This Feeling is Not Love

Chapter 5

Andy had dropped more hints than bombs dropped on England during WWII that he was perhaps ready to maybe think about taking his relationship with Ashley a step further. Andy didn't think Ashley got it, but he also didn't think he was doing a very good job of explaining it either. He just didn't know where to start, and he didn't want things to move too quickly.

But if he was honest with himself, what he was really afraid of was change. If he pursued something more with Ashley, what happened to their friendship? What happened to them? And what if it didn't work out? Though it was rare, history had proven that it was possible for two people destined to be soulmates to not work out. And he couldn't lose his best friend, he just couldn't. Though admittedly, in many of those cases it turned out they weren't soulmates after all, but still ...

Ugh, God. He was so pathetic.

Ashley, I want to hold your hand. Seven words, just seven simple words. And he couldn't say them, he couldn't fucking say them! Why were relationships so hard, damnit, especially with the person he was meant to be with?

"Ashley, I want to try holding your fucking hand," he practiced out loud to his reflection in the full length mirror glued to the inside of his closet. He even held out his sweaty hand to his reflection and snatched it back. "Jesus fucking Christ you fucking pansy," he murmured, and jumped out of his skin when the door burst open. From some reason, he thought it a good idea to jump into his bed, cover his naked chest with his sheet, and 'act normal,' whatever that may be in his case. In this particular moment, it was grabbing the first book he could find off his desk and propping it open on his chest.

"Physics is killing me. High school did not prepare me for this," Ashley said as he threw his backpack onto his desk, and collapsed onto his bed with a groan. "What the fuck were you doing?" Ashley asked, realizing at the same moment as Andy that the book in his hands was upside down. Well, shit.

"Nothing, nothing," Andy said, snapping the book shut, and rubbing his blushing cheeks on his shoulders.

"Uh-huh," Ashley said, but let it go, as he curled up into a ball and turned to face Andy.

Andy took a deep breath to settle his nerves, and said, "Ashley, can I ..." at the exact moment Ashley said, "Andy, can I ask you ..."

"You go first," Andy said, resisting the urge to hide his blushing cheeks behind his upside down book.

"How do you study?"

"What?"

"How do you study?"

"Yeah, I heard you the first time," Andy said, guarded, not particularly liking where this conversation started.

However, Ashley remained oblivious to his growing distress. He just didn't get it, he never got it that school and studying were a touchy subject for Andy, and he kept pushing so many times in the past that it had led to what Andy estimated was probably more than half of the fights they'd had in the last 15 years. "It's just, I've never had to study before, you know?"

"I know," Andy interrupted darkly. "You don't have to rub it in."

"No, I didn't mean it that way. I mean, you do study a lot," Ashley said, sitting up to face him full on.

It made Andy feel self-conscious, so he slipped on one of the shirts piled on his bed. "I assume you're building up to some sort of point here," Andy said.

"No, I'm not," he said. "I just ... How do you do it?"

"Do what?" he asked, his voice taking on that dark, husky tone that made Ashley shiver.