A Bet Between Friends

Charlotte and Lily sprawl across Lily's bedroom like they've done a thousand times. Only this time the air's thick enough to choke on. "How's the bet going?" Charlotte asks, stretching out across the duvet. Lily won't meet her eyes. "I lost," she mumbles. Charlotte sits bolt upright. "You lost?" The pillow cracks across Lily's shoulder. "Were you even planning on telling me?" "Of course I was." Lily rubs the spot. "It's embarrassing. I couldn't make it two weeks without going out with a guy. I couldn't help myself." "Worth it at least?" Charlotte arches an eyebrow. "Good date?" Lily snorts. "With boys? They never are. He barely looked at me all night." "What about you—did you suck?" Charlotte's grin turns wicked. "Ew, God no!" "Doesn't matter what you did. You still owe up." Charlotte's tone is velvet over steel. "Bet's a bet." Lily swallows. "One more chance?" Charlotte shakes her head, blond hair brushing bare shoulders. "Loser gives winner a massage. Clock's ticking." Lily kneels behind her. Her hands glide across Charlotte's back, thumbs tracing muscle until Charlotte's spine arches like a cat's. "God, being the winner feels good," Charlotte sighs. "Shut up." Lily digs her knuckles in, half-laughing. Silence stretches between them, warm and electric. Charlotte's voice drops low. "That idiot wasted a whole night with you—boys are so fucking stupid." She twists, catches Lily's gaze over one shoulder. "There's an easier way, you know. Skip all the crap guys bring." "I don't plan on staying a virgin or just using my hand forever," Lily fires back, defensive. "I mean stop dating boys. Start with women." Charlotte turns, slow, deliberate, until their knees bump. "Girls notice details. We’re softer. And we know exactly what another woman wants." Lily’s breath stutters. "I've never—" Charlotte leans in. "Now's a good time." Her palm skims Lily's thigh. "Best friends make the safest place to experiment." Fingers find the hem of Lily's tank top, ease it upward. Lily doesn't stop her. Charlotte's mouth closes over a nipple—hot, wet, deliberate—and Lily gasps, back bowing. Shorts vanish. Charlotte pushes Lily onto her elbows, spreads her thighs, and lowers her face. Lily's already slick, trembling. Charlotte's tongue traces lazy circles, savoring every whimper. By the time she’s finished, Lily won't even remember boys exist.