Chris

After unpacking, the duo just decided to kick back and relax, talking and listening to Siouxsie and the Banshees. People always commented on their close friendship. So many people assumed that they were a couple, it began to get annoying after a while. Sure, he loved Wilson to ****; they were as close as his folks were with each other, but to him, she was like a sister. So why was he having these disturbing thoughts about the blond in this room?

"Stop it, dude. The girl's your best friend; anything happened between ya, it'd be too strange; are you willing to destroy 8 years of closeness with sex?" No matter what he kept telling himself, fantasies like he'd seen in pornos kept popping up in his mind. But rather than his celebrity crush (Cote de Pablo), or his current girlfriend Erica, every fantasy involved his best friend.

"Sure, Wilson's cute; sexy blond hair, smooth skin, nice body; goddam, I want her SOOOO badly!" Finally, Chris couldn't stand it anymore.

"I-I . . . I gotta get out for a second, Wilson. Be back in a moment," Chris said in a somewhat strained voice. Nearly sprinting out of the room, Chris headed over to the kitchen area, where Maggie was preparing herself a cup of coffee.

"Yo, guitar hero, what's with the Flash impression?" Maggie had known Chris for a while, attended a couple of his band sessions. Though not as close as Wilson, they had a bit of a mutual respect, due to their interest in the same kinds of music.

"I-I'm not sure, Mags. For the last few minutes or so, I've been . . . that is, I . . . " Chris was a bit panicky; how could he tell somebody that he'd been thinking about screwing his best friend like a cheap hooker?