32 ~ Dream

                                    

                                          
I'm dreaming. 
                          
There's no other way to describe what I'm currently experiencing. I can smell lavender. I can feel Scarlett's hair with my fingers. 
                          
"Ashton."
                          
I can hear her voice too; it makes the pounding headache dull slightly.
                          
Something pokes my cheek, "Wake." Another annoying poke, "Up."
                          
I don't want to open my eyes, squeezing onto her tighter before she disappears. Just a few more minutes. The poking continues, my annoyance quickly rising. Peaking an eye open, I'm left speechless, I'm in Scarlett's room.
                          
She's the one who's poking me. I watch her eyes frantically scan the room, unaware to the fact that I've woken up.
                          
She goes to poke me again and I grab her hand, "Sweetheart, if you poke me one more time I'm going to be very, very annoyed."
                          
The poking stops but she doesn't say anything else. Risking another glance at her face, I smirk. Her jaw's wide open, someone likes what they see. 
                          
Slowly I close her mouth, the shock replaced with fury. "Can I help you?" 
                          
My favorite smile appears, and I can already feel sleep reclaiming me. "Yeah, you can get the fuck off of me."
                          
And with that I fly off the bed and onto the floor, my body landing with a loud thud. Ouch, sometimes I'm worried by how violent she is. 
                          
But not right now, instead I crawl back into bed more than happy to get back into position. Now I don't know if I want to go to sleep, nothing can really beat this.
                          
She lets out an exaggerated sigh, "Ash, please. I'm sure Ella's thrown up three times by now and it's not going to clean itself up."
                          
I shrug, loving the fact that she's calling me Ash again. Playing with her hair, a smile works its way onto my face. "That's not your problem." 
                          
They can handle it themselves, after all we deserve to sleep. Plus, I have a headache that probably won't be going away anytime soon. Why did I drink last night?
                          
She swats my hand out of her hair, "It is when it's my house."
                          
Those words remind me of the reason why I decided to drink. I drank last night, and I only did that because I was scared to see her. I was scared to see her because I freaked out and left her when I found out that her parents died.
                          
Oh my God, I'm a horrible person. 
                          
She flees from the bed, going to put on pants while I try to figure out what to say. She looks cute in my sweatshirt. Plus, I have a great view of her legs.
                          
I'm flipped off as she turns to the bathroom, a pair of leggings in her hand. Of course, I wouldn't expect anything else from her. "Do you need help?"
                          
"Nope." She states, slamming the door behind her. 
                          
I fall back on the bed, not at all surprised by her words. She can do it all by herself, even raise kids. What does that even mean? Getting up, I find my phone plugged in next to me. I let out a groan as I read mom's text message.
                          
We will talk when you get home but I love you 
                          
Scarlett texted from my phone last night, the message above obviously worded in her style. I'm so dead, mom knows. Throwing my phone back down I'm distracted by the photo wall. My eyes fall in the picture of us from the championship game, as always, but this time they drift up to an older image. A guy that resembles a more muscular Sage and a blonde Scarlett, their arms wrapped around each other with blue graduation caps on their heads.