The First to Fall ⚢

𝐭𝐰𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐲-𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐞𝐞 • 𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐚

There isn't much I can say. What should I say? Can I say anything at all? How do I think about Aspen's boobs without being weird? Why am I thinking about them in the first place? And why am I so jealous of them? She's already miles prettier than me; even her boobs are better than mine too. Can't I have just one win?

I know we agreed that "this never happened" but it's not every day you see the bare chest of the one girl you've resented for years. I'm not even trying to think about the whole situation, it's just all that's roaming my thoughts right now. Am I weird?

I wish I could ignore it all, truly, but the image that's burned into my brain simply won't go away. I can't even look at her, or else I'll keep picturing her naked and I'm not sure if those are intrusive thoughts or just me being a late bloomer when it comes to women and sexuality. God, I feel like a thirteen-year-old boy who just saw his first pair of tits; it's so embarrassing.

And now my mind seems to be racing around the thought of what Sasha's chest would look like, filling my brain with images and scenarios that I can't help but blush at. I think the most intimidating part of those scenarios is that they feel perfectly attainable; if I wanted to, I could find out exactly how Sasha looks topless.

But do I want to?

I've never been the type to think about sex or sexuality very seriously. It's always been in the back of my mind but I've been far too focused on school and other achievements and making my parents proud that there were always things that I just never got to experience like other people my age—like love.

Platonically or romantically, I never saw much point in getting to know others. Of course, there were people I would talk to and people I considered friends occasionally, but I never really grew up having someone I could talk to about things that were going on in my life. So if I couldn't even make close friends with anyone, how did I expect to get into a relationship?

But it's not like it all scared me—it was just unfamiliar. That didn't mean it was inherently bad but that also didn't make any of it more exciting to deal with.

I glance over at Aspen, who hasn't said a word to me for the last hour, even though it's clear we both can't sleep right now. I know she probably feels embarrassed about the whole thing but frankly, I'm glad I'm not the one embarrassed for once. And that's probably a shitty thing to say but it's refreshing to see Aspen not being so bold and confident all the time; it feels like I'm getting closer to her, somehow, which can't possibly be a bad thing.

"You know I'm not gonna, like, say anything, right?" I ask out loud, hoping she's still awake and not too mortified anymore.

"Oh god, don't mention it—" Aspen says, covering her face with a pillow.

"I'm sorry! I just... wanted you to know."

"Know what?"

"That you can trust me," I tell her. It's silent for a moment before she responds.