We're Getting There // A.I

Chapter 19 // Warm

July 6 : 128 days till due

~Ashton~

I love days like these ones.

The ones where you don't have anywhere you need to be, the ones you can spend with the people you love.

It's warm, but not hot, uncharacteristic for July, although I'm not complaining. Charlie's asleep, curled in on herself in her big white sheets, the sun coming through the window resting on her bare thighs, warming her soft skin.

I'm reading, but I'm having trouble paying attention to the book. I found it on a shelf in Charlie's lounge room, and I don't really get what's happening, nor do I care. I'm distracted by the strands of her hair that fall across her face, only to get blown up slightly when she takes soft breaths out. I stare at her pouting lips, and the curve of her waist under her singlet. Her stomach is pretty big, one of her arms moved protectively over it, and that makes me smile.

I go back to reading the book. Words blur together and smudge against each other, and I find myself re-reading the same paragraph over and over, the words meaning nothing. I pick up my phone and refresh for notifications from something - anything - to distract me from how perfect the girl beside me looks right now, but there's nothing. There's nothing but the teeming silence that's making my mind go haywire.

My hands are fidgety by my sides, fingers itching to leave behind gentle touches that raise goosebumps or rough grips that leave behind marking, beautiful bruises that they can't. I feel like all I've ever wanted to do is touch her, or kiss her, or hold her, but that's just another list of things I'm not supposed to do.

I fucked up when I didn't tell Erica, and I fucked up when I didn't tell Charlie. But the truth is, ever since that night, it's been Charlie, and it always will be. I will never not love her as strongly and as passionately as I do now, but I can't express that in any way.

We kissed after the Harper incident, but that's all. Nothing since then. We lounge around together, talking and laughing and doing things friends do. Maybe that's all she wants from me now, but that is not what I need from her. I need her to love me back.

I feel like my head is going to explode when Charlie unknowingly adds insult to injury by rolling into her back, her arms above her head, stretching up to touch the headboard, and softly moaning in her sleep.

My nostrils flare and I stare at my knees, showing from out of my basketball shorts and shaking. I grab my hair and roughly pull it away from my face.

I need a haircut.

I lock my hands behind my neck and stare at the ceiling, where the paint is chipping in the corner, and think about everything under the sun except for Charlie.

I'm doing pretty good until Charlie makes another noise, her hands fisting in the air and her mouth falling open, and the urge to get close to her is so strong that I fall off the side of her bed.

I scramble to the door, getting up and stumbling into her bathroom.

I hate myself so much, I really really do. I want to die. I want to kiss Charlie. I want to do things I can't even say to myself because if I do I might actually try to do them and then when Charlie rejects me it will push me on the verge of drowning myself in her bathtub.

I splash cold water on my face and gargle with some mouth wash, flashing my teeth at myself and smiling falsely.

If Charlie needs a friend I'll be that friend. I'll be the best damn friend she's ever had. I'll be her best friend, I'll be her best fucking friend. I'll be the best friend there's ever been, and in history they'll know me as Ashton F. Irwin, the best friend there ever fucking was.