The Get-Go [Ashton Irwin]

04: Get In Touch

    Zoë and I were almost at the station where we got off for school when Ash texted me for the first time. It wasn't incredibly, unbearably cute, or anything. Actually, when Ashton says he texts like a twelve-year-old girl, he means he texts like a twelve-year-old girl.

     Unknown

     Unknown: heyy winter its ash :)) xx

     Ashton: **Wynter 

     Ashton: damn autocorrect haha

 

    "Ooh! Who's that?" My best friend was reading the message over my shoulder, looking like she was about to get into full-on teasing mode. Actually, Zoë always looks like she’s about to get into full-on teasing mode. That’s actually about 90% of our overall friendship - her teasing and making fun of me, and me teasing and making fun of her right back. You know the type; if people didn’t know we’re best friends, they’d probably think we fucking hate each other.

    Still, I was hesitant to share Ash with her just yet. I sort of liked our friendship, so far. It felt special, based on stuff that actually matters, the most weirdly intimate aspects of our lives that quite frankly, most people never know about each other. How could I tell her about a guy I’d barely met, who still knew things that she didn’t, despite having known me for fifteen of my sixteen years of living?

    “Just Ashton,” I mumbled. “He stayed at the hotel over the break, and we hung out a bit.”

 

    Not a lie. Not technically everything I normally would’ve told her, but not a lie, either. Of course, it was still more than enough information that she bugged me all the way to school, especially after she caught me texting him back on the short bus ride from the train station to school.

     Wynter: Hey! Texting me already? You can’t be *that* bored :P

 

    For once, sliding into my seat in Intro to Psych next to Brent Ferraro is actually something of  a relief. Not that I don’t like Psych, or Brent, or anything like that. It’s just that normally, I kind of really dislike the majority of school. It’s the principle of the thing.

    Actually, that’s only mostly true. With Brent, it depends on the day. There were (and still are) days where he’s an actual teacher’s pet, and I want to stab him in the back with a pencil, but other days, Dr. Chase, our teacher (and my staff advisor) has to spend a good chunk of the class off on a tangent because the pair of us are bouncing ideas off each other like there’s no tomorrow.

    That day was one of the very rare days where it didn’t go either way. Brent might’ve been being a sucky bitch, but I was too distracted by Ashton to notice. He hadn’t stopped texting me since that first message on the train, and I hadn’t exactly done anything to discourage him; instead opting to hide my phone behind my laptop screen and split my attention between Dr. Chase’s lesson and texting.

    Near the end of class, Dr. Chase declared that we’d learned enough for the first day back after a two week break, and let us filter off into our own conversations about what we did over break. I took that as free license to openly continue my text conversation with Ash - Dr. Chase rarely cared when we used our phones in class, so long as it didn’t disrupt the lesson.

    "Ooh! Does Wynny have a new boyfriend?” Brent’s tone was as teasing as Zoë’s had been earlier. The difference is in the fact that Brent and I have only really been friends since the first grade, which yeah, is a long time, but it's still not the sixteen years Zoë and I have, and I have no qualms with elbowing him in the ribs. Zoë would’ve just elbowed me back, but he rolled his eyes, and muttered something about what the hell was my problem this morning.