Here's a bit of non-consequential fluff. It's been sitting there for months now, waiting for me to add to it. Instead, I'm posting it.
~Ash
“Tommy, there’s something I need to tell you,” I proclaimed as I walked into his bedroom. He put down his National Geographic magazine and shifted on his bed so he was facing me. He then struck a ridiculously provocative pose.
“You can tell me anything your heart desires, Ashy-pooh, but first you have to draw me like one of your French girls,” he said, winking.
I didn’t know how to respond to that, so I didn’t.
Tommy sighed and repositioned to a far more appropriate sitting position, back slumped and arms resting on the legs dangling over the side of the bed. “All right, fine, I’m listening. But for the record, you have no sense of humor.”
“I have a sense of humor!” I said, indignant. “It’s just that we Brits have far more sophisticated tastes than you Americans!”
“I’ve seen British comedies. It’s basically an oxymoron,” he answered, smirking. “Also, your food is boring. It’s as bland and colorless as your sense of humor.”
“What?” I spluttered. “It-it-it…you’re the one who wanted to go to that restaurant in the first place!” (We had gone to an English themed pub a few weeks back, at his insistence. “I want to get to know your culture!” he had said)
“Ah, and what a grave mistake it was. I felt boring for the rest of the day. It’s actually no wonder you Brits are so dull. Your food sucks all the excitement out of you.”
I glared at him, but it quickly dissolved into a smile. It’s amazing, really, how he can be so likeable even whilst insulting me and my homeland.
Tommy straightened his slumped posture and yawned. “Anyway, what was it you wanted to tell me?”
Oh, yeah, that.
I blushed and rocked a bit where I stood.
“Well, uh, you know that we’ve been spending more and more time together lately,” I began.
“And every minute with you almost makes up for the time passed without you,” Tommy replied with a cocky grin. I rolled my eyes at his ridiculous comment, but a laugh escaped my lips, kind of negating the effect. He’s incredibly flirty.
And therein lies the problem. His bald statements and over-the-top compliments were off-putting at first, then a minor annoyance, then a commonplace and almost endearing element to our interactions.
And our interactions were becoming more and more frequent. That’s why I needed to talk to him; I needed to clear the air between us.
Oh, God, why does everything have to be so awkward?
“You really shouldn’t make comments like that. And we shouldn’t spend so much time together, either. The other club members are saying that we’re….that we’re dating.” I swallowed uncomfortably.
Tommy was unfazed. “Well, aren’t we?”
I was hoping it wouldn’t come to this.
“Tommy, there’s…there’s something you need to know about me. I’m not gay. Actually, I’m—”
“I know you’re not gay,” Tommy said pleasantly. “I’m not gay either.”
“I’m actually—wait, what?” I stuttered, mouth agape.
He’s not gay? But…but…if he’s not gay, then why did he flirt so relentlessly with me when for all he knew, I was a boy? He had to be messing with me, but he hadn’t even winked…that meant he was serious. Tommy’s pretty big on winking.
"Yep, not gay," he said flippantly. "Never have been, never will be. And I think, uh, that I know what you were going to say. You’re a girl.”
Panic welled in my throat. He wasn’t supposed to know that, not until I told him. I had been spending time with a man who was clearly interested in me, not as another man, but as a woman. This was horrifying news. I started to back towards the door.
“Wait, don’t go!” Tommy said, but he didn’t move to stop me. “I knew you were a girl from the start—Hank Ramsey told me. But he also told me to treat you like a boy. Which I kind of did and kind of didn’t, but that’s not the point.”
He took a deep breath and looked up at me. “I’m not attracted to you. Well, I mean, I am. You’re very pretty. But I’m not, you know, sexually attracted to you. I never have been. Not to anyone. It’s just the way I am.”
He blushed and looked away. He never blushes. Not ever.
“Wh—what does this mean?” I finally asked.
Tommy smoothed the wrinkles in his pants and thought for a bit.
“It means you don’t have to be scared of me.”
tl;dr: Ash decides to reveal her secret to Tommy, who already knows, doesn't care, and is asexual.
