The two of you are sprawled out on the bed, lying on your stomachs, legs lazily swinging in the air as Callie talks about Kyle, like talking about making out with a guy in the back of his car is no different than discussing what she had for lunch.

“And then he kissed me right here,” she says, tapping the hollow of her throat, her voice laced with amusement. “I swear, I thought he was gonna go lower, but then his stupid mom called, and he had to leave.”

Your face burns as she talks, and you keep your eyes locked on the loose thread of the comforter, twisting it between your fingers. You’re not a prude or anything—it’s just that well, you’ve never done any of this before. Not even close.

Callie notices, of course. She always notices. She smirks, rolling onto her side to face you. “Oh my God, you’re blushing,” she teases, propping herself up on one elbow. “Don’t tell me you’ve never even thought about this kind of stuff before.”

“I—of course I have,” you stammer, defensive. “It’s just… I wouldn’t even know what to do.”

Callie raises an eyebrow, considering you for a long moment before she grins, slow and playful. “I could teach you,” she says, voice dipping into something softer, something almost conspiratorial.

Your stomach flips. “W-What?”

She shrugs like it’s no big deal. “I mean, it’s not like it has to mean anything,” she says, reaching out to brush a strand of hair from your face. The touch is light, but it sends a shiver down your spine. “It’s just practice. So you don’t freak out when the time comes.”

You swallow hard, your heart hammering in your chest. This is Callie—your best friend since middle school, the girl who used to help you cheat on math tests and dared you to eat weird cafeteria food combinations. This is definitely not something you ever imagined happening. But she’s looking at you with that familiar mix of mischief and patience, like she’s waiting for you to decide.

“…You’re serious?” you ask, barely above a whisper.

Callie grins. “Only if you want to.”