#posted to wrong account but too tired to reupload whatever

[be-ready-when-i-say-go]

They Don’t Know You Like I Do

This is a reupload, a throwback. It was originally written in 2019 and posted on my old account calumh-excess. I hope you guys enjoy.

In the same universe as We’re Outsiders.

Sandra should be out of his league. But with a good heart and an open mind, she gives Ashton a shot. That’s all he needs.

Greaser!AU.

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No one has my permission to repost this fic, including translations. All rights reserved. Copyright © be-ready-when-i-say-go. 

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When there’s a knock at the door, Ashton’s a little confused. Though, knocks are more frequent now if he has to be honest. He racks his brain for who could possibly be at the door. It’s not Luke. He had to run some errands for his parents. It’s not Calum. He’s at work; left early this morning. Calum did agree to be at the race. And unless Calum forgot his keys, Ashton is sure that Calum wouldn’t be showing back to the house. 

So Ashton finishes zipping up the boot and walks to the door. Cookie stands on the other side, grinning. Her siblings attached to her hips. He grins at the sight. It’s very common on Saturday mornings for her to show up at his doorstep, whether Calum is home or not. More often not, since Saturdays seem to have picked up at the shop and Cookie seems to be able to sneak away before the morning rush. “Know your boy toy’s not here right?”

She rolls her eyes, extending out the glass dish. “I know. I did talk to him last night.”

Ashton takes the dish; it’s heavier than he anticipated. It smells good though. He won’t lie. The deep inhale almost makes his stomach growl and his mouth salivate. “Thanks.”  They don’t need to be taken care of, but it’s nice. She always brings enough for not just Ashton and Calum, but also Luke and Michael. “One of these days I’m gonna get that recipe.”

“Oh, hot stuff, we’d have to be married for that,” she teases laughing. 

“You say that like I won’t snatch you up from Calum.”

His only acknowledgement to the tease is a smile. “Got one more in the car. Can they sit inside for a second? If you’re not busy.”

“Yeah, they can sit inside for a minute.”

Teresa, Cookie’s sister, taps Ashton on the leg on the way in. A game they seem to always play where he attempts to dodge it, but never seems to skirt out of the way fast enough. Ashton buckles a little at the motion, careful of the food he’s still holding, and drags himself to the kitchen table. “I oughta report this!”

Her brother, Curtis, settles onto the couch. He’s always been quiet. But he smiles at the exchange and settles into the cushions. Ashton leaves the dish out. He’s glad Cookie came by. He wanted to ask her for a favor and had planned to stop by her place or the diner before heading out for the race. 

The door creaks open again and Cookie walks in, heading straight for the kitchen. She doesn’t linger long on the fact that there aren’t many groceries left. She just slips the glass dishes in and prays that they can get back on track soon. 

“You know,” Cookie starts watching her sister and brother pick up the deck of cards at the dinning room table and Ashton stand in front of her. “I could get you in at the diner. My folks ain’t that bad.”

Ashton shakes his head. He knew long ago when he lost his job that Cookie could help him out. Somehow it felt wrong, felt like he would’ve been intruding. Besides, he wouldn’t be down for long. “I appreciate it. But I don’t wanna put your folks in a tighter spot. If I start working there and someone hits the roof, y’all take the hit. Not me.”

“World won’t be so black and white one day.”

“Sometimes I think I could be doing more. More than just surviving and more than just hoping for you.”

“If you got marching boots, I know how to get you in.”

It’s only a nod. They are silent, even as cards shuffle in the background. But Ashton knows, by way of the stirring in his chest, that he’s going to be asking about that march.

“Well, I ain’t mean to take up too much time,” Cookie starts, seeing the current round is coming to an end. 

“Wait before you go, can I ask you a favor?” It’s not exactly the smartest thing in the world he’s done for cash, agreeing to a race.. Though he’s smart and never gets tied up for people that race for pinks. “I need some help.”

Cookie leans back into the fridge, the white Keds on her feet matching the tile as she crosses her ankles. “Help how?”

Ashton knew he shouldn’t have promised Sandra that Cookie would’ve been there without actually asking Cookie. However, by the time Ashton managed to get home, Calum had already gone to bed and Ashton for sure was not about to call up to her house at that time of night. He was just trying to get Sandra to see that he was just a guy, not the label that people had put on him. 

“I have a race.”

Cookie nods. “If you telling me Teresa actually hit you that hard that you can’t drive no more, I oughta sign that girl up for boxing or something,” she teases. 

Ashton has to laugh with a shake of his head. “God almighty, no.”

“What’s about this race and needing help?”

“I need you to tag along. I told this girl they were cool and I just need you around so she doesn’t flip.”

It’s a heavy sigh that expels from her lungs and Ashton all but slides to his knees as he grabs onto her hands. “Please, Cookie? Please?”

“These ain’t no family affair. I’ve got my brother and sister. It’s technically illegal.” While Cookie didn’t hold too fast to the rules that governed them, she was not about to act fast and loose in front of siblings. They have fast lips. 

“I’ve never seen a race,” Teressa cuts in. She’s dealing out half the deck between her and Curtis.

“See!” Ashton says, lips rolling over as he pouts. “C’mon. Just the one solid. Please.”

“And there’s a reason you haven’t,” Cookie replies. If she gets in trouble on her lonesome is fine. Her parents will flip, they’ll give her a lot of noise. However, that was her fault. If she gets into trouble with her sister and brother around that’s a whole new can of worms. One she’d rather avoid. There’s so much pleading on Ashton’s face though. And of course it had to be a girl too. Races aren’t scary, but they can get nasty.“You ain’t racing for pinks are you? Hate to leave you stranded.”

He shakes his head. “No, I’m in no position to race for pinks.”

The house is in decent condition, but he’s between jobs and needs to find a new source of cash fast. His cars the only thing he’s got going for him. He was let off from his previous gig because the owner was worried about his rep. Not that Ashton wasn’t hard working and diligent at whatever he put his hands on. He busted his ass at work. The owner was looking at a ‘bigger picture.’ It’s bullshit if Ashton is asked. He didn’t throw a fit in front of the owner. He thought about it. He wanted to, but he didn’t want to ruin his chances. He quietly took the week’s pay and left the office. He’s got good word from this boss to another place. Ashton’s worried that his reputation is going to precede him all his life though.

Ashton finally continues, “Please, I need your help. I need the bread and she’s--she’s different, Cookie. She’s giving me a shot.” He’s totally smitten, but he wouldn’t completely admit that. Sandra didn’t exactly grow up on this side of town. None of the guys can help him out. Cookie’s his only shot.

It’s one of her few days where she doesn’t have to be on shift during the morning. She had really just wanted to hit the store to see if the hair grease she needed has been restocked and she wanted to just not think about anything until work. 

“Look,” she points over to Teresa and Curtis, “y’all gotta keep tight ships on those lips.”

“Thank you!” Ashton shouts and her siblings chorus. 

“And you,” she starts, finger singling him out.  “I beat feet after it’s done.” Cookie agrees. “But if there’s any heat, I am not hanging around.”

“Thank you, thank you, thank you,” Ashton gushes, wrapping her up in a quick hug. “And I totally understand about the cops. I’d literally do whatever to shake your trail. You know that.”

“I know.I know. You surely know how to put a girl in a pickle.”

“It’s a specialty,” Ashton returns. His grin wide. 

The kids continue their game of War before Cookie’s pulling out of the driveway first and waiting for Ashton to lead the way. Admittedly, Ashton didn’t tell Cookie that Sandra was a Soc, a Prep. But maybe she had figured it out by the way he talked about her inexperience with races. Most people would probably laugh at the fact he’s into a Soc. And he knows Cookie would never judge him, but sometimes even he felt a little shame in it. But Sandra is a saint and Ashton is in need of a blessing. 

His logic isn’t flawed, but it is a little wishful. If he wins the race, Ashton can show Sandra his world’s not all that bad, it’s not all dangerous. It has it’s danger for sure. But if he could just get her to see the good, then maybe he had proven that the labels were unjust. And it’s twisted thinking he knows. Sandra already seems him as a good person, she already sees something in him. But it’s the outside world. It was always going to be the outside world it seemed that would be in the way. It reminds of how he was with Cookie and god, it makes him feel like an asshole. He could be the first person to admit that. He would be the first to admit that. 

When they get the makeshift track, old back roads that lead to the deserted factory, Ashton spots the boys. They rush up from the dirt sides. Calum checked the car before he left this morning. But that was then and now it needs another glance, checking for holes in tires or rocks in the tracks.  

Ashton finds her, Sandra, in her red dress with black polka dots. She waves, but doesn’t make a move closer from her car. She swore to Ashton she would find a way to the race. He insisted that they could meet somewhere, but when she looked down, biting the side of her lip, he knew not to push it. He walks over, cheeks lifting into a grin. 

“I feel so overdressed,” Sandra whispers, tucking more of her hair behind her ear.

“Nah, I dig it.” It’s who she is and Ashton can’t stop the thundering of his heart. 

“You sure this isn’t an issue? Like I thought pinks would be involved and everyone here looks,” she doesn’t finish the sentence. This isn’t her crowd. She knows it; Ashton knows it. Ashton’s sweet though. Always helps her grandmother with the bags to her car. He even referred them to a great car shop. One of his friends works there, always looks out for them and makes sure to work on their car exclusively. He’s for sure a fun time, always laughing at something, always making up a new gig when there’s only her in the store and the radio’s playing a good song. But this isn’t her crowd. She’s not sure how they’re going to accept her.

“Hey, my guys are cool. Stick with them and there will be no issue,” Ashton urges. 

Sandra goes to speak, but then she notices a girl with a fro walking up to her, lips painted red. It’s a bold choice, but she wears it well. Ashton’s thankful that Cookie’s approaching. “That’s Cookie. Calum’s girl. The guy that works on your grandmother’s car. I told you she’d be here.”

Sandra nods, a smile lifting her lips. It’s a little bit more comforting to have someone else on Ashton’s side, that’s not a Greaser as company. She thinks the whole Greaser versus Socs is ridiculous, but she’s not naive to think that the lines don’t exist for everyone else. “You Ashton’s girl?” Cookie asks, knowing the true answer. But it’ll make both of them turn red and Cookie can’t pass up on that opportunity.

“Oh, no,” she mumbles as both their cheeks turn beat red. There’s a blashful glance between both of them. Ashton’s hoping Cookie’s teasing isn’t too much but he does like the sound of her being his girl. He needs to win this race, make a good impression and keep Sandra around. That’s all he wants. 

“Alright, Ms. Red, you guys are just friendly. I get it. Mind if I borrow the pretty lady for a moment?” Cookie extenders her elbow, waiting for the gentle grip to move them out the way of the race.

The touch is light and they walk up to the side of the road. Cookie can feel the nerves off Ashton’s girl. She keeps looking over her shoulders. Like she’s afraid something is gonna jump out at her. “First race?” Cookie asks.

The girl nods, ends of her hair flying up in the wind. “Ms. Red? That’s a new one.”

“What’s ya name? Maybe you’d like that more.”

“Sandra. But I like Red better. You’re the one really wearing the devil’s paint better than I ever could.”

“Then Ms. Red it is. And nothin’ wrong with a little make up.”

“Oh, no, I didn’t mean it like that. I just--,”

“Don’t have a cow, sweetheart. Just kidding around.”

They reach Cookie’s car, her siblings eying the girl on her arm. They’re suspicious of every new person they meet. It took them ages to warm up to Luke, Ashton, and Michael. She can’t blame them. Every white person to cross their path has only ever spit on them. She’s praying that they don’t hold such skepticism in their heart all the time. “Teresa and Curtis, my sister and brother. Ms. Red.”

Both of them give curt nods. Cookie goes on to introduce the rest of the crew before hopping into the backseat of her car with her siblings, she sits on the edge of the door, feet planted on the seat. Curtis sits between her legs. Teresa right in front of him. “Take a front row seat,” she offers to Sandra waving to the passenger side seat. Calum leans up against her car, right behind Cookie and her siblings, his hands buried in his pocket of his work pants. The switchblade curled into his fingers.

Sandra doesn’t miss the tension. She looks up to Cookie, the fear flashing over her face. “They don’t bite. Well, for anklebiters, they don’t,” she assures.

“You’re going to regret that,” Teresa interject, lightly tapping her sisters ankle. “White people just never done us no good.”

Kids, they’ll always be honest. “Tes,” Cookie warns. The tension is still thick, but the engines roar and Sandra jolts at the sound. “Get in, Red unless you want dust on that pretty little dress.”

“Thank you.” She smiles, climbs into the car and then kneels on the seat to watch them. Another girl, from the opponent's side, stands in the middle of lanes, scarf in her hand. She holds it above her head. She holds it there for a moment. Ashton revs his engine, just get get under the guy’s skin.  “The car’s a lot louder,” Sandra comments. It’s to no one in particular. Curtis climbs to the passenger side of the back seat and stands, looking over the door.

“Ashton’s engine is souped up thanks to Calum,” he says as the rumble settles. “Nothing illegal. Just gives him more speed from the start and he can maintain it for the entire race.”

“Hey, look at my man paying attention,” Calum laughs, holding his palm straight up for Curtis to slap it. They go about their handshake, a series of slap, pumps, and snaps.  

Curtis looks up to Sandra. “We ain’t trying to be mean. We just...sissy, what’s the word? Scared, but like not scared scared.”

“Worried or maybe concerned,” comes from both his sisters.

“Concerned,” Curtis repeats to Sandra. She nods. It makes sense all things considered for them. They have to be cautious to some degree. It’s a matter of life or death. Cookie’s teasing and offering of her car makes Sandra’s less anxious though. She’s completely outside of her realm and needs an anchor. They’re nice. “Nice dress too,” he concludes. “Sissy has a skirt like it.”

Before she can express her gratitude, engines growl to life yet again and Sandra snaps her attention to the road. Ashton doesn’t press down hard on the gas; he, in fact, gives the initial lead away. He can come behind and cut to the inside on the turn. He’s not worried about a lead. He’s got a plan. He always has a plan.

Sandra grips at the door, heart thundering in her chest. “C’mon, Ash. Take him.” The words are falling from her lips before she’s even realized it. After the initial kick up of a dust cloud, she can make out Ashton sliding inside. The first turn comes up and he cuts to the inside. There’s a tap to his bumper, but he tries not to show it. Keeps a steady hand on the wheel to correct.

There’s cheering, but it’s hard to catch it over the rumble of the engines. Sandra can feel it bubbling in her chest as she wants to join in again. She wants to scream his name. She wants to let him know she’s rooting for him. As the second straight away comes up, Ashton falls back just a little. The noses of their cars keep trading places.

Her pulse quickens, veins pumping against her skin. But Ashton looks so calm as they round in for the second lap. “Leave him in the dust! Burn rubber!” Sandra screams. It feels good to let the primal shout leave her lips. Louder shouts from Cookie and Ashton’s group start to cut through the rumble. The entire side of the road is almost as big of a roar as the cars themselves.

Ashton slips in front and hauls ass, pressing harder onto the gas. It kicks up another sputter of dust. As the last straight away comes up, Ashton keeps the car going as fast as it can. He doesn’t even stop until he blows past the start line. “Yes!” Sandra cries, pumping her arms into the air. As the drivers meet, shaking hands and exchanging cash, she climbs out of car and rushes over to Ashton.

“That was incredible,” she gushes. Her heart is still racing. He notices the childlike awe lighting up her eyes.

“Aw, shucks. It won’t nothing,” he replies, cheeks warming as her compliment. That was admittedly a tame race. They can get uglier, there can be scraps. But it’s a relief it didn’t happen. He didn’t want to show her that. He’s careful to stand in front of some of the nicks on the car He knows they traded taps on the course.

“It was pretty amazing to me.” The rest of them walk over, to congratulate Ashton. Cookie, much to her word, leaves after giving her cheers. Calum follows directly behind her, wanting to make sure she gets home safe.

“We ought to celebrate!” Sandra grins, brushing her hands over Ashton’s. She notes the rings adorning his fingers and plays at the pinky ring. “My treat! I’ve got a little of an allowance. What do you say?”

Ashton, flustered at the feel of her fingers over his, nods. “But I can cover myself.”

“Nonsense, you just won! No need to spend the earnings already.”

“I can’t.” He can pay his way through the world and he for sure doesn’t want to seem like he’s too willingly to take advantage of her niceness. 

“Ice it. You’re getting a treat! And don’t think you can run off either,” she warns, walking back to her car. 

Holding up his hands, Ashton knows he’s a goner. Hook, line, and sinker, there’s nothing he can do to save himself. The smile rests on Ashton’s face makes his whole body warm. “I’m listening. No runnin’ from me, ma’am.”

The rest of his guys cheer on his victory but soon it’s wrapped up and he climbs into his car, preparing to follow behind Sandra. Down the streets, Ashton realizes that he’s going further north. The anxiety starts to hammer at his chest and his fingers tremble. God, he doesn’t need trouble. Not right now, not after such a great victory.

Staring up at the sign of the parlour, Ashton’s takes a moment to exhale. He can’t afford trouble. He won’t get into trouble. He won’t. He’s going to just go inside, get a quick treat and then go on about his day. He parks right next to her, climbing out of the car. Eyes are already burning holes into his skin. He tries to swallow that bit of panic that his chest.

The leather jacket feels less like an accessory anymore. It’s armor. He wears it so they know. So they don’t start shit. He wears it so when his shoulders fall, the bulk keeps them wide. Even if he’s not looking for a fight, it looks like he’s ready to scrap.

“What’s your poison?” she jokes as they walk in together. “Stud like you maybe it’s chocolate.”

Ashton laughs softly, shaking his head a little. “I’m actually pretty square. Vanilla’s my vice.”

“Mr. Big and Bad goes for vanilla.”

“He does. Can’t tell anyone though.”

“Secret’s safe with me,” she winks, walking up to the counter to order the shake and even a slice of something for him as well. It’s as she leans against the cool material that she notices the distinct sneer on one of the waitress’ face. It dawns on her. She’s brought him to her side of town. But they don’t know him like she does. So she juts out her chin, reaching into the pocket of her dress. She plays at the bills and finally they girl walks down.

Sandra doesn’t let her open her mouth. “Vanilla milkshake, two straws. Slice of chocolate cake if there’s any left.”

“Anything else?”

A shake of the head no and she turns around to see Ashton, smiling up at her. He digs into his pocket and finds some change before walking over to the jukebox. He looks through the selection. He could be a sap. But right now he feels like making a little scene. He slips in the coin and presses for “The Twist”. Ashton snaps his fingers to beat, looking over his shoulder to her. She leans against the counter, laughing, hair flying in the ponytail.

Ashton starts tapping his foot, shuffling closer to her. People, he’s learned, are always staring at him. He’s gonna give them a reason to stare now. Sandra is beside herself, watching him singing along, while twisting himself side to side. The only thing that matters is her smile, her laugh. Ashton likes being a bit of a goof. He likes to have fun. He knows his life has never been easy, but there’s no reason not to smile. He makes it a goal to make someone smile each day. They deserve, everyone deserves a bit of kindness in the world. He thinks himself to be lucky to give that to anyone. Sandra admires that in him. This drive to give everyone a little piece of happiness.

When Ashton slides his way up to her, holding out his head, she doesn’t hesitate to give into his antics.  They dance in the middle of parlour. She holds onto hands, bending her knees. It’s easy to twist her torso side to side. She’s never been able to do this before. To just let herself go. It’s normally so much emphasis on being a lady, being prim and proper. She’s never really ascribed to you, in a way that she wholeheartedly believed. But she was well aware of the society she was in, the role she was told she had to play.

But she didn’t have to play games with Ashton. She didn’t have to pretend. If she wanted to swear, which she never did anyhow, she knew she could. If she wanted to let her hair down, she could. If she wanted to sit unladylike, she could. She was not restricted with him. And that freedom, the vulnerability, made her fall even more in love with him. God, was she in love with him?

“Uh, you want this shake or not?” the girl behind the counter shouts. “Been waiting for forever over here.”

Sandra walks over, sliding the cash across the counter. “Sorry. Just havin’ some fun.” Another set of hands slide in around her and grab the glass and the plate. She immediately notes the slender fingers, the rings.

“Just a little dancin’ sweetheart. No need to get heated,” he says before going back to their table. He notes one shake and the two straws. “Bold, are we?” he teases, handing one to her.

“What can I say? I’m livin’ on the wild side.”

Ashton brings a piece of the cake to his lips while speaking. “Yeah, so wild your hair’s still up.”

It’s not a challenge, just a tease. But Sandra brings a hand to her hair, untwist the elastic around her hair. Her hair falls down over her shoulders as she shakes it loose. “Anything else to say, Stud?”

No, he’s got nothing else to say.  That’s the thing about her, behind her button nose and blue eyes are a curiosity, a yearning to live life the way she wants to, not the way she’s been told to live it.

Outside at their respective cars, Sandra slips her hair tie from her wrist. The bow sells it, makes his heart warm more than he’s willing to admit as she slides it onto Ashton’s wrist. “Something to remember me by,” she grins softly.

“I’m always thinkin’ about you. So it’s not hard.”

“Smooth talking there.”

Ashton brings his fingers to her cheek before tucking just a little bit of her hair behind her ears. “When can I see you again?” Tomorrow’s her grandmothers doctor’s appointment. She starts her new job the day after. He’ll be okay even if it’s just for a quick moment to enjoy her company.

“I’ll ya a ring, okay?”

He nods, “Okay.”

_______________________________________________

He knows Sandra’s grandmother’s car when it pulls into the gas station. He managed to snag this gig at the gas station. It’s not a lot, but it’s something. He doesn’t quite want to go into the factory just yet. He knows it’ll make him the most money, but he’s gonna clean up his act before doing that. She smiles at him, as he closes in on her hair. She’s still has her driving gloves on. “What can I do for ya, Ma’am?” Ashton teases, opening the gas cover.

“Fill her up.”

“How was work?” She’s a secretary at the firm in town. Not a lot, nothing to write home about but it helps out. Every cent does now for her and her grandmother. Her grandmother’s not sickly. Just getting up in age, requires a lot more attention.

“Long, just glad it’s over.” There’s a moment of silence. “Grandma wants to meet you,” Sandra says. Her voice is soft.

Ashton’s been dreading this. Her grandmother isn’t fond of people like him. Though she smiled in his face when he carried her bags, Sandra tells him that always sneered at home. Always said boys like him were no good. “Thought she hated me.”

“She likes you. Likes the man that makes me smile. But she doesn’t like how she’s never met you, according to her.”

“But once she finds out it’s me, she’s gonna blow her top.”

“No, she’s not. She won’t. I promise.” He finds that hard to believe. He wants to believe her. She seems so earnest. But Ashton knows that older people are set in their ways. He finishes filling her tank, taking the change from her fingers. “Hey, hey,” she urges, gripping his chin. “She’s gonna love you. Because you’re incredible and she just hasn’t seen that. All she’s seen is the leather jacket, the hair. She’s only heart stories. But she’s never sat down with the real you.”

“Most people don’t need to sit down with the real me to judge me.”

“She’s gonna love you.”

“You can’t promise that.”

“I can.” It hurts to see him pull his chin from her grasps. It’s not hard, not a jerk, just a soft turn to his head until her fingers fall from around his skin.

“How?”

“Because she don’t know you like I do. She’s gonna love you because I love you.”

His heart beats against his ribs. They’ve been seeing each other, including tucked into dark corners, for only a few months. But to say that she loves him, that’s a whole new thing. “You love me?” The question exhales from his lungs so softly she barely catches it.

With a nod, she grins. “Yeah, yeah I think I do. I know it’s only a few months, but call me young and dumb--,”

Ashton interrupts her with a kiss. “No, be young. Be dumb. We only get this shot once.” The words press against his lips. He should take his own advice. “I love you.”

Lip tucked between her teeth, she looks to the ground before glancing back into his hazel eyes. “So, my house. Saturday. 6:30?”

“Your house. Saturday. 6:30.”

________________

When Ashton stares up at the door, he swears for a hot second he might vomit. He tries to keep it down. These are his good penny loafers. He’d hate to ruin them. But there is just something in his gut that tells him that this dinner is a bad idea. It takes him another minutes to finally lift his hand to knock. There’s a moment before the door cracks open and Sandra is standing there, in a powder pink sleeveless dress, hair pulled back from her face.

“Oh is that him, dear?” Her grandmother calls, the voice far away.

It takes everything in Ashton to step through the threshold. When she finally rounds the corner, her smile falters. There it is. There’s the passing look of judgement clouding her face. “Hi, ma’am. How are you?” He asks, extending his hand.

She doesn’t reach for it. “Good, thank you.” Her gaze lands on Sandra. “Sandy, can I speak with you? In private?”

The two woman walk down the hallway and Ashton stands, right near the door. He could bolt. He could leave it behind. But he stands there, knowing the hushed whispers being exchanged are about him, are about her and him together. The voices get a little louder. He caught “not good” amongst the hurried murmurs. He knows he shouldn’t interject. It’s not his place. He steps through the living room. They’re huddled together.

“Ma’am, I don’t mean to be rude,” he starts. “But I care deeply about your granddaughter. I know the reputation that I have. And I earned it. I won’t lie.”

“You say that like I should give you a shot,” her grandmother snips.

He shrugs. “I’d like one. I’m not the type to make excuses for myself.”

“I know about boys like you. You’re scared and you’re angry. And you take it out on anyone that looks at you the wrong way. You hang out with all those other boys too, all they do is drink and get into fights. Even the girls they associate with get into trouble too. You’re kind are no good.”

“Yeah, yeah maybe I am scared and maybe I am angry. Yeah, I’m a lowlife in your eyes. But I’m the lowlife that carried your groceries to your car for a year. And I’m the lowlife that that keeps the tank full even if Sandra can’t afford it at the time. I’m greasy and not the goody two shoes you’d want for her. Yeah I’ve been in my fair share of fights and yeah I’ve put some people in serious hurt. But I’m not so bad. I’ve been you, okay? I’ve been on the other side of this conversation where you’re so worried about what others are going to think. And all you can see is the trouble I’ve been in.”

He continues after wiping at his nose with the pad of his thumb. He’s riled up. He feels like an ass. Is this how Cookie felt? He can’t change that. He does right by her. He gets her now. “I know the bad I’ve done. But I know the good too. You think me heartless. I wish I was heartless. I wish I didn’t give a shit so much about so many things. Took a friend in because his parents abandoned him. I was barely scraping by for myself, but I took him in. He needed to finish school. I didn’t. I dropped out. Had to. But him, he’s smart. He deserved a second chance. And his girl, she’s brilliant. I mean, the mind on her- I wish she could go to college. But she can’t. Her heart’s too tied to her family. Oh, and she’s Black. So it’s not like anywhere is going to give her a second chance.

“And my friend, Mike, man’s a wizard at the guitar. I mean, that man is bad at the guitar. But he hates playing in front of a lot of people. He could’ve been gone. Luke, Luke’s got some pipes. But he won’t sing unless Michael plays and because Michael doesn’t play all that often, they’re both here. They got families they care deeply about. They got families that they gotta provide for. So you can think of us what you want. You can think us all bad. But you don’t know us. You think you know us. You only know what others have told you. I really don’t mean any disrespect, Ma’am. But I just want you to consider that. Consider people are more than what you know of them.”

He looks to Sandra, who’s wearing a smile on her face. This is the Ashton she knows. Not one to hold back his tongue, one to always fiercely protect the ones closest to him. “I’m sorry. I don’t think I’ll be staying for dinner.”

She watches the way he pops the collar on his polka dotted button up. She’s know sure where he got it. But it makes her immensely happy to know that he matched a dress of hers. His shoes are silent over the hardwood floors. Sandra turns back to her grandmother. “You always taught me to be kind to everyone, to keep in mind everyone has their own story. But you couldn’t even take your own advice.”

“I was kind,” her grandmother retorts.

Sandra shakes her head. “You know what I mean.” She hoped her grandmother would change, she thought she could get the opinion to change. But maybe her grandmother would destined to always be stuck.

“You can’t keep seeing that boy. He’s no good.”

The words mean nothing to Sandra. Her grandmother relies on her. She’s not a child. Holding on finger up to her grandmother, she races outside, finally hearing the car engine roar to life. The evening has a slight chill but it doesn’t stop her from racing to the driver side door. Ashton rolls down the window. It took him forever to even gain the courage to turn over the key in the ignition. She’s probably come out to tell him this is it.

“You didn’t have to come out to tell me. I know,” Ashton says, staring straight ahead.

“If you thought I came out here to tell you it’s over, you’re wrong.” Her voice is soft. She reaches through the window, playing at the collar of his shirt.

“What?” He’s positive he didn’t hear her right.

“She’s older. She doesn’t know you like I do.”

“But that’s your--,”

Sandra cuts him off. “I know who she is to me. But I’m an adult. I want to be with you. And she can’t stop me. Give me a minute, alright? We’ll go somewhere else.”

When her lips brush over his cheek, Ashton can only nod at her request. She walks back into the house. Her grandmother sits at the dining room table, hands clutching her cane. “You can’t keep seeing him. I forbid it.”

“Grandma, I love you. But since you refuse to sit down and have a conversation with him, I don’t think your advice is the most well informed. Now,” she starts fixing her grandmother a plate. “You’re gonna eat. I’ll be back to clean the dishes. But you just relax.”

“Where are you going? Not out with that boy, I know.”

“His name is Ashton. As I’ve told you before plenty of times.” The plates makes a soft thud on the placemat. “Eat. I’ll be back.” She puts the rest of the food up. Her grandmother watches, shouting at her that he’s no good. But no one’s perfect. And she if wanted perfection, she’d never find it. Maybe that was part of her grandmother’s problem. She craved perfection so bad, craved to fit in, to not shake the table that she never saw how unstable the table was in the first place.

“Enjoy your dinner!” Sandra shouts, throwing a sweater over her shoulders and grabbing her keys. Ashton is still waitin in the car. She climbs into the car. “Let’s drive,” she giggles.

“I got a destination in mind. Bit of a tradition. Hope it’s not too square.”

“You? A square? Never.” The drive isn’t very long. The skating rink comes into view and Ashton spies Calum’s bike still around. They still have a little bit of time. They have to go to the rink on the West side. Too many people stared at them, a group of white boys hanging around and friends with folks like Cookie and Calum. And it’s not to say they didn’t get looks on this side either. It’s not to say that Cookie’s unfortunately gotten into with a few of her own, but it’s generally safer. 

“When we’re not supposedly running a muck of the town, we’re skating,” Ashton says.

“How’d you know I was a great skater?”

“You might’ve mentioned it once or twice.” She’s mentioned it more than that actually. But it’s not like Ashton’s keeping count. It’s not like he goes home and gushes to Calum probably too much about Sandra.

The pair walk inside and grab some skates. It takes a moment of wondering before they spy the rest of Ashton’s friends. Cookie spots them first, smiling. “What happened to the red, Ms. Red?”

“Let him borrow it for the day,” Sandra returns, rushing over to help take the pitcher from her hands. The table cheers, noticing the pair.

“Thought you had a fancy dinner?” Michael questions as they settle and tie up their skates. Ashton shakes his head. Michael catches on to the sour expression. That topic is canned without hesitation. They all knew about Ash’s concerns. They’re not really shocked, if they’re honest, that things went sour. It sucks nonetheless. They had hoped for Ashton Sandra’s grandmother wouldn’t be such an issue. 

Ashton gets to his feet first and takes her hand. They step out onto the floor and she glides off. Ashton’s not a terrible skater, but he’s not the best either. She turns around and sees him pushing off hard. “Alright there, tough guy?”

He laughs. “Keep yappin’ that’s fine!”

As they come around a second time, the song shuffles. Everyone recognizes the start to Put Your Head on My Shoulder. People start pairing off. Ashton spies Calum and Cookie finally coming back out. Sandra slows into his side, fingers brushing over his. “You look as coordinated as a baby giraffe,” she teases.

“Keep talkin here, just keep on.” There’s a moment of quiet between them as the laughter dies down, gliding next to each other. A little slower than the rest of the crowd, but neither of them cares. “Sorry about being frosted back there. I just--people don’t understand. And sometimes they don’t want to. Which is frustrating.”

She nods. “I get that. I’m sorry she refuses to listen. I wish I could get through that thick skull sometimes. She means well, but sometimes she can do harm.”

Ashton stops along the wall, pulling her gently into him. “It happens. But you chose me. Over everything.”

She shrugs. “Easy choice, if I’m honest.” Ashton cups her face, fingers gently brushing over the soft skin. He’s lucky to have her. He’s lucky she chose him.

“Aren’t you worried?”

“I’ve got a lot of things to worry about. But not you.” Ashton leans in, just a smidge, lips capturing hers for a brief moment. His breath leaves him. He’s sure time is either paused or sped up but he doesn’t care. There are some wolf whistles that pass by. And both of them know it’s his friends. Sandra buries her face into Ashton’s shoulder, the heat flooding her cheeks.

“You guys are assholes,” Ashton laughs, watching Luke, Michael, and Calum pass by. The song fades out. Something more upbeat turns over the speakers. He coaxes her out from his shoulder. “Don’t mind them.”

“I mean, kind of hard not too.”

“But you got me, baby. You got me.”

Her eyes twinkle and she cups his cheek before kissing him. She does have him. That’s a comforting thought, one that makes her feel safe. As their lips part, Sandra exhales a bit breathy. “C’mon now before your knees knock and you fall.”

“You got jokes now,” Ashton hollers after her figure, skating away. “Now you got jokes. I see how it is.”

The evening is filled with too many orders of cheese fries to be healthy, too many refills for Cokes. They sing along to the speakers and Sandra laughs, hooking her arm through Ashton’s. “You didn’t tell me you could sing.”

His smile is bashful, face turning red. “You ain’t ask before.”

“The four of you ought to start a band or something,” she concludes. She’s heard the stories of Michael’s historic guitar playing. Stayed over at night, once, to listen to the four of them act a fool, singing until the wee hours of the morning. 

“Good luck with that,” Cookie interjects. “All of ‘em hardheaded. Mine especially.”

“But you love it anyway, doll,” Calum returns, kissing her temple. 

The group decides as the twilight is swallowed up by night to turn in. Outside, they split off in various directions towards their cars. “Make sure you get your red back,” Cookie hollers, trailing behind Calum. “You look betta in it anyways!”

The group howls at the comment. “Nah, baby, it’s a team effort.”

In a flash, Cookie runs up, laughing, leaving Calum to wait at the bike. “I know that’s right. Good seeing you again,” she adds on sincerely. “I mean it, too.” Since the race, Sandra’s tried to talk to Cookie more, tried to ease the tension that inevitably may not disappear completely. But they can try. “Mrs and Mr. Red,” she laughs with a wink. 

“See how she put Mrs, first,” Sandra grins. 

Ashton nods. “Yes, yes, I most definitely did.”

Ashton pulls into her driveway, staring back at the same doors that shut him out. It’s okay. That door need not ope, he concludes. Sandra stretches across to give him one last kiss. It deepens when Ashton takes hold of her face. It’s not a kiss that conveys the passion that’s brewing in the both of them. It’s not a kiss that’s light and airy. It’s a kiss that spells how desperate they are for the other to know, deep down, this is real.

As they part, Ashton pulls off one of the main rings he wears and plucks the necklace off from around her neck. Threading the chunky gold metal onto the dainty chain, he rehooks the necklace around her neck. Sandra drops her hair around her shoulders to take a look at it sitting over the powder pink to her dress. “Something to remember me by,” he explains, from his wrist, she can see the hair tie still. How did she miss that?

“I could never forget.” 

She climbs out of the car and he watches to make sure she gets inside. As the door closes behind her, she grins to herself. Making choices is scary. She knows her grandmother will not be quiet about her stance. But this is the first choice that was solely hers to make. And she’s proud of it.

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