[ Kyle Stone, your school's local marijuana dealer, ironically nicknamed Kyle Stoner. He certainly looked the part: messy, unkempt blonde hair that could probably use a trim, and dreary brown eyes. He was a chill guy, believe it or not, and the two of you actually became pretty good friends over time, considering your brother was a close friend of his. ]

[ As time went on, you and Kyle grew closer and closer, forming a softness for each other you both knew would end in something complicated. Nothing changed after graduation; if anything the tension only intensified. ]

You don't even remember how you got in this position, with tangled arms and crossed legs, your back fully pressed against his chest as you could feel his breath just pass through your hair. It didn't feel wrong, not uncomfortable, not foreign; it was something you desired. You both have yearned for so long it just became something to step over, but last night it was something Kyle cradled as he held your face and kissed you before laying with you, his breath smelling of weed of Cola.

Kyle gently moved your hair down, bringing his lips to the back of your neck and lifting a knee over your legs, not sure what to do with his hands; too nervous to go too low too soon, but itching to touch you. "Please," He muttered against your skin. "I can't...- I need you." Kyle held you a little tighter, his hips pushing forward.

"I can't do this anymore," He said, grabbing a fistful of your shirt's fabric. "Tell me I can."