Why Friends Should Stay That Way

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My feet are cold. That is the thought that wakes me up at approximately 3:26 in the morning.

Why? Because Craig "The Whole World Revolves Around Me Because I'm A Loveably Idiotic Musician Eventhough I'm A Man-slut Who Happens To Be Insanely Hot" Manning has tossed his share of the covers down to his waist. Meaning that not only am I forced to once more look upon his completely bare chest all aglow in the moonlight, but my feet are entirely exposed to the frigid night air. The heat in this building sucks. Why does he think I have all these blankets on the bed?

Well, two can play this game. Raising up as gently as possible, I grab the end of the covers and toss them back over my feet, warmth immeadiatley flooding through my frozen toes.

And also covering Craig's head. Oh well.

I'm all toasty again and almost asleep when I feel my bunk mate jerk in his sleep and shoot up in the bed. "Ellie!"

"What?" I ask innocently. Then realize it was a mistake, for had I truly been asleep I wouldn't have answered him.

"You're lucky I didn't suffocate." he whined, laying back down and I can hear the sulky pout on his face.

"Please. It was two seconds tops. It's what you deserve for turning my feet into ice cubes." I touch the tips of one foot against his side and he yelps. "Warn a guy before you do something like that."

"Just don't do it again." I say and with that, dream time can resume.

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Unlike the impromptu blanket battle, I wake the second time due to extreme warmth. Too much warmth in fact. And once more it's coming from Craig.

Somehow in the five hours since I woke up the last time, Craig has managed to turn himself around and is snoring softly behind me. Right behind me. I'm facing the wall and that ... that guy is actually spooning me! He's got his arm draped casually over my stomach and is blowing soft little fluttery breaths against my hair.

And the absolute worst part of this little situation? I like it. No, scratch that. I'm in heaven right now.

But I have to get up. I have a class at nine and I can't be late. Finals are less than a week away and I have to do well this semester to get into that journalism program next fall.

Lifting his arm, which should so not be that heavy, I manage to crawl out of the bed without killing myself and get dressed in record time, leaving a hasty note for Craig on the mirror.

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If I could have concentrated in class, then maybe the day would have gone okay. But the fact that I kept wishing I were still in bed, with Craig all curled around me, amidst pondering why I had to go and fall for him in the first place, just proved that the day was going to suck beyond measure.

"Miss Nash."

"Huh?" I snap back to rality to find Mr. Renfroe, aka the most evil man alive, looking at me like he wants to string me up for public ridicule in the quad and the rest of the class dead quiet.

"When I asked you why Hemingway chose to end with Brett and Jake not ending up together, I was not looking for 'Craig is a blanket hog' as an answer." he says snottily. Don't know if that's a word, but ti certainly suits him to a tee.

But oh God, did I really say that? Out loud? Kill me now.

"Sorry." I say lamely.

"I don't wish to know the details of your private life Miss Nash. Kindly pay attention next time or don't bother coming to class." he remarks, turning away from me.

Relly, what else could I do but bang my head against my desk?

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The day only got worse. In chem lab I set my notes on fire with the bunsen burner and spilled my latte on my new shirt on my way back to the dorm

Depressed, wet, cold, and seriously ticked I head back to my room. Some tiny part of me is sincerely hoping Craig will be gone when I get there. There is a reason why friends are friends. They're not supposed to ruin your day merely by existing. And they're certainly not supposed to mek you sniff your own hair in class because you can still smell their aftershave and make all your classmates think you're a freak.

All I want to do was crawl under the covers and hide for the rest of the day. I'm even goiing to blow off work. I'll be sick, Jesse will understand.

No such luck. Not two seconds from my door, Carly from down the hall rushes up to me. "Ellie, where did you find him?"

"Who?" I ask, though I already know. Who else could it be but Mr. Always Complicates My Life?

"The tall, dark, and handsome hottie you have stashed in your room. Lucky girl. Bet you love when Anne's away." she says, the glint of juicy gossip glittering in her eyes.

"If you mean Craig," I tell her slowly, "he's just a friend. A friend I've known for years with a girlfriend."

"Uh-huh." she says sarcastically. "Then why isn't he satuying with her? And what would your boyfriend say?"

"He would say 'Mind your own business.'" I snap, stalking into my room and slamming the door.

Craig is once again stetched out in perfect contentment on my bed, in his shoes no less, munching away on a bag of Cheetos. "You seriously need to talk to your RA about the variety in your vending machines El." he says lazily.

I snatch the bag out of his hand. "I was gone for three hours and you couldn't stay put?"

"I was hungry!" he cries in defense. I roll my eyes. "Well now my neighbors think I'm having some wild and kinky rendezvous in here behind Jesse's back. Thanks so much."

"Kinky, huh?" he raises his eyebrows in amusement.

"Shut up."

Over at my closet, I grab the first thing I come to and begin to peel off my soaked shirt, then remember I have an audience. An audience that is watching me.

"Don't let me stop you." he says smugly.

"Perv." Lame, I know. But I am beyond flustered here. "Stop staring and turn around."

He obeys and I change in record time. Throwing my hair up hastily, I grab my phone from my bag and hit speed dial 6 for dinner. "I hope you're in the mood for Chinesse." He looks just as unbothered as it's possible to look and shrugs.

"How was your day?" he asks, popping another chip into his orange ringed mouth.

"Horrid. Just so you know, I'm not answering the phone." I inform him.

"Skipping class?"

"Work." I clarify.

"Why Ellie, you've gone and turned into a rebel on me." he says around a mouth full of flourescent mush.

"Gross Craig and by the way, shut up." How many times do I have to tell him that before he gets the hint?

The food comes and we eat, discuss Vancouver, and finally I ask the big question. "Craig, why are you here?"

He has the confuse look again. God, if only that weren't so cute. The he really could just be Friend Craig. "Uh, here as in Toronto or here with you?"

This is going to be fun. Not. "Here as in, not with your girlfriend who, last time I checked, lives right down the street from Joey."

He's giving me this look that says I'm really not going to like this. Damn. Me and my big mouth.

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