So. I was so disappointed with the last chapter of Storytellers.
Very, and I mean very, few people reviewed the ACTUAL ending.
But, onto other things..

This was something I wrote a few months ago.. before I finished Storytellers,
but I didn't want to post it because I thought it'd sorta clash.
Anyway, now that that obviously isn't a problem anymore,
here it is.
Just Andrew and Justin.

Nothing big!
As always,
(and I haven't written that in a LONG time!)
Read.REVIEW.Enjoy

"Hey Justin!"

I looked up and wiped the sweat off my face.

"Ladies."

Andrew rolled his eyes at me from the passenger seat.

"Are you done yet?" He shouted from my pick up truck (John and Andrew had taken to driving off with it everytime I had a job) and climbed out easily and walked across the lawn (on purpose, of course).

"Hey, V.D. Whatcha got there?"

He smirked. "You know, it amazes me that you still find that joke hilarious."

"What can I say? Never gets old."

I smiled widely at him and he stuck his hand out, holding the bottle as far away from me as possible.

"It's water."

I tilted my head. "What's with the face, Sour Patch?"

"Your nicknames for me are endless, aren't they?"

"I try."

I grabbed the bottle, opened up the cap, and took a giant swig, watching his nose wrinkle up more.

"I hate the smell of freshly cut grass and sweat."

"So then why are you standing so close to me?"

"You're magnetic," he deadpanned.

I laughed and chugged the rest of the water down in seconds before sighing satisfyingly.

"Thanks. I needed that."

"Like you need a shower-"

"Are you competing in the swim meet today?"

"I'm only their biggest asset."

I smiled again. "Don't get too full of yourself. Your head might explode."

"What's wrong with a healthy ego? Some people find it attractive. Endearing, even."

I raised an eyebrow, amused.

"Whatever you say, Andrew."

---

I pulled the truck back around to the entrance of the pool and honked.

Several dozen people looked up, including Andrew, who'd already gotten dressed.

He smiled. I waved.

"Want a ride?"

He nodded, hoisting his swim bag over his shoulder, goggles hanging from his neck, and said goodbye to the other guys.

"Home?" I asked when he slid into the truck.

"Mm . . ." he tossed his bag on the floor.

"Your place?"

I chuckled and pulled out onto the street.

"Sure."

---

When we got to the basement, Andrew actually gasped.

"I'm in love with your television."

I laughed.

"Huge, right?"

"Obnoxiously," he said, sitting down.

"Picked it out myself."

I sat next to him and he smirked at me.

"You know, they say men who purchase abnormally large products are trying to compensate for a . . . well, you know."

He threw a meaningful look downward, and we both started to laugh.

"Are you implying that I have a small-"

"I'm just saying. You own a widescreen and a truck."

He shrugged. "It seemed logical."

"You're so wierd."

The familiar smirk made its way to his mouth, yet again.

"One of my more alluring qualities of course."

"You have alluring qualities?" I asked, pretending to be shocked.

"Well, yeah. I'm smart."

"Sure."

"Funny."

"Mm-hm."

"I'm a regular spitfire."

I started laughing. I did that a lot around him.

"Plus," he leaned forward, smirk still in place, "I know how to get what I want."

It got quiet, then.

He sat back, only this time, his body was angled towards mine.

I bit my lip, watching him turn on the tv.

"Andy?"

He turned his head. My hands twitched impatiently.

He stared for a few more seconds.

When he started to turn his head, I dove in.

Our noses smashed together and I barely caught the space between the corner of his lip and his cheek.

"Ow," he groaned nasally, holding his nose.

I stared at the remote he had tossed on the couch, feeling my face start to burn.

"That was . . . so . . . stupid," I said, letting out a breath, "sorry."

He just rubbed his nose in response.

Then, unexpectedly, I felt his hand.

On my knee.

I glanced back at him, too surprised to care that my face was about as red as a stop sign.

He looked crossed-eyed at the hand on his nose, pulled it away, laughed, and looked at my knee.

"This really has the potential to be the most awkward situation I've ever been in."

"Right."

He was still looking at my knee.

"It shouldn't be."

"Right."

It was quiet again.

I fidgeted.

"Your hands still on my knee."

"I know."

He didn't move it, but asked, "Do you mind?"

"Where're you going with this, dude?"

His hand moved up to my waist.

We were staring at each other, me serious, him curious.

"You know," he began quietly, "I've been waiting for . . . you to kiss me," he laughed, "or, at least attempt to kiss me."

He twitched his nose at me.

"Why?"

My voice cracked.

"Dunno. I sort of . . ." he shook his head again.

"Does it really matter?"

We stared. I felt myself shake my head and heard myself say "No" in a really low voice.

And then, I leaned forward, quicker than Andrew thought, and kissed him.

He drew in a sharp intake of breath and before I realized it, we were laying down on the couch.

My hands in his hair, his sliding up and down my waist and legs.

Then, the door upstairs slammed opened to the house and my brother and his friends ran in screaming -home from soccer practice.

Andrew and I jumped apart. I stumbled and stood up, covering my mouth.

Andrew stood, too, tucking his shirt in.

"We . . . I mean, I . . . this . . ."

For once, he seemed speechless.

"This . . . once in a lifetime thing, right?"

"Mm-hmm."

"I just wanted to . . . once."

Numbly, I nodded. He smiled.

"Justin, relax. Doesn't mean anything."

"I know." I lowered my hand.

"It's not going to happen again," I added, almost defiantly, and Andrew shook his head.

"No. Of course not."

---

We went back to normal so easily, after that first night.

But, thing was . . . it kept happening.

Again and again.

Until one night, months after the swim meet, and a few days after Zach's pool party.

---

Andrew kissed me, roughly, but almost smiled. I didn't move.

Didn't want to.

He pulled away and cocked his head, confused.

We were lying on my bed, Andrew on top of me.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing."

His nose twitched, but he leaned down again.

I could feel him beginning to get annoyed.

His lips were pushing against mine, trying to make them move with his. Then, he tried using his tongue to part them, before sighing and climbing off of me.

I sat up, and looked in my lap.

"What's the matter?" he asked, sitting on the edge of the bed.

"Nothing, it's just . . ."

Andrew whipped his head around to face me. "What?"

"Forget it. Come back."

He eyes me suspiciously. I tugged on his arm.

"C'mon."

He leaned over the bed, still wary.

I cupped his face, kissing him.

He faltered slightly before letting me climb on top of him.

I stopped again, with our foreheads pressed togheter.

I took a breath.

"I like you."

He kissed me back, mumbling, "Yeah, me too."

I shook my head.

"I like you. This isn't just for fun anymore. Not for me."

Andrew froze.

"What?"

He sat up.

"Wait. What?"

He pushed me off of him.

"Y -you . . ."

"I want . . . I want to be with you."

"What -are you seriously trying to ask me out?"

"You can't tell me you don't feel anything when you kiss me!"

"Besides a hard on, " he snapped, "no."

"God, you're so stubborn! Look, dude, if you weren't attracted to me, you wouldn't even get-"

"Can we not do this? Take me home."

"Not until we talk."

"Fine. Then I'll walk."

He slid off the bed, irritated, and put on his shoes.

"Jesus, how can you-" he shook his head. "Whatever. I'm just gonna go home and pretend this didn't happen. When you want to act normal, let me know."

---

That same night, hours after Andrew'd gone home, my cell phone rang.

I was still lying in bed.

I picked it up off of my stomach, and looked at the screen.

I could see his name flash across, and I flipped it open, unsure on what he was going to say.

"Hello . . ."

"Hey . . ." he breathed.

I sure as hell wasn't going to talk first, so it was quiet for a few minutes.

Then he whispered, very softly, "I like you, too."

---

REVIEW!