"You did what?" she said, her mouth open, her head tilted down. Ashley shock. I moved my mouth but no words were coming out.

"Craig?" She shook her head and then looked at me and I looked away.

"Oh, man," she said so softly, and I didn't want her to be hurt by this, it didn't mean anything, not like what she meant to me. She took a deep breath and I noticed all the cracks in the sidewalk near us, other kids walking home, the sounds of cars in the distance.

"Craig, are you…gay?" I cringed. I was coming to hate that question. And I wasn't, not like Marco was.

"No! No, it wasn't…it isn't like that. It isn't like what you think. I went to that party with Marco, the one at Dylan's dorm and um, Marco was all upset because Dylan wanted to see other people and he…he kissed me trying to make Dylan jealous…that's all it was," I felt all breathless, and that wasn't a lie. More of a sin of omission.

"Oh," She smiled a puzzled little smile and I thought about Ellie, and how Marco probably told her everything and she'd probably tell Ashley the rest of it. That was just my luck. It wasn't fair. This thing with Marco wasn't anyone else's business.

Quiet. We just sat on the stone wall in the sun and I contemplated telling her the rest of it so I wouldn't have to worry about Ellie spilling it to her. But I was scared to tell her. Maybe if she knew all of that she'd think I was gay.

"Marco kissed you, that's no big deal," she laughed, and I felt guilty.

"Yeah, I guess not,"

01234567890

Friday night. Ash was busy. Joey had a date again.

"Jesus, Joey! How about I just babysit every Friday night! I'm glad you have yourself a live in babysitter," I was pissed, but Joey just smiled and primped in front of the mirror.

"I knew I had you come live here for something," Big Joey smile and laugh. Whatever. I gave up.

"It's not like you have plans," he said, eyeing me. I scowled. He was right, I didn't have plans.

"Fine. Just go. Have fun being a superstud,"

"I will, thanks,"

Out the door, and it was kinda late. Ang was already asleep on the couch, looking uncomfortable. I carried her up to her room, laid her on the bed. She stirred a little and smiled. Mumbled something that might have been goodnight. I tiptoed out, shut her door softly. When I got back downstairs Marco was sitting there. I jumped. He laughed.

"What do you want, traitor?" I said.

"I know, I'm sorry, okay? I shouldn't have told Ellie,"

"Yeah, you shouldn't have,"

"I brought something as an apology," he said, holding up a fifth of Jack Daniels. I smiled.

"I'll get the cups,"

01234567890

We went up to my room so Joey wouldn't see us drinking and lecture me. I brought up a two liter of soda and two glasses, the thick square ones. Marco dumped in the alcohol and I poured in the soda. I gulped it down, still able to taste the sharp liquor. It burned kind of but it felt good. I liked drinking, liked it a lot. I felt better when I drank. I could finally relax after a few drinks. That made me laugh, though, like I was some business man having a martini after a rough day. Hell, I've had my share of rough days.

After a few drinks we were both on my bed, and I started to worry about feeling dizzy, being hung over.

"You shouldn't have told Ellie," I said again, and heard the slur in my words. Shit, I was drunk.

"I know. I know. I'm sorry, alright?" he said, and leaned close to me, touched my lips with his index finger. I pulled away. He smiled, and I wondered if he was as drunk as I was. He touched my lips again, softly, and this time I let him. I felt almost too drunk to protest anything, and it seemed like he wasn't drunk at all.

"Okay?" he said, his voice just above a whisper, and he leaned close to me again, kissed my cheek and then my lips, closed mouth and so soft, again and again. He put his hand on my chest, gentle pressure pushing me down and I let him push me, felt drunk, felt almost like if I moved I'd be sick.

"Marco-" It was barely a whisper and even just his name was all slurred, and maybe I'd drank most of the alcohol because he didn't seem drunk at all, and he pushed me until I was laying down and the room started to spin in wild arcs around the bed and I closed my eyes, prayed, 'don't let me be sick, please,' and I felt Marco undoing my jeans, pulling the zipper down quick. I didn't want to open my eyes. I didn't care. I felt like if I moved my head would explode into a thousand pieces. I shifted a little and I felt the sudden cold of the room because he'd slipped my jeans off and still I didn't open my eyes. I was numb. I was drunk. I couldn't stop him if I'd wanted to.