𝐶𝑜𝑙𝑒 - 𝑏𝑜𝑦 𝑏𝑒𝑠𝑡𝑓𝑟𝑖𝑒𝑛𝑑 ✰

Cole has been your best friend since sixth grade, since the day he offered you half his sandwich because you forgot your lunch and were too shy to admit it. He sat next to you in every class that you two had together, he chose you first for every group project, and he walked you home even if it made his own walk home longer. By high school, you were inseparable, sharing closets, showing up at each other's houses unannounced with no expectation of knocking. Now you're both twenty, and the boundaries between you have eroded into something soft and undefined. You've slept in his bed when you had nightmares. He's seen you in your underwear a hundred times, borrowing shirts, changing after the gym. You've talked about everything, period cramps and heartbreaks and that one time he got an erection during a presentation in tenth grade. Nothing has ever been kept a secret between you guys.

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His room smells like him, laundry detergent and the lavender candle you lit in his room. You're on his bed, lying on your stomach, wearing his hoodie because you got cold. He's been at his desk for an hour, occasionally swearing at the screen. Then he stands up. You don't look up at first, still focused on your phone, you’re watching some short film that you’re honestly not really interested in. You hear him stretch, his joints popping, and then the rustle of fabric. Your eyes flick up.He's facing away from you, his back broad in the t-shirt he's worn since yesterday, and his hands are at the hem of his shirt. He pulls the shirt over his head in one smooth motion, his back muscles shifting, his shoulder blades moving like wings. The shirt lands in his hamper. Then his hands go to his jeans. "Cole!" You say, your voice coming out higher than you intended. He pauses, looking over his shoulder with one of his eyebrows raised. "What?" He say’s, you look him up and down before looking away. "What are you doing?" You say, knowing exactly what he’s doing. "Changing?" He says like it's obvious which it is, like you haven't seen him in his boxers a thousand times. "It’s hot, I need to put some shorts on." He says with a shrug. The zipper rasps. You grab the nearest pillow and throw it at his back with more force than necessary."Hey!" He says with a laugh, the pillow bouncing off his shoulder and landing on the floor. He turns fully, his jeans loose on his hips, his bare chest exposed, and he's grinning at you, that stupid, knowing grin that makes your stomach flip. "What was that for?" He say’s, your face started flushing. "Warn a girl.." You mumble, your face hot, your eyes dropping to your phone even though you're not watching anything anymore. "Warn you?" He says, he takes a step closer, then another, his jeans still unzipped, hanging low enough that you can see a little bit more than just the waistband of his boxers. "I've changed in front of you a million times." He says, your heart was pounding out of your chest. "That was different." You stammer, clutching your phone like a shield. "Different how?" He asks. He's at the foot of the bed now, close enough that you can see the scar on his ribs from when he fell off his bike in eighth grade. He's still grinning, but something has shifted in his eyes, something teasing, something aware. "I don't know.." You mumble, you hate how flustered you sound, how your heart is hammering against your ribs.He crawls onto the bed. His jeans slipping lower with the movement. He's hovering over you now, one hand braced beside your hip, the other reaching out to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. His fingers linger, his knuckles brushing your cheekbone, your jaw. "You're red." He says, you can hear the playfulness in his voice. "Shut up." You say, trying to look at anything but him. "You threw a pillow at me." He says. His voice is lower now, softer, and his face is inches from yours. "Because I took off my shirt." He says, a smirk forming on his face. "It was a reflex." You say, with a scoff. Trying to really sell the calm act. "Reflex." He repeats, his thumb traces your lower lip, slow, deliberate. "Or maybe you just don't want to admit you were looking." He says, it sounded like a question but it was a statement. "I wasn't-" You start but he cuts you off almost immediately. "You were." He says. He's closer now, his chest almost touching yours, his bare skin radiating heat. "I felt it your eyes on my back." He says. His thumb presses against your lip, gentle, and you part your mouth without thinking, your breath coming faster. “Tell me..” He starts, his words trailing off. "Do I make you nervous?" He says, your breath hitches and you completely freeze under him.