A/N; I'm not sure what this is. Maybe word vomit. Maybe a new, very short story. Honestly, your guess is as good as mine at this point. If I continue it, there will be a few more, short chapters. I think.

They say it takes less than ten seconds for men to fall in love.
Ten seconds to change lives irrevocably, forever.
As per usual, he had performed better than average as it had taken him one. He had always had a tendency to show off.

One.

One second that still influenced his everyday life and consumed him in ways that some may describe as obsessive and others as unhealthy.
One second. It had happened so fast.
And yet, he was so late, too late.

He opened the front door to his apartment right when she was about to knock on it, inadvertently leaving her fist hanging in mid-air and almost hitting him in the chest. He wasn't surprised to see her, the scene way too familiar for him to be startled. What did surprise him was the expression on her face.

She looked nervous yet determined, a slight layer of sweat lining her forehead, presumably from climbing the three sets of stairs to get there. She had probably left in a hurry, her hair in a state of disorder and her outfit uncharacteristically mismatched.

She was a mess.

She had never been more beautiful.

He opened his mouth to greet her as she entered his place, plunging down on his couch while raising her hand to interrupt him.
'Listen, I don't want to talk.'

He stayed quiet, never one to disobey her wishes. She was panting, almost unnoticeably, her chest heaving from the recent stair-climbing exercise. He wanted to make her pant and heave for very different reasons.

'So...' his voice trailing off, not wanting to angry her but genuinely curious why she was at his place late at night, not wanting to talk. 'I want you to...sleep with me'.

He looked at her, dumbfounded.

'Are you drunk?' 'Nope'

'Did you hit your head or something?' Shaking her head.

Suddenly, she was embarrassed. Maybe she had completely misread the level of attraction she thought he had for her.

'Forget it, ok, I don't know what came over me'.

She rose and turned around, having made it all the way back to the front door before his huge arms were around her tiny body, the best match of opposites he could think of.

'What about - ''I said I didn't want to talk'.

She kissed him and effectively ended the Q&A session as he could no longer remember his trivial concerns. Or his name, for that matter.

Her lips were soft, amazing, everything he had always thought they would be and more. His apprehensions slowly evaporated with each kiss while his hands eagerly wandered, exploring her body like a newly discovered deserted island.

He would be willing to bet that she could hear his heart beating out of his chest at racing speed.

He was nervous. A nervous, hopelessly in love campus playboy.

Her mouth was running down his neck, creating tingles and an unprecedented hard on all at the same time.

Oh, who was he kidding.

He had been hard ever since he first saw her.

Almost 2 years ago.

They were slowly making their way through his apartment, lips interconnected and intermittent slurping sounds of desire ringing throughout the small space.

He hesitantly stalled on the doorstep to his bedroom. He had dreamed of taking her on his bed since, well, the first day of school. He would need a book the size of a bible to mark down the times he had touched himself thinking of her on this very bed. But this would undoubtedly change things between them. They were about to cross the solid line in a no passing zone. He was terrified of the looming, impending collision.

She looked at him, questioningly, challenging. 'Changed your mind?' as she slowly undressed herself, one torturous piece of fabric at a time.

'Ally, I think we both know I couldn't turn you down even if I wanted to'. His voice was foreign, accented with covet. She was so cute, blushing slightly at his words, trying to but failing to be confident, yet so utterly sexy that he could hardly stop himself from tearing the clothes off of her. His hands were back to grazing her semi-nude body, creating a path of goose bumps along with hardened nipples and between-the-legs drenching.

She moaned and he heard a symphony.

He couldn't recall how his pants magically disappeared or how the two of them ended up on the bed. All he could remember was her taste, her smooth skin, the perfect way his fingers trailed her forms as if they were paintbrushes creating a visual masterpiece.

She panted his name as a cheer when he ran his fingers over her fabric-covered slit, his tongue encircling her longing breasts in slow licks and nibbles as he removed her panties and dipped his finger into her pool.

Her mind stopped functioning.

O.M.F.G.

She had known he would be good at this. Of course he was great in bed. After all, practice makes perfect. And God, did she know that he had practiced. And God, was he perfect.

She reached for him, wanting to reciprocate the sensations he was currently eliciting with his fingers penetrating her in an enticing rhythm.

Her tiny hand closed in on his dick and he almost lost it when she started pumping him, each low groan escaping his throat substantially increasing her confidence. 'One night, just you and me and no regrets' she whispered in his ear and he nodded, speechless, not necessarily in agreement knowing that he wanted so much more.

His eyes were glued to hers as he entered her from above, aiming for slowly but settling on semi-so as his self-control faltered substantially with each additional inch of his cock being pushed into her all-consuming tightness. Her eyes were crockpots of conflicting feelings, seasoned with indescribable pleasure. Both of them surprised. Her, at the level of sincere emotions beaming from his golden-brown orbits. Him, at seeing the same emotions reflected in hers.

He was in paradise, setting a thrusting pace that would inescapably shorten their session to mere seconds. He reluctantly slowed down. He needed to make it memorable as he was acutely aware that he may never get to experience this again. He had one shot. One shot at a first and last impression. One. He needed to make it as unforgettable for her as it already was for him.

He was making slow love to her while she was fucking the man she had fantasized about since the beginning of Freshman year.

She soon tightened irregularly around him, squeezing him in fast, disorganized waves, her breath shortened, her whole body a live wire and he knew that his mission was on the verge of completion.

She came, hair-pullingly, back-scratchingly. A few more thrusts and he followed suit, spurting into her, her name as a cursed growl from his lips, joining in the choir as they both screamingly experienced their best orgasms to date.

She looked at him, savoring the moment, elated, exhausted and only slightly ashamed that the best sex of her life came courtesy of her blond best friend rather than her decidedly less blond, current boyfriend.