The Worst Choice

Ashlyn.

"Ashlyn, is that you?" I heard my mom's voice call out from the living room.

I stopped in my tracks, cursing to myself quietly. It was nearly ten at night- way passed the time I assured my mom I'd be back. I was hoping that I could sneak upstairs without her seeing me. Clearly, my plan had failed. "Yeah, mom," I answered, nearing the stairs quietly.

"I'm in the living room- come here, please," she called. I closed my eyes, silently praying that this conversation with be light and quick. I set my stuff on the floor and walked into the living room, finding her laying on the couch in her pajamas. The TV was muted and she had a book in her hands but I knew her main attention was focused on the driveway, waiting for my arrival. She sat up, marking her spot in the book and setting it on the table. "How was your weekend?"

I shrugged as I walked over and took a seat on the other end of the couch, crossing my legs as I turned my body to face her. "It was really good, actually," I admitted. "Carrie and Eric are so nice. Nash was really enjoying it."

She smiled lightly. "That's great," she said. "Why'd you get home so late though?"

"Late dinner," I lied. "Plus the departure wasn't a quick 'goodbye, see you soon', either."

She nodded. "I understand," she said. "But there are a few things I'm not quite grasping about this whole situation."

"And those things are?"

"He lives with his dad, correct?" I nodded, already uncomfortable with where the conversation was going. "I remember hearing about his mother’s death several years ago, too- suicide, right?"

I vaguely remembered the news about her death. I was only eleven and didn't care too much about all that. It was sad, yeah, but it never really concerned me because I had no relation to the family. The ruling of her death was blinded by all the rumors I'd heard anyway. Although with the way Nash had explained how it went, I don't see how it could pass as suicide. "I guess so," I finally answered. "I don't remember much and he doesn't like talking about it."

"I understand," she said as she nodded. "But what I don't get is why his little brother doesn't live with him and his father. Or at the very least, Nash doesn't live with his aunt as well." I didn't respond. I had no clue how to respond to her question without giving too much information. "Ashlyn?"

"Look, mom, Nash isn't an open book," I said, shifting uncomfortably. "He doesn't like talking about... personal things and I don't press for information. Especially about the after effects of his mother's death."

She gave me a hard look. "I was just wondering if you knew about his mother, that's all. But if Nash has all these secrets and you two are this serious then why aren't you asking about it?" she asked. "I like Nash a lot, but I'm not sure how good you two are good together."

I narrowed my eyes. "What are you getting at here?" I asked. "I do hope you're not about to tell me to stop seeing him."

She sighed. "Sweetie, see it from where I'm coming from," she started. "First, this boy is breaking into an old lady's antique shop. Then he has a brother who lives with his aunt and you have no idea why? Not to mention he's dropping out... again."

"It's not your life or your choices," I responded stiffly, trying to control my attitude.

"Not to mention that nobody has word on his father's whereabouts or where he works or anything," she added, ignoring what I had said. "You have no idea what kind of family he comes from and it's not looking very good. Jeremy also said that he's been taking off of work quite a lot lately."

"He's been sick!" I defended my boyfriend. "What, are you checking up on him now or something?"

"I am not." She sounded offended by the thought- like it was something that was completely preposterous. As if. "Barry is a good friend of Jeremy's and since it was a favor he'd called in, Barry keeps him updated."

"This conversation is ridiculous," I told her, narrowing my eyes. "I love Nash and he loves me. I have better judgment than you think, too. If I thought Nash was a threat, I wouldn't be with him. If he ever made me uncomfortable, even in the slightest, I would leave him." Slight exaggeration, but whatever.

"You're seventeen years old, Ashlyn. Nash is mysterious and good-looking and I understand that, naturally, you're going to be attracted to him. But you can easily confuse infatuation and love. I support your decisions completely but I'm still your mother and I'm still worried about you and your safety."

"My safety?" I repeated. "Are you joking? Please tell me you're joking." The concerned look on her face told me she was being absolutely serious. "This isn't some... infatuation. I'm turning eighteen in January. You have no right to accuse Nash of being a threat. You don't even know him."

"That's the point- I don't know him," she retaliated. "Regardless of when your birthday is, you're still seventeen and you have to listen to me." I opened my mouth to say something but she cut me off. "You're mishearing this entire conversation. I'm not going to tell him you can't see him, because you and I both know that you won't listen. I just want you to be aware of everything that you're choosing to oversee."

I pursed my lips in annoyance, staring blankly at the wall. "It's getting late. I've got school tomorrow. I should go to bed," I told her shortly.

Her lips were in a tight line. "Ashlyn, please-"

"Goodnight," I said, standing up and walking out of the living room, grabbing my suitcase before stomping upstairs without a glance back. I swung my bedroom door open, dropping my suitcase on the ground before shutting my door, not caring about anybody who was possibly asleep in my house.

How could she say all of that? I thought to myself as I kicked off my shoes. She doesn't know Nash. She doesn't know anything about our relationship and she thinks she has room to have an opinion about us? I angrily started unbuttoning my jeans, nearly breaking the zipper I forgot to pull down as I shoved my pants down my legs.

"Whoa, not that I'm not enjoying where this is going or anything, but you should know that I'm here." My head snapped to the direction of the deep voice. Nash was leaning against the ledge of my now open window. He wore a half-smirk as he tilted his head toward the side, watching me. "Proceed." I sighed, facing away from him as I kicked my jeans off and pulled my shirt off and pulling on a t-shirt and shorts. I ran my hand through my hair, just wanting to sleep and forget the conversation I just had with my mom. Arms snaked around my waist, hugging me from behind. "You okay? I heard stomping and then you came in, looking mad as hell."

I sighed once again, turning around in his arms. I opened my mouth to speak when I saw a purplish mark forming on the left side of his jaw. I frowned, lightly running my fingertips over it. "This is new," I commented. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," he assured me, briefly squeezing my waist. "I'm asking if you are."

"I know the bruises have gone away, but are you sure you're okay? The stitches, your legs, your ribs-"

"Ashlyn, seriously- I'm fine. I'm still a little bit sore, but that's normal," he answered, shrugging slightly. "Enough of about me. Are you okay?"

Once I accepted his answer, his question finally registered in my mind and I realized I was supposed to answer. "I'm fine." He gave me a look of disbelief and I sighed heavily. "It's just- ugh, my mom is just-" I let out a deep breath, not wanting to recall the conversation or make Nash angry.

"Ah, come on," he said, pulling away as he tugged my hand toward the bed with him. I laid down and he kicked off his shoes before doing the same, pulling me close to him. I rested my head in the crook of his neck comfortably. "So what's up?"

"My mom thinks you're sketchy," I murmured, tracing the wrinkles in his shirt with my finger. Nash didn't say anything so I continued. "She's asking questions about your brother and your dad and she thinks you've just got a lot of secrets and you're bad for me or something. I don't know." When Nash still didn't say anything, I turned my head to look up at him. He was looking straight ahead, his face not holding any sort of emotion to what I was telling him. "I didn't tell her anything, you know. She was wrong for judging you and-"

"She's right," he cut me off, his eyes finally meeting mine. "I mean, I don't know what she said exactly, but I'm not good for you. I'm happy as hell you don't realize that, but you can't change the facts. And I probably look like the shittiest person out there to your mom; I got you arrested, for Christ's sake."

I couldn't fight the grin that made its way onto my face. "What happened to it being completely my fault and 'I didn't make you come, Ashlyn'?" I asked, lowering my voice to do a bad impression of Nash's voice.

He chuckled. "I still believe it. I'm just trying to please you," he said in a teasing voice. "Anyway, don't be too much of a bitch to your mom. She means good."

"A bitch? Me? Never," I told him, rolling my eyes.

"Right, what the hell am I saying?" he said sarcastically, rolling his eyes. "You're the world's biggest sweetheart."

"Exactly," I said as I rested my head back on Nash. My eyes wandered to the open window and I stood up. Nash gave me a confused look but I ignored it as I shut the window. My gaze fell to a small suitcase that was on the floor, Nash's black book bag on top of it. "Are these yours?"

He looked at where I was pointing and nodded. "Yeah," he coughed. "They are."

"Are you, uh, are you leaving?" I swallowed. The thought of him moving to Carrie's made my stomach turn uneasily. I wasn't sure whether I should be happy or sad about that decision.

"Kind of. Not really," he answered, rubbing his eyes. "It's late. You've got school tomorrow and should go to sleep. Can I stay here? Just for tonight?"

I settled on just thinking about him leaving his father and I smiled as I laid on the bed, pulling the blankets over us as I snuggled against Nash's warm body. "Of course you can," I answered. "You can stay here for however long you want, whenever."