Page 77 of Ashley & the A-Listers

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.

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