youngblood | a.i.

twenty nine || he's using you

Saturday, October 17th- 12:49 p.m.

The dynamic between Ashton and I had completely shifted within the past 24 hours, and I still don't think I'd completely processed it. We could actually stand each other's presence, but that was months in the making of denying cravings. I think we'd always jokingly pick fights with one another. It's just our competitive nature. But that's all they were- stupidly competitive jokes.

But rather than thinking with my mind and truly trying to understand where we stood, I let my body and heart lead, doing what they wanted over what my mental issues would have allowed.

I think that lack of thinking is what led me to the moment I was in, my head on Ashton's chest as he drew patterns on my lower back under his shirt that covered my body. We had turned to Netflix for entertainment, landing on the last episode of criminal minds I had been on.

I looked up to him as it started wrapped up, watching how carefully he focused to process everything that was happening. I noticed how his tongue tended to rub across his bottom lip from the inside when he focused, making me smile as I noticed yet another one of his quirks.

His eyes shot down to me at my change in expression, realizing I had been watching him. "What?" he asked defensively.

I lolled my head to the side, scooting farther up the couch so my head could rest on his shoulder, making it harder for him to look over to me.

"Nothing," I told him with a smile, looking back up to the tv.

"No, what were you looking at?" he asked again, laughing lightly at the way I was being.

"You," I responded. "The way you run your tongue along your lip when you focus."

I explained it to him, knowing we were past keeping stupid small secrets from each other. There was still a lot I didn't know about him and a lot he didn't know about me, but simple little things like this didn't have to stay as secrets anymore.

"You do it on the field too," I added on as I listened to his heartbeat below my ear.

"Yeah, well, you lock your thumb between your index and middle finger every time you shoot," he said back, making me push up off him.

"No, I don't," I defended myself. Even I didn't know I did that, how did he?

"I'm not lying! You do," he explained. "Here, there's gotta be a photo of you shooting on the team's page."

I sat up off of him as he scooted up the couch. I sat straddling his lap as he grabbed his phone off the table, opening it to find a photo for proof. I slipped my thumb under the fingers he described, feeling how it oddly felt familiar. He looked up at me, laughing as he watched my confused expression.

"No way I do that," I fought him, looking at him completely dumbfounded.

"I'm serious," he defended. "You only do it when you shoot though, not just when you have the ball. And you only do it with your right hand."

It made me bite the inside of my cheek as I realized how close he had to have been watching me to realize all that in the few select games we had playtime together in.

"Here's one," he said, opening his arm to invite me down closer. I leaned down, pushing myself up against his chest so I snaked under his arm. I rolled onto my back when my head reached his shoulder, looking up to his phone as he wrapped his arm back around me, lowering his phone so it rested on my stomach.

He zoomed in on the photo. "See!" he pointed it out.

I did in fact have my thumb encased in only my index and middle finger, making me scoff under my breath as I did it with my hand again. I'd never known I did that, but he'd watched me carefully enough to realize.