Kyle's Jeans

By AllzStar

Author's Note: I actually wrote this in one sitting! It's a miracle! It took me two hours, which is really kind of pathetic. Anyway, this is part two of the previous chapter. I really rushed the ending there, and it sucked ass. So here's the rest of it. Enjoy! ^^

Chapter Ten – Teasing Me

The crowd of recent grads cheer as the bonfire roars to life, the flames reaching for the twilight sky like fingers. Speaking of fingers, I catch Craig flipping me off from his seat across the fire pit several times. I return the gesture affectionately, giving him my best smug smirk.

Kyle is a sight to behold. I've never seen him like this. He's like a little ball of burning energy. A star. His green eyes are so bright and vibrant, dancing in the fire light as he chatters on and on about his plans for the summer and where he wants to go to university. His red curls dry progressively, sticking out every which way in the humid air. His pale skin has taken on a healthy pink glow. He's positively luminous.

"I'm thinking of taking Ike on a boating trip," he tells me as he holds a marshmallow on a stick over the flames. "Our uncle just bought a huge yacht and said we were welcome to take it out sometime this summer. He lives in California, though, so we'd have to drive there first." He stops and looks up at me with wide eyes. "You should come with us!"

I'm taken aback at the blunt invitation, and immediately a tingly sensation starts in my cheeks. "Oh—me?"

"It'll be so awesome! And Kenny can come, too, if you want. And maybe..." His eyes flicker to where Stan is seated, and my heart sinks. His face falls a little, and I want to punch Stan in the face for killing Kyle's buzz.

"Forget about Stan," I say, waving him off. "It'll just be the four of us. You and me and Ike and Kenny. That is, if Kenny wants to go." I can't keep the doubt out of my voice. Something tells me Kenny would be less than willing to be stuck on a tiny boat with me for a long period of time.

Kyle sighs and offers me a cheery smile. "Yeah. The four of us."

One look into his eyes and I know he's thinking the same thing I am: "the four of us" used to mean him, Stan, Kenny and I. He misses those days, and for the first time, I do, too.

"That sounds awesome. I can't wait."

"You'll have to drive," he says, blushing slightly. "I haven't gone in for my N yet."

"No problem," I say, rubbing my hands together. This is just what I need. A road trip with my closest friends. Not to mention the idea of a few weeks on a boat with Kyle sounded indeed wonderful.

"It's a date!" Kyle chimes, raising his marshmallow stick above his hand in triumph.

I can feel the blush creeping up my cheeks at his choice of words, but luckily there's something to distract him from noticing. "Kyle, watch out!"

Too late. Sticky, melted marshmallow has already glooped down from the end of the stick and settled in his curls. He gasps in surprise, his mouth forming a perfect O. Then he yelps in pain and reaches up to pry it away from his scalp, yelling, "It's hot! It burns!"

I quickly reach out to help him, but he swats my hands away, too distressed to realize that I'm trying to help him.

People look up to see what the commotion is all about. Most of them laugh, but some kind person hands me a bottle of water, which I proceed to uncap and dump all over his head. He yelps again as the icy water runs through his hair and down his neck, dribbling down the back of his t-shirt.

I can't help but chuckle as he squirms, trying to get his skin out of contact with his wet shirt. I notice the smile that he's trying to conceal at the spectacle he's making.

It takes a few minutes for him to settle down, but when he does he's smiling even wider than he was before. "Well, how stupid was that?" he asks me, giggling slightly as he pulls the remains of the marshmallow out of his hair. "My hair's gonna be all sticky for days!"

I have to laugh at this. His expression is priceless: his tongue sticks out as he pries the sticky mess from his curls, his brow furrowed in concentration.

He eventually gives up, shrugging and declaring, "I'll just shampoo twice when I get home." I then proceed to picture him in the shower and have to physically hit myself in the head to get myself to stop.

"Hey...where is Kenny, anyway?" Kyle asks a little while later, when everyone is on their sixth sh'more and the party is slowly starting to die. "I haven't seen him since the party started."

"Maybe he left," I say nonchalantly, finishing off my Coke and tossing the bottle into the sand at my feet.

"It's not like Kenny to leave a party early," Kyle says quietly, a cute little crease appearing in between his eyebrows.

I resist the urge to smooth the crease out with my thumb and say, "Kenny hasn't really been himself lately."

Kyle makes a little "hmm" noise in acknowledgement, but doesn't ask what I mean. Weird, since I expected him to shower me with questions. It's almost as if he already knows the story.

Suddenly Kyle jumps up, declaring to nobody in particular, "I need to pee." He leaves the circle around the bonfire and goes to find a tree to piss behind.

Almost as soon as he leaves Stan plunks down in Kyle's vacated seat, still nursing a can of beer he must have smuggled in. "Hey, Cartman."

"What do you want?" I ask rudely, glancing at him warily.

Stan gives me a "for real?" look and says, "Nice to see you, too."

"I never said it was nice to see you, Marsh. What do you want?"

Stan sighs. "You never change, do you, Cartman?"

"Nope."

"Well, I was actually wondering what you're doing this weekend."

I frown and glance at him, allowing him to see the confusion on my face. "Huh?"

"Well, a bunch of us are going to Denver for the Superbowl, and I was wondering if you wanted to come. Since you're a rugby guy and all."

"First of all, I'm not a rugby guy, and second, why would I want to go anywhere with you?"

"Okay, look." Stan pushes his overgrown bangs out of his face impatiently. "I just think...we should start hanging out again."

"What?" Now I'm just looking at him as if he's the most insane person on the planet.

"I miss the good old days, as cheesy as that sounds," Stan admits, running a hand through his jet hair. "I want to go back to when it was just...you know, the four of us."

"Well, I don't think it can," I say slowly, choosing my words carefully. "You pissed off, and now Kenny's drifting off, too. You can't just apologize and expect everything to be fine. You ditched us. Saying 'I miss the good old days' isn't going to change that."

"I'm not trying to take back what I did," Stan says exasperatedly. "I just miss hanging out with you guys. All the guys on the football team are such doorknobs. I had way more fun hanging out with you guys."

"When we were twelve," I shoot back. "People change."

"Even you?" Stan asks, raising an eyebrow.

I think about it, and then shake my head. "No. Not me."

"Yes, you have. You've changed. Six years ago, if I'd asked if we could hang out again, you would have reamed me out immediately and called me a bunch of derogatory names. Now, here we are, having a civilized conversation."

"I grew up, Stan, I didn't change."

"If you say so." Stan says nothing for a bit, then, "You used to hate Kyle."

"I still do."

Stan looks at me pointedly, and I know there's no way I can lie about that anymore. "Okay, I don't hate Kyle. He's a good kid."

"You never did hate him, did you?"

"Oh, there were times when I did," I say, reminiscing momentarily. "Most of the time he was just...there. And I ripped on him day and night because he was the only one who wouldn't take it. The only one who'd fight back. He was a challenge for me, even then. Now...well, it's completely different now."

"Because you care about him?"

"I don't care about him," I spit too quickly, Stan cocks an eyebrow, but I ignore him. "He's my friend, that's all."

"You do care about him," Stan says, grabbing a handful of sand and watching it run through his fingers. "Maybe not like a super best friend, per se, but you do care about him. Enough to punch anyone who tries to hurt him." He rubs his jaw, as if remembering the last time it met my fist.

"What are you getting at, Marsh?" I ask, getting annoyed. I start to wonder where Kyle is. How long does it take for a dude to piss?

"Just musing," he says absently, his eyes wandering. He's lost interest in the conversation. Good. Maybe now he'll piss off. "And about the whole 'good old days' thing...just let me know if you guys are interested."

"I'll let Kyle know," I sneer, looking into the flames.

Stan glances at me pointedly. "All of you."

"Oh, stop beating around the bush, Marsh," I snap, tossing a twig into the fire. "I know you're just using me to get at Kyle. And I'm telling you, it's not going to work. You ruined whatever friendship you and Kyle had six years ago and nothing's going to change just because you're waving your magic wand and using your manners. So piss the fuck off."

Stan stands, his hands balling into fists. Then he relaxes and smiles down at me smugly. "Getting defensive, Care Bear?"

"Fuck off," I spit warningly, glaring at him.

"Whatever, lover boy," Stan sneers as he turns away.

I'm still fuming when Kyle finally returns from his pee break. "I had to walk all the way down the beach to find a dead tree," he says, grabbing a marshmallow and shoving it into his mouth raw. "Can you believe it? I mean it's a good thing that there aren't any dead trees around, but come on. That was ridiculous."

"You know, there are plenty of live trees around that you can piss on," I point out, gesturing to the thin circle of trees surrounding us.

Kyle looks at me as if I've grown three heads. "How would you like it if someone peed on you?"

I laugh dryly, although I can't help but feel like someone's already defecated on me.