"Stuck In The Friend-Zone Again and Again"

"I Want To Hold You Hold You Tonight"

Mike lookin cute^

THIS CHAPTER IS DEDICATED TO american-idiotx AND I DON'T KNOW HOW TO PROPERLY DEDICATE THINGS

We just played random duets until like 9, at which point we retreated upstairs to watch Supernatural.

At 11, I made the executive decision to go to bed, and when Luke refused to go to sleep (he wanted to watch another episode), I burrowed into the covers and rested my head on the flat expanse between his collar bone and his shoulder, telling him that he was going to be the only one that was tired tomorrow if he watched another.

I heard the next episode start, which made me huff and made Luke laugh at my huffing.

By the time I fell asleep, it was halfway through the episode, the constant screams and sounds of splattering blood not effecting me in the slightest.

{Luke's P.O.V.}

I could tell Paris had fallen asleep when he breathing evened out and she stopped fidgeting.

I knew that, yeah, Paris was probably right and I was most likely going to be tired the next day, but I was really into that show.

I finished the episode that Paris had told me not to watch that night ("It's The Great Pumpkin, Sam Winchester"), then decided that I should go to bed.

One problem: Paris was asleep, and cuddled up to me with her head on my chest, so how could I move without waking her?

Most guys, if put in the position where a crazy hot girl had fallen asleep on them which offered an excuse to stay there all night, would snatch the opportunity as if it were they were starving and it was a Wendy's Double Bacon Cheeseburger.

I, on the other hand, though admittedly seriously considered it, thought better of it.

If I didn't love her like I did, things would be different.

If she knew, and loved me back, things would be different.

Sure, we had spooned in a tiny tour bus bunk together loads of times, but that was in the blissful period of time when neither of us loved or even liked each other.

It didn't really mean anything to either of us then.

That was all spoiled now.

But I couldn't help but hold out hope that one day she would be ready for another relationship, and then maybe I could make my move.

For that was what my love was made of at that time: promises of what I'd be left unsaid, somedays and one days and situations composed in my mind to pacify me until they could come true, and that feeling, that once I had her, my life would be as perfect as life can get.

But until that time, I would have to go to my own room.

I shut off the laptop, and and set it on the bedside table, and softly shifted Paris's head off of my shoulder and onto the pillow.

I gently pried myself from her relaxed grasp, and stood up from the bed.

When I gazed down at Paris's sleeping form, I smiled.

She looked almost as beautiful as she did when she was awake.

I hesitated, before bending down and kissing her forehead quickly.

Fearing she would wake up, I nearly ran from the room and back into my own.

When I was safely under my own covers, I smiled mysteriously at the ceiling.

The feeling of my lips on her skin made my whole body feel like it was buzzing and my head feel fuzzy.

I was fairly certain that I still had that stupid smile on my face when I fell asleep.