Gasoline.

His lips were soft, as much as I could tell being as alcohol induced as I was. Aside from the awkward moment in which I fell off the bed and hit my head on the paralell bunk, it was nice. I was happy, for a few seconds. No kiss Lindsey and I had ever shared had been quite like this. This was something else. It was scary that from what I remembered, my best friend was a better kisser than my wife. But the scariest thing was that after the first kiss, Frankie had come on to me once more, and it wasn't a quick brush of lips any more, there was no innocence. I don't think I need to go into detail...

I sat up quickly in the bed that next morning, shit scared to find Frank next to me. I didn't remember falling asleep... the last thing I could put a finger on was falling off the bed, and then nothing. Did he rape me...? Or more the question, did I rape him?

'Uh, Frankie?' I whispered shaking him lightly.

He groaned, giving me slight dejavu from yesterday. 'What the fuck is it? Am I allowed to sleep without you waking me up?'

'Yeah, but... you've been sleeping for more than twelve hours, and I don't need the time to assure you of that.'

'Gerard.' He whispered, 'What harm is it doing anyone?'

'Uh, well. You're sort of boring... and I was thinking we could maybe go somewhere, like I'm not sure a coffee shop?'
Frank sat up quickly at the mention of coffee. I admit it made me just to start off with, but I was in hysterics by the time his head hit the pillow again. He'd managed to sit up enough to smack his head on the bunk above (I wasn't even sure how, due to his height), but with a really long, loud exclamated 'Ouch.', he laid back down again, rubbing his temples. 'Coffee then... I think I need it.'