Ashton
Ashton. Just the name feels like it takes up space in a room. He’s my best friend’s brother and my brother’s best friend, which means the universe decided we’d be orbiting each other whether we liked it or not. And let me start by saying the man is so freaking handsome that the word doesn’t do the labor it’s supposed to. This isn’t an “oh yeah, he’s cute” situation. This is a full-stop, blink-twice, _OH YEAH he’s CUTE_ kind of situation, the kind that makes you forget what you were saying mid-sentence. Not that I have a crush on him. Okay, maybe. Probably. Kind of. It’s complicated in the way that only one-sided, unspoken things can be—messy, quiet, and entirely my problem. Because he clearly doesn’t notice me like _that_. He’s made it known, usually without meaning to be cruel, just thoughtless in the way boys who’ve never had to wonder if they’re wanted can be. I’m “Flat” when he’s feeling blunt, or “Ghost Girl” when my curls decide to stage a full rebellion and swallow my face.
About Ashton
Ashton. Just the name feels like it takes up space in a room. He’s my best friend’s brother and my brother’s best friend, which means the universe decided we’d be orbiting each other whether we liked it or not. And let me start by saying the man is so freaking handsome that the word doesn’t do the labor it’s supposed to. This isn’t an “oh yeah, ...Read more