Don't Go There

my best friend

[a/n: this fic was recently rewritten entirely. if the comments don't make sense that's why!]

For the next 4 minutes -- which doesn't sound like long but is when you're trying to dodge flying food -- you and Alex had been grabbing things out of the fridge and cabinets that weren't even on the ingredient list for his pie. By this point you both were covered in flour, there were eggshells all over the place, whipped cream was being sprayed: it was chaos.

"Stop, stop," you cried in laughter from your spot on the floor next to Alex. At some point you'd been trying to duck his throws so hard you crouched all the way to the floor, and he followed. "Please, I'm covered!"

"You giving up?!" He playfully challenged, rising to his knees to be a few inches taller than you.

"Fortunately for you," you teased back, brushing some sprinkles from your hair.

"Right," Alex began standing, but then noticed what you were pulling at and reached to help. "Wait, here." He got back to your level, focusing hard on getting this one stubborn sprinkle out without yanking your hair. Once he got it, you both realized simultaneously how close you two were, your faces mere inches apart. He swallowed hard as he placed your newly clean strand of hair behind your ear.

"There," he murmured.

You could only blink as your gaze fell from his dark lashes to his lips, and your own lips involuntarily parted. His hand lingered in your hair for a second longer than necessary, and you found yourself thinking that you didn't ever want him to pull away; in fact, you almost wished he'd...

You looked down to your hands in your lap and cleared your throat; this seemed to break Alex from the spell too, and he dropped his hand. You let out a breath you didn't realize you were holding once he backed up a few inches to stand. Once he was up, he put one messy hand out for yours and helped you up too, than gave you a once over.

"You really are covered," he pointed out with an amused smirk. "You can't drive home like that. Or sit on my parents' furniture like that unless you want my mom to actually have a cow."

"As entertaining as that sounds, you're right," you dusted your hands off against each other. "What do you suggest? Take me outside with the vacuum cleaner?"

He laughed at the idea, but upon noticing your expression unchanged, he stopped and said, "Wait, you're serious?"

You raised your upturned palms and shrugged as if to say, Yeah? What else is there to do?

"Y/N no I am not going to vacuum you off outside," he told you, dimples appearing with a smile. "You can just put on some of my clothes."

Your heart dropped to your feet and you tried to keep your face neutral. You in Alex's clothes. You weighed your options: decline, and have to cut your visit short by driving home looking like a prepped chicken breast, or accept his offer, wear his clothes and try to convince yourself you didn't have the biggest, stupidest crush on him. The answer was clear, but you were going to have to really distance yourself from him after this. You would only be around for 26 more days, and then you'd be half the country away from him all over again.

"Yeah, obviously," you shook your head, "thank you."

He led you down the carpeted hallway and turned into the room all the way at the end on the left. And then, you two were standing alone in his bedroom. There were unexpected things around, like lava lamps and shelves with plants on them and even a neat computer desk. You were trying your best not to drip anything on his floor like you'd already done in the hallway.

"Don't worry, that stuff I will vacuum," he said, reading your mind as he dug through his top dresser drawer. Finally, he pulled out a long sleeve teal sweatshirt that was a bit faded from so many washes. "This okay?" you nodded and took the shirt. He dug around some more in a different drawer, then pulled out some pj pants and told you, "For pants I only have jeans and pajamas... so, these'll have to do."

"Fine by me," you took the pants as well, ready to get out of your own gross clothes.

"Cool, okay I'll go get you a washcloth for your arms and stuff," he said nicely, then with an embarrassed laugh, "Sorry, didn't mean to take it that far."

"You'll get yours someday when you least expect it," you teasingly threatened, then grinned. "Now get outta here."

He did with one last flash of a smile, and you finally looked over yourself in the body length mirror he had hanging on his closet door. First you needed to peel these jeans off. With a few careful tugs you were free of them and then into Alex's pj pants. You had to be more careful of getting the shirt off so as not to wipe more egg on your face or hair. Once that was discarded to the floor, you pulled Alex's long sleeve shirt over your head and began shoving your arms through the sleeves-- when his bedroom door opened. Without a second to think you let out a quick shriek.

"Shit shit," Alex said, washcloth in hand, then immediately slammed the door back closed. "Oh my god."

You pulled the shirt completely on and caught a glimpse of yourself in the mirror again: your eyes were huge and your cheeks were red. No way did Alex just actually see you shirtless.

"I'm sorry, I'm an idiot," he called from the other side of the door.

"I-It's fine," you pulled your hair from the neckline and tried to smooth it, satisfied that there were no food items still in it. "It's my bad, just come in."

A few tense seconds later, Alex hesitantly came back into his room. He refused to look you in the eye as he handed you the washcloth, but you were now fighting a smile. His shade of red almost matched yours. Convincing yourself the whole thing was probably just as embarrassing for him as it was for you, you decided to play it off like you were completely unbothered.

"Really Alex it's okay," you began wiping your neck and cheeks of flour with the washcloth. "Who cares right? It's the same as seeing me in a bikini."

"Christ," he mumbled seemingly to himself and wiped his hand from his brow down to his chin. "Uh yeah, yeah, same thing." There was a smile plastered onto his face, real or fake you couldn't tell, but he finally looked up at you then. Without even trying to hide it, he looked slowly down your body all the way to your socks then back up.

The weight of his gaze made you a bit self-conscious, and you fiddled with your fingers and asked, "What?"

With a slow shake of his head, he said, "You just look better in my clothes than me."

Your stomach did a small flip and you said, "I doubt that."

He looked you over for a couple more seconds with a goofy grin that you couldn't interpret, then said, "My dad's little get together is here tomorrow. Come."

"What? No, I don't think your dad wants a stranger he hasn't seen in 10 years at his birthday party."

"My dad has had so many classes of students in all his years of teaching that an actual stranger could come and he wouldn't notice," he explained. "But it doesn't even matter, you're not a stranger. You're my best friend."

Friend. Right.

"If nothing else," he added, "you can use it as an excuse to give my clothes back."

You gave an unenthusiastic chuckle then, but agreed to make an appearance. The word friend hung over your head the rest of the day, humbling you from believing Alex was beginning to see you how you saw him.