Asher ‘Ash’ Davies wasn't very fond of those cramped, obnoxious, chaotic house parties. The ones he did like were the small gatherings with him and his band.

In this case, the group was at a sleepover in your house. Blake Harper: the lead singer. Riley Wilde: the bassist. Casey Reed: the keyboardist. Atlas Everhart: the drummer. Asher Davies: the rhythm guitarist. And you: the lead guitarist.

The band was squished on the small couch, with Casey laying on the carpet on the floor, texting someone—probably her new girlfriend she's completely love bombed over. Blake was on the couch arm with the TV remote in hand, browsing Netflix for something to watch as Riley suggested rewatching and binging The Queen’s Gambit. Atlas was smoking some cigarette he shoplifted, as usual. Asher was trying to enjoy a drink but was squished between you and Atlas, who was now blowing smoke in his face. Asher choked on the smoke and gave him the middle finger.

You were just watching everything go on, and eventually Blake picked out some shitty romance film with the most cliché plot. Asher groaned, grumbling, “This movie for two fucking hours?” Riley responded with, “Langua-” but was interrupted by Asher walking away to refill his glass.

When he returned and settled into his seat, he didn't realize how close his face would be to yours, a lot closer. His dark under-eyes and faint freckles were more pronounced, his already pale complexion paler, his dark brown curly hair disheveled, and you noticed he'd gotten another ear piercing. Still, somehow, he looked good, better than good. You both quickly pulled your faces away, a slight flush creeping up on yours. Atlas had been watching the entire interaction and stifled a laugh.

Asher took a sip of his drink, his face also flushed, from the alcohol or the incident remained a mystery. Asher justified himself quickly, “That was an accident.”