Chapters keep getting longer! I can't help it, I had a lot of frustration built inside of me yesterday, and I slammed this out. Now that I have an end goal in mind, this story line is playing along perfectly. A BIG thanks to all of my faithful reviewers, and to all of you who pop up here and there to let me know what you think! I'm so glad you guys like the depth of Stan's emotions. Keep reading!

Chapter 6- How's It Going To Be

"So you guys shared a moment," Kenny tells me, winking and grinning. We are sitting in the middle of the auditorium, people surrounding us. For the time being though, it's just me and Kenny. Alone in the world. And I just told him what went down last night.

"Not exactly a moment," I rationalize. "It could have been anything, really. It might be all in my head." I have a tendency to dream big. I have a tendency to lose track of reality and my thoughts bleed over to my ideal life. I shake my head. No. Last night really did happen. And it happened perfectly.

Kenny shrugs his shoulders. "Whatever, dude. Give yourself credit. Maybe this is what you've been waiting for!"

He does have a point. I accept this optimism, putting it in the back of my mind.

We spend the rest of the study hall period fairly silent, too busy working on homework assignments. We spent too much time at the beginning, catching each other up on the happenings of last night. And now we have to hurry up.

Kenny made out with that chick. It's funny how it happened too. Amber invited Kenny over to her apartment, and the girl, Mandy, was there, along with Amber's boyfriend, Nick. They were all drinking, and I guess they decided to play an old fashioned game of spin-the-bottle. He said there were rules about the first time you kiss a person; it's a quick peck. Second time, it's a longer peck. Third time, open mouth. Fourth time, its French kiss all the way. The first pair to get to the fourth round wins. Kenny and Mandy won. I guess they felt they needed to go into overtime, cause Mandy took Kenny to the guest room and asked him to make out. Of course he didn't protest.

Kenny came home sometime around 7 this morning. Just in time to get ready for school.

"She is GOOD," he told me. "I hope we hook up again."

But that's where it will end if Mandy doesn't call him. He wouldn't dream of calling her. He doesn't want to interrupt people when they are busy. I think its bullshit. If he's got the hook up, why not take advantage of it? I would.

"You have class with Kyle next period, don't you," I ask him, well aware that he does. The bell just rang, and I pick up my scattered books, preparing for the next class. I'm glad I have a study period second period. Gives me a chance to do all of my homework for the upcoming day.

Kenny nods. "Yep." He nudges my side. "Bet you thought you'd never want to be in advanced chemistry so much, did ya?"

I laugh at his comment. Oh, Kenny. You have no idea.

"Tell him I said hi!" I say, walking out of the auditorium.

"Oh, I'll tell him you said 'hi'," he mocks, raising his eyebrows and thrusting his body into his books rapidly. I think it's about the time that he starts moaning loudly and humping the wall that Mrs. Harper clears her throat loudly and draws even more attention to my insane friend.

"Mr. McCormick, I do not believe that is appropriate behavior in school. If you have something you need to attend to, I suggest you do it in private," she roars, unbelievably angry for such a little thing. What's funny is that she tries to be professional, and is completely serious when she says shit like that, but its so God dammed funny, Kenny and I try hard to contain our laughter. In my opinion, Mrs. Harper has a lot of sexual tension built up inside her, because she calls us out every time for anything remotely sexual. She needs to get laid. Though I don't think anyone is up for that task. I don't want to think of the poor schmuck she calls her husband.

"My deepest apologies, Mrs. Harper," he says insincerely and bowing his head, which only adds fuel to the fire. Kenny, watch it, or you're going to end up with your ass in detention.

She narrows her eyes and raises one eyebrow. Kenny smiles a disturbingly sweet smile. Just when I think he's in for it, we disappear around the corner. Away from her death glare.

"Phew, that was close!" I exclaim, holding my chest. I hate getting in trouble. Kenny brings it on. At least, he acts that way. Deep down, I think he's scared shitless of any kind of authority figure. I think it's just his home life that makes him act like the tough guy. He's as soft as freshly baked cookies on the inside. Don't tell him I told you that.

"Nah, you worry too much Stan," he tells me. See what I mean? "Anyway, I gotta go to class. And see Kyle-wyle!" Again, he makes kissing noises until we are separated by at least two different crowds of people. I wave him away. Stupid Kenny.

I make my way down the opposite hallway, on my way to history. Someone bumps into me rudely, and I turn around to give them a piece of my mind, only to stare at a chuckling Jimmy.

"Hey buddy," he says. "How are you doing?" Jimmy likes to pronounce each and every syllable of every word. I think its part of his learning-to-not-stutter program.

"I'm okay," I reply truthfully. That close-call last period has me a bit shaken up. Plus I'm getting sick of Kenny's public display of my affections. "How are you?"

"Oh, everything is fantastic! I have not seen you in a while, so I thought I would say hey." I guess that's partly true. I haven't seen him since the movies on Saturday.

I weakly smile. "Hi."

"What is wrong?" he asks, noticing my slight hint of uneasiness.

What is wrong? What is wrong! I just had the time of my life last night with Kyle, and now I know for sure that I like him a whole bunch, and I want to be with him, and I know he'll never feel the same way about me so I just have to sit and go along with daily life, trying to forget this feeling, forget everything because the chances of me getting with him are about zero. Even if we did share a moment together, I doubt he saw it that way. So really, I'm just as miserable and confused as before. "Nothing, man, I'm cool," I respond. Yeah, that sounds better.

"You most certainly do not look cool. But if you do not want to tell me, then I will have to assume you are okay."

"I'm okay," I repeat. I like Jimmy, but I don't have the time, or the want, to go into detail about last night's 'moments.' For real though, I'm scared. I'm excited as fuck because I know that Kyle and I are real cool now, but how can I get him to like me? How can I go on without telling him how I feel? Will I even be able to tell him? Shit, this sucks. Yeah, yeah I know. I can't be happy about anything. But trust me, when…I mean if…Kyle tells me he wants to be with me, I'll be doing little fairy dances out on the football field when its raining.

Jimmy shrugs his shoulders. "Whatever you say. I need to get to class, but we should hang out again sometime soon!" I nod my head in agreement, and he waves goodbye to me.

"Bye Jimmy!" I say as I am standing about twenty feet in front of the room I call home for the next fifty minutes. God help me.

---

It is now December. It's been a little over a month since Kyle and I hung out at that bar downtown. I'm out of football now. I know I didn't go into too much detail about that, but I'm actually really sad that it's over. For good. I'm not good enough to make it in college.

Things are going pretty well. Kenny got himself another make out buddy, in addition to that Mandy chick. Another girl in another one of his classes. He alternates them weekly, depending on what he is in the mood for. He and I are still the best of friends. Not that too much would happen in a month that we wouldn't be. Just letting you know.

Kyle is still the same incredible guy he has always been. We've hung out a lot in the past month. With other people, in big groups…even alone! There was one time that I swear we were going to kiss, but, as always, it must have been my imagination. We were hanging out in his basement, just talking. We do that a lot. Kyle doesn't like TV, so talking is the preferred alternative.

It was the most cliché experience ever, but we both reached into the popcorn bowl at the same time, lightly brushing each other's hand. I'm sure my hand flinched at the soft feel of his, wanting to latch on forever, but I let him have first dibs on the puffed goodness. Popcorn had been and is now our snack of choice. Anyway, it was that moment that my heart beat soared through the clouds because when he touched my hand accidentally we locked gazes and his mouth almost seemed to mouth words "I want you." His lips were parted every so slightly, and he studied my features before pulling away, popping a handful of popcorn into his mouth. But for that moment, that split second we were so close to each other I could see the quiver in his lips, I thought it was going to be THE moment.

Stupid asshole me, it was nothing. Kyle is no more liking me than where we were at a month ago. I'm still hopeless and pathetic. He's still a God.

Funny thing though. Actually not funny. Shitty. Kyle has been acting different toward me. Great you say! No! It sucks hardcore, because it's not a good different. It's the kind of awkwardness you get when you are around someone that you don't like but have to be near them anyway. When that one person that annoys you to no end comes up to you and won't quit talking until you want to punch them so hard in the face they fly backwards and land in a pile of dogshit. Yeah, it's bad.

I didn't do anything to Kyle. I didn't do anything different; I don't understand why he's acting this way. I'm not making this up, I swear.

"Maybe you're just imagining things in your head again, Stan. You know how dramatic you can be," Kenny says to me while sipping his fast food Coke. I am getting angrier and angrier by the second because he won't for one second believe that it could be true.

"It's not in my fucking head this time!" I roar, loud enough for the people around the restaurant to send disgusted glares my way. Oops, I didn't see they had kids. I lower my voice and lean in to the table. "Ken, you watch. Watch how he acts toward me. You'll see. YOU'LL SEE!"

Kenny doesn't get it. Its agony for me for someone to ignore me. Sure, no one likes to be ignored. But when I am the ONLY one out of a crowded room that Kyle doesn't come up and hug, I start to get suspicious. And when I'm the ONLY one who he doesn't ask if I want to hang out at his house after class, I start to analyze. And when I'm the ONLY one that doesn't know about his party on the weekend that everyone who is cool will be there, I start to cry.

It's not just my imagination! It's not just my paranoia! He's avoiding me.

"Maybe he just wants to spend time with other people," Jimmy offers. He is sitting beside me, chomping down on a cold meat sub at the local deli. I called them in for moral support. This is starting to wear me down thin. I look at him weird.

"It's not like he's been spending all his time with me or anything."

Jimmy shrugs and looks the other way. "Maybe not."

"I just don't get it. Why would he all the sudden be talking to me? Inviting me to go places? We aren't as good of friends!" Kenny observes. I don't agree with him, but I don't disagree either. He always sells himself short of all of his friends. But I'll be the first to admit that I thought Kyle and I were well on our way to at least being super best friends again. If not more. I guess it was just wishful thinking.

"All too good to be true," I blurt out. Not really sure how it fits in the conversation. Kenny gives me a confused frown and then shakes his head.

"Whatever dude, I think you're paranoid. You've gotta lighten up."

"I AM NOT PARANOID! God! Would you please stop writing off my feelings like that?" I yell once again. I make sure to keep my cool in front of the kids though.

Jimmy looks up from sipping his shake. "No, Stan, you are not paranoid." That is the first thing either of them have told me that wasn't positive bullshit.

Kenny and I exchange glances before focusing in on him. "Huh?" I ask, eager to learn more of what he is obviously hiding.

Jimmy looks at us both with hesitance. "Um…I just said that it might not be entirely in your mind like you think."

"What the fuck are you talking about, Jimmy? You're going to give Stan a hernia!" Kenny begins, anger rising in his voice. It's cute how overprotective he is of me.

I put my hand in front of Kenny's face, signaling him to shut up. I was on the edge of my seat, wanting to hear what Jimmy had to say. "Why do you say this?"

Jimmy takes a deep breath and gives it to me straight. He looks deep into my naïve eyes. "Look. Stan. Kyle thinks you are still cool, but he is tired of always having to pry you apart from Kenny." He turns to Kenny. "And Kenny, he wants to spend time with you alone because whenever you guys hang out, you always bring Stan."

I sink back in the booth. Not all bad information, but not much good that I can take away from that. It means he's sick of me. He's fucking sick of me.

"That's ridiculous," Kenny says, throwing his hands up and gesturing that it's no big deal. "Kyle wants to hang out with Stan. They are good friends."

Jimmy appears timid, but his voice rises at Kenny's remark. "I know how Kyle is feeling! I wish it was possible to tear you two apart sometimes as well." His voice is very high and shrill. As if he's wanted to tell us this for a while. I look at him to continue. Kenny just stares in disbelief. I was always wondering when our friends were going to say that. I mean, it usually was Kenny and Stan. Guess it was bound to happen sometime.

"It is hard for us, the people who are friends with both of you, to feel included sometimes! You get into these inside jokes and get lost inside talking about them and I lose what you are talking about, feel out of place, and wish I never came over to begin with! What Kyle has told me is that he wants to spend time with both of you individually. And that would be nice for me too!" Jimmy pauses, as if he stopped breathing, and then settles back into his chair, with a little less weight on his shoulders.

I am impressed. It takes guts to stand up to two people like that. Not that Ken and I are badasses or anything. But I totally see where he is coming from, and I feel like applauding him.

Still, none of this makes sense to me. So Kyle wants to spend time with Kenny more. Okay. Does he like Kenny? Oh God, he likes Kenny! He doesn't want me anymore. I'm yesterday's news. I'm a nobody. Just a faint memory. I start conjuring all of these scenarios up in my mind. Like last week. I knew something was up when Kyle called Kenny and invited him over. Kenny didn't tell him that I was with him—he just told me to come along. When I showed up, it was like I was a disease. Kyle didn't once look at me. He didn't acknowledge me. He talked as if I wasn't even there. It was horrible. I confronted Kenny about it later, and he saw nothing wrong. Damn boy's not perceptive enough. Don't blame it on my paranoia, I'm not paranoid.

I just don't know what to do about Kyle. He's so…unbelievable. I can't bear to think of my life without him as even a friend.

Speak of the devil, I freeze in shock as he pushes open the glass entry door decorated with bells that jingle. Everything in the world has to make a grand appearance for that guy. I swallow hard as he spots our table and makes his way past the hordes of customers at the front of the house. My heart sinks with every step closer.

"Hey guys! What's up?" he asks everyone but me, as he has made eye contact with Kenny and Jimmy immediately. I must be invisible.

"Nothing much, dude. Stan felt like getting something to eat so here we are. What're you doin' here?" Kenny asks him, noticing my obvious shift in position of comfort. Kenny, if you can read my thoughts, you will pay attention to how bad this getting!

"Word. I'm off to do some Christmas shopping for my folks and Ike, but I needed to grab some food first."

"Sounds delightful," Jimmy chimes in. "Know what you are going to get?"

Kyle shakes his head. For one split second he sends his gaze my way, but when I return it, he moves on to Kenny. He doesn't smile at me. He doesn't make any sort of friendly gesture. I am a bug. I must be squashed. "Not sure yet. If you guys have nothing to do, you should come over to my house later. Should be a good time."

Kenny looks at me. Awaiting my response? I don't know. I stare back at him blankly. He knows. Just because Kyle said "you guys" doesn't mean shit. I don't think he's vicious enough to say "Hey Jimmy and Kenny but not Stan…"

Jimmy's ears perk up. "Count me in!"

"Yeah, we…er…I…will probably make it over there sometime later, dude," Kenny adds. Okay, so he had to single me out. Sometimes Kenny is too stupid, and I want to pound him for it.

"Awesome!" Kyle replies. He nods his head in approval. No "Stan you should come too" or even a simple look in my direction to await my response. He just looks at Kenny for an extra long time. Then he lets out a smile that he used to send to me. I guarantee Kenny isn't warm all over when receiving it either. Bastard.

Kenny eyes me nervously. BINGO Ken. I think he's finally seen how's it gonna be around us two now! Which is why I'm going to lay low, and probably not even show up to Kyle's tonight. As much as that sucks.

But my extreme need for acceptance and like takes me in another direction. "I'll probably stop by too." Too much, too late.

But Kyle's ears don't perk up. He looks at me, yes. But there is no twinkle in his emerald eyes. There is no bright smile emitted from his face. There is no cheer in his voice. Merely a routine, "word."

"Well, guys, I've got to get back to shopping," he announces. I don't think he had any intentions of inviting me if I had not been sitting there. "Hey Kenny, bring that guitar of yours and we'll rock out. Jimmy, you can keep the beat for us!"

At this, my heart explodes. For the past month, Kenny and Kyle would play the guitars and rock out, while I would keep the beat on some old bongos he bought at a thrift store. He had told me I was good at keeping them in time. He even let me sing sometimes. He told me that my voice was great. Was none of that true? What the hell happened? What did I do wrong?

"Bye guys!" he tells the two boys sitting with me, and he pats Kenny on the back. I swear if he touches him one more time I am going to scream. Why the FUCK won't he go near me! He waves goodbye in my general direction, and I mumble a string of curse words as he moves through the long lunch line. Kenny hears me mumbling, but he can't tell what I'm saying. Good thing too, I'm mad at him.

Why you ask? Because that fucker doesn't even care about Kyle like I do! He doesn't want anything but friendship with him! He doesn't act like a tongue-tied babbling idiot around him! He doesn't make an ass out of himself trying to steal Kyle's glances away! He doesn't have to fucking try because he's not falling for the jerk! GOD DAMMIT!

"Whoa," Kenny says finally when Kyle is out of view. He bought his food and left. Must have not wanted to taint himself with Stan germs by sitting near me. Not that I blame him. I feel like a low form of parasite right now. "I see what you mean, dude. That was harsh!" Leave it to Kenny to pour salt in the wound. Damn him. Damn them all. I don't want to be here anymore. Not here, in this stupid deli. Not in South Park. Not in Colorado. Maybe if I hadn't been such a loser in my past life, I could have been reincarnated as a sex God with people like Kyle falling all over me. Maybe I could have been Kyle's perfect physical match. Not that I believe in reincarnation. Just a theory…

Jimmy slinks behind his food. I think he has more to say, but there won't be anymore speaking on his end. He has this "I told you so" look in his eye. But that doesn't make an ounce of sense. If Kyle is so upset that he can't hang out with just Kenny, he doesn't have to be shitty to me when I'm around! I think what Jimmy told me is a big lie. I've never called Jimmy Vulmer a liar before, but I'm going that extra mile. Maybe its one of those lies to spare my feelings. Whatever. A lie is a lie is a lie. I'm a big boy and I can handle myself.

TELL ME THE FUCKING TRUTH!

Everyone is a suspect. They all know something I don't.

I walk home, alone, dejected. Kenny felt sorry for me, but he can't help me. Not when he has to get ready for Kyle's party. I don't want to go. I don't think I should. I don't think anyone wants me there. I'm Stan Marsh, disgraceful. Loner. Loser.

Just when I think I can't feel any sorrier for myself, I run across a skipping Wendy. She immediately stops skipping, staring at me with a death stare. Why? Why does everyone have it out for me?

"Why hello Mr.-I-don't-talk-to-Wendy anymore," she says bitterly. "How is your life since I don't get to be involved in it anymore?"

Not the time to play make me feel guilty, Wendy. Not in the mood. "You are involved, woman. Don't talk to me about not getting talked to."

"Awww…poor Stanny. He wooks sad," she says, trying her best to cheer me up. God help me, this might actually work. Her cutesy antics are so lame they are comforting. "Well, if you were still my friend, I'd tell you about how some people are coming over tonight."

I shrug and decide to play along. "If I was still your friend, I might consider going."

This throws her through a semi-loop. "Well, if you were still my friend, I'd say you should be there."

I smile. Wendy is cute. Just not my type. She's not redheaded, Jewish, or male. Since apparently I'm a fag now, according to Eric Cartman, who found out and won't let me live it down. But Kyle doesn't talk to Cartman. Kyle actually despises Cartman. So I'm not too concerned in his fat mouth spreading not-so-rumored rumors.

"If I'm still your friend, then I will accept your invitation," I answer to her. She smiles, sealing her invitation.

"See you later!" she calls, already halfway down to the next house. Wendy likes to skip a lot.

I look up to the sky. Maybe I can turn this into a better day. After all, Wendy and I always have a good time, regardless of how in love she may be with me. I'm not saying she is, but I think she likes me a lot. I wish I could feel the same. Life would be so much easier.

A few hours pass, and I find myself staring at my reflection in the mirror. "You need this, Stan," he tells me. "Go on. Have a good time!"

That's what I intend to do.

It's about 9:00 when I pull into Wendy's driveway. There aren't too many cars there, so I figure Wendy's 'some' people will consist of her three best friends and maybe a few randoms. She always tells me about these big blowouts she is going to have, but when I attend, there are only four or five people. Oh well. Four or five is still awesome times compared to my none. And so to Wendy's I go.

But tonight is different. Tonight, the people at Wendy's party aren't the typical friends. There is actually a decent amount of people at this one. She has included others. DJ, for example. The cute chic from my math class. And she looks super cute tonight. Sure, I might be on my way to being drunk, but I can see her staring at me like I'm the only one in the room. I guess I look good tonight. I don't look bad. Wonder what is going through that pretty little head of hers.

Cause I know what I'm thinking.

Wendy has called everyone around a coffee table and we're playing asshole. A drinking game that I'm not too fond of, cause Wendy knows how to manipulate the system so that she will remain president permanently. President is ultimate power. Still, its fun to play. I'm pretty drunk already. The colors in the living room are becoming increasingly vivid, and I can no longer see without this deep haze clouding my vision. I feel fine though. I'm not thinking about Kyle. At least, not that much.

"My next rule," Wendy states (as part of her power as president). "Stan, you have to take a drink of beer every time you say the word drink, drank, or drunk."

My eyes widen in accusation. "Dude, why you singling me out like that? You want me to get drunk?"

Something about the tint in her eyes makes me believe that is exactly her objective. DJ lights up at this idea. "Yeah! Make him drink twice!"

Drinks come and go. Cans of beer are drank and thrown away. I lose track of what I have been drinking, and how much I have drank. If that stupid rule applied to that sentence, I would have to drink four more fucking gulps. Now five. It's a conspiracy! Doesn't help that I'm one of three guys there. I think girls like to pick on us because they know they can't handle as much as we can. Ooooh, that statement's gonna get me in trouble, just watch.

My mind drifts to Kyle. I wonder what's going on at his house right now. I bet that he and Kenny were playing their guitars together, when suddenly they realized they couldn't handle it anymore, kicking everyone out on the streets and making love on the couch that Kyle and I shared so many memorable talks on. I know its ridiculous, but you can't hurt me for thinking it. Deep down I know Kenny doesn't swing that way, but Kyle is a very persuasive guy. He's amazing. Kenny's said so himself. I'm just waiting for them to hook up. If they do, I'm going to die.

I scold myself for thinking about Kyle. I'm at Wendy's. Not Kyle's. Kyle is not on my mind right now. Kyle is far away. Kyle shouldn't be mentioned anymore. Kyle doesn't want me to be around him.

Kyle's doesn't want my friendship anymore.

"Stan, you gonna drink that beer or just stare into it all night?" Wendy jokes, bringing my thoughts back into reality. Thank you, Wendy. She smiles at me, as if accepting my gratitude.

"I'm all out of drinks," DJ announces. With that, she bounces off of the couch, making the long trip from the living room through the hall into the kitchen. Wendy's house is pretty big, actually. Her parents could be home and they wouldn't even know that they have kids downstairs. Good thing they're not though.

I slam back the entire contents of my cup, not wanting another bitching about me not drinking fast enough. I very slowly peel myself off of the couch and navigate my way into the kitchen as well. I discover in the process of the move that I cannot feel my entire lower portion of my body. At least, not in a physical sense. I know it's still there.

"You doin' okay?" DJ asks, half concerned as I stumble into the kitchen. Under the florescent lights, her hair looks almost silver. She's pretty, but not in the conventional sense. Her teeth are crooked and she has a baby face. Which would be cute except that she hides it with a gallon of makeup. She has big dough eyes though. I'm a sucker for eyes. Kyle's eyes are mesmerizing. Dammit! STOP THINKING ABOUT KYLE!

"I'm fine," I tell her, though not really. I'm ready to fall over. I don't drink this much, and I know I'm going to be paying for it tomorrow. Shit, I'm stupid. Is she touching my arm? Is she pulling herself closer to me? Whoa, I guess not all of my lower body is numb.

"DJ, I gotta get more beer…" I plead, but I quickly succumb to her intense stare. Yep. I TOLD Kenny. She and I are going to break down and make out in a closet. Didn't think it would actually happen, but everything is possible.

"You like me, don't you, Stan," she says, barely above a whisper. She's pretty forward. A little more tact would be appreciated, but at this point, I don't give a shit.

No. I like Kyle. "Maybe," I say playfully. She moves even closer to me. "Why. You like me?"

"Maybe."

I look at her blankly. This is so immature. Just kiss me already! "Okay then," I say, losing interest.

"Do you want to kiss me?" she asks, another step forward.

I blink my eyes a thousand times to readjust how close she is to my face. I really don't feel like playing, but the hell with it. "Do you want to kiss me?"

She smiles softly. I'm going to ignore her teeth for now. I know I may have imperfections, but bad teeth bug me.

Call me crazy. I'm lonely. I waste no time in pulling her close to me, her red lips sinking into mine. They are dry and taste of strawberries. She's not a bad kisser. Not at all. She pulls my face closer into hers with her hands, and we fall against the counter that wasn't too far behind her. Her hands immediately move from my face down to my ass, where she clamps on tightly. A slight moan escapes her lips.

We move from one end of the kitchen to the other, near the bathroom. There is a small, dark hallway, and she pushes me up against the wall. I open my eyes long enough to look around the room. She is pushing me into the bathroom. I can't help but start to laugh. I mean, how romantic is making out in the bathroom anyway? Ha ha.

"What?" she asks, in between pants. I've got her pretty hot and heavy already, just by exploring her back with my hands. I haven't even made it up front yet, though I'm curious. She has got a nice body from what I can tell, and I wouldn't mind seeing, or feeling, any of it. I reluctantly accept her aggressions toward the bathroom.

Once inside, her kisses become sloppy as she tries hard to unbutton my shirt. No fucking way am I getting it on the bathroom. Aaaah, but she just pulled me so close she can feel my growing erection on her leg. She gently squeezes my leg with hers, driving me crazy. She successfully pulls off my shirt, laying it on a pile of her already removed zip up shirt on the floor. I push her into the sink, where she yelps with pain but doesn't pull back. Her kisses are needy and quick. She attempts to move her mouth to my ear where she unsuccessfully blows into it and annoyingly wets it. Kyle does it so much better in my dreams. Fuck, I'm so disappointed because I'll never know what kissing him is like.

I push my hands up inside her shirt, reaching the bottom of her under wire bra. I adjust my hands and lift it, moving my hands up to her breasts. She pushes me until I fall down on the toilet, with her straddling me. I can see up her skirt, and I feel the smoothness of her chest. She is hot. I readjust my eyes to see a figure moving about in the kitchen. Yep, definitely left the door wide open.

And Wendy is glaring back at me.

"Oh my GOD!" she yells, overbearingly loud. "They are NOT fucking in MY bathroom!" she announces to the world of acquaintances in the other room. I know she is mad when she doesn't even refer to me as Stan, but as a part of 'they.'

Shit. Fuck. Damn, I suck at life. I push DJ off of me, grab my shirt off the floor and head for the living room, where Wendy won't even look at me. Perfect. Just fucking perfect. Now I have two friends hating me.

Everyone else looks up to me in disbelief. I glare at all of them. "WHAT!" I scream. "There is a fucking reason I don't drink this much!" I try to rationalize. But I know it's my fault, and I won't blame it on the alcohol. Somehow, its effect left me the minute I saw Wendy. I am as sober as an AA member. Painfully sober.

"Wendy, listen to me…" I plead. Not sure why I owe her an explanation, but I feel guilty. Maybe cause its in her house? I dunno.

"Whatever Stan," she says, surprisingly calm. "I always do this. I ALWAYS fall for the wrong guys." She laughs to herself, but it's really more at herself, nervously. "You think I'll ever learn? Not anytime soon, I guess."

"Wendy, shit, let me explain."

She looks at me with tear coated eyes. "Explain what? You were making out with DJ in my bathroom. Don't know how much more explanation that needs!"

She has a point. "Okay," I say, reconsidering. "I don't know why I did it. Honestly, I'm so fucking wasted right now, and I'm not using it as an excuse, but I told you that when I get super drunk, I get…horny…and well I don't know it just sort of happened. Wendy your friendship means so much to me and I don't want to hurt you or hurt us because of this. I was stupid, I'm so sorry." Apologies come easier the more times you fuck up in life. I'm one hell of an apologizer.

Wendy sighs. "Its okay, Stan. Really. Just go home, you'll feel better."

I don't believe her. "Wendy, please don't hate me."

"Did you not just hear me? I said its okay! Just leave me alone right now, okay? I'll be fine in the morning."

I, too, sigh. DJ walks out of the kitchen, a little worse for the wear, not even attempting to cover up the fact that we just messed around. Shit, I'm such a dumbass. No wonder Kyle doesn't like me anymore.

I leave for home, for the second time today, dejected. Could my life possibly get any worse? I mean, really. I may be overdramatic, but when you hurt your friends and your friends don't want to talk to you, what do you have left? I don't deserve to have friends.

I decide to call Kenny. Much to my dismay, Jimmy answers the phone. I really don't want to talk to anyone but Ken, but I accept his very drunk, very high, greeting.

"Hey there, Stanley Marsh. What is going on with you?"

"Nothing good. I'm in a shitty ass mood today, and I doubt you want to talk to me."

I hear a roar of laughter on the other end. I can hear Kyle in the background, and it makes me ball my fists with jealous rage. Fuck them, I want out of here. Please let me just disappear!

"Aw, Stan. Turn that frown upside down!" Jimmy tries, but he is only pissing me off more.

"Watch it," I warn him.

"Whoa-a-ho! Touchy man!"

Grrrrr….

"Okay, Stan, I apologize. I am not trying to push your buttons. But hey, there is something you need to know," Jimmy tells me in complete seriousness.

I don't say anything, not wanting to waste another minute on this lame phone call.

"I need to leave this room, hang on."

Grrrrrrrrrrrrrr…

"Okay, I'm alone now. Stan, there is something you should know," he repeats himself. I grow more impatient with every word out of his mouth.

"You already said that," I say through gritted teeth.

"Okay. Well, Stan. Um, I'm not quite sure how to tell you this but…"

"He knows."

Silence.

"Stan? You still there?" Its quite possible he thought I hung up. I mean, I'm not breathing. There is no sound around me. I'm not saying anything. I'm not moving.

"What?" I ask in a lower voice than normal, trying my best to clarify what I just heard and erase the fact I thought he just told me that he knows.

"Kyle. He knows that you like him." Jimmy's voice is loud and clear.

Shit. Oh fuck, that's what I thought he said. Oh fuck oh fuck! Well, that explains the odd behavior. The avoiding. The rudeness. Everything.

"Stan?" Jimmy asks again. Not sure why he found it necessary to tell me this on this very night, when I thought things couldn't get any worse. Now this is officially the worst night ever in the history of my life. No questions asked.

"I'm here," I say, barely able to keep a grasp on reality. My feet have forgotten how to work.

"Alright, well, I just thought you should know," Jimmy says once more, justifying his total blow to my esteem. "Have a good night!"

Click.

Perfect. Just fucking perfect.