Chapter 1
Disclaimer & Content Warning:
This story is a work of fiction. All characters, events, and situations are fictional, and any resemblance to real persons or actual events is purely coincidental.
The story contains explicit sexual content, emotional and psychological intensity, and themes intended for mature audiences.
Recommended for readers 18+
Everything was fine.
Honestly, everything was fine. I was having a good time. I had my best friend, we went out, played video games for hours, talked about girls. He knew everything about me. And I knew everything about him. We were together every single day.
So yeah. Everything was fine.
Until now.
"I want to tell you something," Alex says. We're both sprawled on the couch, a little drunk. We just came back from a night out. There's an empty pizza box on the table in front of us. Some dumb show is playing on the TV in the background.
Truth is, he's been acting a bit off today. A little distant. Like something's been weighing on him. More than once I caught him staring at me, but his mind was clearly somewhere else. So I figure he has something serious to say.
"Well, go on then."
He doesn't speak right away. He's sitting next to me, head resting on the back of the couch, staring at the ceiling.
Why isn't he saying anything?
"You gonna talk?" I ask again, nudging him with my knee. I'm getting a bit nervous. What could be so hard to say?
He slowly turns his head. His eyes lock onto mine. Dark. And strange. I wait.
He swallows once.
"I want to kiss you," he says.
His voice is steady. Calm.
I freeze. The room spins around me. I can't tell if it's from the booze or the shock.
My reaction doesn't come immediately. I just sit there like someone hit pause on the scene. My mouth is open. My eyes locked on him.
Then I burst out laughing.
Oh, come on. I seriously thought he was going to tell me something important.
I wipe tears from my eyes with the back of my hand.
"I'm serious," he says. His tone doesn't change. He's dead serious. His face is completely unreadable. Not even a smile.
The laugh dies in my throat.
He slowly lifts his hand, closes his fingers under my chin. His eyes drop to my lips.
What the hell?
I don't know how to react or what to say. My mouth opens and closes without a sound coming out. What the fuck is he doing? Did he… mistake me for one of his exes or something?
"I didn't say I was going to do it. Relax," he says. His voice is low, husky. Almost a whisper.
"Not that it matters..." he pauses.
"You'll have forgotten it by tomorrow anyway."
Then he pulls his hand back, but his eyes stay fixed on me.
My body takes a few seconds to catch up, then I jump up from the couch.
"Wow, yeah, we're not drinking together again, Alex. You really can't hold your liquor."
He lets out a soft chuckle, puts his hands behind his head, and looks up at me like he's enjoying this.
"Me?" he grins. Crookedly, or maybe it just looks crooked to me, I don't know. "You're the one who can't even stand up straight."
I roll my eyes. Or try to, since the room's kind of spinning too. I check the time on my phone. It's late.
"I'm going next door," I say, taking a step toward the door.
"Drink some coffee or take a shower or something, I don't know."
God, why is the door so far away?
I hear him laugh behind me again.
I grab the handle and open it.
"Goodnight."
Then I step out and slip into my apartment next door.
And that was the beginning of the end of "everything was fine."
Because I didn't forget. Not the next day, not the one after that. In fact, it keeps looping in my head. But I never bring it up with Alex. I'm convinced it was just the alcohol talking that night. Still, hearing something like that from my best friend really messed with me.
Alex and I basically grew up together. Our apartments were next to each other. Our parents were friends. We went to school together, played together. We were pretty much inseparable since we were kids. There was never a chance this could be anything more than a strong friendship.
So I just need to get it out of my head and stop acting weird when we're alone. Like I don't know him. Like I haven't known him all my life. It was the booze that night. That's all.
Besides, I’m straight. And he’s…
well.
Let’s just say Alex goes through girls like he changes shirts. He’s the type who turns heads everywhere:
taller than me, dark hair, athletic body, and that wild black hair that somehow always looks perfect without him even trying.
Meanwhile I need a full hour in front of the mirror just so I don’t look like I wrestled a bear.
He, on the other hand, draws people in without lifting a finger. Like he's magnetic.
Like right now.
I swear, I was in the bathroom for five minutes. Five. And when I get back, there's already some tall brunette practically stuck to him. How does he even do that?
I sit down next to them at the bar but I doubt either of them even notices I'm back. I scroll through my phone, pick at the chips in the bowl in front of me but my mind's somewhere else.
My gaze drifts back to him and lands on his hand, resting casually around her waist. She's basically draped over him. One hand on his chest, smiling at him like she's in a damn perfume ad.
I look up and meet Alex's eyes.
He's staring at me. Steady. Unblinking. I freeze. I want to look away but I can't. I'm caught. There's something dark in his eyes.
He leans down and whispers something in her ear without taking his eyes off me.
She lifts her head, frowns, grabs her purse from the bar, and walks off like some kind of diva.
Alex comes over and sits next to me, folding his arms on the bar.
"Why did she leave like that?" I ask, curious.
He shrugs, indifferent. "Wasn't into her."
I glance over my shoulder at the brunette now laughing loudly with her friends. She’s stunning, and I honestly don’t get it. I turn back to him.
"Why not? She seems like your type."
"She's not," he answers shortly.
Really? All this time, every girl he's dated looked exactly like her. I would've sworn that was his type. Do I know my best friend that little?
"Ok, so what are you into, really?" I ask, raising an eyebrow.
He gives me a crooked smile and leans in. Slowly. His breath is hot against my ear.
"You," he whispers.
And just like that, I stop breathing.
Oh god! Not again.
I pull back and look at him. His expression is almost challenging.
"Oh, come on, not this again. Every time you drink..."
"I'm not drunk," he says, gesturing at the half-full glass in front of him.
"Last time you..."
Oh no. I shouldn't have brought it up. My hand flies to my mouth.
He raises an eyebrow. "Last time i what?"
I swallow hard.
"The... the last time... you said..." I trail off. My face is on fire.
"Yeah?" he says softly, encouraging me.
"You said you wanted to kiss me." I blurt it all out in one breath.
A smug smile appears on his lips.
"You remember."
I feel the blood rush to my ears. I shoot him a sideways glance.
"Of course I remember, you asshole. I just… I didn’t expect you to say shit like that, and I—"
"And how did that make you feel?" he cuts in.
I stare at him, stunned.
What does he want me to say? What does he expect me to feel?
He just sits there, watching me. Waiting.
"Tell me, Niko... what did that do to you?"
He insists.
"You were drunk. You didn't know what you were saying."
"I wasn't that drunk. I knew exactly what I was saying."
He leans in a little closer. Puts a hand on my shoulder. His fingertip brushes the base of my neck sofyly, and I shiver.
"So?" he says. "How do you feel about it?"
His voice is low. Rough.
I don't know what's going on.
My head's a mess. Nothing makes sense right now.
I can't think straight. Maybe that's why I shrug.
"I... I don't know," I mumble.
When I look at him, he looks almost surprised.
"So you'd let me?" he asks.
My hands are sweaty. My mouth's dry.
I'm so confused.
Maybe that's why I nod. Just once.
The way he looks at me now makes my stomach twist.
"Come home with me," he says.
His voice is thicker now, heavy with something I can't quite name.
I clearly don't know what I'm doing anymore.
But I nod again. And follow him, silently, out of the bar.
What the hell am I doing?
I can't even blame it on the alcohol.
I'm completely sober.
And from that moment on, nothing was "fine" anymore.
