Paint You Wings // Ashton Irwin [au]

Two

Emilia's POV

"So now that we're friends—"

"We're not friends," I cut Ashton off.

"Now that we're friends," he repeats, pausing momentarily to see if I will interrupt again. I roll my eyes and he takes my silence as an okay to continue. "I think it's only fitting to get to know each other."

"And why do you say that?" I question, raising an eyebrow.

"Because I know next to nothing about you, other than the fact that you're wearing a nude color bra with a little blue bow in the middle."

My lips press into a thin line as I glare at him. "If it weren't for a certain someone, my bra wouldn't have been on display for all of Starbucks to see!" I loudly whisper, making Ashton laugh.

After introducing ourselves, Ashton took it upon himself to sit across from me at the booth. He just sat down. He didn't even ask. He just made himself comfortable and began messing with the fabric from the sleeve of his worn out flannel shirt while playing a one-sided game of twenty questions.

So far I've learned that he is twenty-three years old and that he transferred from Sydney, Australia a year ago to study business and economics. He also mentioned that he wanted a "change of scenery," but it sounded as though he was only telling me that to try and convince himself of it. I decided not to question it. He continued to tell me about his younger brother and sister—Harry and Lauren—and how they plan to come fly in and visit for winter break. I began to tune him out after he started rambling about the time he and his mom killed, as he called it, "a huge ass spider" with a deodorant spray can and a lighter, so I didn't hear much more about his personal life after that.

"So, Em-"

"Emilia," I correct.

"Emmie?"

"Emilia," I say a little more slowly, hoping he will catch on to use my actual name and not some kiddy nickname.

"I like Emmie better." He smiles, noticing my irritation. "So Emmie, what do I have to do for you to tell me about yourself? I've told you pretty much all the basic facts about me. I should at least be a level one friend now."

"Well first off, a level one friend would call me by my given name," I say. "Secondly, I never agreed to play this game of 'get to know each other.' And lastly, it's only ten o' clock; it needs to be at least past noon before I can start telling my life story to strangers—"

"Friends," he corrects with a sly smirk.

I roll my eyes. "Whatever." I pack up my things and shimmy out of the booth. I have class in thirty minutes and it takes at least ten minutes to walk all the way across campus to the General Studies building, plus I want to get a good seat in the back of the lecture hall.

"Where are you going?" Ashton grabs my arm as I exit Starbucks, turning me to face him.

"Class," I answer, as though it were obvious. I tug my arm away and continue walking. Looking over my shoulder, I catch Ashton jogging through the small distance between us before slowing down and matching my steady pace.

"Where is your class at? I'll walk you there," he offers.

"No, it's alright. You don't have to." I try to decline.

"Emmie." He speeds up and stops in front of me, forcing me to stop and look at him. "I wasn't asking." The stupid smile plastered on his face is enough to make me fumble with my words. So instead of responding, I nod and continue my trek to class with him slowly following behind.

"You know, you should really work on that whole 'not asking' problem of yours, Ashton" I say.

His feet click along the pavement as he jog behind me again, trying to catch up. "No, I kind of like how I'm doing so far, seeing that we're both on a first name basis."

Without even looking, I already know his smile hasn't left his face; it only gets wider.

____

This is completely out of my character. I don't just walk to class with a friend. I don't have many friends and the friends that I do have don't attend the same college as me and we've lost contact, so I'm unable to walk to class with them anyways. Although, I probably wouldn't consider Ashton an official friend seeing that I met him only an hour ago. Yet, here I am walking to history with this boy whom I just met and I'm actually enjoying myself.

We are more than halfway to the General Studies building and Ashton is describing the architecture of each building we pass more than likely to keep from having an awkward silence between us. I stay quiet for most of the walk until he begins asking generic conversation starter questions like if I have any siblings or what my favorite color is. His expression is priceless when I tell him not only the quantity of dogs that I own back home but also when I mention one of the four is a pug. Even with the simple question of what my favorite animal is, he looks at me attentively as though every word I speak is of priceless value.

Breaking away from the sidewalk and making my way to the wide staircase leading up to the front of the building, I turn to Ashton. "You really didn't have to walk all the way over here with me."

"I wanted to do it, so it's really no problem." He grins, dimples pressing under his high cheekbones. "What time do you get out of class?"

"Um, around eleven thirty. Why?"

He scratches the back of his neck and breaks his gaze from mine. "No reason. I'll see you around?" he asks, hopeful.

In my experience, 'see you around' means 'I'm not sure how to say goodbye, but this will suffice since we probably won't actually see each other again,' however, the way Ashton says it makes it sound genuine. Like he's sure that we will see each other again. "Sure," I finally say.

The dimples re-appear before he waves me off and walks back in the direction that we just came from, his eyes never veering off the path in front of him. I head inside the building and climb the stairs to the second floor. Thankfully, the class hasn't filled up, so I am able to find a seat in the back of the room just how I like. I study over the notes from last class until the professor comes in and rambles on about Napoleon III.

After the long history lecture, I stuff my notebook into my backpack and eagerly leave the building to go home. Stopping me as I step outside, a figure standing on the concrete staircase with his back facing me catches my attention.

"Ashton?" I call.

He turns around and my gaze drops to his right hand where a green tea Frappuccino is being held. "I owe you one, remember?" he says. "Or did you forget that I spilled your drink all over you?" He chuckles to himself and hands me the drink.

I take a long sip from the straw while keeping eye contact with Ashton. Three acts of kindness in the span of three hours. The shirt, the walk, and now the drink. Is there something for him to gain from being nice to me or is he just abnormally sweet? I stare at him a bit longer before releasing the straw from my mouth.

"Level one-point-five," I announce.

"What?"

"You've been promoted to friendship level one-point-five," I answer, taking another sip of my drink. It's really not that big of a difference from where he was before. He's still only an acquaintance whom I don't expect to see much after today.

His eyes light up and the same stupid smile that makes me forget the entire English language engulfs his face. I guess it doesn't hurt to make new friends. "I can't wait to see what happens when I reach level five."