Like I'd told Dar, Kyle had passed the test of parental scrutiny, convincing them he was the epitome of a perfect gentleman whose mama had raised him right.

"Your friend, Kyle, seems like a very nice young man," my mom had said to me in early 2001. "You met him when he was in a show with Brian in 1998, right? Joseph and the Technicolor Dreamcoat, wasn't it?"

I nodded. "I met him when the cast got together before they left on tour." I focused on peeling carrots to cut up for the beef stew my mom was making, trying not to laugh. Oh, yes, we'd met. If my parents knew even a small amount of what had gone on that evening, my father would've banned Kyle from ever setting foot on the property ever again and he'd have kept at me to get a restraining order. My parents had a PG-rated idea of what happened that night: the cast getting together at the Dew Drop Inn for one last hoorah with loved ones before hitting the road, having a good time over a few drinks and dancing. Kyle, the nice young man, was his ever-charming self and treated all the ladies with respect and was someone Brian got on well with. That was exactly what I wanted them to think. Their ignorance was my bliss.

We met in May 1998. I was nineteen, naïve, and rather clueless when it came to guys. Bri had driven up to Delhi, where I was going to college, and taken me back to the City so I, along with his fiancée, Felicity, could see him off three days hence, on Sunday. That night was the cast get-together at the Dew Drop Inn in Jersey.

Bri, Felicity, and I had just ordered drinks and both of them had headed to the bathrooms, leaving me alone at the bar. Like all good predators, Kyle waited until his prey was alone and vulnerable to move in for the kill.

"Have we met before?" were his first words to me. I, like the majority of nineteen-year-old girls, took one look at the drop dead gorgeous man next to me and my mind became a puddle of gray mush. That I went largely unnoticed by the boys at Delhi made it even more brain-melting a guy who could've been talking to any woman he wanted to was talking to me. For reasons best summed up as 'low self-esteem and horrible self-image', it didn't even occur to me he was trying to pick me up until Bri came back from the bathroom. Backtracking a bit, Bri had warned me when he told me about this weekend that there was a guy named Kyle who liked to hit on and try to score with anything that had a vagina (my words, not his). I'd been convinced that Kyle guy would leave me alone until Bri came back from the bathroom and said:

"I'm surprised you've forgotten what part I play, Kyle. I see you met my friend, Olivia."

I was, to put it mildly, mortified for having been so foolish and not seeing what was going on. I should've figured it out when Kyle 'mistakenly' thought I was the woman who played Ruben's wife (who turned out to be a tall blonde). Ah, well, live and learn. Brian had made it clear to Kyle to steer clear of me and I thought now that Kyle knew whom I was, he'd do exactly that. Have I mentioned yet how naïve and clueless I was at nineteen?

When I'd gathered together and dusted off enough of my bruised pride to dare showing my face in public again, I emerged from the bathroom, cheeks still a bit red, and set about making polite small talk with Brian's castmates.

One of the first people I talked to was Heather (the tall blonde who played Ruben's wife).

"You do surgery?" Heather, whom I'd been told played Ruben's wife, asked.

"Not legally." I studied the tall blonde, and wondered how long Kyle thought he could have gotten away with his little scam. "Though there is one guy here tonight I'd love to slice into." Oh, did I say that out loud?

She followed my eyes and laughed. "Wouldn't we all?"

Knowing I wasn't the only one who disliked him made me feel better.

"Where do you know Brian from?" Heather asked.

"We went to school together. We met in community theatre six years ago."

"What show?"

"Sound of Music. I was having trouble with the dancing, and he offered to help. Failed miserably," I said dryly. "Oh, hello, Kyle."

The Smooth Operator had oozed up, smiling like a used car salesman. "Enjoying yourself?" he asked me.

"Yes." Now go away and leave me alone.

He moved closer. "You doing anything later?"

I tried not to gape at him. Did cockiness kill brain cells? Must be. "Going home."

"I can give you a ride."

"Already have one."

"You sure? A bunch of us are going out afterwards to a club, and—"

Heather spoke up. "Go away, Harling. She's not interested."

"I think she can speak for herself." He turned back to me. "Like I was saying, a bunch of us are going to a club later, and I could take you home when we leave."

"No, thanks. I'm not 21; they wouldn't let me in."

"Not to worry. I know the bouncer."

"I don't drink."

"Not a problem."

"I'd rather just go back with Brian."

"You sure? It's going to be a—"

Heather interrupted him again. "Are you still using that line? I suppose you already confused her with a member of the cast. Which one of us was it, Kyle? Rayenne?" She pointed to a curvy brunette at the bar. "Or Georgia?" She nodded at the redhead by the jukebox.

I got into the game. "Actually, he said I looked like Ruben's wife." Somehow, I managed to keep a straight face.

Heather's reaction was priceless. Her jaw kind of dropped for a moment, and then she uttered a short but potent adjective. "Harling, you're an egotistical prick. Your mother should have done the world a favor, and told the doctor to take a little extra."

He ignored her. "Let me know if you want to go out later, Olivia."

"Not with you." I turned my back to him. "So, Heather, how long have you been in theatre?"

Kyle took the message, and oozed off to find another source of fresh meat.

I rolled my eyes. "Is he always like that?"

"Unfortunately."

A little while later, several trays of appetizers arrived at the tables the cast had staked out and we all descended up on the hot, greasy food like wolves going after a kill (only without the blood and we weren't quite as messy about it). I met Georgia, who got in Kyle's face when he insulted her under his breath, and was only too happy to tell her anecdotes about Brian guaranteed to make him blush deep red and vow to throttle me when next we met. Everyone seemed to think he was a shining pillar of virtue and I could not, in good conscience, let them go on thinking that. Beneath the sunny smile and engaging disposition was the mind of someone cold-blooded enough to prank call his friends' room on a marching band trip at three in the morning and make her and her roommates think they'd missed the wake-up call and everyone was on the busses, waiting for them, to go to the competition site, and as if that was not evil enough, he took glee in showing up at his friends' room and, when she opened the door, taking a picture of the chaos and disorder his prank had caused.

That, of course, left the friend and her roomies no choice but to seek vengeance upon him and gained their satisfaction one evening on the bus when the cruel prankster was sleeping. Brian's biggest mistake was angering two members of the Colorguard, who had been rooming with his friend. Like killer bees, when one is angered the rest quickly flock to its aid and they attack as one. Also like killer bees, the Colorguard pursues with an energy and determination that puts other females and their girlz to shame. Why Brian had not yet learned to fear the Guard can only be guessed at, but whatever the reason for his stupidity the Guard set out to prove hell hath no fury like fifteen young women scorned (or woken up at three in the morning and made to panic and having their haste to dress photographed).

The Guard bided its time and waited for the right moment, which arrived when Brian the Foolish was found to be sleeping quite soundly. In anticipation of just such an opportunity, the Guard had boarded the bus prepared to exact revenge, so they were able to quickly and stealthily spring quietly into action and, in very short order, a large supply of makeup was given to the victims of Brian's prank so they could give the Foolish One a makeover he would never forget. Of course, it was photographed.

"I can vouch for the fact he makes a fabulous woman," I assured Georgia and the others who'd leaned toward us to listen. "I'll see about getting a copy of the photo scanned to disk and I'll email it to anyone who's interested." Not surprisingly, that was nearly everyone and I mentally kicked myself for opening my big mouth. Sending that many emails with attachments would take an obscene amount of time with my dialup connection, so I changed my plan and decided to send it to Georgia and four others and they'd share Bri's Makeover from Hell with everyone else.

Once massive amounts of refined carbs and trans-fats had been consumed, some migrated to the dance floor, others migrated to the bar, and a very few, like myself, chose to stay put. I would've loved to have been dancing, but Bri was with Felicity and none of the guys in the cast had looked at me twice before going their own way. I was very used to being ignored so I took a drink from my Coke and began brainstorming what I should write next.

Most predators, when prey has escaped them, stop chasing and focus on finding an easier-to-catch meal. Humans, unfortunately, seem to have largely lost the ability to recognize a lost cause and the especially cocky ones cannot comprehend the existence of such a thing.

I was in the middle of contemplating an absolutely brilliant idea when Kyle broke my concentration with, "Want to dance?"

"No." I stood up. "If you'll excuse me." I headed over to the first unclaimed guy I could find and, loud enough for Kyle to hear, asked him if he wanted to dance. Thankfully, he accepted.

You'd think that would get the message across. Alas, it did not and Kyle has never explained why he'd been so dense. Whatever was going on in his arrogant little mind, the next time he saw me alone, once again brainstorming story ideas, he insisted on speaking to me.

"Penny for your thoughts?" I startled at the sound and looked in the direction of the voice. It was Kyle, coming from the direction of the bathrooms. He stopped in front of me.

"It's more like five cents with inflation," I said dryly. Did that man never go away?

"You have a sense of humor. I like that." He laughed, sat down next to me, and let his arm rest on the back of the booth close enough to my shoulders that I felt him running his fingers over my shirt. It was everything I could do not to kick him in the shins.

"I want to be alone," I said coldly.

"Alone?" He looked genuinely baffled by the concept.

"Yes. Alone. As in by myself." The urge to kick in his shins grew.

"Oh, come on." He gave me an incredulous look and ran a finger across the back of my neck, sending shudders down my spine. "Sure you don't want to dance?"

I stared at him for a moment, wondering how to get this creep off my tail. And then, I knew. "Why not? Just pardon me for a moment."

"Of course." He smiled at me, thinking his evening was made with the Forbidden Catch. I tried not to laugh as I walked towards the DJ. I really hated direct confrontation, but he left me no other choice. Backing the passive-aggressive into a corner is a really bad idea, because if they have to become plain ole aggressive, they'll eviscerate you without a second thought and eat your heart for a snack (or maybe that was just me).

In between songs, I signaled to the DJ. "Do you have Kiss The Girl by Little Texas?"

She thought for a moment. "I'll check." A moment later, she was back. "We have it. You want it?"

"Yes. When?"

"Two songs?"

I smiled. "Excellent." I returned to the table. I walked back to the bar. "The band said it would be two songs," I said nonchalantly, trying not to grin.

"That long?" Kyle feigned being upset.

"Yeah. Sorry. I'll meet you out there? I want to go see what time Bri's leaving."

"You sit down at all?" he asked lightly.

"Only for food," I shot back. "I promise to be there for the dance."

When I told Brian what I was planning, he went all Big Brother on me.

"I'm going to embarrass Kyle," I told him under my breath as I leaned against the wall. "In front of the ladies of the cast. He's hit on me all night, tried cop a feel, and refused to back off. I'm going to take care of it," I said quickly when I saw the expression on his face. "Don't beat him down. It's not worth it. I'll never see him again."

"He needs a lesson."

"It's not your fight," I reminded him. "If he doesn't get a clue, then you can handle him." Bri nodded grudgingly. "What time are we leaving?"

"In about an hour."

"Sounds good. I must get back to Kyle so he doesn't think something's up."

He smiled dryly. "And we can't have him missing you, can we?"

Walking back to the table, I saw several of the ladies from the cast so I made a detour to tell them what I was planning.

"Can we watch?" Heather asked. "Please?"

"Of course. Two songs. It's fast, so I don't have to suffer his hands."

Georgia laughed. "So you think."

I paused and smiled. "Oh, I think he'll be suffering more than me when I get done with him."

Georgia laughed. "You plan to take credit for this?"

"Of course. Just be there to watch."

Everyone grinned. "With bells on," Heather said, sounding smug.

My absence must've made Kyle's heart (among other things) grow much fonder because I had trouble keeping his hands off me. That he was practically drooling to get me into bed was obvious and it was all I could do not to slap him. Thank God our song was next.

"We're up," I said glibly. "Ready to go?"

"Of course." He smiled at me in a way that made my skin crawl and put an arm over my shoulder. I reminded myself this would soon be over. Very soon.

And the humiliation began. I was gratified to see everyone I'd invited to the show had come. I forced myself not to shudder when Kyle let his hands settle on my bum and pulled me much too close.

"My offer to go out later is still open," he said.

"I'll think about it." Okay, I thought about it. Still 'no'. "I've never met anyone like you before."

"All you've known is boys." I murmured something non-committal. "They don't know how to treat a woman right."

"So true."

"Come out with me later. Brian says you've never been to the City before. I'll show you around, give you a taste of what life here is like."

"And show me how a woman should be treated." I tried to keep the sarcasm out of my voice. Hey, if he thought I was a stupid rube, far be it from me to shatter the illusion just yet.

"Of course." He moved one hand off my bum and placed it under my chin. Tipping my head up so I was looking at him, he said, "You have gorgeous eyes."

The next thing I was aware of, he was kissing me. For a long moment, I lost the ability to think clearly. Good gravy, he was a good kisser. 'Pity he's such an ass', I thought when my mind cleared.

I pulled away. "There's something you need to know," I said softly.

"What?" he asked indulgently.

"You're an ass," I hissed as I moved back a step and slapped him. Hard. "You've been trying to cop a feel all night, you refuse to leave me alone, and you think that because I'm young, I don't know what a real man is. I do, and you don't fit the description." I walked away quickly, head held high, as he staggered off to the side of the dance floor, hand over his now livid red cheek. That time, he got the message.

Two days later, Felicity and I went with Bri to see him off. As close as Bri and I were, the fiancée always takes precedent over a friend, so while he and Felicity kissed and said how much they'd miss each other before kissing some more I waited nearby.

Either extreme stupidity or a burning desire to irritate the hell out of me motivated Kyle to ooze over and say, "Want some company?"

"Not yours." The distain in my voice was only exceeded by the distain I regarded him with.

"Hey, relax!" He held his hands up as if to say 'I surrender'. "I'm just trying to be nice."

"Just like the other night, I'm sure."

"Looks to me like your friend's forgotten you're here." He nodded slightly towards Bri and Felicity.

Under normal conditions, I would have walked away, but my mood was already raw and heinous and Kyle's obnoxious dig didn't improve it.

"Kiss my ass," I snapped. "If you were the last man on earth, I'd gladly die single and childless." I gave him one last withering glare and stalked away, leaving Kyle slightly gape-mouthed and staring after me.

Having found I was exceptionally easy to irritate and get a reaction from, he chose to inflict himself upon me again when everyone was boarding the bus.

"Are you coming to see the show?" Kyle suddenly appeared in front of me, smiling like a game show host.

I rolled my eyes. "Leave me alone. Go bother someone who wants your company," I snapped, gesturing with my head to a dark-haired woman standing nearby he'd been hugging a few minutes ago.

He glanced at the woman. "Jill? She's just a fan."

"Of what, the way you kiss?" I shot back.

"Among other things." He laughed at the expression on my face. "You're cute when you're mad."

"And you're way too old for me." I shifted to my right to try and see Bri, but Kyle shifted with me, blocking my view.

"You didn't answer my question."

"Wouldn't miss it." I shifted to my left.

Kyle got back in my way. "Good. I'll look forward to seeing you."

"Don't you need to get on the bus?"

"I will. I have time. What's your email address?"

"Is that like asking for my number?" I asked dryly.

"Guilty as charged."

"It's in the header of any message I send."

His smile faded a bit. "Is that like 'It's in the phone book'?"

"Guilty as charged." I smiled broadly and pushed past him so I could get one last rib-crushing hug from Bri before he boarded the bus and left me for two years.

After the bus pulled out in a cloud of exhaust fumes, I went back to Bri's, grabbed my stuff, and Felicity and I headed to the garage where Bri kept his decrepit car, the Blue Bomber, so she could drive me back to Delhi. Several years ago, he'd promised his parents and me he'd get rid of it by September. Foolishly, we thought he meant September of that year. The only things that held it together, I was sure, were Bond-O and prayer.

My parents got a highly edited and sanitized version of events when I called home to let them know I'd survived another week of eating the dining hell swill, and before they could start asking for details about the weekend I moved straight on to telling them about the insanity of studying for finals and how the girl in the room next door to me always played her music too loud in the middle of the day.

My chutzpah and otherwise sweet nature endeared me to more than a few women in the Joseph cast, gaining me a bunch of new friends to email and IM with. I'd stayed friends with most of them and tried to see them when I was in the City, and we never failed to laugh ourselves sick over my very public rejection of the great Kyle Harling at least once. After we became friends and people realized that he truly wasn't trying to get into (and get me out of) my pants, there were jokes that I'd so impressed/intimidated Kyle that night he didn't dare try anything again for fear of being subjected to worse. I'd definitely made an impression (literally and figuratively) and he knew exactly who I was the next time we talked, and while there were a variety of reasons he was never a threat to my virtue after that, fear of being publicly humiliated again wasn't among them.

The summer of '98, camping and a three-week internship at the zoo in Buffalo, NY kept me busy enough the only thespian I thought of was Brian, though occasionally when I was chatting over IM with Bri, the walking ego that was Kyle Harling came to mind. The few times I asked if Kyle had improved at all Bri told me nothing had changed.

In October of '98, weather forecasters announced that pigs had been spotted flying in the jet stream and reports of sudden sub-zero areas in the earth's core started speculation that Hell had frozen over. Norway and the state of Michigan responded they weren't surprised; to them, Hell freezing over was a regular occurrence. At least, that's what the Weekly World News said, but they also said a mink coat had suddenly come alive and attacked the woman wearing it and that Bat Boy was dating Britney Spears, so the reports of airborne swine and Satan opening an ice rick weren't taken very seriously. Perhaps they should have been.

My third semester of school hadn't been going well. I'd moved off campus, which made it more difficult to see my friends now and my classes were not only kicking my butt but using it to wash the floor with as well and studying to try to keep up at least a B average made seeing friends even more difficult. Then there was the problem of Nick.

I was renting a room from a family I went to church with, as were two other SUNY Delhi students, both male. One, Jeff, was a Botany major. The other, Nick, was first year Vet Sci, twelve years older than me, and recently divorced. I was second year Vet Sci. In the interest of being on friendly terms with the other people I'd be sharing a house with that year, I introduced myself to Nick and volunteered to help him with studying and assignments. Nick had a gorgeous Siberian Husky named Alexi who was rarely averse to loving attention, so I found reasons to spend time giving Alexi loving attention.

Most unfortunately, Nick mistook my friendliness to be more-than-friendliness and expressed his more-than-friendly interest in me. I'd learned many lessons from Kyle, but none of them in the area of how to properly communicate with a guy who digs you and remaining friends without sending mixed signals, and when you need to distance yourself. Like Liz, I still had idealistic visions of Prince Charming and noble knights and men actually listening to what you said and letting that be their guide. Needless to say, my ideas clashed horribly with reality and how men really are, and dealing with the issue of Nick, who just would not back off, added to the huge amount of stress I was under academically.

One not-so-fine afternoon, after a particularly not-so-fine day, I saw Brian was logged into AIM when I got online and spilled forth my woes and agonies and frustrations. The response I received startled me exceedingly.

"Tell him if he doesn't back off, you'll have your older brother and his friends come and make him sing soprano. With their bare hands."

Brian was very protective, but outright threats of violence weren't his style.

"Brian, what are you smoking?" Maybe he was as fed up with Nick as I was. I had been wailing about him for six weeks now.

"Brian? Oh, you wanted Brian? This is Kyle."

Embarrassment found new meaning, as did 'extremely irritated'. "Why are you using his screen name?"

"He said I could use his computer."

"That doesn't mean you use his screen name." I remembered this Kyle guy. He was the one who refused to leave me alone. "You had no right to read what I wrote." 'Of all the nerve!' I thought indignantly. Cocky, arrogant, full of himself…the man needed to be put in his place. Again. 'You'd think he'd have learned the first time…but obviously not.' That he didn't know he'd just pissed off the same chick that had told him off in May didn't occur to me until later.

"Sorry."

Six weeks of frustration suddenly found an outlet. Like a teen popping a zit, Kyle added the critical amount of pressure needed to make me explode and like a freshly popped whitehead, what came out wasn't pretty but it felt So Good to finally release everything that had been building up inside.

"Bull." Idiot. One more guy who had no stinking clue, who thought it was his prerogative to stick his nose into my life and tell me what to do. "You have guts, getting into Brian's business and thinking you can get into mine." I added a few more choice phrases, none repeatable.

"My apologies. I was only trying to help!"

"Shove off! If I'd wanted to discuss my personal life with a complete stranger, I could have picked any number of morons in a chat room to do that with! I wanted to talk to my best friend, and you have balls reading his messages and pretending to be him. Get a clue. Get a life. Get over yourself."

"What did I ever do to you?"

"You want the list?" I typed. 'Bring it on, asshole,' I thought darkly. He wasn't the reason for my frustrations but using it to take him down a peg or ten would be doing the world a service, so I hoped he'd give me an excuse to let loose on him again.

There was a long pause and then

"Thank you. Kyle's being whipped with a wet noodle right now for abusing my screen name. What's up?"

"Bri?"

"Yes."

"How do I know?"

"You told me Agent 7 looks good in Scooby Doo slippers."

"That she does. Does Kyle always grossly abuse privileges?"

"lol He needs a good smacking around. Whatever you said made him quite irate, and he's muttering evil things about you."

"So we have something in common. And ask me if I care. So can you help?"

"What?"

"Scroll up and read."

Pause. "I agree with Kyle."

"WHAT?"

"I agree. If Nick doesn't back off, we'll come down and maim him with our bare hands."

"You agree with him?"

"Olivia, he may have the morals of a rock, but that means he has better insight into how to stop his own kind. Listen to him. Oh, he's leaning over my shoulder and demanding that I take back the part about 'morals of a rock', and he wants to know if you'd like to go out when you come to see the show."

'The man has the balls of a bull elephant,' I boggled. He was worse than Nick! "No, I wouldn't, and I just remembered why being single is so great. He and Nick are at the top of my list." Let him read it.

"Did you sharpen your tongue or something tonight?"

"I've had a very bad day, dealing with Nick earlier didn't make it any better, and him reading your messages, totally unrepentant, didn't lighten my mood."

"He's sorry he did it, he begs your forgiveness, and the next time he talks to you, it'll be with his own screen name."

"And if I don't want to talk to him?" Cocky ass, taking as if there'd be a next time. Hell would freeze over first.

"That's your choice. So, what else can I help you with?"

"Nothing, short of finding a way to remove Nick from Delhi."

"Sorry, that's beyond my powers." Pause. "Just tell him to go take a flying leap." Pause. "Kyle agrees. Says that's the best way to get through to a guy."

I snorted. "It didn't work when I tried it with him! And tell him to stop reading over your shoulder!" The irony of Kyle Harling telling me being blunt would get through to a guy was thick and rich, and I longed to shove it all down his throat until he choked on it.

"I gave him permission to. He says to just do it, and so do I."

"What is he, Nike? He should take his own advice. The women of the world would appreciate it."

"He's demanding to talk to you." Long pause. "What is your problem?"

So Kyle was back. Let the games begin! I smiled a Most Evil Smile and cracked my knuckles. "At the moment? You."

"Why?"

"Your presumption to read Bri's chat window and then answer it, that you'd have the balls to dish out advice you don't take yourself, and that you had to go and make my already horrible mood even worse."

"I sat down at the computer and your message appeared! So sorry if it was right in front of my eyes."

"You could have left it alone and let Bri answer for himself."

"I said I was sorry, and Brian will vouch for me. Oh, forgive me, oh cranky one, for offending you."

"Don't do it again." At the back of my mind, a red flag went off. I needed to chill. It was two against one and the last thing I wanted was to come off looking worse than Kyle Harling.

"I won't."

"Thank you."

"So can I offer advice without getting my head ripped off?"

"I don't recall asking for any, but if you think you can help, go for it." I couldn't quite believe I was listening to an almost-total stranger, and complete jerk to boot, but I was desperate, and if he had Bri's approval, I'd hear him out.

"Tell him you're not interested and that he needs to leave you alone."

"I've tried."

"Bluntly?"

"No, not really."

"The he's not going to get it."

"Okay. I'll try it. But what if he doesn't want to be friends anymore?" I did like his company. I just didn't want to date him.

"That's his choice. But he's not going to leave you alone until you make it clear that's what you want him to do."

"And sometimes, they still don't take the hint." Let him make of that what he wanted.

"I thought we were going to play nice."

"I am."

"So what was that dig about?"

"I was speaking of men in general." Kind of. "But since you brought it up, you're not so hot at taking hints yourself."

"What are you talking about?"

"When we met in May? You hit on me even though I told you to go away, and then you bothered me the next day?"

"If you'd told me to leave you alone, I would have."

I started laughing so hard I had trouble breathing. When I was able to type coherently again, I responded. "Sorry, was ROTFLOL at what a load of bull that is. I told you in every single way I could think of and you still kept trying to get me into bed. It took slapping you to get through to you. Remember when you staggered off the floor, clutching your face?"
Long pause. "Yes, I remember that."

"Oh, I bet you do," I said gleefully to the screen. How could he forget? I could only imagine what had been going through Kyle's head then, when he realized whom he was talking to and what he'd said. I'd have to ask Bri sometime. Hopefully lots of vulgarities, not that I liked swearing. I just wanted to know that he remembered me as the one who got away but not before smacking him around a bit just to make her point. In case he'd forgotten why he didn't want to mess with me, I decided to turn the screws a bit tighter.

"As if that wasn't enough, you were back at it the next day, harassing me and being obnoxious and being insulting."

"When was I being insulting?"

"When you said Brian had forgotten I was there. That was coarse, insensitive, obnoxious, and a total-turn off. It hurt. A lot."

"That wasn't my intention."

"How else could it come off? You say that my best friend has forgotten I'm there, and you don't think that's going to upset me? Dense much?"

"As much as I'd love to stay and continue to be insulted, it's time to take off for the theatre."

A twinge of guilt shot through me. Bri would chew me out later if I didn't apologize and try to smooth things over with Kyle. "Sorry. It's been a really lousy day. Break a leg."

"Thanks."

I got offline, pulled the cord out of the communal phone jack in the living room, and headed back up to my room. If I somehow ran into him again online, I'd pick his mind about Broadway. I needed information to make my stories sound good.

The next day, between World Religions and Surgical Nursing, I stopped into the computer room in the vet sci building and logged on to AIM to see if Elisa or Brian was there. No such luck.

"Bugger. I wanted to tell them about Kyle," I muttered under my breath. But Cyndi, who preferred to be called Agent 7, was on, so I could harass her for a while. Definite fun. I opened and IM box and threatened to turn her army of cucumbers into salad. She and I had been waging war to see who would gain control of the world for over a year.

My threat against her cucumbers began that day's battle, and just as I was beginning to explain how I'd carry out my devious plans, an 'Accept' message popped up on the screen, cutting me off mid-word. I narrowed my eyes. "studlydoright51?" I muttered under my breath. "Not a chance, moron." I hit the 'refuse' button and went back to revealing my plans to Cyndi.

Not five seconds later, studlydoright51 wanted to talk to me again. I refused the perv again. No way was I going to assist them in their quest for a successful self-massage.

A few moments later, the 'Accept' message popped up again. Rolling my eyes, I accepted, just so I could block the jerk.

"It's Kyle", the message read.

"Hey." Oh. My. Word. I slapped a hand over my mouth to muffle the laughter. No bloody way! I couldn't wait to tell Elisa about this! "Interesting name. Definitely original."

"Thanks. A friend thought it up."

"Anything interesting going on?"

"Not yet. I saw you were on so I thought I'd see how you're doing."

"I'm fine. The usual grind of classes and studying." He'd wanted to see how I was doing? I'd had no mercy shredding him two nights ago and he was interested in making polite conversation? That he'd noticed I was online meant he'd added me to his Buddies list. Fabulous. The feeling wasn't mutual and I wasn't in the mood to make mindless small talk with him, even if it could yield info for my writing. Time to cut things short. "Hate to cut this short, but I need to go get lunch."

To Cyndi, I sent "Meet me in the dining hell for lunch. Need to get off AIM immediately. Person to be avoided on IM who will not retreat. Repeat, shows no signs of retreat. Must take extreme evasive measures."

"Understood, my enemy. Will meet you in the neutral zone."

"10-4." Kyle had replied to my message, but I exited out of AIM without reading it, grabbed my stuff, and took my time getting to the dining hall. It was a nice day, likely one of the few left before the chill and rain of fall set in.

The next time Kyle cornered me online, it was chat with him or read about the formation of red blood cells. It's truly sad when, given the choice between chat with someone who could help you with your writing or reading yet more boring stuff written in medicalese, you actually have to spend a moment debating which you'd rather be doing. The promise of possibly being able to learn about Broadway won out, so, after praying for the ability to bite my tongue and be nice, I answered Kyle's greeting.

Later, I realized Kyle and I had been able to carry on a polite conversation for over half an hour. Only at the end had he started to act like an ass, and instead of laying into him I'd chosen to bite my tongue and sign off. I snorted softly. Miracles did happen.