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In high school, and even into my early twenties, I could never imagine being attracted to anyone. Couldn't fathom being romantically attached to anyone either. It was hard enough for me to meet one person I could call a true friend. I feel dramatic saying this, but with my high school and college friends, socializing felt more akin to an obligation rather than something I chose to do willingly for my own happiness. Although people were surrounding me, I felt as though I was trapped alone in a small room, devoid of light. 

Slowly, I separated from everyone. Convinced myself that if I wanted to feel alone, I might as well feel alone by myself. They say that when you stop looking for something, that is when you find it. Not sure if I believe that in all situations, but in this particular one, it rang true. 

The grocery store... not the first place you'd expect to find a friend, or run into, in my case. Looking back, it feels almost too cliche, but maybe reversed. I was watching where I was going, glancing down at my list and then back up at the aisles. That is when I felt it, a force hitting me from behind. I lost my footing momentarily, but braced myself back up with the help of my buggy. I turned my head around quickly, more out of curiosity than of anger. Then, a voice. 

"Are you alright? I'm so sorry, I-" As my dark brown eyes made contact with lighter green ones, the voice cut off abruptly. I looked up quizzically at the face that must have belonged to the body that bumped into me. Shocked eyes looked down on me, as I was trying to figure out if I was looking at a masculine feminine face or a feminine masculine face. Ultimately, I decided it didn't matter one way or the other. 

"Yes, I'm fine, but you'll end up hurting yourself if you don't watch where you're going." I ended my sentence with a small businesslike smile and turned back around. I glanced back down at my list and then began nudging the buggy forward. Before I even entered my desired aisle, I heard footsteps behind me and that voice spoke out once more.

"Sorry if it seemed like I was staring into space there, but I knew I knew you from somewhere! It just took me a few more seconds than I would like, but you're Elizabeth from high school, right? I'm Walter Smith. I was a few years behind you, but we hung out a few times before you graduated." He ended it with a genuine smile I could only describe as warm.

I tried to think back to my high school days briefly before settling on the memory of a shorter boy with long brown hair in one of the same clubs as me who had gotten excited talking about anime with me once or twice before I graduated.

"Oh, yeah. I know you! We talked about Fruits Basket a couple of times, right? Sorry I didn't recognize you at first. It's been a few years since high school!" I let out a lighthearted chuckle. He scratched the back of his head and smiled even wider.

"Yeah, I know, it wasn't as long ago for me as it is for you, but even I had to second guess myself about if it was really you or not. Sorry again about, y'know, rudely bumping into you and not saying anything."

"Well, I'm sorry too for taking so long to recognize you." And suddenly, in a matter of seconds, I had gained a buddy.

At first, we talked about what we had been up to since high school, hobbies, new interests, old cringey interests of the past. we walked slowly down each aisle, grabbing whatever we needed and chattering all throughout the time. The conversations seemed so normal, so casual, but also genuinely comfortable. I found myself smiling quite a bit more that day than I had in perhaps a few years.

----

A true friend. I finally had that. We talked on the phone a few times a week and met up at least once every week. At first, I felt that perhaps I was putting too much on him. He was three years younger after all and had a smile characteristic of someone who had many good friends. I thought that perhaps I was bothering him a bit too often. Even in my own eyes, it was pretty pathetic for me to have only one friend at that age. Finally, I spoke to him about it. He just laughed, said I was thinking too much and pat me on the head.

After a few weeks, I was slowly becoming a part of his bigger friend group. We all met together once a week and I enjoyed myself. Even if a small part of myself wanted to keep him with me and only me. The part of me longed for those nights we hung out alone, talking only to each other about everything.

That was the first thing I recognized something odd about my feelings towards him. At the time, I thought it was just me wanting to monopolize my first good friend. I had never experienced as close as a friendship as I had with him after all. So, I dismissed it.

Then, I got a better job and had more free time and yet again, we found time to hang out together, just us two. I admitted to him that I liked being a part of the friend group, but that it was nice to be alone with him every once in a while. He agreed and just smiled back at me. And it made me feel...happy.

We got even closer after that. Despite me not typically being fine with touching people, I got comfortable reaching for his hand, hugging him when we parted, and, eventually, exchanging 'I love you.' Well, not 'I love you' exactly. More like texting each other or saying to each other "I love you, pal." or "Love ya, friend." And I knew then that I really did love him, but maybe I was still in denial about the type of love I felt towards him. 

Whenever we were together, I felt an increasing urge to reach for his hand more often. Even lightly brushing my shoulder onto his in the movie theater on accident made me feel fuzzy. More and more, I became conscious of his touch and my own as well. 

----

One day, as was typical of us, we took a walk at the park. I remembered memories of wanting to label the clouds in the sky as a child, like in the movies, but never actually doing it. So, I convinced him to lay down in the grass with me and try to come up with as many shapes as possible that each cloud could fit into. It really was an innocent thing. I reached for his hand yet again as we were gazing up at the sky and pointing out certain clouds and calling out what they could be. He grasped my hand as well. Then, he turned to look at me and I looked back. He smiled at me and I smiled back then calmly, warmly, he asked a question.

"You really like holding onto my hand don't you?"

I knew. I knew it was just a comment and that he didn't mean anything by it, but still. For some reason, those words hit me especially hard that day. My smiling face turned into a quizzical one as I tried to process everything. So many things were running through my head in that short moment until I went back to my original thought and tried to use the same excuse I had before about finally having a friend. And then, just as I had convinced myself once again that it was normal, he opened his mouth again. 

"But that's okay, because it's nice to hold your hand too." And he smiled even wider, without a clue. And I felt myself smiling back at him... and then, I felt the strongest urge I had ever felt in my life. In my head, I pictured stroking his face with my hand, closing the gap, and kissing him hard. 

For a moment, I felt my heart race. My face heated up. My mind became even more of a mess than it was before. It became so obvious then and I felt stupid. No one wants to make out with someone they are just friends with, even if it is a best friend. Somehow, I gathered myself back up and pretended to feel normal, even if the hand that was grasping him started to feel clammy or I started to feel nervous.

That night, I couldn't sleep. I just kept thinking about it. The feeling was something I had never felt and as such, was something I was completely not used to. I had read romance stories and erotic stories, even liked some, but the idea that I could feel something even close to the feelings displayed in those books had never occurred to me. And I was scared of it. Something that for my whole life before then felt so foreign to me, started to become a part of me. I recalled all the times I rejected people in my life without giving it a second thought, all those times people tried to push their attraction on me through the guise of friendship. I became disgusted in myself, thinking that finally, I was just as bad as the rest of them. 

Months went by with just me one-sidely thinking about my situation. I would second guess the looks Walter gave me. Read too much into a single touch. Then think about how obsessive I was becoming. The cycle was painful and I didn't know what to do with all those new emotions. What was, for the longest time, a source of comfort for me, became a type of self-torture. And it only escalated from there.

Most of the day, in the morning, I wouldn't allow myself to even begin to think about it, but when I was alone in my bed at night, I would grasp at my body pillow and imagine things that I would only allow him to do. First, it was the idea of a kiss, a simple, chaste kiss. Then it was a deeper kiss. Then I allowed myself to imagine that perhaps, at night, he would think of me too. Maybe he would touch himself while thinking of me. I plunged into those thoughts deeper and deeper. What I would do to him, where I would touch him, his vulnerable expressions, the sounds he would make. Him begging me for release. 

In those moments, I was so turned on, but had no idea what to make of it. With my limited knowledge, I could only just imagine an imagination of what I wanted and I still didn't understand it. Light erotic books and movies were my only source. I craved desperately for some way to release those feelings I was having.

It wasn't long before I looked some things up. Found some porn, read some graphic accounts. And then I knew what it took to release some of that tension. I tried multiple methods until I found a juvenile one that worked quite well for me. I would roll up my bedsheets, straddle them and position my clit right in the sweet spot where it would get attention. All I needed was my imagination. 

I'd go through it again and again in my head. Kissing him, laying him down, putting him in me, watching as he squirmed under me. Then, I would cum, the image would dissipate and, instead of full-on relief, I felt massive guilt. What would he think if he knew I did that kind of thing while thinking about him? Would he be disgusted? It was a constant cycle, almost every night. ecstasy then massive guilt.

Just looking at his face when we would hang out together would bring on a tinge of guilt. Exactly what had I imagined that mouth doing the night before? Sometimes just holding his hand would turn me on. My imagination got away from me much too often. Then he would smile a warm, innocent smile at me, and I hated myself all over again. I became so afraid that he would notice that I started making up excuses and meeting him sporadically. Something was very, very wrong with me. I knew it, but I didn't want to stop being around him. I didn't want to never see him again. 

The feelings, the urges, they just became too much for me. The guilt was killing me. And the idea that he didn't even think of me in that manner crushed me. I knew it wasn't his fault though. Anything I felt for him and about him and what I did with those feelings were just my own selfish actions. I didn't know where my love and lust for him ended or where my self-loathing began. I wanted, no, I needed it to end. It took me a few more weeks to get the resolve to end it.

I was cowardly like never before and only sent it through a text message.

Hey Walter, I know you've noticed me being strange around you lately and I just wanted to apologize. I really and sincerely want to be the best friend I can to you. That's why I'll be honest now. I've been having different feelings towards you for a while that I haven't been able to stop. Things that I shouldn't feel towards a friend and things that are unfair of me to feel towards you without you knowing. I think it will take me a while to get rid of them, so until then, I don't think it's good for me to see you. I'll need a bit of distance. Sorry to lay this all out on you out of nowhere, but I felt bad not letting you know. I love you. And I'm sorry.

I didn't get a reply, but my phone clearly said that it was delivered. I spent the next few days moping, even feeling down while I was at work. I took it as my sign to get my feelings in check, even if it was way harder than it seemed to do that.

And then, that Saturday, I got a knock on my apartment door. It was funny that I knew him so well that even the way he knocked on my door was enough to identify him. I walked up and opened it slowly.

I was greeted with the image of him, breathless, his brown hair disheveled and sticking out in all different places. Despite myself, images of him in my fantasies came to surface and I felt immediate guilt that only intermingled with the feeling of me slowly getting turned on. Logically, I knew this was the exact wrong time, but my body always had the habit of betraying me. 

"Elizabeth," he breathed out, looking at me straight in the eyes. And somehow, I didn't look away or start crying. I, like many times before, met his lighter green eyes with my darker ones. I didn't know what would happen and I was scared to death, but I managed to remain stoic. Then, he hugged me. And the warm feeling that shouldn't be there was back. Three days was far too little to begin to get out of the habit of loving him romantically, it seemed. I wanted to imagine at that time that I could just push him away and stop it, but I knew I couldn't. I had to hug him back. Then, his mouth was right next to my ear. He whispered something.

"I love you." In a breathless whisper that just felt so different than it had before. This just couldn't be what I wanted it to be. There was still something wrong with my logic somewhere and that's honestly how I felt at the time. I felt a shiver at even being whispered those words, but it was wrong. I was wrong. That couldn't be what he meant. I teared up and started whimpering ever so slightly.

"W-what do you mean when you say that?" My voice trembled. He pulled away slightly and just smiled down at me.

"Well, I love you romantically, of course," he said it so easily that I just couldn't believe it. My face went blank.

"No," I responded. He had a puzzled look on his face at the reply I gave to something that wasn't even a question to begin with.

"What do you mean 'no'?" I looked away from him.

"No means no. You can't feel the way I feel about you about me. It's not possible." That really shocked him. For the first time, I saw the hint of anger and disbelief in his normally bright and cheerful eyes.

"Why isn't it possible and why are you the one to decide my feelings for me?" 

"Because my feelings for you are wrong. They're messed up. You don't understand."

"What exactly don't I understand?" At that question, my fantasies and all the alone sessions I had in my bed began to surface and all I could do in response was sit there and turn increasingly red. Then, I came back to myself somehow. I cleared my throat in an attempt to clear the awkwardness of the things I hadn't even said yet.

"At night, no, all of the time lately, I think about you." I hoped that he could tell what I meant when I said that, but he just looked at me. 

"Meaning?" I look away from him yet again.

"For a very long time, I've thought about you and I... get myself off. Sometimes, it doesn't even take anything, I can just look at you and suddenly, I get those thoughts."

It took him a few seconds for it to register before he turned completely red himself. He silently took a few more steps into my apartment, and made sure my door was completely closed and locked before he said anything further. His face became more serious.

"Me too," he whispered huskily, perhaps the lowest I had ever heard his voice. The effect even that had on me was stupid. I still wasn't convinced though. For so long, what I felt, what I did, it was wrong. I just couldn't make sense of it.

"No, no you don't I-" He slammed the palm of his hand on the wall, silencing me. 

"Why do you keep trying to tell me how I feel and what I do with my feelings? Why?" In that moment, he looked angry but mostly sad.

"I just, I just can't believe it. You can't be attracted to me." I shook my head.

"I'm clearly attracted to you, I even told you I was. I told you that I think about you and confirmed that I also... get off to you." He looked embarrassed as he mumbled the last part. "What would it take to convince you?"

For the life of me, I don't know why those words came out of my mouth. "Prove it," I whispered. In that moment, he grabbed my wrist and dragged me to my room. 

"Sit there," he said, pointing to my bed. I couldn't think, but at the same time, it was all I could do. I didn't know where he was going with this or how I would react to it. I sat down as I was told. He made eye contact, but was clearly nervous. I just watched as his shaky hands went down to the button on his pants. He slowly undid it and I held my breath, just watching. 

Then, the zipper. It was pulled down in no time. He slowly pulled down his pants to reveal his boxers, and more importantly, the bulge inside of them. I felt my bottom half clench as I continued to watch. His face was the reddest face I had ever seen, even including my own. I couldn't help myself from thinking about how cute he was. How it just added to my attraction to him. He tugged slowly as his boxers and then they too came off.

I couldn't stop staring. It was a missing part of my fantasy,because I never knew how to imagine it. But the shape, size, color... it was his and that was what really turned me on. That, and the fact that before he even touched it, it was very clearly erect and pulsing ever so slightly. Because of me. 

Then, somehow still maintaining eye contact with me, he slid his hand around his cock. Slowly, he pumped it up and down, and I gasped. He went from a standing position to sitting on his knees. The stroking increased in speed and I felt myself clenching and becoming wet. He moaned and went even faster. Eye contact was only lost when he closed his eyes and sped up even more, moaning my name as he went. I watched as he lost it. He came on the floor and when he let go, his cock was still twitching, trying to empty out the rest. 

He was still breathing hard when I looked back at his face, which was now covered shyly by his hands. I could feel the embarrassment radiating off of him.

“I’m so stupid,” he muttered, “Of all things, why did I have to do something like that?” I reached down and grabbed his hands, forcing them away from his face and gave him a warm smile. I could see tears gathering at the corners of his eyes and I just felt so calm, so fluffy inside. 

I lowered myself so that my face was right in front of his. I grasped his cheek with my hand and lent down and kissed him. It was awkward, clumsy even, and made it so apparent that I had never done something like that in my entire life. He kissed me back though, meeting my awkwardness head-on with his own. Somehow, one of us wised up and thought to try and deepen it. It was urgent, but somehow still comfortable, the feeling of our tongues caressing each other. We pushed into each other, pushing our bodies together. It was the closest I had ever gotten to anyone in my entire life and I still wanted to be closer. I wanted to be a part of him, so close we couldn’t separate. 

Eventually, we had to. Considering just my inexperience alone, figuring out how to control my breath for continuous kissing was a bit beyond my level. I was breathing hard and felt stupid for a split second, before figuring out he was as much out of breath as I was. I smiled again and held my forehead against his with a stupid smile on my face. He was smiling just as wide as me. 

Then, I felt it. The certain part of his body that had happened to get wedged between his stomach and mine during the course of our makeout session. I looked down at it and saw it standing at full attention, twitching every couple of seconds. Walter’s eyes followed my gaze and became embarrassed again. He gently pushed me a bit further away from him and searched for his discarded boxers frantically. 

“Sorry, I… it does that when I’m with you and you and I just...” He trailed off while he picked up his boxers and started standing. He was about to start putting them back on again when I stopped him. He had fully and completely embarrassed himself and I was not going to leave it at that. It just wouldn’t be fair. I grabbed his hands and put his arms back at his sides and he stood still, just watching me.

Just like him earlier, blushing as hard as I could, I began undoing my pants. I took them all the way off and pushed them aside with my foot. I grabbed my panties and planned to do the same with them when he grabbed my wrist and stopped me.

“You don’t have to do that.” He made full eye contact, looking at me gently, seriously, and with a tinge of lust. I met his eyes with the same emotion.

“I know I don’t,” I said as I gently moved my hand away from his. His expression changed at that and it was clear that since he had gotten confirmation that it was something that I wanted to do, he allowed his hunger for me to increase. He wasn’t just watching, he was staring at down at what my hands were doing. Anticipating the moment that I would be bare down there. I didn’t hesitate to show him. A breath escaped from his mouth as he looked, focused all his attention to my crotch. My face was red, but if he was willing to do it, then I was willing to do that and more for him. I tugged at my shirt as well and he looked at me in surprise as I slid it off as well. I unhooked my bra and he watched as my breasts fell and bounce out. 

I eyed his own body as it was tensing up. He looked as though he was using all of his energy to restrain himself. His cock was standing even harder than it was before, maybe even painfully.

“Sit,” I told him shakily and gestured to the bed. He obliged me without uttering a word. I grasped his shirt and gently pulled it off of him. Then it was just him and I, staring at the other’s naked body for a moment. I cleared my throat. “Do you mind if I…?” I trailed off and he met my eyes with his own.

“I trust you, whatever it is,” he said. I took that as confirmation.

My curious hands started ghosting along his body. First his face, then his shoulders, arms, then his chest. I took my thumb and gently caressed his left nipple, feeling it harden under my touch. I did the same with his right and he accidentally let loose a small whimper. I hadn’t heard that sound from him before, but as I felt myself tighten, I thought to myself that perhaps it was a sound I could become addicted to. I let my fingertips slide down further, gently touching any part of his skin on the way down. I felt his body react under me and shuddered with more anticipation. Finally, I had made it to his groin. 

Curiosity fueled me even more and I gently trailed my index finger from the base to the hilt of his shaft. I felt it pulse under me and heard another whimper come from his mouth. I was so turned on, it was painful. But, I wanted to feel him under my hands just a little bit more. Remembering what he had done to himself before, I gently wrapped my hand around his shaft.

“Are you... sure?” he panted. I answered him by stroking it gently. It pulsed even more under my touch and I saw his face contort into pleasure and embarrassment yet again. A few more pumps and he was moaning softly, eyes shut, with his mouth in the shape of an ‘o.’ I admired his long eyelashes for a moment, how beautiful, enticing, and hot he was. I felt the blood pulsing through my bits as well and lowered my other hand to my vagina. I neglected him, just a moment, as I used two fingers to play with my then hard and pulsing clit. I let out a small moan of my own that caught his attention. I felt his dick pulse under my hand while he was watching me. I was even more turned on seeing him looking at me and I felt as though I wanted to do nothing more than to furiously stroke myself to orgasm, but another idea struck me at the same time. 

“Lay down.” My own voice sounded hoarse and unlike me, my eyes already glazed over in lust. He quickly and obediently laid on his back. “I’m not sure if I’ll do this right, so let me know if it feels bad or uncomfortable.”

He nodded and I climbed on top of him. I positioned my cunt right on top of his shaft, where my throbbing clit was making the most contact. I brought myself closer to where my face almost met his, stared straight into his eyes, and thrust my hips upward. I moaned loudly as I felt the sensation. His eyes widened and his mouth parted open just slightly. I grinded against him once more. His breathing started getting shallow again, as his eyes focused on the area where our parts met. At first, it was dry, skin on skin contact, but soon, I had covered him in my juices, allowing me to glide across his shaft and speed up. 

I was already feeling good, but looking down at him and hearing him moan made it that much better. I was humping him furiously, knowing I was close. Suddenly, I felt his hands come up around my ass as he thrust up himself, grinding against me harder. It was like we were both trying to race the other to orgasm. I felt the sensation in me first and moaned his name as I came. I basically fell on top of him. Almost immediately after, he came as well. I felt his cum shoot out between both of our bodies, settling on my stomach. Exhausted, I gave him a peck on the lips, then flipped over to lay beside him. He grabbed ahold of my hand laid staring up at the ceiling. I stared at him thoughtfully as he opened his mouth to speak.

“You know, I had a crush on you in high school too. We weren’t very close then, but whenever you spoke to me, it was like I had your undivided attention. It was so strange, at the time. I remember being so shocked that someone actually cared about what I had to say. I knew I wasn’t your only friend or even a close friend to you, but I just felt so happy whenever we spoke. And then, you graduated and I realized we had never talked outside of school, I didn’t even know your number, and I heard that you moved away and felt like I lost something,” He gave my hand a squeeze, “And then last year, I bumped into you out of nowhere and recognized you almost immediately, but I was so shocked that I just stared at you like a weirdo. And then, you remembered me, just a little and that small of a thing made me unbelievably happy. That day, I felt you really genuinely care about what I said and I knew you were just as great a person as you used to be.” He took in a small breath.

“Earlier, when you said that your feelings were messed up, I wanted to laugh at you. You have no idea how much I feel about you and towards you. I felt pathetic at first, because it took me so little time to fall for you again. Even worse, because I never forgot about you in the first place. I was never as close to anyone as I have been with you and I knew you for such a short time in high school. It was like something was wrong with me. And all of a sudden, I saw you every week and you called me your best friend. You held my hand, hugged me, and said you love me. I couldn’t deal with all the new feelings as they were happening. Whatever thoughts you’ve had about me, I can guarantee I’ve had worse about you. You have no idea how guilty I felt the first time I came while thinking about you. Because I was supposed to be your best friend. When you texted me a couple of days ago, I thought I dreamt it. When I finally came to terms with it, I ran here without thinking.”

I felt myself smile.

“It has been weird for me too. I’ve never felt anything like this towards anyone before. If you were anyone else and dragged me into a room to watch you masturbate, you’d be dead now.” He turned red for the nth time that night and covered his face again.

“I’ll never live that down.” I took his hands off his face once again and gave him a sweet kiss. 

“Isn’t it more embarrassing for me, because I got turned on and basically pushed you down after watching you do it?” He chuckled and I turned red too. “Anyway,” I continue, “I’d really love nothing more than to just hug you and fall asleep right now, but both of us have a lot to clean up right now.”  He gave me a guilty smile and helped get my room back to its messy form of clean.