This one is set secretly in the future, but in this case it is even less pertinent. You know both the characters already, but they are much younger here because I changed the timeline and the setting pretty drastically. Reid is 19, Asha 17.
Word count: 900 (I think it needs to be a little longer.)
“Go away, Asha.” He turns his back to her and trudges resolutely through grass made muddy by the recent rainstorm.
“No, Reid. We need to talk.” A swish of cloth behind him indicates she has no intention of obeying him.
“No, we really don't. Go away.” As he says this, the wind picks up, slamming into his back, ruffling his shirt and sending a chill down his spine. He catches her scent on the surging air and inhales sharply. An unpleasant pang jolts through his stomach as her perfume triggers recent memories. Asha had tracked him down, upset about a presentation in one of her classes that had not gone well. He had listened awkwardly as she explained what had happened in a ragged, jerky voice.
“You're antisocial; I figured you'd understand why I'm so upset.” Her face had been damp and the light streaming in from the window made it look ill.
He hadn't said anything. He hadn't known what to say. Instead, he had stepped forward and given her a hug, like his mother used to do when his face had looked like that. She had squeezed him roughly and pressed her face into his shirt. As she started crying again, the close smell of her perfume had caused him to spontaneously lower his face to her hair and inhale deeply.
That's where the entire situation had gone to Hell.
Reid glances at her over his shoulder before increasing his stride. He hears Asha sigh; his peripheral vision tells him she is following him as best she can, though having difficulty because her legs are much shorter than his. He forces her to half-jog to keep abreast of him, and he imagines her eyes are narrowed in her trademark signal of annoyance. Part of him enjoys her discomfort despite the sour feeling in his stomach.
“Reid, please,” she says, breath fogging in the chilly air. The ground beneath their feet makes damp noises from the recent rain. Her leather shoes are probably ruined, but she doesn't seem to care. His stomach pangs again; she adores those shoes.
“What, Asha.”
“Stop fucking walking for two seconds and look at me!” Her blue eyes meet his defiantly, and he feels another pang of memory as their eye contact is maintained. Once he had realized what he was doing, he had jerked his head up roughly. She had made eye contact with him almost instantly. A slow smile spread across her face, and he felt his cheeks flush as he realized she knew. Asha's eyes ae far less amused as she looks up at him now.
He sighs and stops walking. “Happy now?”
“Hardly,” she mutters. They stare each other down until Reid looks away nervously. He has never seen her so angry. Other people have been this angry with him; it usually is his fault. This time he isn't being spiteful, but her eyes still have that familiar cold look. For a brief moment he hates them.
“You like me.” Her words are made tangible in the air between them by the cold.
“No, I don't.” He tries to resume walking, but she grabs his arm in a strong grip.
“Yes, you do.”
He laughs weakly in response.
“Hey, who sought who out here to begin this whole nightmare of a friendship? You were one of the first people I met at University, remember?”
He did remember. Reid had been intrigued by her hair long before he had been captivated by her personality. It was long and dark brown, and fell to her knees, making her appear even shorter than she really was. She always kept it in a thick braid down her back, which had made him imagine almost incessantly what it must look like loose. Last night she had finally allowed him to find out. The texture of her hair under his fingers had been exactly what he imagined it would be. He forces himself to ignore the memory stemming from his fingers.
“We're not friends. I talk to you because I am bored.”
She snorts. “Right. Boredom's why you work so hard to be nice to me? You're not that good at it, but I can tell you try.”
He shakes his head. “No.”
“Reid. You like me. You seek me out, you actively pick fights with me. You antagonize anyone who shows interest in me. Admit it to me!”
“I don't like you.” He clenches his fists until his palms can no longer stand the pain from his nails.
“Why won't you admit it?”
“Because I'm not going to lie to you.”
“You're funny. You lie to me all the time, and we both know it.”
He bites back another lie and glares down at her.
“Reid,” she says after a pause, “If you don't like me...”
She sidles closer, and he smells her again. This time he remembers the feel of her skin under his hands, and he shudders involuntarily. Her hands are on his arms again in a mocking parallel of last night, just as warm as they were then. Reid remembers her quiet strength vividly. She stands on tiptoe and brings her lips close to his. Where they are standing feels suddenly public.
His shoulders stiffen. “Asha. I was bored.”
She slaps his cheek; he ignores her and the pain in his stomach and resumes walking.
“Reid!” This time, she doesn't follow.
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