I love curling up on the couch with a good book. It's just insanely comforting. Granted, said book is over one thousand pages long and I've been reading for a month and am, oh, about three hundred pages in.

For my birthday, Thomas got me the uncut version of The Stand and over five hundred pages have been added. For the most part, it's characters I don't care about thrown in but Thomas actually bought it for me and the gesture's sweet.

Everyone else has retired upstairs except for Blink and Jack who finally passed out in their pillow fort but I'm taking comfort in the somewhat solitude of night. With our group, it's very rare that you get a moment alone and I'm relishing in it. The book's open on my lap and the only sound is my turning the page.

"I knew you were up still."

I glance up to see Thomas standing at the bottom of the stairs. He looks ridiculous. His hair is all in his face and his undershirt is twisted and wound in the back.

"You know me too well, Thomas." I smile.

He comes over and sits on the couch next to me. I unfurl my legs and place them on his lap. Thomas rubs his hands up and down them. I refuse to wear pajama shorts to bed so my legs are constantly covered in flannel or fleece when I sleep and when Thomas sleeps against it, it makes his hair get all static-y. It's an amazing sight.

I place the book, which could probably double as a lethal weapon should the house be robbed, on the table and scooch closer to him.

"How's rooming with Skittery?"

Thomas shrugs. "He gave me a bag full of his discarded, purple Skittles as some sort of peace offering."

"I think he knows that you're the only person on the face of the planet who likes the purple Skittles."

Thomas grabs my arms and wrenches them above my head. I let out a rather inelegant shriek and fall backwards. He's nimble when he wants to be.

"Stop it, grass-eater!" I squeak, my voice reaching a pitch only a ventriloquist dummy could be proud of.

He pauses. "That could be taken very dirtily if I were straight."

I use my legs, which are still free, to kick him and wriggle free.

"You're gross," I say in a mock haughty voice.

"Oh, yeah?"

Thomas jumps on top of me and starts tickling me mercilessly. I'm probably the only person to have seen him do this since he keeps up this silly tough guy act just because he happens to be helplessly short. Not that I have room to talk. I'm one of the few people shorter than him. He calls me 'Dwarf' all the time. Lovingly, of course.

Thomas rearranges himself so he can attack me more successfully and he has these ropy muscles that come from nowhere and are incredibly strong. Meanwhile, my arms are weak little sticks attached to my body. I try fending him off but it's no use.

"Excuse me. Just getting a glass of water."

Thomas stops and I crane my neck to see that Christie girl hurrying through the living room. Her face is bright red. I'm confused for a moment but then it dawns on me.

She doesn't know of A: my sexuality or B: of Thomas's sexuality. We were just caught in what could be misconstrued as a compromising position. I chuckle. As if. Even if I were straight and we lived in a magical land where everyone was, I wouldn't date Thomas. I'd probably go for a smart, serious guy like David because he's lived his entire life with a freaky bitch so he could probably handle one. Not that I'm a freaky bitch…most of the time. But seriously, Thomas and I are nearly the same person. And we're gay!

"I think she likes you," Thomas says sagely.

I hit him in the chest and the battle begins again. I'm sick of everyone insinuating that we should go out. It's like a broken Michael Bolton record. Repetitive and possibly the most irritating thing ever.

Thomas and I topple off of the couch and are so twisted around each other that it looks like we're on an invisible Twister mat. Christie takes this moment to walk in, see us and then scarper away up the steps.

Thomas pokes his head up and cackles.

"Seriously, I think she likes you."

I chest him and we start in again.

--

We awake together on the floor, in a tangle of limbs.

"Seriously, how are you two gay?" Blink is standing above us, a bagel in one hand and an unpeeled banana in another.

Thomas and I unwind from each other and I grab my book quickly. Partly, I want to start reading again and partly, I want to bash Blink's head in. He's so snarky with his stupid, clown mouth. I want to shove something in it. Like the book.

Alright, maybe I'm hanging around Thomas too much.

"We were fighting and then fell asleep," I say and it slowly dawns on me that my hair will be even more unmanageable. Eh, whatever. I never really care about my hair much anyway. I'll just steal one of Thomas's hats.

Blink cackles like a Halloween witch. "Nice."

Thomas straightens himself and folds his arms over his chest.

"Hey, what about you and Jack? How are you two straight?"

Blink's face visibly pales and I giggle under my breath. Point Thomas Conlon.

"What'd ya mean?" he asks dumbly.

"I mean that you two are all over each other all the time."

Blink shrugs and shuffles away. I grin at Thomas. Go him. Although, I agree. Blink and Jack have been way too buddy-buddy on this trip. But it could just be that they're "really good friends" like Thomas and me.

But I doubt that.

--

David was going to impose more "fun-time bonding" on us but thankfully, the sky has opened up and God is pissing on us.

Alright, that is possibly the most disturbing mental picture I've ever had. We're all sitting around the living room. Dutchy tried to get the TV working twenty minutes ago but found that we could only get Telemundo and the Sci-fi channel. Since none of us speak Spanish, we've opted for the latter.

Sci-fi is showing a marathon of Stephen King movies and I think that, given what I'm reading, it's rather convenient. I'm a huge Stephen King dork and I'm not even afraid to admit it. Not that everyone doesn't know already.

Although, I must say, that a majority of the movies suck.

"Why are they showing Stand By Me?" David asks. "That's King but it's not scary."

"Don't question the makers of Raptor Island and Sasquatch Mountain, Davey," Specs advised sagely. "Obviously, no one with actual brains works on the Sci-fi network."

"Which is why they took MST3K off," Dutchy adds and then shuts up, realizing that he just agreed with Specs.

Everyone sighs. We're all getting tired of the whole, Specs and Dutchy fight. I don't think they even know what they're fighting about anymore.

They look like they're going to start up again but Mush intervenes.

"Can we all please be quiet and watch the kid from Star Trek: Next Generation find a dead body?" he asks, leaning into David.

I don't know if Mush has ever watched Star Trek: Next Generation but I figure David is probably a bit of a trekkie and told him that. I notice that while they're spooning, Christie is sitting all by herself. I feel kind of bad. We've all got kind of a clique since we've gotten here: Thomas and me, David and Mush, Jack and Blink and sometimes Sarah, Specs and Dutchy even though they'd kill each other before they'd admit and then Skittery…well, Skittery's in a league of his own. Christie doesn't have anyone to sit with.

She's watching Thomas and me who are curled up in a position that even I'd have to say is rather couple-y.

I give her a wave and she glances away. Alright…what was that?