Taught by the Brother’s Best Friend

Leo's POV

The silence in my apartment was deafening, a sharp contrast to the chaos roaring inside my skull. Seven days. I hadn't just left Elara’s house that night; I’d practically fled like a coward. I sat on the edge of my bed, staring at the phone resting on my nightstand. The black screen reflected my own haggard expression back at me—dark circles under my eyes, hair mussed from restless tossing and turning.

God, how long had I loved her?

I closed my eyes, and the memories washed over me, dragging me back to the hallway of our middle school. I was thirteen then, scrawny and awkward, the target of every bully with something to prove. My family’s money made me a marked boy. They cornered me near the lockers, shoving me against the cold metal, their laughter grating and cruel.

Then Elara appeared. Even at thirteen, she was a force of nature. She wasn’t just the pretty girl with the glossy hair; she was the protector. She didn’t just tell them to stop; she physically stepped between us, shoving the biggest boy back with a strength that startled everyone.

"Leave him alone," she’d snapped, her voice fierce. "If you want a fight, pick on someone your own size."

They’d scattered like roaches. She turned to me, offering me a hand, her eyes soft with a concern that made my chest ache. Since that day, she was it for me. She was the sun, and I was just the planet caught in her orbit. I’d spent years cultivating our friendship, positioning myself as the reliable best friend, the one who was always there. It wasn't that I couldn't make other friends; I just didn't want any that weren't her.

And she was completely oblivious. It was painful, really. She treated me like a brother, a safe harbor. She’d change in front of me without a second thought, complain about dates she went on, and cry on my shoulder when they went wrong. It was exquisite torture, being so close and yet so far away.

Until yesterday. When she’d looked at me with those wide, desperate eyes and asked me to teach her.

My breathing faltered just remembering it. The image of her standing there in that living room was seared into my brain. The tight leather jacket that hugged her curves, the skirt that rode high on her thighs, exposing the soft skin I’d fantasized about touching a thousand times. The air between us had shifted so suddenly, turning thick and heavy.

I remembered the way my body had reacted before my brain could catch up. A rush of blood, hard and instant, straight to my groin. For a split second, I hadn't seen my best friend. I’d seen a woman I wanted to claim. I wanted to tear that jacket off her, wanted to see if her skin tasted as sweet as she smelled. I wanted to be the one to take her virginity, to ruin her for anyone else.

But then the panic had set in. The sheer terror of screwing up the most important relationship in my life. If we did that, and it went wrong—no, when it went wrong—I’d lose her. And if her brother found out? He was protective to a fault, a walking wall of muscle and aggression who deemed Elara too precious for any man, let alone me.

So, I’d ran. I’d put on my mask of principles, spouting some nonsense about not wanting to be a practice run.

It was a lie. A total, absolute lie. I would have given anything to be her practice run. I just wanted to be her only run.

Now, sitting here in the suffocating quiet of my apartment, the regret tasted like ash in my mouth. Why did I leave her there? I knew how she felt. She wasn't just looking for sex; she was looking for connection. She was tired of being the little girl, tired of being untouched. And who better to help her than me? Someone who actually loved her?

My hands curled into fists against my knees. The thought of her going to someone else made my stomach turn. Marcus. The name flashed through my mind like a warning light. I knew Marcus was hanging around her brother's house. He was a shark, always circling. If he got a whiff of Elara’s vulnerability, he wouldn’t hesitate. He’d take what he wanted and leave her broken.

I couldn't let that happen.

I stood up, pacing the length of the small room. The tension in my shoulders was coiled tight, a spring ready to snap. I was tired of being the safe option. I was tired of being the "good friend" who suppressed his desires until he felt like he was going to explode.

I wanted to fuck her. There. I admitted it to myself in the harsh light of the day. I wanted to feel her legs wrap around my waist. I wanted to hear her moan my name. I wanted to be the one to show her what pleasure felt like, to take her through it step by step until she was screaming.

The mental image was intoxicating. I could practically see her, her black hair spread out against my pillows, her pale skin flushed with desire. I imagined the weight of her breasts in my hands, the way her breathing would hitch as I touched her for the first time. I wanted to be slow, at first, to worship her body until she was begging for more. And then, when she was ready, I wanted to let go of the restraint I’d held onto for years.

My heart hammered against my ribs, a frantic rhythm that matched the turbulent thoughts racing through my mind. Was I crazy? Was I about to destroy a decade-long friendship on the off chance that she might want me back?

No. She had asked me. She had literally looked me in the eye and said, "Teach me the ropes." She hadn't asked Marcus. She hadn't asked some random stranger. She asked me. And in my stupidity, in my cowardice,

I had pushed her away.

I stopped pacing and looked at myself in the mirror. My eyes were dark, filled with a hunger I usually kept buried deep. I didn't look like a friend right now. I looked like a man who had been denied too long.

I grabbed my keys off the dresser, the metal cool against my sweating palm. I needed to go back there. I needed to find her. I needed to tell her the truth.

I’m going to tell her I want to fuck her.

The thought sent a jolt of adrenaline through my system, pure and electric. I wasn't going to apologize for leaving. I wasn't going to make up excuses. I was going to lay it all out on the line. I wanted to be the one to take her virginity, not because I was her best friend, but because I was the man who loved her more than anything on this earth.

I pulled on my shoes, my movements jerky and rushed. Tomorrow. I would do it tomorrow. No more waiting.

No more hiding behind the guise of friendship. The fear was still there, clawing at the back of my mind, warning me of the consequences, but the desire was stronger. It burned brighter, consuming everything in its path.

I walked to the door, my hand shaking slightly as I reached for the handle. I was going to see her. I was going to tell her everything. The anticipation coiled in my gut, a mixture of terror and exhilaration that made it hard to breathe.

I just hoped I wasn't too late. I hoped she hadn't already decided to give up on me. Because if I walked into that house and found out she’d turned to someone else—someone like Marcus—I didn't know what I’d do.

I took a deep breath, steeling myself. Tomorrow, everything changes. I’m going to make sure of it. I’m going to make Elara mine.