Best Friends With Benefits

11....

The next morning, I woke up next to Craig in his room, with only his basketball shorts on. Although I didn't feel it yesterday, the after pain is surely a bitch.

Everytime I walked there was pain and more pain sprouting throughout from my pelvis to my legs.

"I put some work in, didn't I?" I turned around, and Prod was smirking.

"Oh please. This is normal." I said, and tried to walk straight, ignoring the fact I wanted to scream. I'm happy today is Sunday. Which means a day of rest.

I grabbed my stuff to take a shower, and got in. Everything was still fresh in my mind. It wasn't only what we did, but how we did it. He didn't go rough, from what I read in books, he took his time, was gentle, touched me as if I was silk.

But then I remembered.

I'm 13.

I shook my head, taking off the soap suds, and turning off the water. I opened the curtain to see Prod there. I screamed and closed the curtain.

"Oh please you acting like I haven't seen anything."

"I still have privacy you know." I sighed knowing he was right, and opened the curtain.

I got out the tub, just doing my normal routine as if he wasn't there.

"So what do you want?" I lotioned up my body, with Prod watching my every move.

"Where you wanna chill today?"

I put on my panties, and was starting to put on my bra.

"Home. I'm kind of sore."

He nodded. When I was about to put on the straps of my bra, he told me to stop. He was watching me closely.

"They're so perky...they're perfect."

"Boyyyy....if you don't get up out my face." I said laughing. I put on the rest of clothes, went to my room, and started to watch reruns of Tom & Jerry.

Craig came in and sat next to me.

"You want iHop?" He asked.

"Yeah sure." My eyes focusing on the tv. I could feel his eyes on me.

"So best friends with benefits, huh?"

I nodded. I knew the next question after this.

"Why won't you go out with me?"

I sighed, my answer being the same for the past forever years.

"Cause if something happen, our friendship is fucked up afterwards."

"We can be mature."

"We are fucking thirteen years old!"

"That's not what were you saying when I was putting in work last night."

I stood quiet, kind of offended at what he said.

"So you basically blaming this on me? You know what. Fuck you Craig."

I got up, putting on some sweatpants and a tank-top. I grabbed $40 and went downstairs to call for a cab.

"Where are you going?" He asked.

"Somewhere with Sylinche."

"I thought you were sore."

"Well I'm feeling better."

I wasn't lying, yet I wasn't telling the truth either. The cab came in five minutes. I got in and told him where I wanted to go.

"35 Lincoln Avenue. Then some place afterwards."