Ashton's POV

I dip my paint brush into the murky water, swirling it around and washing off the sapphire paint that stains the bristles before drying it off on a cloth that removes the rest of the blue remnants. Paint palette in hand, I load the semi-damp brush with a light gray acrylic that almost matches Emilia's eye color, though, I don't think that any color can come close to the beautiful shade. Some people may think that gray eyes are dull and bleak—lifeless. But it's the exact opposite with Emilia's. Hers are full of life and are always the first thing that I'm drawn to when I look at her.

The bristles of the brush glide over the canvas that has been layered so many times from my attempts at making this piece of work perfect. The image that I've saved in my mind is still as clear as day and as I look at that same image that I've transferred onto the canvas, I smile at the very memory of that single moment.

Our bodies swaying together in sync with the rhythm of the music; my hands on her waist and hers around my neck. It felt like we were in our own world. The mass of people that were around us ceased to exist when I held her. She was breathtaking. She still is.

Rudely interrupting my vivid memory flashback, someone yells my name. Can I not have a moment to myself to reminisce? I look over my canvas to see who the fuck decided to pull me out of my daydream and I drop all frustration because it's Ms. Waters, one of the art professors who's the culprit.

"It's already past midnight," Ms. Waters says, pulling her charcoal hair up into a sloppy looking ball on her head. "I have to lock up the studio early since it's Saturday so get your stuff and get out."

Charming woman she is. Although I do appreciate her letting me stay here for so long. From what I've noticed, most of the art students who come in here during the week leave by five at the latest and on the weekends, only a couple of people show up for fun. Lately, I've always been the last one to leave because I get so consumed in my work and time passes by so quickly that I don't even realize how long I've been here.

"Alright," I say. "Just give me a minute."

"Fine," she huffs. "But hurry it up because I want to go home, get a bottle of wine, and take a nice bubble bath."

I ignore her evening plans and wash all my brushes and leave them on the small table that sits next to my easel before grabbing my jacket and backpack and head out of the studio with Ms. Waters following behind me until we get outside and part ways.

Even though it's the weekend, dead week is still in effect and Emmie, Julia, and the guys are still studying. They've been in the library since this morning while I spent my time in the studio. Initially, I was supposed to study with them, but I couldn't sit still because all I wanted to do was work on the painting for communications. My priorities are a bit askew and I should be more concerned with finals, but I've been studying all week and taking a 16 hour break seems like an appropriate reward for working so hard.

I pull out my phone from my pocket and dial Emmie's number. Expecting to hear her sweet voice on the other end, Michael's voice comes through instead.

"Emmie is unable to come to the phone right now, please leave a message," he says, attempting to imitate a woman's voice, but it sounds more like he just inhaled helium.

"Mike, why are you answering Emmie's phone?" I ask, making my way over to the library and showing the security guard my student ID since it's late and only students are allowed in the library after midnight.

"She fell asleep," he answers quietly. I guess she studied a bit too hard.

The security guard lets me in and I head to the elevator and press the button that leads to the basement. "I'm heading down there right now so that I can take her home," I say. The elevator jerks and begins to descend.

"Alri-" The call ends abruptly, probably from the crappy phone signal in here.

It only takes a few seconds until I reach the bottom and the metal doors slide open. It's not hard to spot the group since they're the only ones in here, but I do find it hard to grasp as to why Luke is carrying Emmie on her back. Her arms dangle lifelessly over his shoulders with her head resting near the crook of his neck. Her eyes are closed and her hair is falling in her face.

Four out of the five heads turn to me as I step out of the elevator. Julia looks like she just woke up as she rubs her eyes with her hand. Michael and Calum look exhausted and the bags under their eyes are quite frightening to be honest. Luke looks the least tired out of the four that are actually conscious.

"Hey guys," I say hesitantly, moving closer towards Luke who looks content as he carries Emmie. "What are you doing?"

Calum shushes me and tells me to lower my voice so not to wake up Emmie. "We're just getting ready to leave," he whispers. "Em is passed out and the rest of us are on the verge of joining her."

I'm not surprised they're exhausted. I would be too if I had been studying for as long as them. "You look like you're about to drop any second," I joke.

"I just might, so be prepared to catch me if I fall," Calum says.

"Sorry, that's Julia's job, not mine."

Julia scoffs. "He better catch himself because I sure as hell won't."

Calum leans over to me and whispers in my ear, "She gets crabby when she's tired."

"I noticed," I whisper back and Julia just glares at the two of us. I smile at her and then turn my attention back to Luke who is staring off into nowhere. I come up next to him and hold my arms out. "I can carry her, Luke."

He snaps out of whatever trance he was in and shakes his head. "No, it's alright, I've got her. I don't want to risk waking her up. Can you get her backpack though? I can't carry it and her at the same time."

I was able to carry two backpacks and her at the same time. "Yeah, sure." I bend over and grab the two bags by the table and throw one strap from each over either shoulder. I would much rather carry Emmie, but I also don't want to wake her up because if I do, I'll never hear the end of it from her. "Julia, do you want me to take you home or are you coming over to ours?" I ask.

"Home," she replies as she yawns. "I have to work early tomorrow."

"Okay. I would ask Emmie where she wants to stay but she's out cold."

"Either would be fine with her. You can stay over at our place if you'd like?" she offers.

It doesn't sound like a bad idea. Yesterday, I took Emmie back to my house after her shift and she was woken up by the guys when we got there. It took her a while to fall back asleep, so by staying at her apartment, I won't have to worry about these three idiots depriving her of sleep when she obviously needs it.

"Yeah, I'll drop the guys off first and then we can go over to yours," I say.

With no objections to the plan, I let Luke lead us over to the elevator where we all have to squeeze in together since the school decided to make it the size of a small hall closet. Once making it to the ground floor and receiving an odd look from the security guard because of Luke carrying Emmie, we head out into the snow flurry. As I walk behind Luke, I notice that Emmie is starting to slide down his back and I just want to switch places with him so that I can push her back up so that she doesn't fall, but Luke quickly fixes the problem.

As much as I love Luke like a brother, sometimes it still irritates me how much he's always there to pick at everything that I do wrong and protect Emmie like it's his job. I know that he's only looking out for the both of us, but we're not kids. We're not mature that's for sure, but we don't need someone watching us like a hawk. I could just be overthinking things. Honestly, I wish that he was like this when I was with Natalie—maybe then I wouldn't have had to find out things the hard way, but then again if he had, I probably wouldn't have gone to the extremes of moving to the States and meeting Emmie and that's something that I would never want to change.

Emmie's hair is covered in snow and blowing fiercely in the wind, slapping Luke in the face occasionally, which I enjoy watching, but being the good friend I am, I pick up my pace and walk side-by-side with Luke and pull the hood of her jacket over her head. I don't know how she can still be asleep in the cold like this. I'm pretty sure if Hell froze over and a drumline decided to march right in front of her, she still wouldn't wake up.

Trudging through the snow, we finally make it to my car and I turn the heater on full blast. Unfortunately, we have to wake Emmie up because getting her in the car proved to be a difficult task however, she doesn't really care. She just wobbles in and falls back asleep in seconds. Fitting everyone in the car is tricky, but Julia sits in the front with me and Calum manages to make everyone in the back fit by sitting on one of Michael's legs.

After letting the car warm up for a while, I drive out onto the darkened streets that are barely lit by the headlights. I thought driving in rain was bad, but snow just might take the cake. As I take caution while driving, I check all my mirrors for idiot drivers, but am distracted when I check the rearview mirror and see Emmie's head resting on Luke's shoulder. My eyes flicker between the mirror and the road, constantly checking what's going on behind me.

Luke uses the back of his hand to brush away a few fallen strands of her hair and as much as I like Emmie's hair down, a ponytail would be greatly appreciated right now. When I switch between the road and mirror again, his hand lingers on her forehead and his brows knit together.

"You okay, Luke?" I ask and his eyes meet mine in the mirror.

He drops his hand and his face relaxes. "Yeah, it's just a bit warm in here," he says.

Julia turns down the heater for me and complains that she's hot too which Calum agrees with and causes for us to laugh and lighten the tension. I look back to the mirror and Luke now has his head resting against the window with his eyes slowly shutting.

Ending my creepy staring, I pull up into our driveway and drop the guys off and as I watch them head to the front door, it almost looks like they walked straight out of The Walking Dead. I wouldn't be surprised if they refuse to go upstairs and just crash in the living room tonight.

I head back onto the road once the front door shuts and drive the short distance to Emmie's apartment. With Julia's help, we get Emmie out of the car and somewhat conscious so that she can walk upstairs. I'd carry her, but with the steps being slick from the snow, I don't feel confident enough to make it up there with her on my back without one of us falling and I'd rather keep us both alive.

Slowly, we get Emmie inside and she mumbles that she feels hot. With shaky hands, she unzips her jacket and tosses it onto the couch carelessly before wobbling over to her room. Julia mimics her and goes into her own room while I follow after Emmie and close her door behind me.

Struggling to get the cream sweater over her head, I help Emmie take it off. Completely silent, she digs through her dresser and tosses me a pair of my sweatpants (which I'm surprised she's even letting me wear) and then pulls out a pair of purple pajama shorts and strips down in front of me without a care.

"Uh, Em?" I say as she tries to shake her legs free from her jeans and fully revealing for the first time her lower waist to me. Unlike what I've seen before with the few girls I've been with, she isn't wearing some fancy lace underwear or a couple of strings sewn together—she's wearing simple green and white striped cotton ones that don't match at all with her dark purple bra, but despite all of that, she looks so fucking beautiful. "Are you alright?" I ask, biting my lip and letting my eyes trail up and down her body.

She forcefully pushes the denim off her ankles and tosses them near the hamper, missing it completely, and slowly slips into the shorts, ending my view of her. She sniffles and rubs her nose. "Yeah," she replies and crawls into bed. "I'm just tired and hot and I have a headache and I wish trigonometry would die because even while I was asleep I couldn't stop thinking of all the stupid formulas and SOH-CAH-TOA," she mumbles, burying her face into her pillow.

I chuckle and pull my shirt over my head and change into the sweatpants before crawling in next to her. "You're worrying too much about your finals. At this rate you'll get yourself sick from thinking about them. Just go to sleep about forget about them for today." I wait for her reply but receive nothing other than the soothing sound of her breathing as she sleeps. I reach over and turn off the lamp on the bedside table and lay back down with her, placing my hand on top of hers that rests on the pillow by her head and letting my eyelids fall.

__

Stirring me from my sleep, Emilia yanks her hand out from underneath mine and sits up straight. I rub my eyes to get a clearer image of her, but just as my eyes adjust, she throws the blanket off of herself and scurries into the bathroom, dropping to the tiled floor and heaving into the toilet.

I hurry after her, stumbling slightly from the quick rush of jumping out of bed, and pull her hair back and out of her face. Beads of sweat cover not only her forehead, but her entire body and I don't even have to touch her to know that she's burning up; the heat radiating off of her is enough to tell me.

"I would ask if you're okay, but seeing that you have your head in a toilet, I think that answers that," I tease, trying to lighten up the situation as I take a seat on the edge of the bathtub. Emmie grips tighter onto the bowl and gags more. I place my hand on her back and rub soothing circles, whispering that she's okay as she continues to spill her guts out. If I didn't love her so much, I'd be completely repulsed by the sound of the contents of her stomach slapping against the water. "How long have you been feeling sick?" I ask.

She takes shallow breaths and a few tears stream down her face from the force of her stomach betraying her. "When did we leave the library?" she chokes out.

"A little after midnight."

"Since then," she says before dropping her head and heaving again.

That probably explains why Luke was touching her forehead. He noticed that she felt warm. I wish he would have told me that. He could've said, 'Hey Ash, I'm pretty sure Emmie has a fever' rather than, 'it's hot in here.'

The sound of Emmie's bedroom door opening followed by Julia standing in the bathroom doorway with a look of confusion and irritation ends my trail of thought.

"What the hell happened?" Julia shouts, glancing down to her friend hugging the toilet.

"She got sick," I say, standing up.

"Well no shit, Sherlock." She really is crabby when she's tired. "Is it the flu? Stomach virus? That sandwich that you had for lunch?"

Emmie just shakes her head and leans away from the bowl. "I'm pretty sure it's a mixture of that sandwich and stress," she says.

"I told you that sandwich looked questionable, but you had to go and eat in anyway."

"I was hungry. Sue me."

"You were stupid."

"Fuck off, Jules," Emmie groans, flushing the toilet and standing up to reach the towel on the rack and wiping off her mouth.

Before Julia can respond with another comeback, I intervene. "Julia, can you get her a glass of water?"

She narrows her eyes at me and then at Emmie who looks like she's going to be sick again. "Hold on," she says and steps out of the room.

Emmie splashes some water on her face and then brushes her teeth to rid the after-taste from her mouth. "I'm fine," she says, looking to me through the mirror with the palest face that I've ever seen on her.

"You know I don't buy that," I argue. "There's no way that a sandwich is responsible for you throwing up like that. You're covered in sweat and you've got one hell of a fever that will most likely make you pass out if we don't lower it."

"I'll be fine."

I purse my lips and grab her hand, pulling her over to the bathtub.

"Em, here's your water," Julia says, returning with a glass in hand. "What are you doing?" she asks, confused by my actions.

Ignoring Julia, I life Emilia up and over the edge of the tub and without warning, I turn the shower on cold. Emilia squeals loudly as the cold water pours down on her skin as well as the small amount of clothing that she's wearing and then begins swearing under her breath.

"Take a shower, cool down, and then you're going back to bed," I order, turning my back to her and pushing Julia out of the doorway so that we can leave her in privacy.

"That was a bit rash," Julia says, taking a sip of the water that was meant for Emilia.

"It was either that or let her be stubborn."

"I guess, but you know she's gonna be pissed right?"

From the other side of the bathroom door, Emilia yells, "Fuck you, Ashton!"

I grin. "I know, but she'll thank me later."

Julia sits on the bed and shakes her head amusingly. "Should I call in sick to work so that I can help you take care of her?"

"I should be okay, but I'll let you know if anything happens."

She nods and heads out of the room to get ready for work while I search through Emmie's drawers to find her something to wear and leave them in the bathroom for her.

The shower turns off after almost twenty minutes and I'm just hoping that she's not freezing now. Emmie walks out with a towel wrapped around her hair and a scowl that makes me take two steps back. Yeah, I'm definitely going to die today.

She points her finger at me and says, "You went through my underwear drawer."

"I kind of had to," I say. "I thought you'd be angrier about the shower than me having to pick out a bra and underwear for you."

She shakes her head. "No, the shower was actually amazing. You going through my drawer isn't."

"Do you feel better?" I change topics because if I don't do it now, I'll never hear the end of it.

"For the most part," she admits, unraveling her hair from the towel and drying it off until it's damp. "I'm not hot anymore and my stomach feels better. I just have a headache now."

I press the back of my hand against her forehead just to make sure she still doesn't have a fever and thankfully she doesn't. "Well, at least the worst of it is over."

"It need to all be over," she mumbles. "I have less than 24 hours to get better so that I can take my finals."

"Will you stop talking about your finals?" I snap and her eyes widen. "That's what got you here in the first place. It's all you've been talking about. For one day, can you just stop thinking about school and focus on yourself?"

Emilia goes silent and the scowl slowly drops from her face. Nothing makes me feel worse than having to put logic and reason into that stubborn head of hers because every time, she gives me a blank expression and I don't know what to do with it.

She pushes past me and crawls into bed, lying down with her back facing me and her hair fanning out behind her. I now see why Julia told me "good luck" before she left to work while Emmie was in the shower—she's difficult when she's sick.

I walk around to the other side of the bed to grab my phone off of the pillow and when I catch a glimpse of her face, she turns and faces the opposite of me again. I sigh and leave the room and go over to the kitchen and call Luke.

"You know it would've been nice of you to tell me that Emilia had a fever," I scold when he answers.

"So she is sick," Luke responds. "I thought something was off about her."

"You could've told me that last night instead of making me have to wake up to her throwing up this morning."

"Is she alright?"

"Yeah, she's fine. Pissed, but fine. I had to throw her in the shower because her fever was so high, but she looks better now."

"Well I would be pissed off too if you threw me in the shower."

"No, she's not pissed about that."

His tone turns condescending. "What did you do now?"

I roll my eyes and hop onto the counter. "She was being stubborn and complaining how she needed to get better quick because of finals-"

"That seems reasonable," he interrupts.

"Not when it's the only thing she thinks about. All she's been doing this week is studying her ass off and not giving herself a break. She worked herself sick. So I told her to stop thinking about finals and think about herself for once. Now she's ignoring me."

"She'll get over it. She's probably just mad that you told her what to do."

"More than likely."

"Let her simmer down for a bit. Make her some food or something in the meantime. Might as well make up for getting after her and be a good boyfriend while she's sick."

"I am a good boyfriend, you dick." I'm not sure if I'm getting irritated by Luke or just by the fact that this morning hasn't been pleasant and I'm just taking it out on everyone.

"Never said you weren't. Go play doctor and tend to your sick girlfriend so that she can be well enough to take her finals this week."

Now I can't stop picturing Emilia in one of those sexy nurses' outfit. Short white dress, stockings, the little hat with the red cross on it. The tight dress would show off all her curves, hugging them in all the right places. It would be unbuttoned just enough to show off a tiny piece of her bra and a load of cleavage. And her slim legs would look absolutely amazing as they're being shown off from the shortness of the dress. Dammit, Luke.

"I hate you," I say, hopping off the counter and opening up the fridge for anything to make Emmie.

"Love you too, dude," he snickers and hangs up and I slide my phone inside the large pocket of my sweats.

From the limited options in the fridge, I choose to make Emmie a bowl of cereal with the last bit of milk that's left in the carton. It's not the best breakfast that I can give her, but at least it's something. I struggle to get her bedroom door open with a glass of orange juice in one hand and the bowl of cereal in the other, and somehow without spilling either, I turn the knob and stagger inside.

Emilia is still lying in bed with the blanket wrapped tightly around her. She turns slightly and looks over her shoulder to me, her eyes fixated on the food in my hands.

"You hungry?" I ask and she nods and sits up straight. At least she's actually responding to me now. Maybe not verbally, but a nod is better than nothing. I hand her the bowl and place the glass of orange juice on the bedside table before going to sit on her desk chair. "How're you feeling?"

"The same," she replies hoarsely and eats a spoonful of cereal. "A little warm, but other than that, I feel the same."

I guess her fever is back. "Do you have any medicine that you can take?"

"There might be some in the bathroom closet," she says with her mouth full.

I'm able to find a fever reducer in the closet and I hand over one of the pill packets to her which she gladly takes and downs it with the orange juice. I let her continue eating while I sit at her desk and open up one of her notebooks to a blank page and pull a pencil out from the little cup that's in the shape of an elephant. With no clear idea as to what I'm going to draw, I just make random marks on the page and hope for the best.

"Hey Ash?" I turn to look at Emilia who is stirring her spoon around in the milk, occasionally hitting the side of the bowl by accident.

"Hmm?"

"We're at the end of the semester."

"I know."

"It went by so fast and so much happened." I drop the pencil from my hand and go sit on the edge of the bed, giving her my full attention. "You know I used to worry that after this semester ended, we wouldn't be friends anymore—that our friendship was just a project."

I furrow my brows. "What brought this up?"

"You told me to stop thinking about finals so I started to think about everything that has happened this semester."

I chuckle lightly. "When I said to stop thinking of finals I kind of meant school in general."

"Well you should have said that."

"I thought it was implied."

"It wasn't."

I guess I should have been a bit clearer. "Okay. Back to thinking that I wouldn't be friends with you after this semester, I think you know by now that that's complete bullshit," I say, earning a small smile from her.

"I know. I figured that out when you wouldn't stop following me to work all the time," she jokes and I laugh.

"So it wasn't because of me confessing my undying love for you?" I pout, making her giggle.

"There's that too." She smiles down at the bowl as she continues to swirl the spoon around. "I wanted nothing to do with you when I first met you. I wanted for you to leave me alone so that I could do my homework in peace. You were seriously too cheery for me and you still are. I thought you were just another idiot on campus with an inflated ego." Ouch.

"You could've stabbed me with that spoon and it would've hurt less than what you just said," I tease and she apologizes. "I can't really complain though since somehow this inflated ego got you to date me."

"True." She puts the bowl on the bedside table.

I lie on my side and prop my head up with my hand. Emilia doesn't look as pale as she did earlier and she actually has some color to her face now and even with a runny nose she still manages to look as beautiful as ever.

I am so whipped.

"How do you think our lives would be different if I never bumped into you?" she asks suddenly.

I turn and lay flat on my back. "I don't know. I can't really imagine a life without you in it. That sounds really cheesy and I know you're going to hold that against me, but it's true. We've been by each other's side for five months now and throughout that entire time we were with each other practically every day. Not bumping into you seems like an impossible scenario to even imagine, but if it didn't happen...I don't think I'd physically be here." I've never thought about it before, but now that I am, I know that's what would have happened.

"What do you mean?" she whispers, leaning closer to me, but keeping somewhat of a distance just in case she might be contagious.

I inhale deeply and keep my gaze fixated on the ceiling. "Natalie. Everything that I went through with her and especially the wedding invitation. You saw how I was. You saw how completely destroyed I was when I got that invitation in the mail. I couldn't stop drinking. It was just bottle after bottle and even though the guys tried to stop me, it was you who did in the end. If you hadn't come along, I would have continued to drink to the point of alcohol poisoning. Dying was never my intention. I just wanted the pain to go away or to at least be numbed, but I'm more than sure that I wouldn't have been able to stop myself before the inevitable.

"But I'm still here. I bumped into you, I became your friend, I fell in love with you, and because of that I'm still here; living, breathing, loving. I don't ever want to think of the what-ifs because I'm satisfied with the outcome that bumping into you brought." I turn my head and Emilia's eyes are glossed over and tears brim her eyes. "Emilia, don't cry. There was a happy ending to all of that," I say, trying to get her to see the positive side and lighten up the mood. At least now I know that she's very emotional when she's sick.

She fans her eyes to keep the tears that are forming from falling. "You know if you wanted to make me depressed we could have just watched Marley & Me," she jokes and chuckles softly.

I stretch out my arm and cup her cheek and wipe the stray tear that managed to escape with my thumb. "What are you thinking about?"

She places her hand on mine that continues to caress her cheek and leans into it with her eyes halfway open. "Do you love me like you did Natalie?"

My fingers twitch against her cheek and I lean up slightly and rest my weight on my forearm. "No."

"Oh," she breathes, clearly disappointed.

Looking her dead in the eyes, I say," There's absolutely no comparison. I feel like I know you more in the five months that we've been dating than I knew Natalie during the five years that we were together. What I feel towards you is more than I ever felt with her."

If I were to put Emilia and Natalie side-by-side, no matter how much I still love Natalie, I would undoubtedly choose Emilia in a heartbeat.

Her eyes flicker between mine and she curves her lips up. "If I weren't sick, I'd kiss you right now."

I smirk. "I don't mind," I say, simultaneously pulling her chin down to me as I lean up.

She covers my mouth with her hand. "Well I do. I don't want you to get sick."

"You're a tease," I mumble against her hand before she drops it. "First you strip in front of me and then you tell me you want to kiss me but won't let me," I pout.

She leans back until her head hits the pillow. "I was hoping you wouldn't bring that up," she groans. "I was hot."

"In more than one way," I tease, giving her a wink.

"Shut up." She grabs the extra pillow next to her and throws it at me, hitting my face.

I laugh and place the pillow back next to her. "Fine," I huff and she closes her eyes. "You tired?" She nods tiredly. "Go to sleep. I'll still be here when you wake up."

Slowly, she drifts off and I get up off the bed and sit back at her desk, turning the chair around to get a clear view of her. Grabbing the notebook and pencil, I begin sketching her sleeping face, detailing each feature with precision. Just as I finish shading in her hair and adding more length to her eyelashes, I stop and drop the notebook in my lap and throw my head back.

We really are at the end of the semester. It's so strange. I've never had a more event-filled and emotional semester until now. There may have been some unpleasant moments (mostly dealing with Jared), but everything else has been absolutely sensational and I've enjoyed every second of it; the good, the bad (maybe not the bad), and everything else in between. I met my little piece of heaven and she's helping me climb out of the pits of Hell. I love Emilia more than anything and when I finally hear her say it back, maybe then the single chain that continues to hold me back and remains hidden in between the pages of my sketchbook will finally break.

I lift my head and look down at my new drawing and a smile creeps onto my lips. I look over to the real thing and the drawing doesn't even come close to her beauty. Nothing ever will.

Her eyes begin to flutter open and it doesn't take her long to find me as she glances around the room. "Have you been watching me sleep?" she asks.

"A little," I reply. "Is that creepy?"

"No." She keeps one side of her face against the pillow and stares at me with droopy eyes.

"Are you okay?"

She nods. "I'm just thinking."

"What about?"

"How drastically we've changed just by meeting each other and how something that started out as a simple friendship...led to me loving you."

I place the notebook on the desk and crawl over next to her. Leaning over her, I press my lips against her slightly parted ones and for a short moment she moves with me, but then pushes against my chest with her hands.

"I told you that I didn't want you to get sick," she whispers.

The corner of my lips curves upward. "And I told you that I don't mind," I say before attaching myself to her again.

She may not have said 'I love you,' but I swear she's getting closer to it little by little, day by day.

__________

A/N:

PYW is slowly coming to an end. All that's left is the month of December and possibly New Year's (in the story). I've also thought of a big twist in the story which I'm eager to plan out and it might make you all hate me, but it'll be worth it. I can't believe PYW is about to reach 100k reads. I will legitimately cry if it actually does. Thank you all for your support. You have no idea how much you mean to me. Please continue voting, commenting, and sharing!

Also, Thanksgiving break starts tomorrow for me (since my professors decided to cancel class, thank God) so I should be able to write another chapter this week as long as I finish most of my homework and I'm not too busy with family.

I love you all!! –Rebecca xoxoxoxoxoxo