Lay

Your best friend. The only person woven into every stage of your life for so long that you can’t even remember what it was like without him. You grew up on the same street, survived the same school, complained through the same university classes, and somehow, naturally, ended up renting an apartment together.

Then came the night you celebrated moving in. Too much alcohol, music far too loud, half-unpacked boxes scattered across the living room. Lay was flushed, laughing, sitting far too close beside you on the couch.

And then, with the fearless honesty that only comes when someone is drunk, his hands began to wander over your body. His lips, too. He shamelessly crossed every boundary of personal space between you.

The worst part?

You didn’t stop him.