over her head and crop top and grinned at him once she pulled her long hair out of the neck. “Well?”

“Looks great,” he said, secretly pleased she was so excited about something he’d provided for her. Paired with the leather jacket that he’d also gotten her, he was weirdly elated.

What the fuck is up with me?

He was more afraid of the answer than he wanted to admit, so he turned his attention to the stage, where people were rushing back and forth to get the equipment ready.

“This is so cool,” Ashley said, leaning over to him so she could be heard over the loud murmur of the crowd.

“I know, right?”

The energy in the venue was electric, practically floating through the air.

“I would’ve gotten general admission tickets,” he said, and nodded toward the packed crowd inching closer to the stage. “But I figured you might not have been able to see,” he added, and elbowed her side.

She pursed her lips and tried to look annoyed, but her smile was breaking the illusion. “Well, as much as I hate to say it, you’re probably right.”

Dylan reeled like he’d been smacked. “What?!” he cried out.

Ashley was already waving him off. “I know, I know ? —“

“You just said I was right?” He placed a hand against her forehead. “Are you alright?”

She shoved his hand away. “Shut up,” she whined, and they chuckled together. “That was thoughtful of you. This whole thing was. So… thanks,” she said.

Dylan’s heart did another one of the flip and spins like it was at a skatepark, and he didn’t know what to make of it.

“Anything for the birthday girl,” he said.

She was eighteen today, technically a few months older than him.

“Seriously, what are the chances that this band comes to this city on this day?” she asked, turning to him with a wide grin.

“Fate,” he mused. “Must have been meant to be.”

“Must have,” she agreed, meeting his gaze. Time seemed to pause, and Dylan was stuck in the moment, suspended, before finally she turned back to the stage to await the show.

He felt like he was waiting, too… but not exactly for the band to walk out. He didn’t know what it was. Something momentous, something weird and trapped beneath his skin, making him itchy and a little paranoid of all the people around them.

He shuffled closer to Ashley, knees brushing as he threw an arm over the back of her chair.

Casual. Cool. No one is going to fucking grab her or anything. Chill out, man.

He couldn’t shake this instinct to protect her, to be close to her.

When she leaned against his arm, all the voices went quiet.

She smiled up at him and Dylan’s heart stopped, and so did the weirdness bubbling in his chest. Having her close was… good.

It always had been, but never to this degree.

He just didn’t know what to do with this information.

Or what it meant.