< More Than A Favor
Chapter 98
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Ashton had come looking for me quite a few times before, but this time, he was standing right at my door.
“What do you want now?” I asked, trying to mask my confusion and lingering unease.
“I agree,” he said simply.
I frowned. “Agree to what?”
“To date you and be your temporary boyfriend,” Ashton clarified.
I blinked in surprise, caught off guard by his change of heart. “Why did you change your mind?”
“If I didn’t, you’d keep putting yourself in dangerous situations, like going on blind dates with men who follow you home,” he said, his tone a mix of exasperation and sternness.
His blunt answer amused me. In the dim light of the hallway, his reluctant yet resigned expression brought a smile to my lips.
“You’d be doing something against your will,” I teased. “Won’t that make you unhappy?”
Ashton must have caught on to my playful tone because he took a step closer. Instinctively, I backed away, but the railing behind me left me nowhere to go.
He reached out an arm, placing it on the railing and effectively pinning me between him and the cold metal. My breath hitched.
“Ashton…” I murmured, my voice trailing off.
“How could you be so foolish to go on blind dates like that?” he scolded softly, his voice warm and close to my ear.
A shiver ran down my spine. His words chastised me, but his tone was laced with something tender, almost affectionate.
I didn’t move or speak, the moment stretching between us.
The silence wasn’t awkward–it was charged, alive with an energy I couldn’t quite put into words. Standing so close to him, I could hear his heartbeat, steady and strong.
After a while, Ashton withdrew his arm and stepped back. “You’re not allowed to come home this late by yourself again.”
“Okay,” I replied quietly, unable to argue.
A moment later, I remembered my manners. “Thank you,” I added, my voice soft.
I was thanking him for saving me earlier, for agreeing to help me deal with the Mercer family, and for being there when I needed someone the most.
Ashton didn’t respond; he simply looked at me. I gestured toward the stairs. “I’m going home now.”
But as I turned to leave, he said, “That guy made it all the way to your building. Who knows if he’ll come back?”
I froze. He had a point. What if the man returned?
“I’m staying the night,” Ashton announced, extending his hand.
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< Chapter 98
“What for?” I asked, confused by his sudden declaration.
“Your keys,” he said simply.
My eyes widened in surprise. “You want to stay at my place?”
“What else? Do you want me to sleep at your door?” he asked, his tone dry.
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I opened my mouth to protest, but he added, “It’s not like we haven’t shared a room before.”
That was true. We had slept in the same room before, and nothing had happened. It was safe.
Reluctantly, I handed him my keys, and we went upstairs.
Once inside, Ashton glanced around. “I’ll sleep on the couch,” he said.
I looked at the couch and frowned. It was over ten years old, small, and barely long enough for s omeone of Ashton’s height. His legs would definitely hang off the edge.
There was another room in the apartment–my parents‘ room–but I couldn’t let him stay there.
“You should sleep in my room,” I offered. “I’ll take my parents‘ room.”
I put down my bag and rummaged for a pair of my dad’s old slippers, handing them to Ashton.
He didn’t argue. Taking the slippers, he walked to my room while I grabbed my pajamas and checked to make sure there was nothing inappropriate lying around.
As I was about to enter my parents‘ room, Ashton called out, “Wait a minute.”
I turned to look at him. He was standing in the doorway of my room, his gaze steady.
The atmosphere in the apartment felt strangely tense. It was absurd. We had calmly shared a hotel room before, but here, in this familiar two–bedroom space, the air felt stifling.
After a moment of silence, Ashton spoke. “I think it’s more appropriate for me to sleep on the couch.”
I stared at him, speechless.
“Only your real boyfriend should sleep in your room,” he continued. “I… I’ll stick to the couch.”
His words left me feeling like I was somehow mistreating him.
But I knew what he was doing–he was trying to push me, slowly but surely, toward making him my real boyfriend.
The old saying about quiet men being the most cunning seemed to apply perfectly to Ashton.
“Suit yourself,” I said, brushing him off before retreating to my parents‘ room.
That night, I lay in bed but couldn’t sleep. The fear from earlier still lingered, and my mind replayed the hallway incident over and over.
If Ashton hadn’t shown up, my meager defenses might not have been enough, and the consequences
could have been disastrous.
What were the odds he decided to come see me tonight? The timing seemed almost too perfect.
My thoughts drifted to Ashton. I wondered if he was really sleeping on the couch or if he had taken my room after all.
Faint footsteps echoed from the living room. He was still awake, likely moving around or washing up.
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The sound reminded me of my childhood, when I would hear my parents moving about outside my
room at night.
Back then, I’d taken that comforting sound for granted. Now, it felt like a lifeline.
I planned to check on Ashton once he fell asleep, but my exhaustion caught up with me, and I drifted off.
I woke up in the middle of the night, needing to use the bathroom. As I got up, I remembered I was in my parents‘ room.
Quietly, I tiptoed out to check on Ashton.
Sure enough, he was sleeping on the couch. His tall frame didn’t fit at all–his legs were hanging off the edge, and he had propped a chair at the end to support his feet.
What caught my attention most, though, was the pink blanket he had pulled over himself.
I couldn’t help but smile. Double standards. He wouldn’t sleep in my room because he wasn’t my real boyfriend, but he had no problem using my pink blanket.
Despite the awkward setup, Ashton had stayed to protect me. My heart warmed at the thought.
For the past few nights, I had woken up feeling lonely in this empty house. It felt like the world had ab andoned me, leaving me with no one to care for or love me.
But tonight, with Ashton here, I felt safe.
I returned to bed and slept soundly, waking up past nine the next morning.
The apartment was quiet when I got up. I listened for any noise, but it seemed Ashton had already left. When I walked into the living room, the couch was empty and neatly tidied, as if he had never been there.
I felt a pang of disappointment as I headed to the bathroom. That’s when I noticed a note stuck to the
mirror.
“Breakfast is on the table. The lighting adjustments went smoothly. We can finish on schedule or two days early.”
My eyes welled with tears as I read the note.
I couldn’t explain why I felt so emotional. Maybe it was because someone had shown me care and thoughtfulness in this house that had felt so lifeless without my parents.
Or maybe it was because Ashton understood me–he knew how much the amusement park project still meant to me, even though I had left it behind.
I pressed the note to my chest, tears rolling down my cheeks as I turned toward the small dining table. There, waiting for me, was a thermos and a perfectly fried egg.
