Quality Bonding Pt. 5

The world felt different now.

Not in any dramatic way, but in that soft, detached sense where everything was a little funnier, a little warmer, a little more… floaty. The passage of time was uncertain, but somehow, it had been an hour since you first lit up. The bottle of wine had been emptied—not that either of you had been keeping track—and the room had taken on a dreamlike quality. The couch was more comfortable than it had any right to be, the glow of the lamp in the corner was definitely too bright, and Liam…

Liam looked like he was barely keeping himself upright, slouched in the chair across from you, head lolling slightly as he swirled the last remnants of his drink in his glass like he was some kind of sommelier.

"Why," he started, voice slow and slightly slurred, "is this so much fun?"

You blinked at him, tilting your head. "What?"

"This," he gestured vaguely, nearly sloshing his drink over the rim. "Just… talking. Doing nothing. It’s like… it’s like everything is funnier, and I don’t know why."

You grinned. "Because we’re high and drunk, Liam. That’s literally what substances do."

Liam squinted. "Huh."

You laughed, shaking your head. "I swear, you sound like you just discovered gravity."

Liam pointed a finger at you, trying to look serious but failing miserably. "Listen, I feel like I understand, but also don’t understand at all."

You snorted, stretching your legs out on the couch. The movement felt oddly slow, like your limbs weighed slightly more than usual but in a pleasant, grounding way. Your head felt light, but your body was heavy, and the combination made everything so ridiculously comfortable.

Liam took another sip of his wine, exhaling deeply. "You know," he said, a smirk playing at his lips, "we never talked about our fake relationship."

You raised a brow. "What about it?"

"Just that it was surprisingly convincing," he mused. "We had the hand-holding, the inside jokes, the whole... chemistry thing going on."

You rolled your eyes. "It wasn’t that convincing."

"Chloe bought it."

You scoffed. "She did not."

"She didn't at first! But you should’ve seen the way she looked at me. Like she was sizing me up. She totally thought I was your boyfriend."

You snorted. "Oh my god, Liam, I still think she doesn't believe it."

Liam nodded dramatically. "She does. You're the one who was folding. If we were spies, we’d be dead right now."

You giggled, warmth spreading through your chest. "Yeah, well, you weren’t exactly making it easy, either. You were such a bad fake boyfriend."

"I was perfect," Liam shot back, leaning forward with a smug grin. "You were the one who kept acting awkward."

You groaned, flopping back into the couch. "Whatever."

Liam smirked, then suddenly straightened a little. "Speaking of Chloe…"

You raised a brow, lips twitching.

"Do you think she thought I was hot?"

You nearly choked on your breath. "Liam!"

"What?" He grinned, eyes bright with amusement. "I’m just saying, we were fake-dating. Maybe she was a little jealous."

You shook your head, laughing. "I am _not _answering that."

Liam sighed dramatically. "Tragic."

You smirked, tilting your head. "Okay, but you thought she was hot, right?"

Liam paused, clearly weighing his options. "I mean… yeah?"

"Pfft!" You grinned, nudging him with your foot. "That took way too long. Obviously, you do."

Liam rolled his eyes, rubbing the back of his neck. "I was trying to be respectful!"

"Respectful?" You let out a teasing scoff. "C’mon, just admit it. What makes her hot?"

Liam hesitated, then let out a breath. "I mean… she’s got that whole, like, effortlessly put-together thing going on. Y’know? Like, her hair’s always perfect, she’s got that confident attitude, and she knows how to dress."

You hummed, swirling your empty wine glass for no reason. "Okay, okay, mister diplomatic-answer. So what do you like about her more than you like about me?"

Liam went completely still. "What?"

"You heard me." You smirked. "What do you like about her more than me?"

Liam looked so uncomfortable. "That feels like a trap."

"It’s not!" You laughed. "Just answer. I don’t care."

Liam gave you a deeply skeptical look. "You definitely care."

"I really don’t."

Liam exhaled, leaning back in his chair. "Okay, well… I mean, she’s taller than you."

You fake-gasped. "Wow, rude."

"Hey, you asked!"

"Yeah, yeah." You grinned, tilting your head. "Okay, so what else?"

Liam hesitated, rubbing his jaw. "Look, I feel like this is dangerous territory."

"Oh my god, just say it!"

Liam groaned, dragging a hand down his face. "Fine. She’s got… you know, like…" He gestured vaguely at his chest.

You burst out laughing. "Oh my god, just say it! You like her tits! Her tits are bigger than mine!"

Liam clapped a hand over his face, groaning loudly. "Shut up!"

"No, no, no, I get it!" You grinned mischievously. "She’s got the perfect size, and mine just don’t compare, huh?"

Liam groaned again, shaking his head. "Why are we even talking about this?"

"Because it’s funny!"

"It’s weird!"

"You made it weird!"

Liam exhaled sharply, rubbing his temple. "I hate you."

You grinned. "No, you don’t."

Liam muttered something under his breath before taking another sip of his wine, probably regretting every life decision that led him to this conversation.

And then, as if to salvage what little dignity he had left, he muttered, "Your bodies are kinda similar otherwise, though."

You froze.

Then you smirked. "Oh?"

Liam stiffened. "No. No, we are not doing this."

"So you do think I’m hot."

Liam pointed at you. "Stop that."

"I mean, you just said—"

"I did not say that!"

"You basically said that."

"I hate you so much."

You cackled, unable to stop laughing as Liam looked utterly, deeply flustered. His face was red—not sure if it was from the ****, the weed, or pure frustration—but either way, you were enjoying this way too much.

Liam groaned, slumping dramatically in his seat. "I should’ve left you at the mall."

"But then who would’ve tormented you like this?"

Liam huffed. "Literally anyone else."

You grinned, stretching your arms above your head, still feeling warm and pleasantly heavy. "Well, sucks for you, because you’re stuck with me."

Liam sighed, muttering, "Yeah, yeah…" But his lips twitched like he was secretly amused.

And for some reason, that made you feel… nice.

Warm.

Like maybe you didn’t totally mind being stuck with him either.

"You know..." You drawled, stretching your legs out on the couch, your body feeling loose, heavy, but pleasantly so. The buzz of **** hummed through your veins, and the hazy fog of the weed softened the world around you, making everything feel a little more funny, a little more easy. "We never talked about the kiss."

Liam, still slouched in his chair, groaned instantly. "Oh my god, we are not talking about that."

You grinned, propping your chin up on your palm. "Why not? It was a very important moment in our fake relationship."

Liam rubbed a hand down his face. "It was not an important moment."

"Chloe literally made us do it," you reminded him, eyes twinkling with mischief. "She wouldn’t believe we were dating until we proved it, so we did. That’s like, a big deal."

Liam exhaled sharply, staring at the ceiling like he was questioning every choice that had led him to this moment. "I still think she just wanted an excuse to mess with us."

"Maybe." You smirked. "Or maybe she just knew how badly you wanted to kiss me."

Liam choked. "Excuse me?"

You leaned in slightly, voice dropping into something teasing, lilting. "You were the one who leaned in first, Liam."

Liam scoffed, eyes wide with disbelief. "That is not what happened!"

"Oh, but it is." You bit back a grin, pointing at him. "You leaned in first because you were so horny, you couldn’t wait to kiss the hot chick who walked in."

Liam barked out a laugh, shaking his head. "That is not how it went down!"

"It definitely is."

"I was just—" He huffed, running a hand through his hair. "Okay, fine, but in my defense, my best friend and roommate walked in looking hot."

You blinked.

Your heart did a weird little flip in your chest.

Liam didn’t seem to realize what he’d just admitted, or maybe he did, but the mixture of **** and weed had loosened his tongue just enough that he either didn’t care or didn’t have the sense to stop himself. Either way, you refused to let the moment go.

"Oh?" You cocked your head, a slow, lazy grin curling at your lips. "So you do think I’m hot?"

Liam hesitated. Just for a second. Just long enough for you to know that he was thinking about his answer.

Then he scoffed, shaking his head. "Shut up."

You smirked. "You didn’t deny it."

"I hate you so much."

"No, you don’t."

Liam exhaled, leaning further back, fingers tapping idly against the armrest. His eyes were slightly unfocused, his body relaxed in the way that only came from a good high, a good drink, and a good conversation. His lips twitched, but he didn't argue.

You studied him for a moment.

There was something about him right now—about the way he was lounging, about the way his hair had gotten slightly messier, about the way he was looking at you with amusement flickering in his expression. You weren’t thinking anything of it, really. You weren’t consciously registering the warmth in your chest, or the way your body leaned just slightly closer, drawn in by some unseen ****.

It was just... the ****. The weed. The moment.

"You know," you mused, shifting slightly, "I think we should test something."

Liam raised a brow. "Test what?"

You pushed yourself up from the couch, slow, fluid, the movement feeling almost dreamlike. Your lavender dress skimmed against your thighs as you stepped forward, closing the space between you and Liam, until you were right in front of him, looking down at where he sat.

Liam blinked up at you, wary. "What... are you doing?"

You smirked. "Just an experiment."

And then, without giving him time to react, you swung one leg over his lap, settling yourself down, your dress hiking up slightly as you straddled him.

Liam went rigid. "Whoa, whoa, whoa—" He lifted his hands instantly, palms raised in surrender, not touching you, not even close. "What the hell are you doing?"

You tilted your head, feigning innocence. "Sitting."

Liam looked like he was having a minor crisis. "On me?"

You gave him a slow, smug smile. "Yes."

Liam inhaled sharply, clearly trying to keep his focus anywhere but on you. "And... why?"

"Because." You reached forward, taking each of his hands in yours before he could think to pull away, guiding them down until they rested against your thighs, just above your knees. His fingers twitched at the contact, but he didn’t pull away. "You were being all stiff and awkward, and I wanted to prove a point."

Liam let out a slightly strained laugh. "And what point is that?"

You grinned, sliding his hands upward, dragging them slowly over the fabric of your dress, up the curve of your thighs, until they settled at your waist. "That you’re bad at pretending this doesn’t affect you."

Liam exhaled through his nose, jaw tight. "You are so annoying."

"And yet," you mused, leaning in just slightly, your breath ghosting against his cheek, "you’re not stopping me."

Liam’s grip on your waist tensed, fingers flexing slightly. "I should."

"But you’re not."

Liam swallowed. His throat bobbed, and for the first time, his eyes flickered downward—just briefly, just a fraction of a second—but you caught it.

"See?" You smirked. "You’re bad at this."

Liam groaned, tilting his head back against the chair, eyes squeezing shut. "I hate you."

"No, you don’t."

Liam exhaled. Long. Slow. His hands still rested against your waist, not gripping, not pushing away—just there.

The air between you had changed. It wasn’t just teasing anymore. Not really.

There was something else underneath it now—something slower, something charged, something neither of you had planned for but hadn’t stopped.

Liam opened his eyes, and for the first time, there was something unreadable in his gaze.

Your stomach did something weird. You ignored it. You weren’t thinking about what you were doing.

Not really. It was just a game.

Just teasing. Just messing around.

Just... seeing what you could get away with.

"You're so tense," you murmured, fingers tracing idle patterns against his shoulders, your nails barely grazing the fabric of his shirt. "Relax, Liam. You act like you’ve never had a girl in your lap before."

Liam exhaled, long and slow, tilting his head back slightly. "I have."

"Oh?" You smirked, shifting slightly, pressing down just a little. His hands tensed. "Then why do you look like you're about to short-circuit?"

Liam’s eyes flicked to yours, hazy and slightly unfocused. "Because it's you."

Your stomach flipped. You ignored it.

Instead, you leaned in, your breath ghosting against his cheek. "That shouldn’t make a difference."

"But it does."

You grinned. "Why?"

Liam huffed, shaking his head, his hands still hovering at your waist, unmoving. "Because you’re my best friend and I don’t—" He cut himself off, shutting his eyes for a second, as if trying to collect himself. "—I don’t know if this is a good idea, given everything that's happened."

You tilted your head. "And yet," you murmured, reaching for his wrists, "you’re still holding me."

Liam inhaled sharply as you guided his hands lower, dragging them down the curve of your waist, over your hips, until his palms rested on the smooth skin of your hips, the dress making way and bunching further around your waist. His fingers twitched, his breathing slightly uneven.

"You’re so bad at pretending you don’t want this," you mused, nails skating lightly over his jawline. "You were so much more convincing when we were in front of Chloe."

Liam scoffed, though it came out a little more breathless than he probably intended. "That was different."

"Was it?" You smirked, leaning in just a fraction closer. "Because it kind of feels like you were into it."

Liam groaned, tipping his head back. "Oh my god."

"It’s okay," you teased, fingers skimming over the back of his neck, playing with the short strands of hair there. "You can admit it."

Liam’s fingers flexed slightly against your thighs, his grip finally firming just a little.

Encouraged, you shifted again, letting your dress hike up just a bit more, baring more of your stocking-clad thighs. "Do me a favor?"

Liam blinked at you, wary. "What?"

You took one of his hands and dragged it further up your leg, to the soft skin of your ass. "Higher."

Liam inhaled sharply through his nose, but he didn’t stop you. Didn’t pull away.

His fingers curled slightly, just barely grazing the exposed skin by the top of your panties.

You smirked, tilting your head. "See? That wasn’t so hard, was it?"

Liam huffed out a breath. "You are so—"

"Charming?" you supplied.

"Annoying."

"Same thing."

His lips twitched, and despite himself, his fingers flexed against your ass again, this time deliberately.

Your breath caught slightly. You weren’t expecting that.

You weren’t sure what you were expecting, really. You were just teasing, just messing around—but there was something about the way his hands lingered now, no longer hesitant, no longer hovering, but holding you.

Something about the way he was looking at you. You swallowed, suddenly feeling lightheaded in a way that had nothing to do with the weed or the wine.

"Tell me something," you murmured. "What do you find hot about me?"

Liam blinked. "What?"

"Chloe. You had no problem saying she was hot. Now tell me." You arched a brow. "What do you find hot about me?"

Liam groaned. "Why do you do this?"

"Because it’s fun," you answered simply, tracing a finger over his collarbone. "Now answer the question."

Liam hesitated. You waited.

Finally, he exhaled, his eyes flicking over your face, your body, before muttering, "Your legs."

Your smirk widened. "Oh?"

Liam rolled his eyes. "Don’t make a big deal out of it."

"Too late." You grinned. "What else?"

Liam sighed, like he was resigned to this fate. "Your lips."

Your stomach flipped again.

"Anything else?"

Liam hesitated. Then, quieter, "Your face."

Your breath caught. You weren’t expecting that either.

His gaze flicked to your lips, just briefly. You saw it. You felt it.

Your heart was pounding now, and you weren’t sure if it was the ****, the weed, or the fact that you were so close to Liam that you could feel his body heat through his clothes.

"Can I kiss you?" you asked, barely above a whisper.

Liam inhaled sharply.

Didn’t say yes. Didn’t say no. Just looked at you.

And you—stupidly, recklessly, boldly—didn’t wait for an answer.

You leaned in, closed the distance, and kissed him.

Soft at first. Testing.

Liam froze. Then, slowly, his hands tightened on your waist.

And then—then—he kissed you back.

The shift was slow, but it was there.

The tentative press of lips became something firmer, something deeper. His fingers curled against your waist, pulling you closer, his mouth opening slightly as he exhaled against you.

Your hands slid up his chest, your fingers grazing over his jaw, tilting his face just slightly as you deepened the kiss. Your lips moved together, warm and lazy, tongues brushing in a way that sent a shiver down your spine.

You weren’t thinking anymore. You weren’t teasing. You weren’t messing around.

Liam’s hands slid further down, gripping your hips, pulling you just a little closer, and you felt it—every point of contact, every shiver of heat between you, every quiet inhale against each other’s mouths.

It wasn’t pretending. Not anymore.