Free It Was You by Ashley Beale Page B

mentioned that part.
    Getting the room keys, we walk down the hall towards room one-eleven. Jaron opens the door and allows me to go in first. The room reeks of stale cigarette smoke, the same smell as walking through the front door of my house. I sit on the first bed while Jaron walks past and sits on the one closest to the window, taking his shoes off and pushing them out of the way. He stretches and I can't help but stare at him as his shirt lifts from his stomach, revealing not only a chiseled stomach underneath the fabric but a hint of a tattoo as well.
    I want to ask what it is of, but I don't push those boundaries. Instead I ask, "What are we doing here?" Since he didn't answer me the first time I asked.
    "Needed to rest," he answers casually. Reaching to the side table, he grabs the remote and turns on the TV, then lays back on the pillow to relax. He does this too often, ignoring the real questions asked.
    As much as I want to ignore life and all the unanswered questions as he does, I can't. Being pesky I ask again, "Jaron. What are we doing here? As in Vermillion, as in hours away from home?"
    With a sigh, Jaron mutes the TV and sits up a little straighter in his bed. He looks at me with disappointment. "How long has he been doing that?"
    I stare at Jaron, too scared to tell him the truth but not wanting to lie. So instead I don't say anything.
    "Well?"
    "I don't know," I mumble, looking down at my hands. I wring my hands nervously, knowing I'm going to receive some kind of lecture from Jaron.
    When he doesn't say anything after a minute I look up at him curiously. He's still staring at me but I don't think he's looking at me. Something is playing in his mind, such as a memory, one he doesn't exactly enjoy.
    "Jaron," I whisper. He jumps out of his skin, blinking a few times until he's focused on me once more.
    Lifting his lips, he pretends to smile, not fooling me one bit. He has a painful past as well. "We don't have to talk about it, but if you want to, I'm here for you, Ravyn. I'm your friend."
    "Why are you being a friend to me? You don't even know me."
    "I don't have to know you to know that you don't deserve that shit. I knew you were different, I knew you had pain from the first time I met you, and I had an idea there was shit going on behind closed doors, but that... I didn't expect you let someone hurt you like that."
    His words cut me. I don't know what to say to him. "I'm an idiot," I admit out loud. I've told myself that many times, but I finally find the encouragement to say it to another person.
    "Yeah, that you may be, but you don't deserve to be hurt that way. Ever."
    "I let it happen." I use his words to remind him that I do in fact deserve everything I allow into my life.
    Jaron stands from his bed to walk over to me. He comes down towards me, causing me to fall back on the bed while he places his hands on either side of me. His face inches in front of me, making my heart thump in a way it hasn't in years- since Kyler spoke to me the first time.
    His lips spread into a cocky smile, one I honestly don't care for, except that it makes him look absolutely beautiful. His eyes, mainly brown tonight, tell me more things than his words do. "I get it. It's easy for one to judge when they're not in your situation," he whispers against my lips. "I won't judge you anymore, Ravyn, as long as you don't go back to him."
    I manage to breathe out the word, "Okay," but honestly, I'm not sure how. Not with him this close to me.
    "Don't be scared to stand up for yourself and to follow your dreams. You deserve nothing but the best."
    Lifting my chin towards him, I press my lips softly against his. He stays frozen against me for all of a second before lifting himself entirely off me. My heart breaks from the rejection. It hurts to know he doesn't think of me that way, but I shouldn't have expected it. He hasn't given me a reason to believe that he's interested in me in any other way than a friend.
    Running his hands