Our Song by Ashley Bodette Read Free Book Online Page B

doing?”
    I know four little words that will send her running: “Watching my favorite show.”
    “Blech, never mind.” She walks right back out of the room and across the hall to the bunk room. We won’t be seeing any more of her tonight.
    “Okay, enough stalling Mr. Sorensen. Time for some Doctor Who ! The first episode this evening, for your viewing pleasure, is season three, episode eleven, titled ‘Blink.’ Now, The Doctor is not actually a heavy character in this particular episode, but in my opinion, this is the best episode to really explain who The Doctor is, how being a Time Lord works, etcetera.” I walk up to the entertainment stand and grab all of the remotes I need to operate the television, sound system, and game system. When I turn around, Asher is sitting on the love seat, making himself comfortable. I hadn’t thought about this…it would look stupid if I sat in one of the chairs, because they aren’t facing directly toward the TV. But it’s been quite a while since I’ve sat that close to a boy, and even longer since I’ve sat that close to Asher. I’m not sure if sharing the love seat with Asher is such a good idea.
    As if he can sense my concern, Asher pats the space next to him and says, “Come on Becca, you know I don’t bite.” He’s got a cheeky little grin on his face.
    When I sit down on the love seat, with a whole pile of courage, I lean towards Asher and whisper in his ear, “But I might.”
     
    -----
     
    Asher
     
    I have to admit, I’m actually kind-of enjoying watching this show. Of course, I’m not going to say that out loud. We just started another episode. And as much as I know that Becca LOVES this show, her eyelids have been drooping since we started the first one. I’m not sure she’s going to make it through all three of them. After finishing that first episode, she brought me back to season one. Although, she said we were skipping the first episode. Something about it being too cheesy or something? I don’t know. But whatever she wants to watch, we’ll watch.
    I look over at her again, and she’s trying to shake herself awake. I decide to take my life into my hands. I put my arm up, above and behind her in a classic yawn-and-stretch move and say, “Come ‘ere, Becca. I promise, even if you fall asleep, I will watch a third episode.”
    She hesitates, and I start to wonder if this is a good idea. But then she leans into my side, saying, “Alright, but no funny business, mister.”
    “Scouts honor,” I reply. I slowly drop my arm back down around her shoulders, and carefully place my hand on her arm. Becca always seems kind of small, and breakable, to me, since I’m almost eight inches taller than her, and a lot bigger. But I forget how strong she is. She may only be about five foot four, but she is all muscle. She’s in a sport every season during the school year, and continues to play volleyball over the summer. When the basketball team lifts weights with the weightlifting team, my eyes are always drawn to her. You can see every muscle in her arms and legs flex and relax when she lifts. And she can squat almost as much as I can. A lot of the guys make rotten comments about her being muscular, and about how much she can lift, but it’s mostly because their egos are bruised that some tiny little girl might be physically stronger than they are. But I’m not one of those guys. Not only does it impress me, but it’s kinda hot that she is so strong.
    Normally I would try to stop myself from traveling down this line of thinking, but with Becca here, half asleep in my arms, it’s hard to think about anything else. Of course, this train of thought also tends to lead me to thinking about stupid Trip, and what he did to her. It really bothers me that I don’t actually know what he did to her. I want to beat the crap out of him, but it’s probably not any of my business, is it? Becca doesn’t really talk about it, but I watched her change from this amazing,