"I know that look," Sarah said. I was lying on my stomach in her bed, pretending to read her psychology textbook. It may as well have been written in Greek.

"What look?" I asked as innocently as possible.

"That look," she said, crossing her arms over her chest and narrowing her eyes. "You're thinking about someone. C'mon, who is it? Spill."

I took a deep breath and pulled out the best acting I had in me. "I'm really not, I promise. Just, you know, stressed. About... uh, school."

She snorted and squinted at herself in her mirror to apply more mascara. "Oh, come on. I've known you since you were eight years old. You like someone. Just tell me already," she whined. "I'd tell you."

I chewed on my inner cheek. Unfortunately, she was right. She did know me too well.

I had to think of something fast.

"Fine," I said breathlessly. "It's this girl. She gave me her number on the first day of classes. God, she's so hot. She's got this huge pair of-"

"Okay!" Sarah interrupted me. "Got it, got it."

I studied her face. She seemed convinced. "What about you, how's the emo boy hunt going?"

"Wellll... I'm going to this thing tonight. Like a date, but not a date because there's a bunch of people going. I'm going with Brad and Maria's going with Jason and Amy's going with Carter. I got an outfit. Wanna see?"

"Sure," I said. "I'll probably just stay in tonight. You know, I haven't been sleeping the best here. I'm still getting used to it."

"I would tell you to come but..." She trailed off, digging through her pile of newly purchased clothes, tags still attached. "I don't know. They're not really your crowd, Ben. You probably wouldn't have fun."

Something about the way she said it felt like an insult.

"Anyway," she giggled. "Let me go show you my dress." I didn't see why she wanted to dress up so badly. It was just a couple of college boys she would never see again after jumping into bed with. She was probably overcompensating for never doing this stuff in high school. "Oo-kay," she sang, swinging around a short orange and pink strapless.

"The dress is nice," I said.

"I hope Carter likes it. I like Brad and all, but Carter is so much hotter and I swear he was flirting with me every second Amy walks away. But I could never, like, make a move or anything because if Amy hated me I'm done. Kaboom. Ended. Jason and Maria are, like... obsessed with each other. What if they come back here and start, like, doing stuff? What do I do?"

I thought about Maria and Alicia, and doubted Maria was as obsessed with Jason as Sarah thought. "Tell them to get a room."

"This is her room," she groaned. She rubbed her lips together. "Having a roommate sucks sometimes."

"You know I know."

Sarah grinned. "Oh, right. How is your freak roommate anyway?"

"Yesterday he bought a bouquet of roses for his girlfriend to try to win her back after he cheated, and guess what..." I said. She dropped her jaw and leaned forward excitedly. "She threw them everywhere," I told her. "I walked in and there's just... roses... all over the ground."

"That's insane," she giggled. "I love it." Then her phone rang and she rushed over to look. "Oh my god, Ben, it's Carter. I told you he likes me."

I let out a sigh. Having a conversation was so hard sometimes. "Answer it," I shrugged.

"Should I? Of course I should. Oh my god." She tapped her screen. "Heyyy!" she cooed. I watched her facial expression drop from excited to sad as she listened to whatever he was saying. "Wait, why not? Oh. Well, maybe I could see you some other time then. Oh, okay, well, see you, I guess." She dropped her phone into her lap.

My brow furrowed. "What happened?"

"Something between him and Amy. Ugh, this is even worse! Now I can't ever date him." She sat down next to me and crossed her arms poutily. "What do I do?"

I tried to think of the answer she was looking for. Most of the time when Sarah talked, she was really just talking to herself. I was only there to mirror her thoughts. "Um... find someone hotter?" I guessed.

"Maybe I won't go. I really don't even like Amy that much." She looked at her dress. "Maybe you and me could just hang out. Like the old times. We could eat a bunch of food and watch some comedies or something." She smiled sweetly.

"Sarah," I said carefully. "I think you should go out. Just because Carter's not there doesn't mean you won't have a good time. And sitting around at home and moping won't make you feel better."

She looked at me, her face lined with worry. "You really think I should go?"

"Yes."

"Okay." She leaned over and gave me a hug. "You always make me feel better," she whispered.

"That's what I'm here for," I said.

"Thanks for being my best friend, Ben." She pulled away from me and looked up into my eyes. "Honestly, if we weren't such good friends, you and I... well, that's just silly, I guess. We'd never be anything more than friends. But remember that time when Amy brought it up? Well, just for a second I wondered... nah, that's stupid."

"Yeah," I said, laughing nervously.

Was it just me, or did she look a little sad when I said that? No, Sarah didn't like me like that. That made no sense. Out of the two of us, she'd always insisted the strongest there was nothing romantic between us. "Alright," she said. "I'm gonna see about squeezing into this dress."

She couldn't have a crush on me, I thought. Girls getting dressed in front of you was the biggest sign of the friend zone out there. I looked back at the book she'd been studying.

I tried starting from the beginning of the page, but I couldn't even remember what it was talking about. Are people really afraid to love? The answer is no. They are simply afraid of not being loved back. Let's talk about how this affects the human relationship...

"Damn, I look preeetty good," Sarah murmured. I looked up to see her checking herself out in the mirror. I'd always known she was beautiful, anyone with eyes could see that, but I'd never thought about her in that way. She was just Sarah to me, usually pictured in my head in some sweatpants and a messy bun. What if it's me that likes her? And I'm twisting it around in my head to make myself feel better? No, that was absurd!

"I hate feelings," I muttered aloud.

"I hate zippers," she said, still facing the mirror. "C'mere. I need help."

I sighed and dragged myself to my feet, silently doing my BFF duty and trying not to look at the little smile on her painted lips.

╭-°—✞—˚✧❨✧˚—✞—°-╮

╰-°—✞—˚✧❨✧˚—✞—°-╯

I wasn't exactly sure what I was expecting when I made it back to my dorm that night. Nerves pricked at my fingertips as I arrived at the door, my breath catching in my throat.

The way I'd imagined this scene throughout the day involved some heavy kissing and desperate clothes-shedding. I wouldn't let my mind go any further because it was too scary.

Instead, as I opened the door, I found Michael sitting in bed, completely motionless, invested in something on his laptop. "Oh my god," I said. "You, doing work? I can't believe my eyes." I set my phone down on the little desk by my bed and kicked my shoes off.

He didn't even look up. "Who says I'm doing work?" he muttered. "I could be watching porn."

I inhaled heavily. "Don't let me disturb you then."

Maybe I could do some work for once. Sleeping was an impossible agenda living with Michael, but it wouldn't kill to put a little energy into my classes.

I reached for my pile of textbooks stacked on top of each other on the desk and selected a random one. I stared at the first page, heart pounding, doing everything in my power not to look at him.

It was hopeless. I could barely breathe, let alone study.

After about twenty minutes of pretending to read, I pushed my book to the side and faced him. His blue eyes squinted at his laptop screen. Every so often he clicked the touchpad.

"How was your day?" I asked.

Click. It took him a few torturous seconds to answer. "It was okay. Yours?"

"Okay," I whispered.

Click. This time he typed something in on the keyboard.

I sucked in a breath. Frustration boiled up before I even recognized the feeling. How could he just sit there, so calm, so nonchalant, while all day I had been sweating, burning up, dying?

"Well, it's pretty late. I'm going to sleep," I announced. When he didn't respond, I twisted my body to face the wall and pulled the covers over me. So stupid. What did I think was going to happen, anyway?

"Sweetie," he said. I turned back over. "You don't want to sleep with me?"

My breath locked. Nervous excitement raged in my stomach. "Should I come over there?"

"Don't you remember how much you like this bed better?" His tone had turned whispery, like smoke winding through the space between us and enveloping me.

"Yes, I also remember you physically threw me out of it," I said.

He flashed a smirk. "Oh, right. That was fun. Now get your ass over here and I'll keep you warm and safe and you won't have any bad dreams, okay? Okay. Bring the pillows."

I rolled my eyes, but obediently carried my bundle of covers over so we could combine them. His mattress topper was a cloud. I sank into it with a sigh of pleasure. Yeah. I could get used to this.

"This is fun," he said as we spread the pillows out. "Like a slumber party."

A laugh escaped me. "Whatever you say."

"Listen, this is a very prestigious event. Invitation only. We're gonna have a tea party and then we're gonna paint our nails-"

"Really?" I interrupted. "I didn't think an invitation to your bed was hard to come by."

I got on my knees on the mattress and leaned over to fix the blankets. He gripped my hips and pulled me onto his lap, making my heart jump. "God, you are such a brat."

My heart lurched as suddenly I could feel him, hard, pressing against me. I was straining in my shorts and I knew he could see. My fingers tangled in his curls as he ducked closer, our lips brushing. Rough hands skimmed down my lower back, pausing just above my waistband, then dipped inside.

Fuck. That was fast.

I froze. Squeezed his bicep to anchor me. Our lips nearly met before he drew back, leaving me without a kiss. I squirmed in frustration. "Why'd you stop?"

He gave me a tiny smile. "You're resisting. I'm not going to do something to you that you don't want."

I leaned forward, staring at his lips. Soft, plump. Not too intimidating. They looked enjoyable to kiss. I flicked my gaze up. He raised a single eyebrow. I hovered less than a centimeter away from him, then tilted my head slightly to the side and then parted my lips. I pressed them against his, locking us in a gentle kiss.

He kissed me again, harder this time. I leaned down, melting against him, letting every part of us touch. He traced his hand down the curve of my back, just brushing my skin lightly with his fingertips so my skin erupted in tingles, and over my ass to rest on top of the back of my thigh.

"I know all this is new for you." Michael's voice was gentle, steady. "We can take it as slow as you want." He smiled. Kissed my lips softly. "I want you to feel good."

"I feel good," I murmured.

He kept kissing me, drawing me closer. "Good, baby. Is there anything you want to try?"

So many things. I leaned into the crook of his neck, smelling the mix of his body wash and cologne. Fresh, slightly woodsy. His abs tightened beneath me, his chest rising and pressing against mine.

I was throbbing, just from this, just from making out. Then he squeezed the inside of my thigh, hard, and it was so unexpected I couldn't stop the moan that left my lips.

He smirked, slowly moving his hand up from my legs across my ass. "Hot," he whispered, squeezing my cheek. "You look like you'll be... vocal."

"What?"

"When we fuck," he said casually, like it was already set in his calendar.

I tried to move up so his fingers weren't pressed right between my ass cheeks but only succeeded in grinding myself against him. "You're gonna make me be the girl, aren't you?" I said.

"The girl?" he repeated.

"Yeah, you know," I said.

He frowned. "No, I'm pretty sure you'll still be a boy. Unless you're like a starfish or something. Don't those things change gender?"

"You know what I mean!"

"Of course," he said. "But that's a stupid way to put it. And you're like five feet tall. You really want to top?" He laughed like it was the most ridiculous idea on the planet.

I sat up and blinked angrily. "I'm not five feet tall."

"Oh, not even? God, that's rough."

"Shut up."

He chuckled a little and slid his hands over my hips until his fingers grazed my waistband. "Can you please take these off?" he whispered, his voice unimaginably low.

I shivered and climbed to my feet, then stood in front of the bed while he watched. His legs were open, waiting, his erection bulging from his joggers. I pulled my shorts down, leaving me in my underwear. Our eyes met.

He tipped his chin in a nod, signaling for me to continue. I breathed hard. Lungs expanded and collapsed. He'd seen me in a towel before. Never naked.

One. Two. Three.

I hooked both thumbs in my underwear and pulled them down. Goosebumps pricked along my thighs, now exposed to the cold. He broke into an easy grin. "Come here."

I stood between his legs as his hand wrapped around me, sliding up and down smoothly. Finally. I gripped his shoulders, my neck craning back. "Oh god."

He tilted his head slightly. "Want me to suck it?"

I was pretty sure I almost had a heart attack. "Um," I gulped. "Y-Yeah.."

He grinned, one hand gripping the back of my thigh, and leaned closer. Soft, warm lips slid down my length and I bit down on my jaw to stop myself from making noise.

I could feel myself touch the back of his throat every time he bobbed down, but he never showed any sign of being uncomfortable. I grabbed the back of his head, holding him there, pushing deep, and he reached up and pulled my hands off. "Don't," he said coldly.

I gulped a little.

He clutched the backs of my thighs and ran his mouth up and down once more, his tongue pressing against me, before pulling away. "Sit."

I crawled in bed beside him, feeling like a fish being reeled in. I was so hard I might have done anything just for him to touch me again, finish me.

Holy fuck. My breath escaped as pulled his joggers down. His thighs were thick and muscular, covered in light hair. His boxers, bunched around his hips, barely constrained him. I let out a shaky whimper as he kept stroking me, wrist twisting, his thumb pausing to trace my glistening tip.

"Touch me."

I obeyed, reaching into his boxers and slowly taking him in my hand. This was easier than I'd imagined. I'd felt my own dick a million times, and touching his wasn't so different. Our arms crossed, slowly moving in unison. I smiled up at him. "Do you, um... do you rub them together?"

A chuckle burst from his lips. "You can. Yeah."

He guided my hips so I was straddling him again, then pressed his cock to mine, hot and slick with both our precum. I laughed breathlessly, then moaned as his tip rubbed against the underside of mine. "Fuck." My hips jerked as he used both hands and the muscles at the bottom of my stomach contracted. I buried my face in his neck. "Fuck, don't stop."

"Let go," he whispered. "Cum for me, baby."

It was his voice that sent me over the edge.

I bit down on my lip and moaned as I came, shooting into his hand and all over my stomach. A line of sweat slipped down my back. My thighs trembled, still spread around his.

Michael panted as he hurried to finish himself off, head tilting back, curls sliding across his forehead. I kissed his neck and tasted the salt of his sweat, felt the curve of his Adam's apple on my tongue. I kept kissing him until his eyes squeezed shut and he jolted, painting my abs like his canvas.

He groaned softly and slumped against me. Our eyes met after a long moment, foreheads pressed together. "That's the hardest I've come in a while," I admitted sheepishly.

When he'd regained his composure, he managed a smile. "That? Just you wait."

I shoved him playfully and made my way to the bathroom. I used one of the towels to clean up, avoiding my own reflection in the mirror. Everything had happened so fast, I could barely process it. I'd enjoyed that - more than enjoyed - but what did it mean?

It meant my father was right. Everything he thought about you was right. I met my own eyes in the mirror. I'd never quite grown to his height, thanks to my mother being so short. Sometimes I thought I saw her in my features. I was terrified that someday, maybe in a decade or two, I would look into that mirror and see him.

The thought filled me with so much fear I started shaking.

I left the bathroom, desperate for a distraction. Whether I liked it or not, there was only one person who could keep those thoughts at bay now.

"Hey," Michael murmured when I stopped dead in the center of the room, looking uncertainly between our beds. "Don't you dare. It's cuddle time."

I climbed in beside him, my anxiety sifting slowly away like sand. His body was warm against mine, arms circling around me. I didn't want to spend another night thinking about my dad. I refused. "Can we switch sides? I wanna be next to the wall."

"What, think you're gonna fall off?" Michael teased.

I peeked up at him. "Just feels safer."

His eyes softened and he brushed through my hair with his fingers. I waited for him to say something like Safer? It's perfectly safe here, what are you talking about? But he didn't.

"Of course. Yeah. Let's switch." He rearranged us so he was to my right, shielding me from the open expanse of the room. "Want a pillow?"

I gave his shoulder a tiny kiss and laid my head on his chest. "You're my pillow now," I whispered.

"I guess I'll take that as a compliment."

"Shh," I said. "Pillows don't talk."