He helps me off the couch, leaving the porn playing on the TV, and leads me to his room. I sit on the bed I've been on a thousand times, watching him with wide eyes. Nerves flutter through me. Are we really doing this? Am I about to cross a line that will ruin things between us? The worries and doubts I thought I’d left behind in the living room swirl through my head. Is it too soon? I just broke up with Adam, shouldn't I mourn a little more?

My eyes dart about as I take in my surroundings, the room I've been in a thousand times, the bed I've crashed on over and over. The familiar royal blue comforter, the chrome headboard, the grey dresser, his bookcase warping from the weight of the insane amount of books he shoves on there.

I'm comfortable here, everything is familiar, nothing scary or overwhelming.

Just like Scott.

This is Scott. Nothing bad can happen in here, with him. I'm safe and cared for in this room. I always have been and always will be.

Nothing can change that. Nothing can change us. Our bond is too strong and special for anything to ruin it.

He smiles again, this time with a tenderness meant to soothe, stepping between my legs. His hands run up my arms until they cup my jaw. He bends down and presses his lips to mine, soft and sweet.

Oh my God. I’m kissing Scott.

It takes a second to recover, but I do, reaching up to wind my arms around his neck, inhaling his scent of mint shampoo. My mouth opens beneath his and his tongue slips inside, dancing with mine. I've never been kissed like this before. With such care, with such skill. I want more.

The last bit of my worry falls away.

This is Scott. My protector, my neighbor, my best bud forever. Now, he is going to help me through the transition back to single life. Just like when he helped me pull that tooth when I'd needed the extra dollar for the Christmas Barbie.

I lie back on the bed, pulling him down with me, refusing to let our lips move apart. He groans softly into my mouth and rubs me down the sides of my body, from my neck to my knees.

I remember his boyish worry when my mouth wouldn't stop bleeding after we got the tooth out. He was terrified he'd hurt me and kept apologizing. I remember how happy he was for me when I brought the Barbie over to show him. How proud he was I'd bought it with my own money. I'd kissed him on the cheek in thanks for helping me. And we'd sat on his front porch playing with her.

His lips move from mine to my cheek and down to my neck, where he nips and kisses even further down to my collar bone and up the other side of my neck. My hips rise from the bed, seeking something. Needing something.

But Scott is in no hurry. He wants to give me the full experience. He wants my heart healed and protected.

Just like the time he'd shoved the boy who made fun of my cat shirt the first day of middle school. Sure, they hadn't always been cool, but I've always loved them. He'd gotten into so much trouble after the bully went crying to his mom about a scraped palm. But Scott had never once complained. And I still had that shirt in the bottom of a drawer somewhere, never able to throw it out.

I want to touch him. I yank at the hem of his shirt, pulling it over his head, reveling in his smooth, tan skin, his hard, defined abs. The oh so very lickable V disappearing under his low riding jeans. I run my fingers over his chest and abs, smiling when he shudders. He bends back down, claiming my lips with his again. I arch up into him, my nipples hard, rubbing against the fabric of my dress.

Oh. My. Word.

This is exquisite torture.

My hands move around to his back, my nails lightly grazing him. He growls and kisses me harder, until I'm spinning. I'm not sure if it's from the booze or him or both, but I don't care. I never want this feeling to end.

My moans mix in with the ones coming from the TV in the living room, the erotic sounds trickling in making the whole thing even hotter. I swear I hear bodies slamming together too.

He's preparing me for the crazy scheme I'm about to embark on, making sure I'm ready. Just like he drilled with me all night for a hard science class. That was the night we sneaked some of my mom's wine and gotten giggly and goofy. But I'd aced the test because of him.

He's been there every step of my life, at my side, my shoulder to cry on, my rock, my friend, my tutor, my partner.

As our kisses grow frenzied and wild, flashes of our life together flicker through my mind. Skipping down the sidewalks we'd covered in chalk, running around playgrounds, swinging high on swing sets, telling secrets in our DIY fort. Flash forward to truth or dare in the garage, swaying together at our first school dance, laughing about our first crushes, splashing each other in the pool, screaming and howling on roller coasters. Then, graduating and going off to the same college, drinking at parties, studying all night hopped up on coffee and Red Bull.

He is my safe place I always retreat to.

Just like the times I'd gotten into a fight with my parents, or when I bombed an important test. Just like when my car broke down or I needed to learn how to change a tire. Just like today, when my future became a blank slate.

Just like everything. Just like always.

He is always here for me whenever I need him. Even doing amazing things like this with his hands and tongue. I tremble beneath his ministrations. Each kiss, each nibble, each graze of his skin against mine. I'm flushed and aching, built up until I think I'll explode.

His dark brown hair tumbles across his forehead as he grins at me, desire flaring hot in his eyes.

Adam had always hated our connection, trying to get me to leave Scott behind. Constantly dismissing him as gay. Not man enough.

Welp, this proves he isn't gay. The hard length pressed into my belly is extremely telling that not only is he turned on, but he's packing much more than Adam does. Maybe even more than that guy on the porno. So it was Adam that was less of a man the whole time.

I grin at the thought.

Our kisses slow, touches turn soft. He presses his lips down each inch of my arm before turning to the other. A breathy sigh escapes my mouth when his tongues darts out against the inside of my wrist.

I'm surrounded by the scent of him, his mint shampoo and fresh cut grass. It makes me dizzy, but at the same time lulls me. It's familiar. It's comfortable.

It's Scott.

Adam always reeks of the worst cologne. I'd tried to buy him a different brand that didn't give me a headache, but he'd never used it. Just tossed it on his dresser where it sat, getting covered with dust.

That ass.

He'd never made me feel this way either. Open and coated with desire and fearless and free. It had been wham, bam, thank you ma'am, and then he'd turn over and be snoring in seconds, leaving me wanting and unfulfilled.

That ass.

Scott slips the straps of my dress down my shoulders, his mouth scorching the skin where the straps had rested. My hands fist in the comforter beneath me as he dips lower and lower. His mouth moves to the top slopes of my breasts, barely contained in the plunging sun dress.

His hands travel to the sides of my tits, cupping them as he continues lower, nibbling at the soft flesh on the inside of them.

Oh. My. Word.

My dress slips down another inch, until only my hard, peaked nipples keep the fabric in place.

I shiver, my entire body tingling.

I want his mouth on my nipples. I want him to kiss every inch of my body.

My voice is raw with desire when I say, "Rip it off. I'm never touching this dress again anyway." I have a change of clothes here I can change into.

He gives me a fierce, wolfish smile. An expression I've never seen on his face before, but I like it. It makes my panties damp. Or, even more damp. I'm soaking by this point.

And he obliges.

He grabs the dress between my tits and yanks, the dress tearing with ease. I revel in the roughness, the slight pain mingling with the overwhelming pleasure. He tosses the scraps to the floor, leaving me utterly bare except for my coral-colored panties drenched with my desire. The same color as my dress and nails.

I've never felt more free.