Her eyes wide open, she saw the entire thing progress in slow motion. His eyes flick downward to her lips, his eyes close, and the image of his face and brown curls blurring as he came too close. She saw the whole thing happen. But couldn't react. Like she was tied down and watching a dream advance in frames. A very messed up dream.

His lids were still concealing his eyes, his face not moved, but lips retraced from his friend's. It was a few moments before she gathered he was waiting for a reaction. Once she'd processed the scene that had just played out in front of her, on her, with her, yet without any of her participation, her stomach lurched so far forward she thought for a moment she might tumble off the couch.

Jay waited a moment before he realized there would be no response, opening his eyes and shrinking back into the couch opposite the girl who had just mortified him beyond recovery. She was motionless, but with fire raging fire behind her eyes. He should have expected this. He should have known. She would feel violated, feel thrown into this situation, and she would have absolutely no idea how to react. So she would get angry. He knew her everything about her, and he knew that. But he ignored it to live in his fantasy.

She could feel her heart beating in the back of her eyeballs. Her palms felt like they were on fire, and she felt the familiar beginnings of the perfectly vertical line of sweat down her spine that always emerged in panic.

"Jay, have you…" she hesitated, not even sure herself what she wanted to know. "Have you thought about this?" When not answered immediately, she considered repeating what she'd said, only then realizing it hardly made sense.

So she looked at this boy she thought she knew everything about, trying to believe this was all really happening. But before she could wonder much further she was distracted by the frantic bouncing of his legs and shaking of his hands. A behavior that she unfortunately recognized. Twitching and fidgeting in anticipation, building up energy to spring up and flee from his problems. An instinct, Danielle put her baby-like palm on his knee, applying light pressure with the tip of each one of her short, chubby fingers. She'd done this hundreds of times, but this time it felt unnatural, perverted even.

"Jay don't." Getting no response, she then withdrew her sinful hand and finally let her nerves get the best of her speech.

"You tell me about everything, Jay. Everything!" Taking a moment to look into her friends eyes, she saw every last bit of sparkle flee from them and it hurt her in a way she didn't recognize. Immediate guilt pushed apology through her lips like vomit.

"I'm not trying to scare you, Jay. I don't mean to sound angry but you have to tell me something." She tried her best to resist her urges of rage, but even though she replied as sweetly as she could manage, her fingers were curling into rigid fists at her sides. The hard foundation her entire life was built on had just crumbled. Was this a game? Was this deliberate betrayal? Why had she ever trusted someone like that? How could she have let herself become so vulnerable? What was she going to do now? This was her best friend. But right now she wanted nothing more than to hate him for shaking her like this.

"What do you mean?" she heard in a shy and quiet voice, very unfamiliar coming from one of her most familiar friends.

"I… I mean…" she stammered, but Danielle didn't know what she meant at all. "I mean, did you want...or did you mean to do that? Just…did you think about this?" The end of her question flying up into a screech forced Jay even farther back into the crevice of the couch, which he already felt was splitting his back in two pieces. How could he have been so stupid? How could he have forgotten? Forgotten not only about how she reacted to being touched like that, but forgotten this monster she had inside of her?

He watched her blink slowly and swallow, still constraining herself, he could tell, and began to weigh his options. He could leave. Get up and run away. Something he did a lot, something his friend was always discouraging him from doing. He had a feeling that would only make things worse. He could lie. String together some fucked up train of excuses in hopes of creating something original. He could see her face continue to redden. Time was too short for that. He could tell the truth.

"I think about it all the time."