Time with Brittany has always flown by. You've never been able to figure out how it works. Time at school goes twice as slow as regular time. The time between classes and practice has always been basically non-existent. Time with Brittany evaporates.

You got up, got dressed and ate, and you did nothing the rest of the day until now. At least, you couldn't grasp where the last nine hours of the day went. As you sat on the steps of Brittany's porch, your elbows resting on the step behind you, and as she stroked your outstretched palm with her long, lithe index finger, you realized you didn't care. These were the nights, these were the Saturday nights, and when you strung them together, they became your life.

The evening was cool, but still. The days were starting to get longer, and the pewter blue light hung in the air after the sunset, making the two streetlights emit an even yellower light than usual. The lights in the house were off: no one else was home. The yellow of the streetlight was the only thing illuminating Britt's silhouette, carving and sculpting the lines and shadows from her long, extended, muscular legs, to the knuckles and slightly raised veins on her hand. You sat in a comfortable silence, only listening to the rustle of the tops of the trees.

"What?" Brittany asked, interrupting the stillness of the night.

"Hmm?" you asked back, you tilted your head in confusion.

"You sighed," she said.

"I did?"

"Yeah. Why?"

"I didn't even notice."

She paused. Still waiting to hear your answer, her eyes stayed on yours.

"Just happy, I guess."

She didn't say anything, just scooted closer to you on the step, linked your arms and intertwined your fingers. She placed a small, fleeting kiss on your cheek and rested her head on your shoulder. You stayed like that until the blue disappeared from the evening, and the only thing left was the golden highlights on your skin from the lights across the street.

Brittany took a deep breath and raised her head. You turned to look at her. She kissed you. Slowly. It was as though she couldn't tell you what she was feeling, but she could show you. You felt the emotion behind that kiss, or at least what you hoped was the same feeling you were trying to show her. Her tongue ran over the roof of your mouth, and you felt goose bumps run down your spine. Her kisses moved from the depths of your mouth to your cheek, to your ear. She ran her tongue from the ridge at the top all the way to your earlobe. She licked it slowly, as your hand gripped her shirt, and brought her closer. You were still sitting side by side, so half of your body was already pressed against hers.

"Mmmm…" you let out, softly, slowly, as she bit down lightly on your earlobe, and pressed her tongue on the innermost crevice of your ear.

"You like that," she said, in a whisper, a statement not a question. Her breath tickled the side of your face.

You hummed happily again, until she wasn't kissing you anymore. You opened your eyes. Maybe something was wrong. You saw Brittany pull away for a second, but then she swung her leg over your lap, and straddled you. You hands instinctively moved to her hips. You tugged at her belt loops bringing her hips even closer. The pressure in between her legs was building, you knew. You knew this was a little bit too far, and a little bit too fast, but Brittany swayed her hips against yours and placed strategic kisses at your neck.

You brought your lips together and you moved your hands to the side of her face. You tongue ran over hers, it felt rough on one side and slick and smooth on the other, you could faintly taste the lemonade you had been drinking in the afternoon. You eyes were closed tight and you tried to capture this feeling, the exact feeling of her hands on your shoulders, her hips against yours, her tongue in your mouth, her lips around yours, your hands under her shirt pressed against her bare back and then her tight stomach, the rising feeling in your chest. You tried to feel it all at once because you knew. You knew that in a few years, you would look back at this very second in time and know that was when you knew what it was like to be happy.

Your kisses grew more frantic, you wanted more of her but you were held in place by the boundaries you two still had. Two days ago you were just friends, but right now you were, you didn't know what you were. All you knew is that you wanted more of Brittany. You wanted to make her feel like she's never felt before. Your kisses had grown so deep and passionate, you periodically separated – just an inch – to take deep breaths, your chests were rising and falling heavily, your hips were grinding rhythmically. She leaned in and kissed you again. She took your bottom lip between her teeth and tugged at it gently. You kissed her lips and kept your mouth next to hers.

Your hands were back at her belt loops and hers were tangled in your hair.

"How do you feel about second base?" you whispered, boldly.

She kissed you. She kissed you again. She put her lips next to your ear.

"Go for it," she whispered so seductively it made your hands tighten against her belt loops that you felt your skin burn a little at your grip.

You were kissing again, and your hands moved to the smooth skin under her shirt. You traced lazy circles on her back, and slowly and smoothly moved your hands upwards towards her rib cage. You could feel the definition of her abs under your thumbs and the subtle rise and fall between her ribs. You reached up behind her back, found the clasp of her bra, and with a snap of your fingers, unhooked it. It was strapless, so you pulled it out from underneath her thin tank top and threw it onto the porch, over your shoulder. She giggled into your kiss. Her laughter vibrated at your teeth.

You brought your hands back under her shirt, her skin was growing warmer and you moved determinedly up to her chest. You left hand stayed at her ribs and your right cupped her breast. You ran your thumb over her nipple in little soft circles, feeling it harden under the pad of your finger. She threw her head back at the contact and let out a high moan into the otherwise still and silent night.

You didn't know how long you stayed on the steps, but your right leg had fallen asleep, and you were out of breath. You peppered two or three light kisses at Brittany's neck and pulled back a little. She sat up, on your lap, found footing and stood. Her legs were still on either side of you and you ran your hands from her ankles to the back of her knees.

"You want some wine?" she asked.

"Do you have any?" you asked back.

"Not on me," she said with a smirk, "but I know a little place we can go."

She took your hand and pulled you up, gave you a swift kiss on the lips, and tugged on your hand so you would follow. You laced your fingers together and let her lead you for a few steps.

"No restaurant or bar is gonna serve us wine, Britt," you told her.

"This one will," she said.

She was leading you around the house, to the backyard. Your confusion was growing by the minute, but you decided to embrace the mystery. Brittany was eccentric, to say the least, and it was one of your favorite things about her.

"Here it is," she said, standing at the base of the cottonwood tree that grew tall in her yard.

"I'm confused."

She pointed at the rope ladder that hung next to her.

"OK, that's just your old tree house," you reminded her with little laugh in your voice.

You were still, it seemed, a few steps behind in the plan. Brittany's dad had built her a tree house when she was in grade school, and you'd known Britt for a few years now and had never heard her acknowledge it, let alone use it. You raised your eyebrow, but still kept a smile on your face. Brittany popped her hip to one side, rolled her eyes and started to climb. You followed her.

"Shit, I can't see a thing," you said as you gripped the floor of the tree house and hoisted yourself up to a sitting position.

"Hold on," she said. "I'm trying to find it."

"Find what?"

"There!" she said triumphantly.

She had plugged something in because in an instant, the dark and dusty tree house was illuminated by hundreds of white twinkling Christmas lights. There was a little sofa, covered with a dusty sheet and a shelf that held an assortment of bizarre items: a rusted piece of metal with a faded engraving, some sea glass and a mason jar with a candle inside it. To you they just looked like bits of junk, but you smiled at yourself thinking about little Brittany, and how those were probably objects she had treasured and felt they deserved a place of honor.

"C'mere," she said, sweeping the sheet off the little couch and plopping onto it.

You stood and went to sit next to her. You pulled your legs onto the couch. Criss-cross applesauce, you thought.

She smiled a devious smile and reached under the couch. She pulled out a dusty and moldy shoebox. Obviously, it'd had a little trouble withstanding the elements, and it looked like it had seen a few winters.

Brittany opened the box, and pulled out an object wrapped in a plastic bag. She looked inside the bag, smiled, reached in and handed you a corkscrew. You were more amused than confused at this point and took it without a word, just a surprised – but delighted – gasp. Brittany reached into the bag again and pulled out a wine bottle. The label had been stripped off and replaced with a note bearing Britt's loopy handwriting: IN CASE OF EMERGENCIES.

She smiled a toothy grin; she was obviously pleased with herself. She put her hand out, and you handed the corkscrew back to her. The plastic bag and the box lay discarded on the floor.

"How long have you had this up here?" you asked, astonished.

"Ever since I was tall enough to reach the top shelf of the liquor cabinet."

You were impressed. But then you were concerned.

"Are you sure we should drink it?" you asked.

"Sure," she said with a little bit of strain as she was pulling the cork out of the bottle. "Mom and dad went to a benefit or something. Don't worry, they'll be pouring themselves into bed around dawn."

Pop.

"Here," she said, offering the bottle to you.

You took a long swig. If it was just you and Britt downing a bottle of merlot, you were going to enjoy the hell out of it.

"Is it any good?" she asked.

You thought about it for a second.

"I don't know. How can you tell?"

She took a swig, the lip of the bottle made a hollow popping noise as it left her perfect lips.

"Tastes good to me," she said.

That was enough to convince you. You passed the bottle back and forth as you talked about everything, and nothing: the kids at school, your parents, her parents. Eventually, it went to where all of your conversations had been ending lately: sex. This was a subject you thought you had command over, but Brittany kept surprising you with her outrageous stories. Her legs were stretched out over your lap and your fingers were tracing the edges of her kneecaps. You paused every now and then to inspect a scar, running your fingers over the healed wound and placing a kiss on it, as a sign of mourning for every time you imagined Brittany to be hurt.

When you looked up, she was smiling coyly over the mouth of the nearly empty wine bottle.

"I don't think I'll be any good at it," she said with a wrinkled nose.

"At what?" you asked.

"Sex," she said plainly. "With you."

You took the bottle from her hand, tilted your head back and emptied the last of the wine into your mouth. You were buying time.

"That's OK," you said, putting the bottle on the floor and still stroking her legs. You were embarrassed suddenly. You couldn't meet her eyes.

She sat up, took both of your hands, and moved her legs so that she was straddling you again. You still couldn't look her in the eye.

"Do you think this might be going too far?" she asked. "Too far past being friends, I mean."

You had an answer for that. You'd been thinking about it for a while.

"No," you said, raising your eyes slowly. You fingers were playing with each other. "I think as long as we can talk about everything, we'll be OK."

"Let's just be honest together," she said.

"Exactly," you said. "OK?"

"OK," she whispered back. She was smiling and nodding against you lips.

You didn't know how much time you spent in the tree house after that, until you saw the hint of pink in the clouds.