More Than Friends Read online

  More Than Friends

  Lolita Lane

  Contents

  About More Than Friends

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  About the Author

  More Than Friends

  Copyright © 2017 by Lolita Lane

  Cover by CT Cover Creations

  Photography: ©Shutterstock

  This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales or organizations is entirely coincidental.

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any manner whatsoever without written permission from the author except in the case of brief quotation embodied in critical articles and reviews.

  About More Than Friends

  Ian and I had been best friends our entire lives. He was sweet, smart as hell, and overweight, but I loved him anyway. I just never said it.

  Now in college, I didn’t know what to think of my former best bud. The chubby kid I knew was gone and now Ian is hot.

  I’m failing one of my classes and Ian is the only person who can help me. But how is he supposed to help when I can’t stop staring at him? Is there a chance we could be more than friends?

  **This is a standalone story with a Happily Ever After.

  Chapter One

  I closed my locker. The student council had another meeting about the prom. I was supposed to help put it together, but it seemed more and more like that I was going to end up going alone.

  Alone at the prom is pretty much worse than not going at all.

  Sighing. I didn’t even know who I wanted to ask me out.

  Sort of, anyway.

  I had people in mind, even a favorite.

  I had no idea if they would ask though. I wasn’t exactly miss popularity. I wasn’t super nerdy, or super anything. I felt like I was aggressively average. No real obvious features or flaws.

  “Dana, how you doin’?” The accented language of a student came in. He smirked and leaned against my locker.

  “Oh, um… fine, Roger.” I blushed. He was from New York and he breathed it. He was kind of cute. Curly dark hair, nice chin, lean as all hell. He did have a bit of a reputation though.

  “You got a guy for that prom thing yet?”

  “Um, no,” I said. That reputation was why, despite his physical attributes and obvious charm, I wasn’t incredibly on board with the Roger train.

  “Well how about you come along with me?” He grinned.

  I swallowed. If I said no, it wasn’t a guarantee I would get a better offer. It felt odd thinking like that for a date, but this was the prom. “I don’t know, Roger.”

  “Come on. A girl like you can’t be left out of the festivities. The dancing, the music, the drinking… the after events,” he raised his eyebrows suggestively.

  I blushed, wondering if he had somehow found out about that I was senior and still a virgin. I knew a lot of girls treated virgins like some sort of epic conquest instead of what I wanted to be a good memory.

  A good memory I wanted to share with someone I loved.

  I had theories on who I loved. It was hard to say, really. At eighteen, I had the clarity to realize that sometimes I didn’t have the perfect insight on how everything was supposed to work.

  He was coming up the hallway. He was the opposite of Roger. Struggling with all the ravages of being a teenager, the world wasn’t nice. Patchy facial hair that came back way too quick despite his best efforts, acne all over him, and quite a bit of pudge around the waist, his metabolism not yet keeping up with his growing body.

  Puberty is kind to some people. I had gotten through okay. Roger looks like at least physically he did well. Ian, the boy I was eying? Not so much.

  Still…

  “Who you looking at?” Roger spoke up, looking at where my eyes went. “That fattie face?”

  “Excuse me?” I spoke up.

  “You’re not seriously considering a guy like that over someone like me, right?”

  “Roger, that’s my best friend.”

  Which is why I was so uncertain of my feelings.

  “You hang around with that nerd? Maybe I should reconsider my offer.”

  “Maybe you should, Roger. I’m not liking how you’re talking about your fellow student.” I pushed past her.

  “Well lookie here, I never thought I’d actually go and see a lady chubby chaser. Enjoy your greasy sweaty mess, cunt.”

  “What did you call her?” A voice rang out. He stormed up to us. “Did you really just call Dana a See You Next Tuesday?”

  “Ian, you don’t need to get involved.”

  “Dana, you can’t let men talk to you like this.”

  “What are ya going to do about it, Fatty McFatpants?” He smirked, thinking his insult was incredibly clever.

  Ian, though, was unshaken. He stood toe to toe with Roger. “She’s my friend. If you think I’m going to let you bad mouth my friend, you got another thing coming.”

  His fists were balled up. “Ian, you don’t have to. It’s just a word.”

  Roger tried to stare Ian down. Sure, he had a height advantage, but I don’t know if I would underestimate Ian. When that guy got mad, he had righteous fury behind him.

  Then Roger shoved Ian. He stumbled back, but stepped right back up, and reciprocated the shove.

  Crap. Our school was one of those zero tolerance places that treated any violence like it was a school shooting. Ian didn’t deserve to be expelled for this bastard.

  I was about to rush the situation, and push him out of the way, drag Ian away kicking and screaming if I need to.

  “Fucking fine.” Roger stepped off. Teeth gritted. “I’m sorry princess for calling you a bad word. Enjoy your fucking pepperoni faced fattie.”

  “The acne will clear up eventually,” Ian said, “and I can lose weight. Shame there’s nothing you can do about being an asshole.”

  I heard Roger grumble, but soon, he was taking off.

  “Ian, really?”

  “You don’t deserve to be treated like that, Dana.” He turned to me. His gaze toward me was always so soft.

  “He called you far more names than he did me.”

  “I don’t care about me. I was taught you don’t bring out the See You Next Tuesday unless, you know, you really get screwed over. You just turned him down, that didn’t deserve that.”

  “It’s just a word.” I took a breath. He was like this a lot. I had known him since our elementary years. We were best friends, closer than siblings. Yet, I didn’t know if that was it.

  He would defend my honor, but isn’t that just what friends do? He never tried to ask me out. He never suggested that he thought of me as more.

  Me? I hated that I thought of him that way. My heart was weird. I knew he wasn’t much to look at right now, but I didn’t know a funnier or sweeter guy. Did I look beyond his appearance troubles? Was I attracted to him for more than beyond friendship?

  I really didn’t know. I didn’t want to be shallow. I didn’t want to be that girl who just always go for the muscle bound jock. I mean, I liked those things, but was that all I really wanted?

  God, I was confused.

  If he asked me out to the prom though, I knew that I would accept it. Even if nothing came of it romantically, I know that I would have a good time, and I wouldn’t regret going with him.

  “So have you found a guy for the big dance yet?” He asked, crossing his ar
ms.

  “No. That’s why Roger was harassing me.”

  “Really?” He shrugged, and turned away from me. “I’m sure someone will ask you eventually, Dana. It’d be a shame for a girl like you to not go.”

  “Oh? So what are you doing for the prom?”

  “I’m not going.”

  “Huh?”

  “Nerd like me doesn’t belong at the prom. Gonna be home doing some video games before the year ends and I have to prepare for college to consume my life.”

  “I’m sure if you asked around you could go.”

  “I’m fine, Dana. I don’t want to go.”

  I was silent. I kind of wanted to hint that I wanted to go with him.

  Would it be too forward if I asked him? He seemed old fashioned, especially with how he rushed to defend my honor.

  Would it make our relationship too awkward if he said no? Was that the reason he wasn’t asking me? We’d been friends before we even really liked the opposite sex for… reasons. I’d had innocent sleepovers with the guy. It was all so strange. Like, we were already more than just friends.

  If only he would ask me. I grumbled. “Fine. You stay home and play video games then.”

  He raised an eyebrow. “You make that sound like it’s a bad thing?”

  “Just… you’re not going to stop being nerdy if you don’t reach out and try sometimes, Ian.”

  “Why are you suddenly being so hostile?”

  “I don’t know. Periods. Girl stuff. Just… just leave me be for now.” I walked off from him. The feelings I had within me were just a chaotic mess. How on earth was I really supposed to know what love really was if it wasn’t what I felt for Ian?

  What was especially strange? Wanting to be closer to someone was often the best way to push them away.

  Chapter Two

  My eyes glazed over as I tried to keep them glued to the computer screen.

  It was all a long series of names and history and so on and so forth. Who was this guy. When did he do things? What did we learn from his studies about the nature of anthropology itself?

  I needed a humanities course to round out my degree, and I thought this would be interesting to learn. Culture, what it is, it can be some intriguing stuff sometimes.

  At this point though, my brain was fried. I had a test the next day and I don’t think I could keep reading these pages much longer. I needed a break, and then I could get back to studying and cramming it all in for tomorrow.

  I clicked through my e-mail and went over my social media accounts. Nothing new or interesting was happening. At least until I stumbled upon a new picture. It was Ian. He wasn’t wearing a shirt, it was from earlier in the day when he was at a beach. My, oh my, he was quite the specimen now. He was toned, his arms thick. It was a natural build of course, he didn’t spend hours at the gym, but for me, that’s exactly what I wanted. I didn’t want a guy who had veins bulging out of him like he was about to explode.

  What I wanted was a good looking buy, with a cute face and a dashing dark haircut. With a good, natural body, a little bit of a tan, but not enough that he was turning orange. Ian checked all those boxes for me, and it what drove me even madder was I knew the guy.

  He’s my best friend.

  Was my best friend.

  I didn’t know what he was at that moment to me, as we had drifted apart ever since our senior year in high school. We used to do everything together, and I really did miss that experience. We had our own tree house, we would innocently watch movies, and he was the first person I’d turn to if I needed help with anything, and vice versa.

  Even as puberty hit and usually guy and girl ‘friend’ pairings drift apart, we didn’t. We managed to stay together. Yet all it took was my uncertainty about the prom to ultimately push him away. We really did have something special, and yet…

  He just never tried to make our relationship more than just friends. Never. Not back then, and not since. It wasn’t that he was gay, I saw him watching other girls in a way that no gay man would. It wasn’t that I was gay, because I knew without a doubt I had a crush on my best friend.

  I still lacked the courage to make the first move myself. What if he didn’t see me that way in return? What if I ruined our friendship forever, even more so than it seemed like it was ruined now? I’d be crushed that not only was my love unrequited, but I’d lose my best friend for good. Besides, if he were interested in me, he would have made a move already. Especially by now.

  When college came, we made the motions to stay best buds. We had the same majors, chose the same classes, but a bureaucratic mix up made us have completely different schedules. I figured it was for the best, we had to meet new people. I had to meet new people, I told myself. Then I would stop thinking about Ian.

  Every time I remotely got close to a guy though, I just compared them to Ian. They would never measure up. Not in the slightest.

  I pushed myself up from my desk, leaving the new picture of Ian front and center on my computer monitor as I dropped myself onto the bed. I was going to revisit a fantasy that I had visited so many times before.

  It made me feel weird. Even as he had turned from a chubby nerd into a chiseled hottie, it forced introspection on me. Was it that I was really that shallow?

  Or did he just become someone to think of for more than just friendship?

  “You admit you want me, don’t you,” I murmured to myself, quietly, not wanting for my parents to walk by and think I was a schizophrenic. A perk and a curse of choosing the local small town college, of course, was being able to stay with the parents. “All those years of being close to me, you finally admit it, huh…”

  His hands would run up and down my body, making my flesh come alive. He would caress my breasts, let them perk up under his touch. He would tell me how beautiful I was, how they were the perfect size for him.

  “Oh, you were just waiting for the perfect moment to tell me how you feel, weren’t you?”

  He’d kiss me. Over and over again. So many times I imagined an endless make out session with him. He would slip me his tongue, show me how it’s done. He was only seeing all those other girls so he could practice for me, and not disappoint me. He wouldn’t disappoint me, not in the slightest. It just wouldn’t be possible.

  Feeling him touch my body, explore it. He would then slip down to my panties, and touch me where I had always dreamed he would. Slipping his fingers into my slit, fingering me. He’d find my clit immediately and message it, just loving the sounds I made when he did so. He’d finger-fuck me, just to make my toes curl, make me wiggle, make me nibble on my fingers.

  “You want me to fuck you, don’t you? That’s what you always wanted.”

  He kept fingering me, only to replace it with his cock, long and strong, and perfect for me in every way I could imagine. He’d be tender with me, not wanting me to feel any pain for my first time. His strokes would be slow at first, but he’d be able to read me like a book. His pace would only pick up as he started to pound me with his rod.

  I would toss and turn on the bed, trying to keep the orgasm he would bring me at bay. I would ultimately fail, as he knew me better than I knew myself, and I would be moaning for him, panting, and begging for him to fuck me, fill me, and give me everything.

  My back would arch as the orgasm struck me and the heat washed over me giving me what I wanted all along, and he would be right there with me, kissing me on the lips as he came. I’d want him to fill me to the brim with his seed, knowing that he wanted to claim me and my body for good as we moved from best friends to best lovers.

  Back in reality, I caught my breath. My fingers had gotten quite the work out from my imagination like they always did. I kept stroking my slit, having kicked off my pants and panties in the throes of fantasy. Exhausted, I always felt ridiculous after the fact. How long had I been touching myself to him? Even when I was a teenager, I think I was doing it. Now that he was even more a total package? Well, I just ended up touching myself even more.
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br />   Who knows, maybe us being so close growing up made him think of me as a sister and threw down the big mental off limits side, and I was the weird one for wanting to fuck my pseudo-brother.

  I pushed all the negativity out of my mind. A nap. A nap would be good, I thought, my fantasy replaying in my head.

  The sun peered through my window and rudely hit my eyes. It forced me to open them, and look at the time.

  The time was fifteen minutes late to my anthropology class where I had an important test to take. The one I should had been studying for instead of masturbating to my best friend.

  “Shit,” I said, rolling off my bed. I found my panties, pants, and put them on. I didn’t usually like going to class in day old clothes, but this was hardly a typical day as I gathered up my things. Knocking my computer off standby, I got another glimpse of Ian and his stupid sexy body. I cursed myself for thinking with my clit instead of my brain. Thinking with your genitalia was supposed to be a guy thing, not a chick thing.

  I turned it off, and scurried out of my room, down the stairs, and off to class.

  Chapter Three

  “So nice of you to join us, Miss Neilson.” Professor Schmoltz was leaning back in his chair, his feet up on his table.

  He was balding, but instead of just doing a comb-over, he decided to have fun with it and embrace the Benjamin Franklin look. It worked for him, all things considered.

  His fun look though didn’t change the fact that I was walking into an empty classroom devoid of other souls. I was really, really late.

  “I’m sorry, I…”

  “Spare me, Miss Neilson. I don’t want excuses. An explanation, maybe, but you know I don’t want you to make up something to lie about your absence.”

  “I overslept. I’m sorry. Really, I am. I forgot to set my clock.”

  “That’s understandable. This was an important test, however. You should take more care to make sure you don’t miss such things. If this was a job interview I would consider you incredibly tardy, and it would be a huge red mark against hiring you.”