Central Park is not, by any stretch, my usual scene. In the spring, it moves from a place I'd rarely go to a place where you'd have to knock me out, bound and gag me and then throw me there to get me to step foot there. For one, there are too many stoner jocks running after a ball, showing the world their glorious tanned muscles. Then there are the immaculately kept bikini-clad girls who lay around listening to their super expensive iPods like they haven't a care in the world. Which, of course, they don't because they're the born-to-bread families of the Upper Eastside. Then there's the worst part of it: the couples. Everywhere I went, there were couples macking: on picnic blankets, on park benches, on the grass. It not only sickened me but also made me entirely jealous. I wanted that kind of love. And to make matters worse, I knew half of the people I saw making out. For one, there was my friend Skittery's friend David's sister making out with Skittery's sort-of-but-not-really boyfriend's brother. There was half-blind Blink Bennetson macking with dim-witted-puppy-in-human-form Mush Meyers. I wanted that bad.

"Well, if mine eyes don't deceive me…Dutchy?"

I turned at the mention of my well-appointed nickname and my heart actually leapt into my throat. There, standing in all of his glory, was the love of my life. The love that had so cruelly been taken away from me around this time last year.

"Specs!" my surprise was obvious.

He started towards me, looking awesome. He wore Vans deck shoes with casual jeans and a white Polo shirt. He looked like the epitome of perfection, I swear. His brown hair was pretty much the same as always, like mine, and his eyes were happy behind his wire-rimmed glasses.

"What are you wearing?" he teased, tugging on the sleeve of my lemon yellow LaCoste shirt. "Let me guess, this is like Making the Grade, right? Some preppy kid plans to give you ten thousand dollars to pose as him in boarding school?"

I bit back a smile. Specs had left before I had made my transition from party boy to pretentious boy. In fact, he was the reason I had changed.

"No, this is how I dress now," I explained.

"I miss your old, Bill and Ted look," he said playfully.

"So do I," I blurted out. "I mean, this look is more mature."

"It looks like my closet barfed all over you."

I smiled. "Kindly go fuck myself."

"Only if you do first," he shot back.

My heart pounded. There. Sex invitation. I let my adolescent hormones take the wheel right then. I didn't even bother to ask why Specs was back from Boston. I just knew that I wanted him. We fell into the grass and started kissing, our lips tearing almost carnivorously at each other's. I glanced up at the people of Central Park and smirked. Well, I suppose I should hate this place less since I had become one of them. One of the couples. One of the people that I had looked down upon just moments before. What's next? Was I going to strip down, smoke a joint and join in the game of Frisbee? At this moment, anything seemed possible.

"Dutchy?" Specs fixed his glasses.

I responded by kissing him again.