Dedicated to my wifey-cakes, my love of seven months, Maggie. Happy Valentines, hun!

Disclaimer: Characters represented are not mine. Nor is the song this is based from, "Turn back Time," by Aqua.

Et's Valentines, Suicide Day, Hallmark Day, Sex Day, V Day, Corporate-America-Scam Day. Ze one day a year companies encourage ze sex drive, eating chocolates, gifting. A day wizout meaning, even to ze couples of ze world. Et's a day to impress ze person you care for wiz piddly, cheap, unoriginal gifts, a plea to get into ze bed and razer cozy. Ze only good zing to come rom zis day ez ze babies zat are made nine monzs later, but even zen, ze babies are hardly compensation since babies suck. In short et ez 'ell, especially for zose zat do not 'ave Valentine's. Me, ze general concept does not bozer me, zis year et does. And et bozers 'im too.

Let's begin at ze beginning, yes?

Zree monzs, zat was ze bargain, ze gamble. 'undreds of America dollars was running on ze bet, zat after zree monzs I'd 'ave 'im in bed moaning my name. Zat was ze longest I 'ad, ze longest amount of time wiz money on et. Ze shortest was a week. I 'appily took ze bet, et was a game, all in fun, right?

Wrong.

I, Christophe Marcel "Mole" DeLorne, was to seduce Kyle Ashlee "Jewsus" Broflovski. Et did not seem like such a 'ard task, 'e was borderline gay anyway, despite 'is rough demeanor as a 'ockey player. 'e flitted, appeared a bit more colourful zen anyone else, but you did not mention zis to 'im unless you wanted your 'ead beat in wiz a 'ocky stick.

I did not care, I 'ad money in as well on my own abilities. So I pointed out 'is gayness, but 'e knew ze odds were against 'im. Afterall, et was a mercenary against a 'ocky player, who was expected to win? Albeit, 'e could 'ave given me a good run for ze money, but 'e passively submitted, and I let 'im go just letting 'im know I was curious.

Some of ze boys doubted my sexual abilities, but I did not, I knew 'ow to play ze game and did et wiz care. A comment, look, push, lingering touch, zey all progressed ze process at a rate zat a normal relationship would work at. Except I am me, I 'ave a sexy French accent and know ze jive of body language, so et went a bit faster zen ze ozers were expecting.

'e was cautious to give in, find et strange ze Sadist as ze girls of school so 'appened to call me, would want to date 'im. And I let 'im have 'is doubts, but showed 'im a good time wiz tongue and teez until he willingly fell into ze trap, and ze real game begin. Et was like knocking off a bishop from a chess board, wizout one as ze queen's guard defense was distracting.

Even zen et was a game. When I'd 'ad 'is trust, 'im cuddled to my side and giving an passing girls a dirty look, et was just a game. 'e was my public arm warmer, ze person I'd take against a wall and 'ave a little fun. 'e was ze one I invited over, played silly games wiz. In private, a number of girls took ze sexual tension away, gave ze pleasure Kyle was denying me.

Until Winter break, two monzs into ze bet.

E was a few days before Christmas, 'e 'ad been invited to a party and went out of good cheer. 'e left early, depressed about being a Jew, and cam to my 'ouse. Comfort was given in ze form of entwined bodies, gentle caresses, 'isses of breath, nails on sweaty skin, moans, yells of pleasure. Laying zere under ze sheets, watching as 'e slept, sweaty curls falling around 'is face I saw 'im differently zen just a sexual conquest. Weird, I know, when modest and decent 'e was a game, but naked and sweat-drenched 'e was cute and I was in love. Maybe because I was 'is first to give pleasure. Maybe because 'e wasn't a woman zat wanted and never gave. Maybe because 'e wasn't fake. I do not know, but at zat moment I knew I did not want 'im to know about ze bet, dd not want to follow zrough.

But I 'ad to. Craig won ze money, and eventually my 'ate 'as 'e tramped zrough school announcing what 'ad been done. I will never forget zat wraz filled, haunted, pleading zat et wasn't true look Kyle gave me when 'e 'eard, as if 'is emotional stability was knocked down where 'e stood. And et probably was.

Et's been two monzs and now et ez Valentine's. We do not talk or acknowledge each ozer in a kind manner. But ze balloons, flowers, stuffed toys bring us back to what was—and could 'ave been. Ze longing broken looks, gaping mouzs as if we wanted to say somezing, and I did. If I could 'ave I would 'ave turned back time to tell 'im what I felt zat night, but et would 'ave done no good. Et was a game where no one won and everyone lost, a cruel, vicious game.

A game zat 'as me standing on Kyle's front porch, waiting nervously for 'im, at eleven in ze night.

And 'e comes like I know 'e would, in 'is pajamas, 'air tousled and eyes drifting between sleep and focusing. 'e stills seeing me, emerald orbs focusing immediately as 'e sweeps me a look older zen ze winter wind.

"What do you want?"

"Et's Valentine's," I say, voice odd to my ears. Strained, 'oarse, and I know I sound stupid since ze 'oliday last only zirteen more minutes.

"And I had a Valentine, thank you very much," 'e spits, words 'arsh enough to cut ze tension, and I mentally slap myself. Of course 'e did, Stan 'ad been ze good, protective friend to ward off anyone zat might want to play around wiz Kyle. Like me. But I can't 'elp but feel defiant as 'e goes to close ze door in my face. I grab 'im by ze shirt, pulling 'im out of ze doorway against me and kiss 'im, 'ard, letting all ze 'urt, apology, desire melt into zat one mind blowing moment before stepping back. 'e licks 'is swollen lips, eyes me wearily like 'e 'ad in ze first part of ze game and says, "You taste like cigarettes."

I sigh in relief 'as 'e welcomes me back, and let me say, no amount of roses and chocolate could 'ave replaced ze euphoria we were in zroughout ze rest of ze night. To say ze least, I zink 'is little brozer might 'ave been scarred for life.