Summary:

“You just need to practice, then?” “Um. Yeah, I guess.” Ilya’s hand has not moved from Shane’s knee, his thumb rubbing soothing circles into the skin there, his touch warm even through the layer of his comforter. “We could practice together,” Ilya says casually, a small purse to his lips. As if Shane’s brain is not screeching to a violent halt, his mouth falling open around a choked noise. “That’s not—that’s not funny.” “Is not a joke,” Ilya says firmly, suddenly serious. “If you are so afraid to be bad, I can teach you. Then you can go kiss a pretty girl, and you can impress her. Whatever.” Ilya shrugs, dark blue eyes darting across Shane’s face, a searching look. Or, Shane has never been kissed before. Ilya offers to teach him how.