Lip had no idea how he got here.

You and Lip have been close since kindergarten, best friends—was the term you liked to use. He liked to use it too, although he would never admit that.

Around sixth grade is when you two started messing around, trying the whole “friends with benefits” thing. He was the one that suggested it, convinced you that it wouldn’t ruin things between the two of you guys. Idiot. He was an idiot.

You were both now in your freshman year of high school, and the feelings he had for you started to fester and grow like a fungus inside him. Lip had not a clue what to do about it, he’d never felt this way before—especially about you.

Right now; you two smoke a joint in the empty baseball field at night. Lip passes you the joint, exhaling the smoke. He lets his hand linger on yours a moment too long, before pulling away and turning his head.

“When’s this shit gonna kick in?” He asked impatiently because he needed his head to be filled with weed instead of you.