A/N: Okay, part of this (the tickle part) is based on actual things that actually happened at an actual time...to me, actually. My dad basically tickled me to death on a daily basis, and one day, my tickle nerves just sorta got worn out or something. But I'm really good at tickling people now :D

And I'm SORRY that I've somewhat shunned Frisco, but I sorta set up a roadblock for myself with that last chapter. I need to un-set-it-up...o.O, ooookay, weird word. But you get it.

E-Props to Mooftasmo the Magnificent (I'm getting a tad irritating, aren't I?) For edits and my buddy Kylie–I hope you keep safe and God bless.

"So...x equals 18.8?" Keely asked, looking up at Phil hopefully. He nodded and prepared himself for shrieks that would probably follow.

"Why aren't you squealing?" Phil asked, unpinning his ears.

"'Cause there's no one here for me to squeal with," she replied, as if it were obvious.

It was a pretty dry Monday at Keely's quiet house. For some reason, for the past few weeks there had been nothing exciting going on. And of course, nothing goes better with boring than Algebra 2 reviewing, for it was basically like spreading jelly on jam.

Out of nowhere, something began to buzz.

"Your leg is on silent." Phil pointed at Keely's pocket. She retrieved the cell phone from her jeans and flipped it on.

"Someone texted me about 'That Wild Party Last Week' again." Keely sighed and placed the phone on the coffee table across her knees. (A/n: Trust me, Moof–it's a word)"Why don't I get these memos anymore? It's not like I was the one who moved," she groaned, in reference to Tia. "I mean, she still gets paged when something major happens in Pickford, and she's in Boston!"

"Someone's getting a tad cyn-i-cal," Phil sang. Keely flicked him the evil eye and ranted on.

"I mean, I never get invited to parties anymore! I used to be a party animal. I never used to be home on weekends. Now it's like I don't even exist."

"Aw, c'mon. Don't be like that. You still get invited to more things than I do."

"Not true. When people invite me, they're not inviting me, they're inviting us. They're all, 'Hey, PhilandKeely, come to this!'."

"Okay, I get it."

"PhilandKeely, come over here and meet KyleandBethany."

"Fine."

"PhilandKeely are such a darling couple. They should get together!"

"OKA--wait, who said that?"

"It doesn't even matter," Keely said, slumping into her side of the couch. "I've socially passed away."

"Oh, poor Keely." Phil pretended to sob. "Whatever shall she do? She has a loyal best friend that will follow her to the ends of the earth, a 3.8 GPA and a stack of cookies in front of her," he Vanna-Whited to a tray of Oreos on the coffee table next to the cell phone, which was ringing again but wasn't about to be answered, "but hasn't been to a party unaccompanied by Phil since Uni Day! Call Human Rights--this is a travesty!"

"Okay, okay, enough." She smiled and turned back to the algebra that had been troubling but called to her.

"You know, we could have our own party. Just the two of us." He danced in his seat playfully.

"Oh, yeah?" She played along. "What shall we serve, then? And will it be themed?"

"Yes." He tackled the second question, grinning slyly. "Tickle-themed."

"Tickle-themed?" she repeated, confused. She understood it a second too late, as Phil pounced on her and began tickling her, getting her to laugh uncontrollably. "Alright! Alright! I give," She cried, tears streaming down her face like Niagra.

"Say Uncle Bob," he commanded.

"Uncle Bob!"

"Don't forget Cousin Jim-Jam."

"C-Cousin Jim-J-Jam!" She said, shaking while Phil took off her shoe and ticked the bottom of her foot as well. "No, that's not...not, not fair!" Keely squealed. She had trouble getting through the words as she laughed harder than ever, gasping for breath in between.

"Who's the boss?"

"Ha, ha-ha! Alyssa M-Milano, definently," she replied.

"Oh-ho, so you're getting brave, now, are you?" He let her go out of pity. Keely tried recovering from the tickle attack, and began to reach for Phil's ribs, vowing revenge, when she remembered.

"It's completely not fair that future people are immune to ticklage." She sank into her bad mood again.

"Don't be a party pooper," he chided, frowning.

"I have no parties to poop. And don't say anything about that last statement, 'cause you know it's true," she pointed out. And then she added, "I'm still socially M.I.A. Actually, I've been that way since..." she stopped.

"Since when?" Phil demanded.

"Mmm, aren't these cookies great?" Keely reached for the plate of Oreos. "I mean, the way they're all...cookied. Mmm."

"Since when?" he asked again. Then his eyes fell. "You mean, since I showed up."

"What? No," she gasped. "Of course not." Then she saw Phil's eyes again. "Okay, maybe a little." She felt Phil's dejection. "It's not your fault, Phil. People are just...intimidated by how close a friendship we have. They can't match that. Don't feel guilty." She moved the Algebra II text book that sat between them and laid her head on his shoulder. "I'm really, really glad you showed up."

"I'm glad I met you," he replied seriously, brushing a strand of stray hair from her forehead.

She yawned and shut her eyes. "Oye, too much partying."

"Hah, you're officially party pooped," he said, turning his head to find that she had fallen asleep on his shoulder. He laughed, then smiled, and wrapped his arm around her, kissing her forehead gently. Her eyelids fluttered.

"You know, this is what boyfriends do to their girlfriends," she whispered.

"You mean protecting them?" He laid his cheek on the top of her head. Keely laid her hands on top of his knee.

"I don't think it even matters if I'm socially M.I.A. or not. I don't even remember what M.I.A. means anyway." Keely sighed. "I've got the best friend anyone could ever have. And whoever he ends up...ending up with, later on in life...I think it'll be alright. 'Cause she'll be the luckiest girl, ever. And I really mean it."

"And even if you end up with some weird toothless guy from the park, I'll still platonically love you, Keely," he said.

"Why do your weirdest comments turn out to be your most sweetest sentiments sometimes?" She gripped his knee harder and yawned again. "G' night, sweetie pie."

"...you mean Phil?"

"No, I don't."

And she fell back asleep.

Reviews...or someone else will tickle you...and it won't be Phil.