Okay everyone. This is it. The FINAL chapter! I know, I know. It came at you fast, but, believe me, we have been battling back and forth whether to stretch it out and…it was just its time. That's all there is to say about it. We love how it ends, and hope you do too.
Note from IBB: We got a lot of reviews asking nicely to update, and I'm sorry it wasn't done sooner. Busy lives, you know? But, at any rate, I want to thank all of the reviewers, readers, and silent admirers for your interest in this story. I had a great time co-writing it, and when you can laugh while writing or reading something, you know it's probably going to gain at least some feedback. So thank you once again! No worries, kyleisgod and I will probably collaborate again for your reading pleasure!
Chapter 7
Stan's POV
This is driving me crazy! He almost touched my dick! My DICK! Jesus Christ!
I'm not even mad. It surprised me. It made me choke a little, but otherwise it would've been nice. Too nice. You can pretend to date someone. You can even pretend to kiss them and say you're a couple living together, but damn near touching private parts? That's going too far. That's not pretending.
Kyle's not pretending anymore. And if he is, he's way, WAY too into it. I can't let him keep torturing me like that.
I mean, come on, who does he think he's fooling? Is he really gonna sit there and tell me he ISN'T enjoying this? Lord knows I am, and I can't help but forget that we're pretending sometimes.
That breakfast...had to be the weirdest fucking experience I have EVER had. Mostly cause at first I thought I was just the fall back after whatever with Cartman fell through. But then as we were eating, I just told myself to go with it, and get what little of Kyle play I could get in.
But that wasn't little. That was huge.
For god's sake, our characters are living together now. Huh. I guess that means we have cool fictional parents. Or they died or something. But even more than that, two straws? Come on. That thing has my germs on it. We seriously could've been making out at that point. We were making out through the straw.
...Or, considering what straws are for, doing worse things...Oh, Jesus...
I adjust myself as I lay with my legs crossed on my bed. After I dropped him off, I drove straight back to my house, went straight up to my room, and locked the door. Then I almost had a heart attack getting off to the feel of his hand still on my leg. It wasn't, of course, but I didn't forget what it felt like.
He was so. Fucking. Close! I wonder if he felt anything. Or if that was his intention all along.
I sigh and look for some pants. I feel better now. And even though Kyle's torturing me with that stuff, I don't want it to stop. I want it to go on forever. I would be totally happy with being his "pretend boyfriend". Because I know its not the case anymore.
I just wish HE knew that. How can I get him to realize this? Apparently directly asking him and telling doesn't work. It didn't even begin to register in that thick head of his.
He's so convinced he's doing this to keep the girls away.
But, again, that SHOULD be a sign that he's not INTO girls.
Doesn't he see how gay we're getting? How can't he? Kyle can't be -that- thickheaded. That stubbornly in denial maybe, but not that stupid.
I've gotta do something. Maybe I should go back and talk to him? Yeah. Go explain why I got weird. Now that my...head's cleared, I can express myself better.
I lift my body to pull up my underwear then swing my legs over the side of the bed and step into my discarded pants. As I pull them up, I graze over the spot where he grabbed my leg, and I immediately get stiff again.
Jesus Christ its like I'm fucking star struck.
I breathe deep and ignore that intense feeling I'm getting in my stomach as I shuffle over to put on my shoes.
I walk back down to my car. I should do this face to face. I don't know exactly what I'm gonna say to him, but I know it should be in person after all this.
Oh, there's his present. I forgot about that. I guess he did too. I'm smiling now. That's pretty cool he got me a gift. It's not even my birthday. He said it was a gift of his affection. I should open it. It'll give me something to talk about when I go back there.
I open my car door and step inside, swiveling around to retrieve the plastic bag. I stare at the outside for about four seconds, trying to decide where the non-descript bag came from. What store he could've went into to get it. Then my mind reels with possibilities of what this present could be.
Perhaps a confession somehow? Fuck, I have no clue. And why am I even playing this game? He's not here, I can open it now.
I pull back the box and rip away some of the wrapping paper. It's a...It's a...
OH MY GOD!!!!!
It's a dick pump! A dick pump?! I look at it closer to make sure. Yep! A dick pump! Not a normal present. Not a construction set. A penis pump.
What the HELL does that mean?!
"What the fuck, Ky!?" I cry out loud, baffled by the present in my hands.
What is he trying to tell me? What the hell? How...does he think I need to USE this thing? If so then...WHOA.
My mind is spinning. Maybe I have him all pegged wrong. Maybe he's just fucking with me AGAIN. Maybe he really just dedicates himself to the part!
He said it was a token of his affection. To show me how special I am. WHAT THE FUCK!
He almost touched me. Maybe he was...sizing me up? Or maybe he's just an asshole. Maybe he WANTS me to use this thing. Maybe...Oh, god...
Shit. I can't go over there now. What would I say? "Nice present you got me Kyle. You want me to tell you if it works?"
I mean, damn dude! What...why...this isn't even funny! And I know Kyle gets a kick out of gag gifts. And I know he usually thinks he's real funny when he's not. Maybe that's all it is.
But then why would he give me something so expensive?! He doesn't spend money like that.
Who gets an expensive gag gift like this? One so...personal. Dude!! A friggin' PENIS PUMP?! I don't need this! I'm insulted! I was just touching it. It's a perfectly good size!
Maybe he just wants me to show him I don't need it. Maybe he's telling me he's curious...Oh, Christ...What if he wants me to use it on HIM?
...I need to go back upstairs now.
Stupid dumbass Kyle. Thinking you're being so clever, giving me a present with no explanation.
A token of your love. Pfft. What love?
Wait. Is he trying to tell me he loves my...but then why would he want me to alter it? Goddammit this makes no sense!
Man, I can't face him now. This is embarrassing. What...what kind of best friend gives his best friend THAT?! I stare at it, mortified.
What am I supposed to do with it? I'm not using it. I'm not keeping it in my house. I'm not giving it back to him. Maybe I'll just...take it back to the store? Can you even return something like this? No, screw it. He bought it. It's his stupid ass fault if he blew his money on a gift that makes no sense.
He told me he'd bought other stuff before to keep up appearances. Maybe that's all this is?
Whatever it was for, I don't want to spend another minute thinking about it. Or holding it, ugh! I drop it back into the bag and tuck it under my seat so that no one could even see a bag, much less what is in it.
I step out of the car backwards and slowly, almost like my world is rewinding. Taking a few steps back, I spin around and walk back into my house. That feeling in my stomach has been replaced with a darker emotion.
I'm angry, I think. Angry and confused. These games have to stop. We're not girls for fuck's sake. We're avoiding girls, hardcore, and perfectly happy being together. At least, I'm happy with him. This shit has to end. If he likes me, he needs to be with me. If not, he needs to...tell me that, so I can be tortured in peace as his pretend boyfriend.
I'm pathetic. Seriously, even if he told me he didn't like me, I'd STILL want to be his pretend boyfriend to just get that extra feel in and everything. Am I really that lonely? And desperate?
Calm down, Stan. Don't go Goth again, you're just pissed off.
I reach the door to my room again, and before mom can even question the look on my face, I slam it in hers. Walking over to the bed, I kick off my shoes and stare at the phone. I need to talk to someone. Someone who isn't Kyle. Or Mom.
Kenny! I dial the necessary numbers.
"Hello?"
"Dude! You gotta come over here!"
"...Why?"
"I can't tell you. I gotta show you something. It's important. Please? I need your...expert opinion on something."
"Expert opinion, damn right," Kenny agrees, and I'm sure he thinks it's about alcohol. Or sex.
Okay, so it'll probably end up being about sex. Cause Kenny doesn't know how to talk about anything else.
"Yeah dude, can you be here in about 10?"
"No problem," he tells me, and we hang up. I wait impatiently while toying with my sheets.
He shows up after what feels like forever. Mom tells me he's here. I rush downstairs, but slow down when I get closer to the living room so I won't seem too eager. He's standing in the doorway. Good. I'm taking him back outside anyway.
"Hey Stan-" he starts.
"No time dude, come with me!" I cry. To hell with not sounding eager, this is driving me INSANE!
"Uhhh...kay..." Kenny replies, half awake and half hung over. Of course, should I expect Kenny any other way? I practically yank his arm out of its socket as I pull him along with me to my car.
I pull the car door open and pull the box lid up, showing him the "gift" in question. As expected, he laughs at it. Laughs long and hard. I glare at him.
"Let me save you some time," I say with a sigh. "No, I won't let you use it on me. And no, it's honestly NOT for me."
"Then who's it for," Kenny asks like a statement, smacking his nicotine gum. Ever since he discovered he could get nicotine in gum form, he chews that stuff like its candy.
I suddenly feel bashful and unwilling to diverge any information about the previous few days. But, like Kenny said, if you like acting gay, then you're gay. And I need to know what he thinks about this fucking gay present.
"Kyle got it for me," I explain softly. "I don't know why. That's why I need your help, see? He's...REALLY getting into this whole thing. I think it's gone beyond the point of acting, but I could be wrong. If I'm wrong, if this thing's a joke, I'm gonna make a total ass of myself."
He blinks, and chews, taking in the information. "...How much could he really rip on you for it? He's your fucking 'fake' boyfriend."
I ponder this statement for a brief moment. "I see your point. So, what do you think I should do?"
Kenny shrugs, I think admiring the handiwork of the pump. "Man this thing has dual-action enhancing action that works with-"
"Kenny! I'M NOT USING IT!" I remind him, yanking the box away.
"I know," he mutters, retracting his hands back into his pockets. "Anyway, dude I think you should talk to him. He's obviously got issues about the whole thing. I mean he bought his pretend boyfriend a fucking dick pump."
"Damn right he has issues," I half-joke. "But what do you think it MEANS, dude?"
"I think you're worrying too much about it. He's either got a pervy sense of humor, or he wants to do things to your cock. And honestly, given this whole 'relationship,' I think it's probly a little of both."
"What am I supposed to say about it? What if he asks me about it? If I say it's funny and he was trying to seduce me, he'll feel like crap. If I say it was hot when he was trying to be funny, I'll look stupid."
"Yeah and if you act like nothing happened, he'll think you don't know what it is." Kenny snorts and crooks his neck to stare into the box again. "You sure we can't just-"
I pinch the bridge of my nose. "So help me Kenny if you mention using it one more time I'm going to shove it up your ass."
His expression is mildly satisfying, and I groan. "KENNY! HELP ME!"
He laughs. "Okay, okay. Let's go back inside. I'm freezing and my dick didn't get any action last night. It might fall off."
I roll my eyes and head back inside, the package tucked away once more.
We go inside. I'm not sure why. I think Kenny is just hoping my parents will invite him to stay for dinner. I guess he sees I'm still worried about this, because he makes me an offer.
"If you're gonna be that much of a pussy about it, I'll find out what it's for."
"You mean like...talk to Kyle about it?"
Kenny glares at me. "No, I'm gonna read the instructions to find out what it's used for YES I mean I'm gonna talk to Kyle!"
I rub the back of my neck nervously. "And say what? I don't really want it to be that obvious dude. I just...I want to know what the hell he was thinking. 'Sides, he doesn't know I opened it yet."
"Well then what do you want me to do?" Kenny asks, exasperated at my indecision. Come to think of it, I really don't know WHAT I want him to do. I just wish he could help me.
So I just let him stay for dinner as I think of a plan to talk to Kyle.
Kenny eats plenty, of course. After dinner, we go to my room and sit, starring at my phone. Actually, I stare at the phone. He glares at me, waiting for me to give him the okay to call Kyle.
"I'll just tell him I saw it," Kenny offers for me. "I opened it up myself while you were pumping gas or something."
"Yeah..." I think about that scenario. "Yeah! That could work!"
Kenny nods and falls back onto my pillow, folding his hands and crossing his legs. Then he props himself up on his side with his elbow. "Dial the number then."
"O-okay," I stutter nervously. Wow, when did I become such a pussy?
I dial for him. Like he doesn't already know the number? Lazy ass. It rings and I practically throw him the phone.
"Hello?" Kenny says.
"What's he saying?!" I whisper excitedly. I sound like an over-excited schoolgirl on Prozac and it makes me nauseous. Kenny senses this too because he makes a face and says "Thanks Mrs. B."
Shit. Shit! I have no idea what I'm doing right now. Why am I so NERVOUS?! Its just Kyle! And I'm pissed at him! Seriously. That present was such a douche bag move.
"Hey dude" Kenny says. "...Why am I on Stan's phone? Oh, just bumming dinner."
Phew. I hadn't thought that far ahead.
"Yeah, she makes the best meatloaf. Ha, yeah."
Kenny makes himself rather comfortable as he chats it up with Kyle, and I feel myself growing impatient, and almost jealous, that he's spending so much time talking about shit-for-brains topics. I want him to get to the point! I illustrate this with my hands, telling him to speed it up.
"Uh," Kenny interrupts the current topic and sits up on the bed. "Dude, I really called you cause I saw something in Stan's car and I'm...I'm kinda curious what the guy is doing with it."
"What?" I hear him ask on the other line, sounding concerned.
Kenny smirked. "We were parked at this gas station. Stan was out pumping gas, and I found something under the seat. Did you know the poor fucker's gotta penis pump?"
"Hey!" I squeal defensively, but Kenny just shoves me and tells me to "ssh" with his mouth.
I can't hear what Kyle's saying, and part of me really doesn't want to. Of course, the part that wants to is outweighing the other so I mouth for Kenny to scoot over on my bed and I lay next to him as Kyle's words filter out through the ear piece.
Kenny shoves me away again. "Really now," he tells Kyle, which makes me pissed at Kenny now too.
"What's he saying, asshole?!" I hiss-whisper.
"Uh-huh...Uh-huh...Right...Oh. Okay...Yeah...Okay bye."
Kenny hangs up. I glare at him, then back at the disconnected phone, then back at him. "WELL?!"
"I don't think you have much to worry about," Kenny says before scooting himself off the bed and adjusting his shoes.
I growl. "What do you mean? Does he like me? Was it a joke? Is he trying to tell me something?"
I stand up following the bastard who's trying to leave my room without further explanation. He turns to me and pats me on the shoulder.
"You two'll be fine, dude," he concludes, and exits my room. I follow him out into the hallway.
"That doesn't answer anything! Kenny!"
"I'll see you later."
"Dude!"
"You'll see."
I glare at him. "You just wanted free food!"
He smiles and nods his head. As he reaches the bottom of the stairs, he waves goodbye to my mom and then walks out the front door.
I stand at the top of the stairs, bewildered. That accomplished absolutely NOTHING. I wonder why girls always wanted to have their friends do that shit. Knowing girls, they probably spilled their guts as soon as they found out what the reason was or whatever.
I've decided that Kenny sucks.
---
Now it's Monday and I'm at school. I don't think I've ever looked this forward to school in my life. I wanna find out what the hell is going on with Kyle. After having a day to obsess about it, I've decided I can't come right out and ask him why he gave it to me; especially since dumbass Kenny called him and KNOWS that I have it.
I throw all my crap in my locker and look around the hallway to find him. He's not around yet. Kenny's sister is though. Oh, god. She's coming over to me. I hope she's not crushing on me now. Oh, great. She's bringing other girls with her. Where's Kyle when I need him?
"Stan?" she says. "We have to tell you something, and please pass the message onto Kyle too," she says. I nod my head and listen up. "We're done."
I stare blankly, letting the babbling girl continue.
She sniffs the air, pausing dramatically. "All us girls ever did was think you and Kyle were hot. But you two are so stuck up that you'd pretend to be gay just to get rid of us. That's really shitty, and none of us want boyfriends like that."
"Yeah!" the other girls exclaimed in unison.
"Huh?" I say. "We're not pretending."
"Oh come on!" She rolls her eyes at me. "No one is THAT gay for each other."
"We are too!" I say. Wow, I'm really defending this huh?
"Whatever. You guys suck. I'm breaking up with Kyle, and the other girls are over you both."
I pinch the bridge of my nose. "Katie, you can't break up with Kyle. He's not yours to break up with."
"And he's not yours either," she contests. I drop my hand and stare up at her, annoyed. If she was any kind of a threat, I'd be afraid of being exposed. But she's just a pissed off girl trying to save face. I wonder if Kenny has anything to do with this.
"..." I open my mouth, but realize that the only thing I can say about Kyle and me would be a lie...and that depresses me. Here I am sticking up for our so-called relationship, and there isn't really one to begin with. Whatever it is, it's starting to wear me thin, and all I can think of right now is getting to the bottom of it.
The girls are all walking away in a huff. Good! I don't need them bugging me right now, or ever again. They think Kyle and me are assholes now? Fine. Now they really will leave us alone. Ha. Cartman's trying to hit on them down the hall now. I can't hear what he's saying. I guess he's going for the rebound.
Now he's getting slapped.
Wow, they're forming a line to hit him. At least Kyle and me will never be as lame as he is.
I hear someone creep up behind me and put their hands over my eyes. Not someone. Kyle.
"Guess who?" he says, and my shoulders drop.
"Brian Boitano," I venture, gaining a chuckle from my best friend.
"Close," he says, and removes his hands, staring me down with a grin that makes my insides warm.
"Hey," he says to me.
"Hey," I reply. I don't look him in the eyes. Not yet. I can't keep looking him in his smiling mouth either. It'll make me embarrassed again. I look away toward my locker. I'm looking for something. Yeah, that's it.
"Jesus, dude, I didn't think you'd want to bring it to school!" Kyle jokes when he sees me frantically searching through. What? Is he...suggesting what I think he is?
This time I turn around and DO look him in the eyes. I glare into them, letting him know I'm not amused. Not even a little bit. What the fuck, is this really his sense of humor? I thought I knew him better than that.
Then again, I've never felt this way about him before either, so maybe my paranoia is changing him. Is he begging for attention?
...Don't I give him enough?
"Fuck you," I mutter, unable to formulate anything worth talking about right now.
Kyle purses his lips with worry, but shrugs it off. This happens in a split second before he replies, "not on a school night."
I slam my locker shut. He really thinks this is funny doesn't he? How the hell is this funny? I mean, it is, but it's also torture! Is he THAT oblivious? He can't be! He HAS to know this is super gay and he HAS to know this is hell on me! Does he even care?!
"First of all, our characters do it way more than just on weekends," I argue. "Second of all, you don't even slightly resemble Brian Boitano. And third of all, you're an asshole!"
That so-hot-it-should-be-illegal grin of his wipes right off his face as I storm past him in a rage I didn't even know I HAD inside of me.
Argh! He just gets to me sometimes. I can feel his eyes burning holes into my back as I press on, but I'm not looking back. We'll deal with this later. God, I don't even want to see him in class.
How can he act like everything is okay? I thought I wanted to see him today, but...ugh, these knots in my stomach are gonna force me to go home early if I can't get a grip. I feel nauseous. Next stop, the bathroom.
"BLEGH!!!"
Kay, I feel better now. Well, sort of. My stomach feels better, but now my breath stinks. On top of my head spinning from this Kyle crap, I'm not gonna say or do much of anything today.
This day has to be laid out in a series of steps. Steps I have to follow in order to get through. First step: dealing with Kyle in English. Which, I have just walked through this door and am already getting that feeling again. I made it through first period fine, I even made it through second period with not much difficulty. But they also didn't involve Kyle.
Who looks so lonely and goddamn irresistible sitting all by himself in the corner.
The girls are turning their heads to whisper something about me, but I choose to ignore it. I never really cared about them anyway. I'll admit that now.
I can't stop looking at Kyle. I want to because I'm pissed off at him, but I can't. My eyes are stuck on him. It's like watching a car crash. A really, really hot car crash.
Kyle tears out a sheet of notebook paper. I can tell he's not doing actual schoolwork. His pen strokes aren't keeping up with the teacher's lecture. Goddammit, he's passing a note. I bet it's for me.
It BETTER be for me.
I watch the pen he's using almost longingly. God, I'm a complete loser. My mind begins to wander, zoning out anything Mr. Lewis has to say. It's probably just random information anyway.
Suddenly it dawns on me. Kyle has NEVER paid attention to the ladies. Ever. Kyle has never paid attention to anything unless it was around me or involved me. He used to call me his better half for some lame reason, and I usually just called him an idiot for it and went on with my life.
Was he trying to tell me something? I mean, could he feel the same way and has but just never been able to tell me?
I laugh to myself. Kyle would never hold something like that in. He's the least subtle and hidden person I know. If he wants something, he's blatantly obvious about it.
...Like right now.
Maybe this is all his way of telling me. His therapy. His way of saying it without REALLY saying it. The note is coming closer to my desk. I'm getting excited now. What's he gonna say?
The note reaches me. I open it. I'm reading it even if it's not for me. I don't care right now.
"Stan," the note starts. It IS for me! Sweet! I keep reading.
"I don't know what's up your ass right now, but I think we need to sit down and talk. Really talk. You wanna meet me some place tonight? Please write back. I'm totally serious about this."
What's up my ass? What's up my ass?!?! DUDE! YOU FUCKING GAVE ME A DICK PUMP!!! YOU SAID IT WAS TO SHOW YOUR APPRECIATION!
I'm screaming inside my head right now...it's giving me a headache. I dart my eyes over to Kyle and give him the death glare, and he immediately shrinks away, pretending to turn his attention to Mr. Lewis.
"Excuse me, Mr. Lewis?" he asks as soon as he raises his hand. "I was wondering...about what we talked about before, I would like to try another seat today."
Whoa. Do I REALLY have that evil of a glare?
"Certainly" he says understandingly. "Over here," he points.
Now I feel bad. I have a right to be mad though! ...I think. Don't I? Goddammit, he makes it impossible to stay mad at him, and that just pisses me off too! Great, he's moving. That makes me sad. It hurts. Worse yet, if I do write back, it'll be harder to get the note over there now.
I won't even bother talking about the painfully slow last half hour of class. It was just that--slow. Every minute took five minutes to pass, and I didn't hear a damn word that fat old man teaching us said. It didn't matter though. I spent about 28 minutes of that hella long half hour figuring out how to respond. I figured I could slip him the note after the period and disappear.
I dare to glance over at my best friend, and I frown immediately. He went from looking happy but alone to alone and all the feelings that come with alone. The girls are stealing glances at him too, but he's not paying any attention to any of it. He looks like shit.
I choose my words carefully. I have to be cool about this. He was being cool, mostly. I do wanna meet him tonight and talk about this. Alone. No putting on a show for other people. Just him and me. I want that. I'm so close to figuring this out. I can't fuck that up now.
I go over to him after class, drop the note on his desk, and turn around to leave. I walk quickly. I can feel his eyes on me again. I like it.
Out of the corner of my eye (or basically the eyes in the back of my head), I see him quickly scan the letter.
"Stan," he calls out just as I exit into the hallway.
I turn around to the sound of his voice.
He smiles. "See you tonight."
---
I'm as confused as ever. After sitting through every single five-minute long minute of every single fifty-five minute period PLUS lunch PLUS listening to Kenny talk about everything irrelevant to my situation...I'm back at my house, fiddling with my fingers.
Kyle wasn't in biology. I was sad--all out sad. He showed up five minutes before the end and my face lit up so bright I blinded him. He said he had some "shit to take care of." ??? Whatever, dude. I think he was avoiding me. But it doesn't matter, and it wouldn't make any sense, because he's on his way over here now.
At this point, I might as well be a girl. I might as well be some little flamer that hangs all over Kyle for real. I'm sitting here playing with my hands like I'm Butters Stotch. I wonder if he's nervous at all? I wonder if he'll wanna go somewhere else to talk? This shit is fucking intense! My head's gonna hurt again if I don't calm down.
Another four minutes go by, and I impatiently click my tongue in my throat. When I see a nicely built physique and its shadow coming up the driveway, I panic.
Oh fuck, he looks good. Did he...change clothes? What the hell? His hair is like...fixed. Christ, what is he DOING to me?!
I look down. Besides that. I nervously adjust myself and run toward the living room, practically tackling the front door. I open it up to his formed fist ready to knock.
That didn't look obvious or anything.
"Hey" he says to me again. "Can I come in?"
"Sure," I say. I step back so he can enter, glancing him over from front to back. "...You look nice," I say.
"Thanks. You too," he adds. I don't know if he's just being nice or not. I'm sure as hell not dressed up like he is. I didn't know I was supposed to.
"So where are we going?" he asks.
"I thought we'd just hang out here."
"Oh," he says, sounding embarrassed. "I wanted to be ready in case we went out or something."
"Is that why you dolled yourself up?" I tease, using an expression I don't think I've heard since my grandpa died eight years ago. And even then, the only time I heard it was when he was talking about women his age. But, with that said, I lift my arm and play with his collar, not giving my hand permission to do so.
He smiles genuinely before it fades. I think, for once, Kyle is at loss for words. And--correct me if I'm wrong--he's acting shy. KYLE is acting SHY.
Something is wrong.
Maybe it's because I'm the aggressor this time. I'm the one touching him. I'm the one with the power. -I- agreed to let -him- come over.
Or he's embarrassed he got dressed up for nothing.
"So...Can we talk?" he asks timidly.
"Yeah" I say. This is nice. He's not joking around. We're not acting gay. We're just...here. Together. I don't know where to start with this one, so I just wait for him to say something first. He does the same thing, apparently, because we stand there in awkward silence a second.
And by second, I mean another one of those five-minute minutes. I start to sweat out of pure nerves, and I rub my back, too damn shy to even say, "Come up to my room," because...I'm a guy. And the thought that is running through my head when I say that makes my dick crawl around.
So, instead I mumble something incoherent, to which he agrees, and I follow him up to my room.
Kyle shuts the door behind us. Not that it matters. No one will hear us anyway.
"I don't know what to say," I admit to him.
"Me either."
"...Well, we -have- to say something," I reason. "We agreed to come here and talk. We can't talk if we don't say anything."
"That's not true. We could pass notes again," he jokes.
"You know what I mean." I can't help it, that remark makes me smile. At least we're starting to joke around again. One step at a time, I guess.
Kyle sighs. "Dude, are you pissed off about this? I mean, I never even thought about how this would probably keep the girls away from you too."
I sigh back. That settles it. He really IS clueless. "Kyle that's not a pr-"
"I guess I just figured you helping me out would...it would somehow help you out too. That's lame," he explains, and I think it is more to himself, cause he's not looking at me. Maybe this is the first time he's thought about how it's affecting me. But hell, he's got it all wrong. I don't fucking care about the girls.
I care about us.
Yep. Might as well call me Stacy and dress me in pink.
I shake my head. "It's not that Kyle. I don't care about the girls."
"You don't?"
"No dude. If I did I wouldn't have agreed to do all this with you. I was pissed off at you, but not for that. And honestly, I don't wanna be pissed at you anyway."
He blinks a few times. Then finally asks, "Well...Then what is it?"
I throw my hands up. "You! God, you fucking...what the hell was that 'present'? HUH?" I feel myself starting to snap, but at the same time, I feel really sorry for the guy I'm head over heels for standing right in front of me. Cause he's worse off than I am if he's this much in denial.
I see a trace of a smile cross his lips, and it hits me, right in the middle of the forehead. He...really thought it was funny. It was harmless. He's STILL laughing about it.
"Stan, I just did it to get a rise out of you," he admits. Oh, what a rise he gets out of me already. And he doesn't even have to try.
"Well, it worked," I admit.
"I can see that," he says with a frown. "I'm sorry it pissed you off so much, Stan. I honestly didn't mean anything by it. You don't actually...need to use it or anything like that...I'm sorry dude. I should know you don't joke with a guy about the size of his manhood."
"That's not what bothers me either," I begin.
"Good, cause you've got nothing to be ashamed about," he slips out, but he just looks into my eyes like what he just said was insignificant.
I blink, stunned. "Jesus, Kyle, do you really not know what's going on?"
"..."
"You're not acting anymore!" I blurt out.
He searches me for a clearer statement. Because, apparently, that isn't clear enough. I stare at him back, holding out for his answer.
"So?"
I blink back at him a few times, processing this myself. "So? So?! So that...So that means you're gay for me!"
"...Yeah. And?"
A lump forms in my throat. I need to make sure we're clear on this.
"...So...So wait, you ARE gay for me?"
He breathes deep, and his entire body moves up, then down. "Stan, what kind of guy acts gay with his best friend to avoid girls?"
"...A gay one?" I venture, too in shock to feel my lips move to the sound. Kenny was right. Kenny was fucking right the whole damn time.
Kyle nods. "I've been thinking about it. You didn't call me on Sunday, and it bummed me out. It pissed me off. Cause we shoulda been hanging out."
"We've hung out before this whole thing," I remind him.
"Yeah," he agrees. "But I've never had as much fun as we did at that club."
"...Yeah, that was fun," I admit. "Lots of fun." I don't dare tell him what else it did to me, but I'm sure he already knows.
"Yeah, it was. This whole thing's been fun Stan. It's felt right. It's felt...normal. Shit, we even carried it over to doing it outside of school just to mess with people. And yeah it was funny, but it was also really good. I'm gay, dude. Okay? I admit that. I'm totally queer for you."
That...was the easiest confession and solution to a problem ever. EVER.
I grin. "So that kiss?"
"What about it?" He looks innocent and oblivious again, and I want to clock him in the face for it.
"Was it...real?"
"You weren't dreaming it up."
I growl. "Kyle!"
He laughs. "I'm pretty sure that's when I decided I might have a thing for you."
"But you played if off like it was planned..." I recall, feeling like a girl for wanting the tiny details.
"Oh, I planned it." Kyle is smiling amazingly right now. It gives me butterflies in my stomach. I can't believe this.
"That just leaves one problem," he points out.
"What?" I ask.
"Well...How do YOU feel? I mean, are YOU gay for ME?"
"...Kyle?"
"Yeah?"
"What kind of guy agrees to pretend to be gay with his best friend to the point of kissing each other in a gay dance club?"
"...A gay one?" he repeats my answer.
"Right," I say.
His smile widens even more. I didn't even think that was possible. Until my face stretches even more than his.
"So that means...?"
His shoulders shrug. "You wanna be a couple for real?"
"I don't think we have to change much," I figure.
"Nah, but now we don't have to hold back."
"...You were holding back?" I ask intrigued, and quite honestly, really turned on.
Kyle steps closer to me. I realize neither of us have sat the entire time we've been in here. We've both been standing around like idiots waiting for the other.
Now I guess we don't have to wait anymore.
Finally!
He's stopped moving closer. Now he's kissing me again. Only this time it's for real. I kiss back, which is also real. The hot guy at school is actually mine. My boyfriend. And I'm his boyfriend. We're together. After all this, that's pretty hard to believe. But there it is. We're homos, we're boyfriends and we're making out just like that.
God, we're so gay.