Examine

eighteen

ASHLEY

Michael corners me over lunch.

"Are you avoiding me?" he asks. His head tilts ever so slightly in concern.

"No..." I reply slowly. Unconvincingly. "I've just been busy."

"Right," Michael says with a small smile as if he can tell I'm lying through my teeth. "It's just every time I get a glimpse of you, you mysteriously disappear."

My cheeks are starting to heat, and I study the bulletin over his shoulder as if it's the most interesting thing in the world. 

No, I most definitely had not spun around and bolted in the opposite direction whenever I had seen Michael walk confidently down the corridor toward me. Nor had I pre-emptively ducked into a supply closet to escape him when I heard his voice around the corner.

"Huh, weird," I comment.

Michael still looks concerned. "Are you sure it's not me? Did I do anything to make you feel uncomfortable?"

Shame stirs deep in my stomach. Now I feel bad. It wasn't Michael at all. I want to shout at him: 'It's me! I made myself uncomfortable by having a crazy sex dream about you!'

An extremely gratifying, hot as sin, wet my panties, sex dream. Every time I saw Michael the vivid dream splayed into the forefront of my mind, and I would find myself replaying it over and over again. Analysing the minutest detail. Would I really gasp his name as he entered me? Would his length send me spiralling to the brink of my control? Would we both lose control so forcefully, brazenly, and with abandon?

Now all I want is just one taste of the real thing.

Of course, I do no such thing. I do not enlighten him to the nuances of my thoughts, or how incredibly messed up I am – in a relationship with one brother and imagining the other sexing up my world.

Ew.

I hate myself for these lascivious thoughts.

"No, you didn't do anything to make me feel uncomfortable," I reassure Michael.

However, Michael does not look convinced by my weak attempts at clearing my name thus far. To draw him off the scent I offer another cornel of truth that has been bothering me instead.

"I'm worried about my dad's wedding."

Michael shifts closer. "What about it?" he asks gently.

"Jack's meant to go, but after he didn't turn up to Saeko's party..."

"You're not sure if he'll turn up for your dad's wedding?"

"Yeah," I agree, glad that he said it and not me.

Michael nods. "Sometimes the only thing we have is our word."

"I just really wanted Jack there as a buffer between my Dad and me."

"Is it still tense between you two?"

"Yup," I heave out a sigh. "But it's mostly on my part. I'm still angry with the way he treated mum – he was horrible to her, cheated on her for the last few years of their relationship, and within a year of leaving knocks up the girlfriend he had on the side and treats her better than ever."

"Jeez," Michael looks stunned by what I just said.

"He's so happy it's sickening." I continue. "I find myself wondering why he couldn't be that happy with us. Couldn't treat us in that loving, optimistic way he treats his new family."

Michael expression softens. There's a remote kind of sadness in his expression. 

"Life's a learning curve. Sometimes people treat us badly because they haven't learnt better. With time and with another person, they find something within themselves to be able to do that. It doesn't mean that we deserve to be treated that way. Just like sometimes we need to learn to have higher standards for how we want to be treated by others."

I feel so attracted to Michael at that moment. I want him to scoop me up in his arms and hold me tight. He's also answering my unspoken issues with Jack. Maybe I need to ask Jack for what I want – to spend time together in person.

Then I meet Michael's gaze again and he's brimming with concern. I realise it's too late.

I do not know the precise time it happened. But this is so much more than finding Michael attractive – and having weird sex dreams about him. I like him. I've redeveloped my unrequited crush.

"If Jack doesn't turn up in time, I can accompany you to your father's wedding." Michael offers kindly. "I'd be more than happy to act as your buffer for the day."

But maybe my feelings aren't unrequited anymore?

If Michael is offering to spend time with me, take me out on things-that-seem-like-dates-but-are-not-actually-dates-because-I'm-dating-his-brother, there's a chance that he likes me in return.

Before I can stop myself, pleasure blossoms inside my chest.

I want him to accompany me.

Then I quickly repress the feelings because I can't do that to Jack.

All the air escapes me in a rush as it dawns on me, I can't ever do that to Jack. Even if – just maybe – Michael returns my feelings, we can never follow that to fruition. I can't hurt Jack like that. Choosing his own brother over him would be a million times worse than what my dad did to my mum.

I can feel myself sinking.

And it's Michael's steady gaze that pulls me out. "You okay?"

"Yes," I mumble, crestfallen and dejected but I put on a brave face. "Thank you for offering, but it's okay, I can go alone if Jack doesn't arrive in time."

"No problem, but the offer still stands if you find yourself wanting a last-minute fill in," Michael says, before checking his watch. "My breaks almost up, but do you want to go bowling tonight? Jason and his boyfriend are in town and want to play a game. I thought you might want to come."

Little does he know how much I want to come. Preferably at his hands.

He looks so hopeful and open and kind and sexy and like the epitome of everything I want that I feel my resolve crumbling. We're still friends - and that's all we'll ever be. Now that I know I'm hopelessly crushing on him, I can't deny him twice in a row.

"I'd love to."