Bad Boys Can't Love

Why

     While Asher is out buying me more tissues, God bless him, I think. Why?
   Why did I cuddle with Asher? We're friends, weird friends who hit on each other and never, okay only sometimes  mean it. But why did we cuddle? I liked Adam, I did. I would even say I loved him.
    Then why did I do it? Or the better question is, why didn't I stop it when I woke up? Why did I clasp his soft, nice hand into mine, instead of standing up and walking away?
   I knew that I felt very comfortable, but that's no excuse. I knew I would be hurting Adam if he found out, yet I did it anyway. But WHY? The word why ached in my head worse than the worst of headaches from a hangover.
   It's not like I like Asher like that or anything, he's just my friend, right? Just my cute, charming... As I daydream, I force myself to snap out of it. I think of the worst words for Asher to get him out of my head: player, egotistical, cocky... Oh he's so cute when he's cocky. God, Sarah, SNAP OUT OF IT.
   I lay in my bed, my head in my hands, the rest of the Sunday afternoon awaiting me. My face is crusty and I miss the times when I was too preppy and closed minded to even think of looking at Asher. It was so easier that way.
   Asher swoops in the window, without tissues. "Where are the tissues?" I ask sadly, looking at him. He seems happy, and excited. He changed clothes, apparently. Instead of wearing all black like he was the last time I saw him(about twenty minutes ago), he wore a beanie, black joggers and a blue shirt. The converse were always the same.
   His shirt kind of matches his blue eyes, except not as bright, vibrant, alive.
   "No more tissues." He smirks cutely. "Let's cheer you up. Tickets instead of tissues." He hands me two tickets to the movies, both to some animated Disney movie that I had seen endless commercials about. He knows me too well.
   I hug him, which kind of surprises him. "You're awesome." I say to him as I pull away. Then Mr. Cocky comes into play. "I know." He smirks.
  Yeah, he definitely knows me too well. He knows that I'd want to get dressed all nice to look like I haven't been crying all day, so he bought tickets for the showing in an hour and a half.
    I need a shower. I glance at Asher. "Ash, um, you can wait in the living room. I have to shower." I tell him awkwardly. "Don't worry, I don't mind. I'll join you if you want." He winks at me. Laughing, I say, "Well I mind." He makes his way downstairs as I hop into the shower.
     The cold water floods over me as I'm entranced by the warmth of its touch.
<><>ASHER ROSS POV<><>
I wait in the living room for her to hurry up in the shower. I glance at the couch, smiling from the time we spent. Okay, maybe I lied about cuddling in my sleep. Maybe I layed down next to her in the middle of the night and cuddled with her. Is that so bad? I was just... Tired. I tried my best to cover it up by apologizing and saying something about me being different in the mornings. I'm not so sure that she bought it.
    And now, here I am, asking myself why. Why am I happy that Adam and SarBear broke up? Okay maybe I call her SarBear, but don't judge. When I read his text to her, my heart flooded with the best kind of joy. I knew he wasn't good for her, I didn't like him, but who was I to judge? I was the bad boy here.
   But why would I be so damn happy over someone else's breakup? I of course had to act sympathetic, which I kind of was, and comfort her. The movie was my whole way of cheering her up so that she wouldn't be sad. I hated seeing her sad, it always meant tears on my shirt. I laugh at the thought.
   We're only friends- weird friends that hit on each other all the time and only sometimes mean it. It's not like I like Sarah or anything, we're just friends, right? My sweet, innocent, adorable...I trail off in my mind. God, was there anything bad about that perfect, gorgeous girl?
~~~~~SARAH JAY POV~~~~
   I step out of the practically holy shower and wrap a fluffy white towel around my warm body. My hair is dripping, and my feet soak the floor and I walk to my room.
   I walk in, in my towel, to see Asher in my room, looking out the window. He turns around, scanning me up and down. "Hey, sorry." he apologizes, as I blush. He has something pink in his hand. I can't make out what it is. I squint, and then grab my glasses off of my desk.
  As my vision clears, I see that it's my underwear! Blushing, I am super embarrassed. Asher's laughing so hard, teasing me about it. I try to grab it from his hands, and eventually I succeed.
   I shoo him out of my room as I change into a simple blouse and shorts. I put on some sandals, and after blow drying it, I braid a piece of my hair. Tucking it behind my ear, I meet Asher in the living room.
   He turns towards me and slightly gasps. "What?" I ask in a quiet voice. "You look fine, girl." He covers up. I roll my eyes, "Same to you girl." I reply as we hook arms and walk out the door.
   He's agreed to take my car, so that my hair doesn't get wrecked by a windy motorcycle ride. He insists on driving my car, so I finally let him. But I dib music control.
   As he begins to drive, I turn some classical up really loud. It's gorgeous- telling its own story. Beauty, death, mourning, recovery, and then more beauty. Asher stares at the road, his eyebrows furrowed.
   "What?" I ask him. "I don't get it. There aren't any words." he says after a minute. "Listen to it and you'll understand." I tell him, but he doesn't and just talks.
   I get up the courage to ask him something. "You said you had a reason for wearing a seatbelt. What is it?" I ask nervously. He sighs, turning down the loud music pouring from the speakers. He looks at me, "I'll tell you after. Now isn't the time." I give him a faint smile, and he returns it.
   When we get to the move theater, I see the blonde that Asher had made a move on about two weeks ago. She walks right up to him when she sees him and slaps him. "That's for standing me up last night. I went to your house, and you weren't there." She said angrily. "Who are you?" He asks, confused. I explain to him that it's the blonde that he hit on, and he face palms.
   I realize that it was me he hung out with last night. He stood her up for me, because I didn't like players. Either that or he just forgot. Probably the last one.
   "You should stay away from this douche. He's trouble." She warns me, before sashaying away.
   Asher hands the younger boy about two years younger than us, like14-15, the tickets. "Theater 4." He tell us, before checking me out. As I walk past him, he grabs my hand. "Give me a call." As I walk away, creeped out, I realize he gave me his number in my hand. Asher looks a bit angry. I throw the slip of paper of the ground as we walk to the theater, which makes him lighten up a bit. Suddenly, I found my hand in his.