Synopsis: Embarrassment is an inherent human emotion. Especially when one wakes up from an all night party. Even more so when a certain person one might possibly like is also there. And also embarrassed.

Genre: Friendship, Romance, Humour

Ending: Pre-Game

Rating: K+

A/N: This is the end of Act One – meaning the first stage of Chris and Ashley's relationship (i.e. meeting and getting to know each other.) Act Two will be coming soon!

I really enjoyed writing this chapter! Cutesy Chrashley is the best Chrashley.

The Library

The Day We Actually Studied

"You're jealous," Josh chews on his words aimlessly as he stuffs another handful of popcorn in his mouth. Stray pieces escape from his mouth as he crunches and they kamikaze onto the sofa between him and Chris with a bounce.

"Hold on," Chris' voice sways casually from where he's sprawled against the back of the sofa, eyes trained on Terminator 3 - the film showing on the huge, plasma TV screen. Still, the words feel sharp on his tongue. "Can you just rephrase that to 'not jealous'?"

Josh rolls his eyes in a heap, lazily and wordlessly smirking at Chris.

Chris is very tempted to shove the whole bowl of popcorn over his head.

Last night had been a reluctant foggy cloud - one of blurry figures and voices and alcohol. Chris had dragged himself around in a daze, passing grins and cans of beer. And then Ashley had turned up. Library girl Ashley. Period at the end of every text Ashley In her loose curls, and short dress, all accessorized by her flushing cheeks. He'd almost sworn.

And then he'd suddenly become acutely aware of everything.

Like the way she had looked at him - as if they'd known each other forever. Then how she'd instantly turned to Matt when he'd called her over with a smile. A move that almost said he was already used to her beauty.

And then the coldness of the kitchen table where Chris had slumped himself, icy beer bottle in his hand. Then the hotness of alcohol slithering down his throat as he'd watched the two of them interact. The way her shoulders had relaxed around Matt. The way he had lightened – insisting the two of them play a game of pool together.

The way she had laughed. The way she had fit in.

And the pounding migraine stabbing into Chris' skull.

The alcohol had helped with that one.

"I gotta hand it to you," Josh smirks from the side of his lips - just as Arnold strides onto the screen - before flinging a piece of popcorn into the air to try and catch it with his mouth. Which he fails miserably at. The popcorn victoriously cheers as it sails past Josh's mouth and onto the floor. "She's cute. Shame Matt got to her first."

Chris sighs, rubbing his hungover forehead, "Again. Not jealous."

Definitely not jealous.

Chris sighs. Like always, he'd been the last remaining corpse in the house as every other party-goer had trickled away. Leaving empty crunched up cans of beer strewn across the carpet. And the odd patches of liquid that could either be alcohol, spew or urine. Even Sam had disappeared early - though she had helped a frustrated Hannah and reluctant Beth clean the place, all the while swearing at Josh and Chris to get up their asses.

A sly grin slides up Josh's already full face. He chews slowly. Josh isn't listening to Chris. Again. Though if Chris wasn't Chris, he wouldn't listen to himself either.

"It's alright, bro," Josh patronisingly leans forward and pats Chris on the shoulder. He slurs out a whisper, as if it's a huge, big disastrous secret that could ruin the universe. "As the clear dating master between the two of us," he shrugs proudly and Chris groans. Before he smugly quirks an eyebrow. "I have a plan."

Well, this can't go wrong. At all.

Chris snorts. "As long as it's a better than your plan to watch this crap."

Then he grabs a handful of popcorn and lugs it at the TV.

"Aaarrggg," Ashley smothers a groan into her pillow, wanting to be sucked into it and hibernate there forever.

For a brief moment, after the fringes of her dreams had slipped away, she had forgotten all about her hideously embarrassing night last night.

And then, in a split second, it had tumbled towards her and hit her smack in the face.

It had hurt.

"So, how's that essay going?" She'd said when she'd finally had the courage to saunter up to Chris who, by that point, was slung across the kitchen counter alone, cradling a beer bottle in his hand.

How sad is it when an essay becomes a pick up line?

She had unhooked herself from Matt when he was progressively being tugged away by other girls. He'd sent her apologetic eyes but she had just laughed. "That's what you get for being a jock," she had narrowed her eyes playfully at him.

"The struggle," he had grinned back like it was an actual burden. But, honestly, he looked like he was rather enjoying it - even as he was being pulled away and smothered into a crowd of girls.

Ashley had just shaken her head, a laugh on her lips.

And then she was alone. Her arms her only comfort.

Because Hannah had dragged Sam onto the dance floor – evidently trying to catch some other person's attention. And Jess' company was not something Ashley had craved.

And so, instinctively, as if he was a magnet, she had turned to Chris. Which wasn't a hard decision to make since she'd come here for him in the first place. And, for every time she had been in a room with him, it had always been him she'd wanted to be near.

Granted, whenever he had been in a room with her, they were alone.

But that's besides the point.

"It'sss going great," Chris had squinted his bloodshot eyes to her, knocking his askew glasses against the kitchen counter. He raised his empty, clinking beer glass to her.

She had laughed but it had been stifled. Stifled by the crowds and the music and close bodies. She'd hopped onto the kitchen stool beside Chris to escape it.

"How's Matt?" he'd added and it would have almost sounded sharp if the alcohol hadn't sanded down the point. But the bitterness was still there.

Ashley had startled, furrowing her eyebrows at him. What did Matt have to do with any of this?

With a quiet shrug, she'd hummed. "Matt's, um, great, fine," her voice had flitted, distracted by the disgusting couple who had just started making out in front of them. Couldn't they do this more privately? More romantically? She had cringed.

Chris had let out a single laugh. It had been slow and drunk and lazy. And suddenly not bitter at all.

"You look like a pig," he blatantly stated, amid a chuckle.

"What?" she'd slapped her eyes to him, shocked. Hurt.

Was that supposed to be an insult?

He'd smiled clunkily. "When your nose wrinkles like that," his eyes had narrowed kindly as he'd looked to her. Curiously. Even if they were bloodshot. Even if they were behind foggy glasses.

Wait. Her nose wrinkled? In a flit of panic her hand had instantly flown to cover her nose, cheeks reddening and lips pursing.

And then Chris' sloppy, drunk hand had reached out and scrambled for her wrist, pulling her hand down. "No, don't," his words had been slippery and drunk. But real. "It's cute."

"Aaaarrggg," another scream gets shoved into her pillow.

Because it had been at that exact moment when Ashley had flooded with embarrassment, unhooked her hand from Chris' and, with a quick and fleeting apology, run away.

Right out of the party and, in a stumble, had fallen onto the street.

It turns out that, as soon as Ashley dares to step into a party, her common sense gets swallowed up with her.

With a reluctant moan, Ashley finally pulls herself from the peeling covers of her bed, rolling over to glance at the flashing time on her alarm clock. 12:36pm.

Gah. She'd slept in passed midday. How late had she stayed up to last night?

With a frustrated and sleepy sigh, she pulls herself up the bed and rubs her eyes, adjusting to the daylight seeping through her blinds.

Then her cellphone buzzes on her night stand.

Lazy and groggy, Ashley flops over and scrambles for it, pulling it close enough to her face so she can see it through her barely pried open eyes.

A text flashes across the screen.

CHRIS: remember when u said u'd help me out with my essay?

Immediately, Ashley's cheeks heat up. Can people hear thoughts through cellphones? Was Chris telepathically able to witness her recalling hideously embarrassing night last night? She would rather die!

With fumbling, desperate fingers, she types out a quick, typo filled reply;

ASHLEY: Yes?

It's cautious and unsure and- didn't he say his essay was going great?

Another text pings through.

She glances at it. And all her embarrassment washes away.

She laughs.

CHRIS: Help

"Is there anything I need, you know," Chris casually says, cell phone pressed against his ear, other hand stuffing his shirt and a notebook into a bag he'd grabbed from Josh. Josh had also let him steal a shirt because, who wants to go on a library study date with someone who stinks of alcohol? Not that this is a date... "To survive the horrors of the city library?"

Ashley chuckles on the other side of the phone line. "Maybe your brain," she sniggers and Chris sneers playfully at her. Some time, along the lines of their conversation, they had evolved from text messaging to an actual phone call. It feels odd to hear Ashley's voice over the phone. Like a little piece of her is trapped inside his iPhone.

Chris is not a phone call kind of guy.

Well, not usually.

"Hang on," Chris clucks his tongue, pretending to search for something. "Yep, my brain is still inside my skull. I think we're gonna be okay."

Just as Ashley laughs, Chris catches a glimpse of Josh across the large room giving Chris a patronising thumbs up and wink. Chris rolls his eyes.

"So, I'll, uh, see you in ten?" He asks, slinging his new acquired bag over his shoulder, aimlessly heading towards the Washington's front door.

"Make it twenty," Ashley coos on the other end, just as Chris passes a Beth slobbering cereal for lunch in the kitchen. When she gives him a weird look, he tries to hide his glowing smile with a cheesy, fake grin. "In case you get lost on your way."

Chris snorts, reaching the front door and clicking down the handle. "Ha ha," he droans, just as he hears Beth call to Josh; "Where's he going?"

And Chris pulls the door open just as Josh smugly replies; "Getting some ass."

oOo

The city library is a whole lot bigger than the school one. And a heck of a lot busier too.

"Let's find a quiet place," Ashley mutters beside him as they stare at the sea of giggling, messy kids.

"Why didn't you mention ear plugs as a thing I needed to take?" Chris asks, his face crumbling in slight panic. This is apparently what you get if you come to a library on a Saturday.

Ashley glances up at him, her shoulders doing a little, gentle shrug. She smiles playfully; "Then you wouldn't be able to hear me."

Chris narrows his eyes back at her, a grin creeping up; "And that's a good thing?"

"Hey!" Ashley snaps, slapping him across his arm with her notebook. He laughs sheepishly, batting her away. Okay, yeah, that was supposed to be a joke. But man does she hit hard. Cringing, Chris rubs his stinging arm with his hand.

To no one's surprise, Ashley is as adept with this library as she is with the school one – and probably any library in existence. She manages to find – or is already aware of – a small crook in a corner of the library where a low table is surrounded by sofa chairs. And it's, relievingly, far far away from the children's section.

"Okay," Ashley slaps her notebook on the table before falling back into one of the chairs. Chris casually follows suit, slinging his bag off his shoulder and onto the floor. "Let's do this!"

"Do you think it's time for a break?" Chris glances down at his wrist, which Ashley can blatantly see is without a watch.

She rolls her eyes, tapping her pen on his pad of notepaper.

"You literally had a break ten minutes ago," Ashley says dryly, raising both her eyebrows knowingly. He just glances at her and sheepishly grins.

Her lips can't help but react by twitching upwards.

To be fair on him, Chris had written a lot. After about fifteen minutes, his eyes had actually switched into concentration mode and he'd started to scribble some paragraphs in his notebook. It also helped when she reminded him that his essay was due on Monday.

He'd just flicked his eyes up to her – a brief moment when they'd just looked at each other – and he'd smiled with a shrug; "You've got a point, Sherlock."

Ashley had just pursed her lips playfully; "That's not a quote, Jackass."

Which didn't matter. Not when he smiled at her like that.

Which totally did not make her stomach do a highly embarrassing flip.

"In conclusion," Chris finally drones as he stares blankly at his notepad, repeating the words over and over again as if it will inspire some incredible response.

Ashley glances up from where she's been writing her own essay – this one a history of the crusades. It's relatively interesting – to catch Chris biting his bottom lip in concentration and she lets a tiny smile slip through her lips.

And then he's jerking his head up to look and her and she drops it.

"How's Matt?" He finally throws out the words. And they are choppy, as if he's been chewing on them for a while, not knowing what to do with them.

Ashley blinks back at him, feeling her cheeks heat. Because it's not the mention of Matt that is bringing up this embarrassment. It's what he's associated to. The party last night. The drink. The exact same question Chris had asked then.

He's not going to ask her why she bolted last night, is he? She could do without that.

Especially when she doesn't really know the answer herself.

"I mean," Chris rearranges his words when he evidently realises that Ashley has frozen in place. Not a good look, "How do you know him?"

"Oh," Ashley's lips curve and hover into an 'o' shape, blinking back at him. "Uh, he's in my year." She tries to shrug, glancing back down at her notebook because Chris' gaze is too heavy. Maybe his glasses are like magnifying glasses. Maybe his eyes are suns and his glasses – like magnifiers – are burning her. "I didn't really- don't really know him that well. He's fine."

Because he is. He's fine. He's fine, and she's been using that phrase to describe Matt for a while now.

She's hasn't really had the need to change it. She likes him enough.

"Ah," Chris swallows. And is that relief? She hears him smile. "Glad to hear he's fine."

Ashley nods, glancing back at him and smiling. Even if her cheeks are fierce fires.

"Fine. Good," Chris eyes lighten as his cheeks beam in a gentle smile. Ashley bites her lip happily, watching him as he glances back down to his notebook, reaching out for a pen.

And if she had enough courage to brush her hand against his, she would have handed him one.

END OF ACT ONE