Okay, BIG wave of inspiration hit me last night. Couldn't ignore it. I was a typing machine! Hope you like. Thank you to my reviewers.

Chapter 5- Just The Two Of Us

Man, that night with the guys WAS just what I needed. It gave me chance to let loose, be one with the guys, play some cards, get smashed, you know. Fun times. Sorry to not fill you in on the details about it. It was nothing special, though I'm pretty sure Wendy is just working up to the day when she tells me how she feels. I'm sure she already knows I know, but she hasn't told me yet. That's how I feel about Kyle. Anyway, we just pretend that we are friends, and she ignores any feeling she has toward me. I feel bad, cause she always lets me drink her shit and she does everything for me. Its not that I make her do it…she just does it without asking.

Kenny and I left her house sometime around 1 or 2, and then he and I just went back to his house and watched a movie.

The next day, I called Kyle. I felt guilty as hell for not showing up, but I don't know why. I mean, I didn't promise I'd be there. And he probably didn't care either way. Kyle's a pretty well liked guy. How's a kid like me going to affect him? He had a better time without me.

Okay, this is the attitude I need to stop. Cause when I heard Kyle's voice, my heart turned to mush, and I felt like a lower form of scum than what I had been before. I beat myself up too much about the whole situation. And I'm too hard on myself. Trust me, I really don't have that bad of self-esteem! I hate that liking Kyle has done this to me! If he knew how I felt, it would be probably be a big turn off for him. It's probably a big turn off for anybody.

I do like myself. Lets go over a self-affirmation statement. I am a lovable, worthwhile human being. I like myself. Ha, did your health teacher ever make you recite this in front of a mirror as practice in class? Mine did.

So yeah. Back to feeling good about myself. Today I had a good day. I came to school, bright, cheery, and ready to face the world. This feeling comes and goes. I feel a boost of confidence when I'm around Kyle on these days, because if I like myself, then he can like me too. Right? RIGHT? This just isn't some good hair day feeling either. Most of the time, I'm pretty happy with the type of person I am. Happy with who I've become, who my friends are, what I choose to partake in…

"Hey dude."

I stare at him blankly. Kyle is so cute. SO cute.

I clear my throat. "Hey Kyle! How are you today?"

"Ah, not too bad. I'm real interested in going to see this band tonight, they're local. Should be a good time. You wanna come?"

I scan the air for my answer. Mom and dad don't need me. Kenny has to work. Grandpa is…well I NEVER hang out with him. Wendy is WHO CARES ABOUT WENDY Kyle just asked me to go somewhere with him! Just ME! JUST ME!

"Uh…sure!" I accept, as casually as it is humanly possible when you want to squeal and dance and scream.

"Word!" He uses his phrase in such a manner that it is more than excitement. It is happiness. Happiness that I have accepted his invitation. Could it be? Could it be?

"When is it?" I ask, anxiously.

"Just come to my house after school. We'll be there."

We? "Who is we?" I had to ask.

"Emery and Jacob and me. Maybe Bebe, I'm not sure. You know, those guys are probably at my house more than I am." He says this with a small laugh. I sigh under my breath. Of course they are going to be there. It couldn't be just Stan and Kyle. It couldn't be the night I have been waiting for. No, that would asking for too much. Stan loses at life, once again.

"Oh, alright then." I try my best to conceal my emotion, but I think Kyle can sense I am heartbroken. He takes an extra long glance at me before saying his goodbye, and trotting off to the next class. I watch him walk away, observing his every curve, his bounce in his step. I probably take a little too long of look, because before I know it, Kenny waves his hands in front of my face in a not-so-subtle distraction.

"Are you feeling weak in the knees?" he asks, laughing loudly. Just as I turn to him to see what the hell he wants, he kicks me in my knees, and I almost come crashing backward.

"Kenny you asshole!" I yell. I've had it up to here with his jokes. It's not funny anymore! I was SO CLOSE to being with Kyle alone. And now it will never happen. I just know it!

Kenny takes a few steps back, admitting his defeat. He must know I'm pissed off, because he doesn't go near the subject of Kyle anymore.

"Whoa dude, chill," he suggests. "I'm just kidding with you."

I shrug it off and start walking with him toward our World Lit class. I notice a slight bounce in HIS step too. "Hey what's up with you? You seem awfully giddy."

Kenny's grin extends from ear to ear. He nods his head once, confirming my observation.

This sends a smile to my lips too. Deep down, I know that whatever it is, it has to do something with girls. You don't see him smile like that unless it has to do with girls. And sense his last breakup, Kenny's not been able to get his girl fix.

"Do I dare ask what is going on?"

Kenny just keeps smiling. "OH, nothing." His grin widens, if that's possible. "Just that I might have heard about someone who wants to hook up with me."

My eyes grow wide with happiness. "Really! Who!"

"A friend of Amber's. She told me this chic thinks I'm hot, and she would like to get with me." He pauses and turns his whole body to me. "Dude, I'll take it. I need this so bad."

"Heck yeah you do!" I exclaim, barely able to contain my excitement for him. I don't want things to get complicated, but I have explain to you Kenny's best girl friend. Her name is Amber, and she is older than us. She graduated a year ago, and, for some reason, her and Kenny got pretty close before she graduated. Not in a relationship way, though Amber hits on him constantly. Hell, Amber hits on me constantly. Amber hits on every breathing male. Even though she's got a serious boyfriend. Anyway, they share a bond of friendship that I don't dare impose on. The closest girlfriend I consider to have is Wendy, and she and I's relationship doesn't even compare to Kenny and Amber's.

I don't see her that often, but I'm not as attached to her as Kenny is. Amber is part of Kenny's life. Not mine.

"When did you find this out?" I ask, wanting to find out more.

"I called Amber after you left Saturday night. We were just talkin', and she mentioned this friend of hers who's in my class. I know this girl, she's not that bad looking."

"That's awesome, dude!"

Kenny's smile dies down. "So how do I do this? I can't just walk up to her and say 'hey, you wanna get together?'"

I chuckle. "Ha, why not? You already know that's what she wants! Just do it dude!"

"Whoa, this is going to be weird," he notes.

"And cool!" I add.

We walk side by side into the classroom filled with curious eavesdropping eyes. I swear that everyone in here wants to know exactly what is going on with everyone all at once. Their brains crave gossip. It drives me crazy. Girls that gossip drive me insane. There are two in our class that I want to strangle. And I'm pretty sure they heard what we were talking about. I just look over at them, bugging my eyes out and staring blatantly.

"Yes, ladies?" I ask over-politely, taking a seat next to one of them. She would be pretty cute if it weren't for her abysmal personality.

"Can we HELP you?" Kenny chimes in. They give us a disgusted look and return to today's fresh headlines. Kenny and I just look at each other and send out a mental high five.

"Alright, guys, lets settle down!" Mr. James says seriously, signaling for class to start. He waits a few more minutes, and the majority of the chatter dies down. "Lets get started, shall we?"

I'm in no mood to pay attention to world literature today. I take out a piece of notebook paper and start doodling all over it in pencil. I sketch a little scene of Kenny and this mystery woman in bed together—rather pornographic for a cartoon I must say—and draw those talk bubbles over the people. The 'Kenny' character says "give it to me baby", and the girl says "uh huh, uh huh!" I smile at my achievement, sending it Kenny's way. It doesn't travel far. We sit side by side.

I look at his face as he reddens with embarrassment. I watch him make what looks like chicken scratch for a few minutes, before the paper sails right back at me. I stare down, looking at a rather hideous rendering of me sticking it to an awkwardly drawn Kyle. The characters are so crudely drawn, with absolutely no way to tell who it is or what they are doing except for the giant sign above them labeled "Stan" and "Kyle" and "Let's Get it On". I bust out laughing at Kenny's portrayal.

Uh oh.

"Mr. Marsh, you seem oddly moved by Opdyke's book. Would you care to tell us why, or at what, you could possibly be laughing?"

I really have no fucking idea whats going on. Like I read the chapter we were supposed to. I sink very low into my chair, hoping to disappear.

I try my best to cover my mistake. I know the book is about a woman and some guy she works for. I heard that from Kenny. Remind me to listen to him when he's catching me up on assignments. "Uh, well…what she talks about…about that guy that she works for, it's just funny to me."

"Oh?"

"Yeah, you know. Because she doesn't want to. Work for him, that is." This much I know.

"Yes, that's true. But why is that funny?" Goddammit, I hate you, Mr. James. Always trying to make us pay attention. Probing our brains for signs of intelligence. Stupid good teacher.

"It just is." Yeah, I'm fucked.

Mr. James furrows his brow. "It just is." He turns to the rest of the class. "Does anyone else think working for a man to stay out of a concentration camp is funny?"

Oh, shit.

"Better yet, does anyone else think that being forced to be that man's mistress because he caught you hiding Jews in his attic is funny? Cause if you do, I'd really like you to express your thoughts now."

Dammit.

"Did anyone read the chapter? Let me see a show of hands!" I blush fervently as the entire rest of the class raises their hand. Yes, they could be bluffing. But then again, they probably aren't.

"We'll see about this, guys," Mr. James continues. "Take out a sheet of paper, and write down the name of this man that Irene worked for, and tell me his position."

Double shit.

Mr. James walks to the back of the classroom, placing an angry hand on my shoulder. It sucks, I disappointed my favorite teacher. Maybe this won't be such a great day after all. "Mr. Marsh, I sincerely doubt you would find any of this funny if you had read the chapter." Ouch. "I'm afraid we are going to have to arrange some after school time."

And just like that, my day has turned to shit. Not only will I get detention, I might miss getting to see Kyle. I risked it all. And now Kenny is going to get some, come back and brag about it, and I am going to be sitting at home, alone, wallowing in my sorrow. When will there EVER be a break for Stanley Marsh?

---

I feel like pouting as I am handed a detention slip at the end of the period. I feel like begging for forgiveness from Mr. James, but I know there is no way I am ever going to get out of this. Sucks. Only my third detention this year. I'm not normally a troublemaker, but I get caught when I do cause a scene.

I sigh and look to Kenny with pleading eyes. Not sure why, there is nothing he can do. He sends me back a look of compassion.

"I'm sorry," is all he has to say to me as we part ways for our next classes. One more class in the day, then I have to show up to detention. Otherwise I'll get a Saturday school. No way in hell I am going to get a Saturday school.

Last period goes by painfully slow. Its advanced Algebra, and I don't have any friends in it. Kyle is way too smart for that shit at a senior level, and Kenny got out of math when he could. Jimmy and Wendy are in some other class. There are a few nice people in the class, but no one I can really look to make the time pass by quickly. There is this girl. Her name is DJ. Not sure what it stands for. Kenny has a class with her I think. He thinks she's a pretty cool chick. I think she's kinda cool too. We don't have too much in common. But she's cute, in my eyes. She and I flirt at times. Makes math a bit more fun. The way she looks at me…I have a feeling we are going to lose it one day and just break down and make out in the janitor's closet. That'd be cool.

Don't want to tell Wendy that though. They hang out together.

"See you later, Stan," she coos as the bell rings. I watch her stand up out of her seat, walk the long direction around the desk formation, and disappear through the door. That whole time she watches me too. I'm surprised she didn't trip on anything. I would have.

Okay, so that was the last bell of the day. In about five minutes, I'll be expected in detention. GAH I don't wanna go! I pick myself up and shuffle my feet out of the classroom. Detention hall is on the first floor at the very edge of school, and I'm in the middle of the building on the second floor. The sounds of excited voices talking about their plans for after school fill the air, engulfing me. I can barely breathe as I make my way down the crowded halls of anxious teens. Its weird to think that in another two minutes, these hallways will be completely vacant of any souls, except the occasional detention kid. Like me.

I walk past them, ignoring their mocking faces and accusing glares. I might just be paranoid.

My head is hung low as I slowly approach my destiny for the next hour and a half. The doorknob is ice cold to my fingers' touch as I rotate it, sealing my fate. I drudge over to the lone teacher's desk in the front center of the classroom. One look at the detention Nazi herself, and I fall into despair. This is more horrible punishment than Hell itself.

"Ah, Mr. Marsh, we have been expecting you," she says in an eerily soothing tone. "You may take a seat over against the wall next to Mr. Broflovski." She nods her round face once, eyes looking at me over her thick glasses, and points in the direction that she is talking about.

I blink twice. Did she just say Mr. Broflovski? I swing my head around so fast I swear I throw it out of socket. Sure enough, Kyle is sitting in the back corner, leaning back in his chair, balancing a pencil in between his nose and his upper lip. At the sound of his name, he immediately straightens up, shrugging his shoulders and stealing a glance around the room.

Kyle is in detention with me! Forget that I mentioned Hell, this is HEAVEN! I practically skip down the aisle to my designated seat. Which is one row in front of him. I happily sit down in the uncomfortable chair, turning to face my friend.

"What are you doing in here?" I ask. Last time I checked, Kyle was a pretty damn good student. Then again, he does have his wild, sporadic side. He is full of surprises.

"Argued with my philosophy teacher till she got angry," he explains matter-of-factly. "Mean old hag didn't have a clue what the fuck she was talkin' about."

I chuckle. "Did you tell her that?"

He grins. "Maybe."

"Ah. Well, dude, that sucks."

He shrugs his shoulders, looking deep into my eyes. The kind of look that sends a heat wave throughout my entire body. "What'd you do?"

"Laughed out loud in class when we were talking about the Holocaust."

His eyes light up with shock. "Dude! That's horrible!"

It takes me a little longer to register what I just said. Stan, you dumbass! Oh my God, now I sound like a fucking anti-Semite! "NO!" I blurt out, almost too loud. I clear my throat, leaning in closer. "Kenny drew a dirty picture that made me laugh when we were talking about some book that I didn't read the chapter for. That's it," I say, affirming my non-racist beliefs. Lord knows I don't have a problem with anyone, really.

"I see." We sit in silence.

I take time out to absorb Kyle. He looks particularly cute today. His hair is an attempted spike, though it's really just falling down. But it's shiny and perfect. It's long enough now that it covers the tips of his ears. He has his spacers in his ears today, and his lip ring only makes his lips look full and pouty. His freckles are amplified with the red of his shirt, which is a button up. His emerald eyes are soulful, his smile lopsided. His arms are so small and white and freckled, laid out on the desk in front of me. He's just so adorable. But it's not adorable as in pinch-your-cheeks cute. It's hot. He makes looking like a kid hot. Ew, that sounded gross. Okay, if you don't know what I mean, you're just going to have to trust me.

It's like the Catholic schoolgirl. Or the nerdy, shy librarian. She's just hot, no questions asked. And there really isn't anything too hot about her either. The clothes don't reveal, the hair is pulled back, the face is plain. But then there are those glasses…the stockings…the plaid skirt….

Kyle IS that character. He's just hot. It's just him. The end.

"Stan?" I zone back in to a concerned, waiting face. Shit! Kyle just caught me staring at him. One of these days, I'm doing to start to drool, and THEN I'll have to explain THAT. I hope it never comes to that. At least not until he knows how I feel.

"What do you say that we just head back to my place after this? We can still make it to the concert, I don't think its starts until like six or after." His eyes never fail to look directly into mine, not blinking. How could I possibly say no to a face like that? Never mind the fact that it's going to be all Kyle, all day long!

"Yeah, that sounds good," I accept gratefully. I'm starting to believe I was meant to laugh in Mr. James class. Just so we could have this very moment.

"Word."

---

"Let us leave!" I silently beg, anxious to get out of this room. It is 4:28, and the ridiculous teacher is going to hold out until 4:30 on the dot. I know this, but I am still anxious. My butt is on the edge of the chair, my legs shaking up and down. I probably look like a child on Christmas morning waiting to open presents. None of this matters because in two minutes I will be sailing down the highway with Kyle by my side. Just the two of us.

"Time's up, ladies and gentleman. Have a good day," the detention Nazi speaks, and all of us flock to the door, simultaneously.

"Ready to get out of here?" I ask an eager Kyle, who is trotting along side me.

"Heck yeah! Lets blow this joint!" He looks up to me, sending a me a smile that even the depths of my stomach can feel. He strolls over to his locker, dumping all of the unnecessary junk into it before he signals a 'let's go' to me with a quick nod of his head.

The cool breeze feels refreshing as I take a deep breath in driving out of the parking lot. We sail down the main road, soon to be at the Broflovski residence. The new school was built less than five minutes walk away. Which is why Kyle usually walks to school. But I'm not leaving my car in the school parking lot, and he didn't protest when I offered to drive. So here we are.

"I hope my parents aren't home. I really don't want to deal with them. Or Ike, for that matter," Kyle says as I place the car in park, unbuckling our seat belts. From the outside, I can't see any signs of life. But that doesn't say much.

It seems as soon as we open the front door to his house that we are already making our way down the stairs of the basement. Kyle doesn't waste any time upstairs. He wants to be in his domain. His comfort zone. I wish Kyle would come over to my house sometime. He's never been. That's where I am most comfortable. Granted, Kyle's basement is pretty damn relaxing. But I always feel tired when I leave there. I think there is always a trace of pot lingering in the air. Just enough to make me want to take a nap.

"What do you want to do for the next hour or so?" he asks me. What do I want to do? He probably doesn't want to know what I'd like to do. With him. To him…

"Doesn't matter to me. I'm pretty flexible," I reply. Its true. I can be real flexible. Especially after my secret Yoga stretching dates with my mom.

"Word," he says. We sit down, facing opposite of each other, and he pulls out a bag of white cheddar popcorn out from under the couch. "Hungry?" he asks, offering me a handful. "Its not too stale."

I never pass up popcorn. "Sure!" I reach into the bag, pulling out a generous portion. I pop each kernel into my mouth, relishing in the cheesy goodness. Kyle does the same. We talk about school, relationships, the past few years, his coming out, the whole bit. It's really more of a chance for me to get to know more about him than anything. I'm not even pushing for much now. We've never had this much time to spend together alone. And fate as brought us here. I sit back, and listen to him talk about his ex, and how he broke his heart. I listen with a sympathetic ear as he tells me about the many times that douche cheated on him and I grit my teeth. What I really want to do is tell Kyle he deserves better, climb over the coffee table, and kiss him with the passion I feel rising within me. Instead, I agree when he calls him an asshole, nod when he says he's probably better off, and lend my two cents here and there.

Kyle's ex boyfriend makes me want to scream. How could anyone treat him that way? That guy was a tool. He claimed to have loved Kyle, practically fed off of him like a parasite, and used him for all of his positive qualities. Then he turned around and slept with a girl. Kyle broke it off with him, and apparently, the dick wouldn't let it go. He tried to come crawling back and Kyle, being the beautiful person he is, gave him an undeserved second chance. Because when the pathetic excuse of a man slept with yet another, Kyle was in tears again.

I guess the last of all of this happened less than a week ago. Kyle hadn't had a chance to talk about it with anyone else. It was all me. I was the shoulder to cry on. I was there to comfort him. I tried my best to relate experiences I had with ex's to help him out, but in the end, I think it was better for me to just listen. He needed that. And I needed him to know that I could be that person.

"What time is it?" he asked, not long after we had sat down. I peered down at my watch.

"Oh shit, its 6:15!" I cried. Guess the time in Kyle's basement flies by. "Should we go soon?"

Kyle ponders this idea for a minute before replying, "Yeah probably."

"Alright, let me just call home real quick. You know, check in," I notify him, and flip open my phone. Kenny has called twice. Something tells me I should probably call him back, cause I'm the one that usually calls Kenny, but I'm going to ignore him this time. He'll understand. I quickly dial my home digits. A woman's voice picks up.

"Hello?"

"Hey, mom, I'm not going to be home for dinner tonight." My mom is cool and all, I'm not asking for permission. But I respect her enough to let her know where I'm at. Its not like she'll care.

"Alright, sweetie. Is everything okay?" Silly mom. Just like her to worry.

"Yeah everything's cool. Kyle and I are going to go to some local concert."

A pause on the other end. "Kyle. Kyle is your gay friend, right?" I sigh at my mother's obvious remark. It makes me sad that she points that out every time. She's a pretty open person, but this is the reason I'm not ready to tell her how I feel.

"Yes," I reply in short. No need to go into that subject any further. "Oh, by the way, I got detention today for laughing out loud in class. That's why I haven't been home. I've been at Kyle's ever since."

"You what?" she asks, disappointment coating her voice. "Wait, let's talk about this Stan…"

"No time, mom!" I cut her off. "I'll talk to you about it tomorrow night. I gotta go!"

"Are you going to be with Kyle all night tonight? It's a school night." Now she is just getting motherly and protective and I don't need that. This is already too long of a conversation. Kyle is stirring restlessly.

"I know! Look, I'll be home late. I have to go now though, Kyle's waiting. Love you!" I say, and wait for her to acknowledge me and then hang up. I look to Kyle, who in return stares at me with a small smile. "Done."

"Alright! Lets go!" he announces, slapping the couch cushions and prying himself off of them.

By the time we pull into the local bar that the concert is being held at, it is nearly 7:00. Everything good starts at 7:00 or later in South Park. I imagine that's when the band will play. I pull my car around back to a deserted alley and a dark parking lot. "You sure my car will be cool here?" I'm a little hesitant. This is down town South Park, which has the tendency to be scary at night now that it's grown. When I was eight, I remember downtown consisted of the plastic surgeon, J-Mart, and the abortion clinic. Maybe a few other things. You get the point. Now it's this huge ordeal. With bikers and thugs. Maybe gangs, I'm not sure. I'm too scared to find out.

"It'll be fine. We'll be out of here in no time," Kyle assures me. He's so calm about this all. Well, it's not his car though. But he's so small, I'm pretty sure some mugger could break him in half if he looked at him wrong.

"I'm just not sure if I fe-"

"Stan. It's going to be fine." He places a hand on my leg and gazes deeply into my eyes. All breathing has ceased, and I can feel my heart beating out of my chest. The warmth of his hand spreads from my leg to other…areas…

I swallow. Hard. His hand is still on my leg. Is he waiting for me to respond? If I never respond, will his hand never move? I'm frozen.

"You don't need to worry."

Still not moving…

"Okay?"

I manage to take a deep breath, and in one last lame attempt to connect with him, I smile warmly. "Are you going to protect me?"

Kyle smiles. Big. I can see all of his teeth. But he doesn't say anything. He just keeps looking at me. Looking at me and smiling. Finally, he speaks. "I certainly will."

All I can do is smile back. He removes his hand, and we exit the car.

I almost feel like clinging to him for support as we walk around the side to the front door. There are shady looking people everywhere. I am very uncomfortable. Kyle seems so chill. I wish I knew what was going through his mind right now.

"Alright, now the guy at the door is going to ask for some ID's, but you have to leave it up to me. I know what to do."

Huh? Is this going to an illegal act for us? Shit, I can't lie for nothing. We're screwed if I'm asked to produce an ID. I don't have a fake. Wait a minute. Kyle looks twelve. How the hell is he ever going to get us into a 21 and over bar? Let's pray he knows what he is talking about.

As we approach the door, I grow wearier and wearier. The bouncer looks like he doesn't waste his time with punks like us. Kyle better have some magic up that coat sleeve of his. I feel his pace quicken the closer we get, his strides grow longer. What the hell is he planning to do? Is Kyle really so cool that people will LET him go into places for being him? He walks over to the not-so-small bouncer with all smiles.

"Hey, Bruce!" he warmly welcomes the scary looking man. Immediately, Bruce's eyes shine and his stance softens. Holy fucking shit, Kyle IS the man.

"Broflovski! What brings you downtown tonight?"

Kyle looks up at the 6ft plus beast of a man and puts his hand on the guy's arm. "Bruce, you know exactly why I'm here. My friend and I want to hear some good music!" He leans in close, barely going past this man's elbows. "Can you make that happen for us?"

Bruce furrows his brow. "You know, I'm going to have to ask you for some ID," he says, winking so that only Kyle and I catch it. Kyle gladly hands over what looks like a library card, and Bruce inspects it. He looks at me, and I show him my school ID. And like that, we walk in. We fucking walk right into the bar. The music surrounds us as soon as we enter, and I lose any chance at all to ask Kyle what the hell just happened. I want to know so many things…

"Let's find a good spot!" Kyle yells at me, over the music. I follow him to the middle of the bar, where the band drowns out even the deepest of my thoughts. Every time I lean over to talk to Kyle, the music intensifies, and I lose focus of the world around me. Occasionally, he looks over to me for a nod of approval, and I smile back at him.

I spend most of the concert inching myself closer to Kyle, until I am practically in his lap. We end up finding a table about halfway through, where we sit and enjoy a beer or two. I will never know how Kyle didn't get busted. He looked like the youngest person in there by ten years. I myself look pretty fucking young, but Kyle doesn't even look sixteen. Hell, he doesn't even look like a teenager just from his size. Yet we sit through the entire concert, unharassed. It really isn't a bonding time for us; at least I don't consider it that way. The music is loud, the band is awesome, and the atmosphere is so filled with smoke, it's going to take me a year to get the smell out of my jacket.

It's the best night of my life.

The singer says it's going to be their last song, and the bar starts to die down. I look down at my watch. 11:45. Not too bad. After it is finished, the regular old jukebox music kicks on, leaving me sad and deaf.

"What'd you think?" Kyle asks me. It is obvious to me how much he enjoyed it. What if I were to say it was awful? That would crush him. I didn't think it was awful though. I love concerts. There is something about a live band that makes my adrenaline run sky high. This was even a pretty relaxed band. More of Kyle's style, not mine. I still appreciate it though.

"Amazing," I say, speaking about both the band and the boy sitting beside me.

I swear it looks like Kyle is blushing. He pushes a stray auburn curl out of his face, as the humidity in the bar has made his hair a bit curly. He gazes down at the floor before joining my eyes once again. We lock stares for at least a minute until he looks back down again.

"You wanna get out of here?" he asks me. Hell yes I do. Smelly, musty, smoky bar? No thank you! I want to be with you, back in your basement.

I nod, and again, I follow him, out of the building I will probably never see again. At least not for another three years.

As we walk back out to my car, my curiosity gets the best of me. "Okay, I have to ask."

Kyle looks up from his path on the ground. "Hm?"

I stop walking. "How the HELL did you get us in there?" He lets out a short laugh, and signals for me to keep walking. I don't want to walk. I want to know how it happened. Don't you want to know how it happened?

"Bruce is cool," is all he has to say.

I shake my head and shoot my hands outward in disbelief. "So!"

Kyle walks over to me and yanks me back into walking mode. "So, I got in good with him. We're buddies."

I look down at my unbelievable friend, awaiting more of an explanation. His silhouette glows in the moonlight.

"How did you manage to do that?"

Kyle grins. I can't tell for sure, but his grin looks to be one of complete mischief. "In exchange for some under the table favors, of course."

I laugh off his joke, accepting the fact that I will never know how he got us in there. We drive back to his house relatively in silence. I steal a glance every some odd feet at this profile. His head is propped on his hand, staring out my passenger window. We pull into his driveway, the air thick with silence and tension. Sexual? I wish.

"Well, I had fun tonight," I conclude, not sure what to do next. If it were Kenny, we'd spend another ten hours in the car summarizing the events. But I can't do that with Kyle. I'll jump him before he even gets a chance to speak if I'm not careful.

He turns his head my way. "Me too. Thanks for coming with me, Stan."

"Thanks for inviting me."

Kyle returns his focus to an apparently fascinating spot on my floor. He doesn't say anything for quite some time, but he doesn't move a muscle either. I wish I knew what he was thinking. I think this was an incredible day for us. We had a breakthrough. It was just us. I am so happy, I could reach over and hug him. I want to do more, but I can't bring myself to move either.

"I should get going," he says finally. He shifts his eyes back up from the floor to my hopeful eyes. I know he can see the yearning in them. I know he can feel the heat between us. I know he can see how badly I want him to stay. But, with that, he unbuckles his seat belt, and opens the door. As he stands outside my car, peering inside the still open door, he says, "I'll see you tomorrow."

I wave goodbye in disappointment. "See ya," I finally manage. In my dreams.

I don't think I blinked during that whole time. I watch hopelessly as he walks up to his door, disappearing into the darkness of his house.

---

---

The book Stan was supposed to read was In My Hands, a true heroic account by Irene Gut Opdyke. A pretty depressing but good book that I had to read for my Holocaust class in college. Don't ask why I chose it, it's probably not appropriate for high school. Oh well, we'll roll with it.