“You idiot! You complete and utter idiot, Avery!”

            That’s the greeting I received when I was finally released from Andrew’s grip, and he yanked me inside the warmth of his house. At some point during the hug I’d dampened his T-shirt, but he either didn’t notice or mind. Apparently, his main point of concern at that moment was ensuring his insults got across.

            I opened my mouth to defend myself, but he didn’t let me.

            “You walked here? Jesus Christ, why did you do that? I thought you were going to drive your mom’s car or something. Not walk all the way here in the rain!”

            “My mom was in the kitchen. I didn’t have any choice.”

            “Then you should’ve called me! I would’ve just had to deal with the kid. You didn’t have to do all that to get over here.”

            “Yes, I did,” I said. “You would’ve done the same for me. Wouldn’t you?”

            Andrew paused, his mouth frozen in an O shape as the words died in his throat. “I… that’s irrelevant,” he mumbled eventually, running a hand through the dark waves of his hair. “You shouldn’t have come all the way over here like this. You’ve probably caught pneumonia and it’s all my fault.”

            “I’m fine,” I protested stubbornly. “Stop fussing. Now where’s the baby?”

            “You’re not fine, you’re soaking.” He reached up, beginning to pull the dripping jacket away from my shoulders. When it came away, and his gaze dropped to the flimsy pajama combo I was wearing underneath, I could almost feel the incredulity radiating off him. “And you wore your PJs?”

            “I’m fine,” I repeated.

            “You’re hopeless, Avery,” he said, but his voice was dominated by affection rather than insult. Folding up the jacket in his hands, he slung it over the nearby radiator and pushed a strand of wet hair away from my face. “And you really shouldn’t have done all that for me. Not to mention the fact that your mom’s going to kill you.”

            “I wasn’t going to leave you alone,” I answered. “You sounded pretty desperate on the phone.”

            He bit his lip. “Still…”

            “And I can handle my mom. I’ll just tell her I went out for emergency… girl stuff.”

            Andrew flushed slightly, his gaze finding its way to the floor. “Right.”

            “So where’s the doll?”

            His head snapped back upwards and he shook it vehemently. “No. You’re not doing anything until you take a hot shower and get changed. I’m not letting you stay in those wet clothes.”

            I rolled my eyes. “Just let me try and shut up the baby first. That’s the whole reason I came over here, isn’t it? Then I’ll change.”

            I started toward the living room, where the crying seemed at its loudest, but before I could move my feet a measurable distance, two hands landed on my shoulders. My eyes flickered back up to Andrew, who was frowning down at me.  “That can wait. You’ll get sick,” he stated. “Shower. Now.”

            “Andrew…”

            “No arguing. It’s been over two hours; I can handle another twenty minutes. I’ll leave some of my clothes outside the bathroom door, okay?”

            I wanted to protest, but there was something about the look in Andrew’s eyes that told me he wasn’t about to give up on this one. I suppose it was sweet, really. Even so, I didn’t see much difference in seeing to the screaming demon child first, postponing a shower until the house was quiet again. If I had caught pneumonia, the damage was probably already done.

            But, knowing I’d been defeated, I sighed and nodded anyway. “Fine.”

            As I kicked off my sneakers and headed toward the stairs, I could see Andrew shaking his head at me, but a small smile was tugging at the corners of his lips. “You’re mad, Avery,” he said. “Completely and utterly mad. But I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

***

            When I stepped out of the shower and into Andrew’s bathroom twenty minutes later, I had to admit I felt considerably better. It was probably attributed to the fact that although I was still dripping, this time it was with hot water and not residue from the latest rainstorm.

            I wrapped a towel around myself and stepped out of the bathroom. At my feet lay a pile of clothing; on closer inspection it was a faded gray pair of sweatpants, and one of Andrew’s sweaters. For some reason, I found myself burying my nose in the garments. They smelled exactly as my best friend did: of the lemon-scented washing powder his mom had used for years, combined with the familiar muskiness that seemed to just cling to him. It brought with it a strange sense of comfort, which heightened once I pulled the clothes on over my underwear (which, thankfully, had remained dry). Although they were way too big for me – the sweatpants finished way past my ankles and posed an extreme tripping hazard until I rolled them up – there was something about wearing his clothes that sped up my heartbeat a fraction, as if permanently enclosed in a hug from the guy himself.

            Heading back into the living room, I found him perched on one end of the couch, the doll lying in the crook of his arm. Something odd about the scene struck me immediately; a few seconds later, I realized the room was shrouded in silence.

            “Avery!” Andrew’s face lit up like a light bulb when he saw me. “It stopped – about ten minutes ago, it just stopped!”

            “You’re kidding.” I sunk into the seat beside him, peering down at the child. Its dysfunctional eye had rolled backwards into its head, but in all other ways, it actually looked – dare I say it – peaceful. “What did you do?”

            “Nothing, it just happened,” came Andrew’s response. His expression was an equal mixture of exhaustion and relief. “I was just holding it, waiting for you to come out of the shower, and… it stopped. Just like that. I swear, it must’ve sensed your presence or something.”

            I rolled my eyes.

            “Seriously, though, you always handle this thing better than I do. It knows. It can smell fear.”

            “It’s a doll, Andrew,” I told him. Reaching over to take the baby from his arms, a stab of pain shot through my shoulder, in the same place I had hit in my fall from the porch roof. I did my best to mask my expression, but acting has never been my forte, and Andrew noticed immediately.

            “What’s wrong?”

            “Nothing,” I said quickly, cupping it with my hand. “A little bruise or something. I must’ve got it climbing out of the window. It’s not a big deal.”

            “Come here.”

            I tried to object, but Andrew had already slid the baby back into its carrier and was tugging the sweater down my shoulder. And, sure enough, an uneven patch of discolor had formed, marking the beginning of a bruise. I guess it had been a result of my less-than-delicate fall, but had been too preoccupied in making a getaway to notice. My main priority had been making sure my butt was out of sight if and when my mom went searching for the source of the commotion, while inspecting my body for damage had been kind of shoved to the sideline.

            “It’s–”

            Before I’d even forced out the word, he had scrambled to his feet. “I’ll get you some ice,” he offered, disappearing into the next room in a matter of seconds.

            Letting out a sigh, I sunk back against the soft material of the couch. Albeit a little sore, it felt fine, but I knew better than to persist. It couldn’t be plainer that Andrew felt guilty about my journey over here, but he didn’t have to act as my servant to make up for it. He was my best friend; I wasn’t just going to leave him to suffer the tortures of a screaming baby simulator alone. Even if it meant trekking across the neighborhood in a) the middle of the night, b) the pouring rain and c) my pajamas.

            However, true to his word, he materialized about thirty seconds later with a bag of frozen peas in his hand.

            “Andrew, there’s really no need–”

            My lips froze mid-sentence as the sensation of extreme cold against my skin shocked me. The feeling could be likened to a collection of tiny needles stabbing me simultaneously, but a few seconds allowed me to become accustomed. Eventually, a sigh escaped me and I relaxed, realizing that – once again – Andrew was right, and my shoulder was beginning to feel better.

            Extremely cold, but better nonetheless.

            “Thanks,” I mumbled.

            He just shook his head. “You’re thanking me after you went through all this trouble for me? You climbed out of your freaking window, Avery,” he said. He was leaning across me to keep the frozen peas in place, his face closer to mine than it would otherwise be. “I think you deserve a little ice.”

            “I know you would’ve done the same for me.”

            The corners of his lips turned up into a sheepish smile. “Maybe…”

            “You know, we should probably stop doing such crazy things for each other.” My eyes trailed upward, leaving my injured shoulder and refocusing on Andrew. I was slightly to taken aback to find his speckled brown pair boring into mine with such an intensity that my first instinct was to shy away.

            “I can’t help it,” he said, and I wondered why his voice had suddenly lowered to only a fraction louder than a whisper. A heavy, expectant pause stretched between us as he searched my expression, almost as if for permission to voice his next thought. “Not when I’m so crazy about you.”

            My sharp intake of breath marked the start of what seemed like a frozen moment in time. I wondered if I’d imagined it; surely now, in Andrew’s living room, sat on his couch in the middle of the night while he held a bag of frozen peas to my shoulder, was not the scene for such a heartfelt confession. Yet as the clock on the wall ticked on, proving that time really was still passing, and my eyes stayed locked with his, it dawned on me that he had just said what I thought he’d said…

            So I did the only thing that sprung to mind: I grabbed the front of Andrew’s shirt and pulled his lips to mine.

            His surprise was evident through the kiss; for a moment our lips just brushed awkwardly as he struggled to gain enough composure to respond. Then something clicked, and the bag of frozen peas dropped to the couch; Andrew’s hands had moved to my waist, pulling me in closer.

            I didn’t really know what I was doing. The conscious part of my brain, at least, seemed to have no control over my actions; it simply felt right to snake my arms behind his back and continue kissing him like I was afraid to stop.

            Except I did stop, because I wasn’t exactly the world’s most experienced kisser and had yet to learn the art of mid-kiss breathing.

            Andrew’s hand found its way to mine, interlinking our fingers. “So… this whole ‘pretending to date’ thing we’ve got going on at school…”

            Being a little too overwhelmed by the last thirty seconds to say anything more elaborate, my response was limited to a simple, “Uh huh.”

            “What if… maybe… we weren’t pretending?”

            He was chewing nervously on his lip, as if the kiss hadn’t served as sufficient proof that his feelings were mutual. I blinked up at him, squeezing his warm hand reassuringly. “I think I’d be okay with that.”

            “Just okay?” His tone was teasing, although not fully free of the nervousness that had followed us into this starkly different territory. Best friends, and best friends who make out on the couch at three in the morning, it seemed, were two very different things. And now we’d crossed the line – bought a one-way ticket and skyrocketed across the line, in fact – I doubted there was any going back. “Not totally and utterly ecstatically happy with that?”

            “Hmm… maybe that too.”

            Shifting in his seat, he reached over and enveloped me in one-armed warmth. I pulled my knees up and settled comfortably into his side. “I love you, Avery,” he said, the sincerity of his voice stronger than I’d ever heard before.

            I tilted my head upward, catching a better view of Andrew’s boyish features. “Not that I don’t love you back or anything, because I totally do, but,” I saw his brows furrow, “I think I’m sitting on the frozen peas.”

----------------------------------

How's that for Avery/Andrew action? Haha, hope you liked it!

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