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*** ETHAN

I'm not very happy right now. Yeah, I know what you must be thinking. Ethan, how can you be upset when you just got a virtual blowjob from Ashley and you're going back to your dorm room to eat two burritos and some nachos?

First off, let me say that the virtual blowjob was amazing. Is that what we're calling it now? Whatever the fuck it was, with Little Miss Perfect Princess on her knees, webcam angles all set up perfectly so it looked like she was right there in my room, the fucking… what the fuck was that? The crazy microphone for 3D sounds that made it sound exactly like she was right next to me, sucking my cock…

Uh… what was I saying? I'm distracted now, carrying my food in the elevator, heading back to my room. The door opens and I step out into the hall. Confused and disoriented by the memory of that amazing as fuck blowjob, I turn and start slowly walking down the hall, trying to remember what I'm annoyed about. Literally it was like… three seconds ago and I was annoyed.

This is bad. Ashley's going to drive me insane. I can't take this, man. Her lips around my cock, except it's virtual or whatever. Those were not her lips around my actual cock. Yeah, it felt good still, it was inspirational as fuck to watch her. I felt inspired, no fucking joke, but…

Oh, right. Let's get back on track.

I planned on talking to Ashley on the phone this entire time. We were on the phone when I got my food, and she got her food, too. We were both on the phone then, but we're not on the phone now. Do you want to know why?

It's kind of hard to open doors while carrying an entire meal when you're on the phone. Also, the stupid security dude at the front desk of both our dorm buildings decided that today was the day he wanted to harass us. This isn't just one dude, but two. Two dorm buildings hours away from us, the both of us dealing with this shit. Fucking A, are you for real?

So, I hung up with Ashley and we did our thing. My guy asked me some stupid questions. I showed him my student ID, because what the fuck else does he want from me, and he just kind of stares at it, scrutinizing as fuck. I almost told him that it's not fake, but what the fuck would he even know because some girl got in earlier with a fake ID and he never noticed.

I don't say that, though. I'm a bad boy, but I'm not an idiot. Also, as annoying as Scarlet is, I'm not going to throw her under the bus like that. I'm no rat.

Yeah, so, that's where we're at. I guess it's fine. Cell reception in the elevator isn't the best, so I probably would have lost the call with Ashley then. Opening doors was kind of annoying with all this food, too. I'll call her when I get back to my room. We'll both be situated then and be able to have a nice meal together.

I don't fucking care if you think that's dumb. I'm eating dinner with Ashley, and yeah, she's hundreds of miles away from me now, but whatever. It'll work. I'm going to make it work.

Except then Caleb comes rushing out of his room as soon as I pass by. I guess that's his room, at least. Where else would he be? Shacking up with a girl? Do you even know Caleb? Scarlet or bust, this kid's going to die a virgin if he can't get with her.

“Ethan,” Caleb says, confronting me. “I need your help.”

“Caleb,” I say, staring at him. “I'm going to my room. I have food. I'm going to eat it and talk to Ashley. I'll talk to you later.”

“No, uh… no,” he says. “It's important. Seriously, this is really important, Ethan. Please?”

Why is he looking at me like that? I'm fine with girls looking at me with those puppy dog eyes, but this is Caleb. Go look at Scarlet like that. Actually, I bet that'd work. I keep this in mind for later, when I'm giving Caleb tips on how to ask Scarlet on a date.

I mean, really, this shouldn't be that hard. He should just go up to her and ask her. He isn't, and he hasn't, though, so whatever. We'll need to work on that.

“Alright,” I say. “Hurry up. Talk and walk. You've got two minutes and then I'm kicking you out.”

“Kicking me out of where?” he asks. “We're in the hallway.”

“We're walking to my room,” I say. “You can talk on the way, and while we're in there, but once the two minutes is up, I'm done. One minute and fifty-five seconds now, probably. Better hurry it up.”

Caleb follows after me, stammering and trying to think of something to say. This isn't going well. I get to my door and find my keys, then unlock it. I swear to fucking… fuck. Yeah, alright? I swear to fucking fuck if Scarlet is in my room, I'm going to be pissed.

I open the door and turn on the light. No Scarlet. Good. Instead, I've got Caleb with me. He follows me in. I put my food on my desk and turn to face him. He still hasn't said anything.

“Look, let's just start from the beginning,” I say. “What do you need my help with?”

“Uh… it's complicated,” he says.

“So uncomplicate it,” I tell him. “Treat it like a math problem or something. What's the root of the issue?”

Aw yeah. Ashley, did you hear that? I know she didn't, but I think she'd be proud as fuck at the moment. I'm solving complicated equations here, relating math to Caleb's issue. I will solve the fuck out of this, don't even fucking worry about it.

I'm going to tell her about this later. This is amazing.

“Alright,” Caleb says. “So… the thing is, how do you impress a girl? A girl you like, I mean. What do you do?”

“I have no fucking clue,” I tell him. “Why are you asking me?”

“Are you serious?” Caleb asks. “Hello? You're dating Ashley? You do stuff for her, right?”

Holy fuck, Caleb. This is supposed to be him asking me a question, and me answering it. Not him asking me a complicated as fuck question that I don't have an answer to. If I wanted to deal with this shit, I'd start taking some philosophy classes.

“I don't know,” I say. “We just do stuff. Go places? Watch movies and eat dinner and hang out.”

“That's it?” Caleb asks. “I don't get it. How are you still dating her?”

“Why are you sassing me, kid? I'm trying to help you out here.”

“I didn't mean it like that! I meant, uh… everyone watches movies with people and eats dinner together and hangs out. That's what friends do, isn't it? What else, though? There's more that you do that's just for Ashley, so it impresses her, right?”

Like I said before, what's with the complicated as fuck questions here? For real.

I stand there and think about it for a second. I can do this. Yes, the delicious smell of burritos and nachos is calling to me from my desk, but I need to answer Caleb's question so I can kick him out of my room and call Ashley.

I just… uh… yeah… I'm not sure what the answer is. Then it hits me, though. I know the answer. I'm so fucking good at this, you can't even possibly understand.

“It's orgasms,” I say. “That's what you do to impress a girl you like. You give her an orgasm. Do you know how many orgasms I've given to Ashley? Fuck, Caleb, I don't even know. Maybe I should keep better track, but… yeah, it's a lot. A whole fucking lot of them.”

Caleb stares at me like I've just said the stupidest thing in the world. Well, fuck you, too, nerd.

“You can't just give a girl an orgasm,” Caleb says. “There's some build up to it. It's not like–”

“Foreplay,” I say, interrupting him. “That's the build up to an orgasm. Foreplay.”

“Not that!” he says. “I mean, before you even get that far. You can't just, like… go up to a girl on the street and say ‘Excuse me, but I think you're attractive and I'd love to give you an orgasm to impress you.'”

“Why not?” I ask. “Yeah, so you can't say it exactly like that, but I'm pretty fucking sure I've used a line like that before and it worked.”

Friends with benefits, stepbrother with benefits, what's the difference?

Um, we're not even friends, Ethan…

Seems like it worked out great for me, don't you think? At the time, I wasn't even trying to use it as a pickup line or anything, either. See? I'm good at this. The answer is orgasms, like I said, but Caleb doesn't believe me.

“Anyone can give anyone an orgasm,” he says. “That's not impressive.”

“Wait, hold the fuck up,” I say. “Who are you giving orgasms to, then? Impress me.”

“Are you flirting with me?” he asks, giving me a weird look, eyes wide, one brow raised.

“Shut the fuck up. I didn't mean impress me with an orgasm. I meant impress me of the list of girls you've impressed with an orgasm. Seriously, Caleb. Stay on track here.”

“Uh… I don't want to,” he says.

“Is the number greater than zero?” I ask. “This is important.”

“Maybe?” he answers slowly, stumbling on the word.

“That's not an answer to the question, Caleb.”

“Ethan, it doesn't matter, alright? That's not what I meant! I meant, like… flowers, you know? Or poetry or something. Writing a love letter? Don't you do any of that for Ashley?”

“Yeah, I guess,” I say. “If she wants flowers or something, I'll buy them for her.”

“If she asks,” Caleb points out. “But what about on your own? What about just writing her a poem because you want to express your feelings for her?”

“Listen,” I say, but then I stop. Fuck, what if Caleb is right?

“I can do poems,” I add. “It's just not something that's ever come up.”

“You don't really strike me as a poet,” Caleb says.

Yeah? Now it's on, Caleb. You can just go fuck yourself, because I can be a poet if I want to be. I'll do it right the fuck now, even.

I clear my throat to begin reciting a poem I just came up with. I clear it again for good measure. Caleb waits, preparing for my poetic genius to shine through.

“This is a poem I just came up with for Ashley,” I tell him. “It expresses my feelings for her.”

“Alright,” Caleb says. “I'm ready.”

“Roses are red,” I say, dramatic. “Your panties are green,” I add, with slow and rhythmic emphasis. “Ashley, let's get naked together.” And for the finishing line, I bow my head low. “You'll feel so good, you'll scream.”

Fucking nailed it. No joke. How fucking amazing am I?

Caleb stares at me. It's obvious he can't even begin to understand my poetic genius.

“I know that green doesn't rhyme with scream,” I say, cutting him off before he can argue with me. “It's acceptable in poetry, though. It's called a… something… near rhyme! Yeah, that's it. Near rhyme. Poetic license and all that.”

“Have you ever actually recited that poem to Ashley, though?” he asks.

“Nah. I just came up with it. I should use it sometime, though. It's good, right?”

“I'm not sure I would use that exact word, no,” Caleb says.

“I'm not really a poetry kind of guy,” I say, as reluctant as I am to admit it. “It's not about the poetry, though. I don't think it is. It's about, uh… just expressing yourself, you know?”

“It's funny, I guess,” Caleb says, mumbling. “I can see how maybe Ashley would like it if it's coming from you. I'm not sure that's going to work for me, though. I… I mean more like a love letter or something? Some way to tell her how I really feel.”

“Scarlet,” I say, filling in the blanks.

“I guess, but not even just her. I'm not trying to flirt with any other girl, but I don't understand how you do it, either? I know how to talk to girls, sort of, but what about more?”

“The thing is, no one even writes letters anymore,” I tell him.

Also, has this conversation been longer than two minutes or what? Fuck.

“That's the thing!” Caleb says, like he's discovered something amazing. “Wouldn't that make it more impressive? If no one's doing it, then it makes the effort and the expression even better, don't you think? Like… alright, so everyone's trying to give their girlfriend an orgasm, right?”

“Nah, lots of asshole boyfriends are selfish as fuck,” I say.

“Whatever,” he says, rolling his eyes at me. “You know what I meant. I'm sure orgasms are nice, but when compared to a love letter… you see where I'm going with this?”

“You're asking me if I think a girl will like a piece of paper over an orgasm?” I ask him. “Are you for real?”

“They aren't mutually exclusive!” he says. “You can give her a love letter… and then an orgasm.”

I pause to think about this. I'm not sure what's going on, but I really feel like I have to let this sink in for a second. It's not something I've ever seriously considered before.

I mean, yeah, so you do have to kind of work up to the orgasm thing. There's talking, flirting, a bit of teasing here and there. Don't get me wrong, all of that's fun, too. You go on a date, end the evening with a kiss, which leads to more kissing, which ends up with a lot of groping on a couch in the dark, which later involves clothes being removed, and…

You can do all of that and top it all off with an orgasm, so…

“Holy fuck, I think you might be a genius,” I tell him. “Seriously, a love letter? That's amazing, Caleb.”

“I know, right?” Caleb says, pleased as fuck with himself. It's fine, I'll let him be happy. He's definitely on to something here.

“How do you write a love letter, though?” I ask him. “Is there a special format? You know how when you're writing an essay for class or something and you have to open with a thesis statement? Is that how it works?”

“I'm not sure?” he says, nervously biting his bottom lip. “I don't think so? I think you just write something romantic and sexy, I guess. Not too sexy… I think you just write how much you want to be with her and kiss her and stuff.”

“Yeah, I guess,” I say, but I'm not fully convinced. “What about… so can I write about how much I want to fuck her and eat her out? Ashley and I have been dating for awhile, so I need to advance it a little, right?”

“Uh…”

“It'd be poetic,” I add. “I'd write about how I want to fuck her poetically and eat her out like… uh… like an ocean wave or something. Classy as fuck, that's what that is.”

Caleb stares at me, then he shakes his head and sighs. “If you're going to write Ashley a love letter, I think you should let me see it before you show it to her.”