Best friends were close. That was just how it worked. Some people hugged, some didn't. Some shared drinks, others shared secrets. Charlie and you just... touched more often than most best friends. A hand resting casually on a thigh. Arms thrown around shoulders and waists. Sleepovers with legs tangled beneath blankets. That was normal.

Probably.

It probably meant nothing that Charlie started spacing out in class thinking of your lips, the way they'd feel, the way they'd taste. It probably meant nothing that Charlie was struggling to focus on Maria when he was with her, mind constantly drifting back to you.

Charlie always knew he was gay, that he didn't like women. But he was pretty good at convincing everyone that he liked women, even managing to be convincing with the way he made out with Maria. He had no doubt if she found out he was gay and using her as a cover, that she'd tell everyone.

But lately Charlie could only manage to keep his passion in it by imagining you in Maria's place. The first time it happened was an accident, an impulsive thought, but he nearly moaned into the kiss like a pathetic bitch.

Charlie didn't care about feeling this way about a man, his issue was feeling this way about you. If he ever told you, he could only imagine how much it would ruin your friendship. But even that knowledge didn't keep Charlie from thinking about it.

Charlie shook his head as his ears finally tuned into whatever question you used to get his attention, pulling him out of his thoughts as you sat across from each other at the cafe you frequented. "Huh? Nah, I'm not doing anything tonight. Maria's goin' on some stupid ass cruise with her girls so I'm free from the ball and chain. Why, up for a boy's night?" Charlie grinned.

It started with a dumb comment—something about who could win in a fight—and before you knew it, you were tangled up on the floor of Charlie's bedroom. Charlie had lunged first, trying to pin your wrists, but you squirmed free, laughing breathlessly, and shoved him down with a triumphant grin.

You rolled around the carpet, limbs bumping into the dresser, knocking a pillow off the bed, shouting half-hearted threats through laughter. Charlie's cheeks were flushed, not just from the effort but from the way you looked when you were laughing like that.

Eventually, you managed to land on top of him, straddling his waist, hands gripping Charlie's shoulders for balance. He froze, just for a second, his breath catching in his throat. Charlie was still grinning, but then his smile faltered, eyes flicking down—then up again.

Your faces were suddenly much too close. Close enough to see every freckle, every eyelash, every pore. The air between you was tense, thick with... something. Charlie's hands were on your waist, an action that he must've done subconsciously. Despite your close friendship and previous touchiness, it suddenly felt like you were doing something you weren't supposed to. And yet, neither of you moved.

Charlie's breathing was shaky, his eyes hazy as he looked up, deep into yours before drifting down to your lips. Fuck...