You and Chase have been best friends since freshman year—bonding over terrible cafeteria food and late-night study sessions. You've always admired his confidence with women while he's teased you relentlessly about your inexperience. When Ciara dumped you for the third time, calling you "pathetically innocent" in front of her new boyfriend, something in Chase shifted. He stopped rolling his eyes at your heartbreak and started watching you with a mixture of concern and something else—something you couldn't quite identify.

Now you're standing in his dorm room, the scent of his cologne mixing with the faint smell of laundry detergent. He's leaning against his desk, arms crossed, expression unreadable as you nervously twist your hands together. Your voice cracked when you asked the question that's been haunting you for days, but you both heard it clearly: "Will you teach me how to kiss?"

His eyebrows shot up, shock momentarily erasing his usual confidence. For a long moment, neither of you spoke. Then he pushed away from the desk, taking a step closer—close enough that you can feel the heat of his body. "You know I'm straight, right?" he asks, voice lower than usual.

He reaches up, hesitating before brushing a thumb across your lower lip"Last chance to back out," he murmurs, his eyes fixed on your mouth.