5SOS Preferences

Ashton teaches you how to kiss: Part 2

Ashton teaches you how to kiss: Part 2

It wasn’t that Y/N couldn’t stop thinking about him, really, it wasn’t. It’s not like that kiss was the only thing running through her mind over and over again, his hands that had clutched at her waist, his pink and puffy-soft lips that meshed addictively with her own, and that sinful, sinful tongue… No, Y/N definitely wasn’t thinking about him at all.  

And, okay, maybe Y/N ran straight home after almost being caught by Michael, of all people—the damn boy that had actually gotten her a date with a guy she actually likes—and went straight to her bedroom, tucking herself in her sheets and closing her eyes, just praying for sleep to come because it’s not like she was overwhelmed or anything… No, she definitely was not. And it’s not like she lost sleep over a simple, little kiss with a friend who just wanted to help out—no, it wasn’t like she could still feel the tingles on her lips, the warmth of his hands, or his addictive taste that still lingered in her mouth. And no, no, it’s not like she wanted to do it again, to feel his lips against her own again and again…

Lies.

Y/N was not fine. She was not okay and the only thing she craved more than anything right now was to feel the lips of her friend on her own.

And that’s it, that’s the reason why she couldn’t want this—couldn’t want her friend’s kiss because they were friends, and friends shouldn’t want to kiss their other friends all the fucking time.

So, now, Y/N was alone and confused, sitting in her room because she didn’t want any company and she certainly did not want to go to Michael’s house and she wasn’t so sure to going on her following date with Mason after.

But we don’t always get what we want in life, now, do we?

“Y/N!” Michael’s loud and obnoxious voice rang throughout her apartment, even though he was outside her door, followed by a series of loud knocks, “You better be ready because I’m getting you anyways!”

Y/N rolled her eyes, tipping her head back, the back of her skull hitting the head of the sofa with a muffled thump as she groaned. She loved Michael, she really did, but she really didn’t want to go to his house and face Ashton—she knew all the boys would be at the house, they always were—for God’s sake, they all live together and they rarely leave the house unless another boy goes with them.

So, with a sharp tongue and clipped tone, she responded, “Fuck off, Michael! I already told you that I’m tired!”

But she didn’t get a response back.

Instead, Y/N heard the familiar click and instantly cursed herself for giving the boys a spare key to her apartment all those months ago. From the couch where she sat, she saw the door open; revealing a smirking Michael—he even managed to wave the key around in her clear view to mock her, a stupid grin plastered across his face all while teasing, “I have a key, smartass.”

Y/N grunted in response, flipping the bird high and proud before she settled back into the couch again, her frown deepening.

“C’mon, Y/N, just come for a couple of hours,” Michael pestered, stepping closer to the frowning girl before fully sitting on her, making her whine, “You’ll be back in time to get all prim and pretty for your little boy toy,” And at that Michael smirked, expecting a blush to form on the girl’s cheeks but all he got in response was a glare.

Using all her strength, Y/N pushed the pale boy off her lap with a gruff, “Get off,” before kicking up her legs and wrapping her arms around her knees to prevent him from sitting on her lap again.