Page 88 of The Pact

But I don’t tell him any of that. I really don’t want to think about my parents tonight. Or really, ever.

“I’m looking forward to seeing you all win.” I tell him. “And I’m really excited to spend time with you at the party tonight.”

His smile widens and he turns his eyes away from the road just for a second. “Me too. Thank you for accepting the invitation, Ausra. Next weekend, I’ll have to share you with the others but tonight I have you all to myself. And I promise I’ll stay away from the beach and from fish. I won’t even eat any. Just in case.”

I laugh at his expression. Ashton always looked so quiet and serious at first but I’ve realized that it isn’t a reflection of his personality. He doesn’t have Kelley’s passionate fire, Bode’s zen attitude or Shep’s sweet goofiness. He’s just more reserved than the others but once he gets to know you and he feels at ease, he’s caring and smart. I really enjoy his witty sense of humor and he has a protective side he only shows to the ones closest to him.

“I’ll keep you away from any kind of fish,” I promise. “Dead or alive.”

As we arrive at his house, the sun is starting to set on the horizon and there’s a hustle and bustle of activity with house and catering staff and valets giving the final touches in preparation for the first guests that should be showing up soon.

Ashton comes to open my car door and gives the key to a valet before ushering me inside. “Let’s go get changed and then we’ll get a glass of champagne,” he says guiding me straight up the stairs and into his room.

I internally start freaking out. Get changed? What the fuck does he mean with that? I’m wearing the little black dress Mc gave me for my birthday and I thought it looked good. Especially when I saw that Ash was wearing a simple button down shirt and dark jeans. I thought the party dress code was smart-casual and that I’d been worrying too much about what to wear.

Obviously I was wrong and by the time he closes his bedroom door behind us, I’m looking for an excuse to bolt. I don’t want to embarrass him in front of his parents by being underdressed.

He immediately notices my discomfort. “Ausra, what’s wrong?”

I know it’s irrational but all I can think right now is that this is my dad’s fault. If he hadn’t turned psycho on me and on everybody, I’d have a fucking dress to wear for the boy I like. If he hadn’t driven me out of his house, I wouldn’t have to worry about every penny. I’d be getting ready to go to Yale now and I wouldn’t find myself in this mess. Yes, because the fact that I think about Ash and the others as “boys I like” means that when it’s game over and they’ll walk away having gotten what they want, I’ll be left with a gaping hole in my heart. I really don’t want to care about them and what they think of me. We aren’t at school anymore for fuck’s sake! They aren’t the cool popular jocks turned beach gods and I’m not the weirdo, the preacher’s daughter anymore. Now we’re equal. They want something from me and I’ve agreed because I want them.

I try hard to convince myself and to tell myself that it’s fine. I’m playing the game and I don’t care if I don’t fit in with his family. It’s not like he’s bringing home his girlfriend, right? He’s bringing home the girl who agreed to be his plaything.

But nothing is ever that simple, especially when it comes to Ash. Because by being mostly quiet, he observes and he notices a lot of things. So now he’s determined to know why I’m upset and there’s no way to lie to him and to tell him that I’m fine.

“Cutie, what’s up? Have I done something wrong? Is it because I took you to my room? I’m sorry, I just assumed that you were ok to stay with me tonight. But if you want your own room—”

I shake my head, swallowing hard to keep my tears from falling. Him being so sweet makes it all worse for some reason.

“It isn’t that, Ash. I want to stay with you in your room tonight.”

It comes out shaky, my voice is catching in my throat.

“Tears are instruments of manipulation. Especially women’s tears. Women use them to get their way when they’ve failed to do so with rationality and they’re out of options. They can’t overpower us physically, so they bring us down with their tears. This is why it’s so hard for women to reach real purity. Because they’re inherently flawed and they use their weaknesses to weaken us. Everyone of those tears is a stain on your spirit, it’s an insidious attempt to make you stray from your course. So beware when you see a woman cry. See it for what it is. Evil manipulation in its purest form.”

Dad’s reaction to our tears, no matter if mine, my mom’s or my sister’s, was always brutal. He’d raise his voice. He’d start yelling at us to stop crying. He once grabbed Mom by her hair and threw her against the wall. He warned us all that if he saw another tear from any of us, he’d show us how a pure spirit can’t be cracked or bent because it’s forged in fire.

So now the real concern I see in Ashton’s eyes is so alien that it makes me really feel like I’m doing something wrong and dirty by baring my emotions.

I take a deep, shuddering breath and try to explain. I feel terrible for making him think that he did something wrong. “I’m sorry. I just—you said ‘change’ and I just realized that I completely fucked up. I should’ve worn something better. I didn’t realize that ...”

I look down at my black dress. Maybe Dad was right about tears being an instrument of manipulation? But I’m not really trying to get Ashton to do anything. I’m just mad at myself for believing that I could fit in. And had I been still living with my parents, things wouldn’t have been any different. Aside from the fact that I would’ve never been allowed to hang out with Ash and the guys, who the fuck am I kidding? Even if for some weird reason I’d found myself invited to this party, I wouldn’t have had anything to wear anyway. Unless I wanted to draw attention by showing up wearing a bonnet and clothes that hid every curve in my body.

Ashton surprises me again. He wipes away one of my tears with the pad of his thumb and then tucks a tendril of my hair behind my ear. “You’re perfect the way you are, Ausra. And you don’t have to change if you don’t want to.”

I’m about to fess up that even if he took me back home, what I’m wearing would still be the dressiest thing I own. But Ash walks to his closet and emerges from it holding a large, black box with a white a silver bow on it.

“When I invited you to tonight’s party, I was showing off with the guys a little. Telling them how I’d finally get you all to myself and none of them could barge in this time, since they aren’t on the guest list. And then Shep pointed out that my parents’ parties tend to be pretty formal events and that most people don’t own shit for black tie evenings. So I got you this. Just in case you needed it. And I know you freaked out on Bode when he wanted to pay for the Brazilian wax. But he also told me that you agreed that we could give you things if we put you in a situation that required extra costs? So please don’t be mad and if you don’t like it, you don’t have to wear it.”

I take the box from him with trembling hands and set it down on the bed to untie the silk ribbon. “Oh my God, Ash! This is beautiful!” I lift a cream, shimmery dress. It has a sweetheart neckline and the shimmering doesn’t come from sequins or rhinestones but there’s silver threads sown into the fabric, making it catch the light with every movement.

It’s a long dress, probably floor length, and there’s a deep slit on one side of the long, soft tube skirt. I’ve never seen anything more gorgeous in my entire life. It reminds me of the dresses in the Marilyn Monroe movies I used to watch with my grandmother when my parents left me at her house whenever they traveled for Dad’s conferences.

He steps closer behind me, surrounding my waist with his arms and resting his chin on my naked shoulder, causing the spaghetti strap of my black dress to fall.

“I’m glad you like it,” he says softly, his breath fanning over my ear and neck. “There are matching shoes in another box I’m going to fetch in a second.”

I still can’t get over how beautiful the dress is but I also notice that it’s in my size. “How did you know which size I wear?”

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