Platonic?

Izzy ran up a flight of stairs in the dorm, hardly seeing where he was going. Were the answers so close all along? Was it moral to receive them from Mimi instead of Amy? One question can't hurt, his fevered mind whispered. If Mimi doesn't want to talk, then that will be the end of it.

He searched the hallway, having never visited Mimi before. Mimi wasn't a common name, so he knocked on the first door labeled such, unaware that his eyes were wild and his mad dash had drawn sweat to his forehead.

A stranger opened the door, gazed over him, and sighed. "Mimi," she called over her shoulder, sounding deeply annoyed. "There's another lovestruck boy for you."

Laughter sweet as wind chimes drifted from the room, and Izzy knew he was in the right place. I wonder if Joe is aware of how much competition he has. Should I warn him, or is it kinder to say nothing? But those thoughts would have to wait; Mimi was approaching.

"Izzy! What are you doing here, looking crazy?" Mimi spread her arms, filling the doorway. The sun was setting beyond a window, providing seraphic backlighting for her pose. For once, Izzy allowed Mimi her theatrics without mental commentary.

"I watched the DVD, thank you. Did you… watch it to the end?"

Mimi's catlike smile faded, leaving a stricken expression that turned Izzy's stomach. "Natasha, I'll be back in a few," Mimi called to her roommate.

"I assume we're going back to my room," Izzy said, leading the way to the stairwell, "given the sensitive nature of this topic." Mimi sighed, an unusually somber sound, then nodded. She was silent until they were seated opposite each other in his room, each in a desk chair.

"You want to know about Jerry," was Mimi's blunt opener.

Izzy watched his hands curl in his lap. "I do. Amy seems unwilling to speak of him, but what I have heard is cause for concern."

"She said something about him to you?!" Mimi cried, half standing. "But she never- she hasn't said anything to me!" Izzy's stomach sank, both because it seemed that Mimi lacked the information he wanted, and because she was angry. He hastened to say something soothing.

"All she said was that the relationship ended badly, although the context suggested that it ended very badly."

Mimi sighed, then sank back onto her seat. "Okay... I don't know much, but… Jerry was on Tai's soccer team in high school. I think Jerry asked Amy out in February of senior year, but Amy said no. Tai, Matt, and I encouraged her to at least try going out and having some fun. She never dated or said she liked anyone or took a break. Tai talked Jerry up, since he knew him from soccer. People liked Jerry, he was outgoing and funny and confident."

Izzy hoped Mimi didn't notice his jaw clenching. He was infuriatingly familiar with the pressure that Tai, Matt, and Mimi had exerted on Amy. People seemed to believe that if a young person wasn't surrounded by friends, if they didn't spend every free moment on social activities, then there was something wrong with them- something that required fixing.

He and Amy weren't extroverted. They needed time alone, and they preferred pursuing their hobbies to socializing. To them, one real friend was worth a hundredof the kind that bled out of your life as soon as you walked off the graduation stage with your diploma. Introversion was character trait, not a character flaw, so long as you had a few loved ones.

But that was an old tirade, one that had no place being spoken now, so he focused on Mimi. "We kept bugging her about it, and when he asked her again about a month later, she said yes. I grilled her for details over the phone, but she never had much to say about him."

And for the first time, Izzy knew exactly what Mimi was thinking. Guilt was evident in the slumping of her shoulders, in the glistening of her eyes. "I should have known there was a problem. Amy loves telling stories." Her eyes flicked to his, and a tiny smile tugged at her lips. "She talks about you way more than she ever talked about him. Seriously, it's always, 'Izzy this, Izzy that.' She likes you a lot!"

Izzy's expression went bovine. With a jolt of panic, he shoved her final sentence aside, not allowing his mind, voice, or heart to touch it. "I've certainly found her to be of a witty, descriptive bent."

Mimi frowned, annoyed that he ignored her teasing. "Right, so it was weird that she gave me the cliff notes. I figured she was being shy, so I let it go. But then, when I saw that video... Didn't Amy look uncomfortable with Jerry?"

Izzy didn't recognize his sudden spike of temper, not even as his hands gripped the seat of his chair, indenting the cushion. "He was far too pushy. She didn't want to be picked up. She didn't want to be kissed, especially not in front of a camera. If I'm following the timeline you've provided, this video was shot within two months of the start of their relationship. That isn't much time for her to grow comfortable with him, to ease into physical contact."

"Oh, Izzy! Two months is forever for a high school relationship! And she was eighteen! It's not like they were little freshmen. What's upsetting about a hug and a kiss?" Mimi sighed and ran her fingers through her hair. "I don't understand why she's always been so uncomfortable with touch..."

"I doubt Amy is interested in- or cognizant of -arbitrary high school relationship standards," Izzy snapped. "And clearly, this Jerry didn't respect her boundaries. If her desire to go slow bothered him, then he should have either resigned himself to waiting or broken up with her."

Izzy rose so rapidly that his chair rolled into his desk with a thump. He began to pace, too worked up to remain seated. Mimi's eyes widened as they followed his prowling.

She held her hands up, palm out. "Don't get all hissy. I don't know what happened! I wasn't there, and she won't tell me. I hate it when she does that!" Mimi paused, then calmed herself with a deep breath. "They broke up right after prom, although I didn't hear about it until mid June. Amy dropped off the grid for a few weeks. I was getting frantic when Matt finally picked up one of my calls. Matt said that Amy broke up with Jerry, but he wouldn't tell me anything. No one would- and I called everyone, believe me!"

Again, Mimi needed a moment to collect herself. Her gaze shifted to the side as her tone softened. "But Amy, she sounded so… hurt, like… Wounded, I mean. I just, I couldn't… I couldn't bear to make her sad, so I had to let it go. I figured Jerry cheated on her- the bastard! -or something like that…"

And in his gut, with an instinct he rarely experienced, Izzy knew Mimi was wrong. If he cheated on Amy, I doubt she would have been too hurt. She didn't trust him in that video, and that was only a week or two prior to prom. That implies that she was never close to Jerry. Something else happened. I'm certain.

But Mimi didn't know what it was, and that did not bode well. Izzy could only imagine the kind of pressure Mimi exerted on Amy to convince her to open up. If she wouldn't tell her, then whom would she have told?

Tai knew- he hinted as much when he pinned Izzy to a wall. But the bruises on Izzy's neck hadn't vanished yet, and he had no desire to provoke further damage. Regardless, if Tai and Matt wouldn't give Mimi details, then why would they tell him? Speaking to Amy was the most direct option, but Izzy had no idea how to broach such a sensitive topic. Even if he did, he suspected that she wouldn't open up to him. Not yet.

Sudden movement made Izzy snap into attention. Mimi stood over him, scowling and waving in his face. "Izzy! Don't ignore people who are trying to talk to you!"

"I apologize," Izzy sighed. "I realize that it's none of my business, and that it might be best to let the proverbial sleeping dog lie. However…" His anger faded, swallowed by sorrow as he recalled seeing fear, uncertainty, and pain flit through Amy's expressive eyes. "The damage lingers. I wish there were something I could do to help… If I only knew!"

Mimi stared, eyes wide. She entered his personal space, and Izzy froze, recalling the last time she did this. At least there were no potential torture devices around, but then, Mimi was more creative about such things than him.

Mimi grasped his shoulders. "You will ask her out, right? I've never heard her talk about someone the way she talks about you. I've never seen her try so hard to connect with someone. I know I give you a hard time, but… I think you already are helping her, and that's pretty amazing."

Izzy went mute, unable to digest her kindness, unsure if he trusted her claim that Amy's interest in him was special. He tried to brush it off like the rest of her teasing, but… Well, she clearly wasn't teasing, for once. Her earnestness surmounted his impulse to deflect, to withdraw. When he finally scowled and produce a hard, disinterested grunt, it was just a vain effort to save face. Mimi already knew that her words affected him; that much was evident in her small, hopeful smile.

She patted his shoulders with something like affection, turned, and flounced out of the room.

XXX

Izzy exited the math building after class and scanned the surroundings. He, Amy, and Joe had lunch plans, and Amy agreed to meet him here. He spotted her on a bench, eyes shut, head tipped back, sunbathing on an uncommonly warm October day. Her lips curved into an absent smile, and Izzy smiled in return, although of course she couldn't see it.

He approached her bench and sat on the far edge to avoid startling her. She didn't react to the shifting of the weathered wood, so he leaned closer and murmured, "Amy?"

She opened unfocused, heavily-lidded eyes. Izzy frowned, wondering if she often drifted off like this. Amy blinked, then stretched like a cat rising from a nap. "Hi, Izzy," she sighed, in a tone suggesting utter relaxation.

"Good afternoon," he replied, somewhat gruffly. "It's nice to see you so at ease after your exam." He paused, unsure of whether he should scold her for dozing in public, or for abandoning him to study for her test with Joe for over a week. He plucked the second thought from the stream of his mind and discarded it with mild disgust, like straining drowned insects from a pool.

"Mmm!" It was almost a moan, forced out as Amy grasped the bench and stretched stiff muscles. Izzy scooted closer, his eyes riveted to the curve of her back. When he caught himself staring, he colored and fixed his gaze on her face.

Amy slipped her hands beneath the neckline of her dress, providing a glimpse of the skin underneath. She rubbed her shoulders, wincing as she worked on problem areas. Izzy caught himself wondering if she might want help, then tossed that thought with the last rejected one. "I guess I was pretty intense. I'm here to learn, though, right? Hopefully I wasn't too stressed out and annoying…"

Izzy hesitated, unsure of how to respond. He didn't want to criticize, and he would rather do a great many onerous things than admit to feeling hurt by her unavailability. But maddeningly, he was unable to drop the subject. "How could you have annoyed me? I've barely seen you for days."

He thought his tone was normal, but Amy froze. Her eyes fixed on his, and Izzy suppressed a sigh. They had that far-off quality, the one that made Izzy feel as though he had teleported to some mystical otherworld. He clung to the edge of the bench, grounding himself in reality.

Amy scooted closer, until their thighs almost touched. "Izzy... I told you I was studying. I wasn't avoiding you. And- And I thought- Well, I thought that maybe I've been… imposing? You prefer being alone, right?"

"You're never imposing." The words rushed out, as if his heart was forcing them past his mind before it could edit them. Frustration and embarrassment reared, raw and terrible- but died and were forgotten in the wake of her delighted smile. Encouraged, he left his filter off. "Even if you were imposing... Then fine, impose away. I'm disposed to indulge you."

Only when she giggled and leaned closer did he recognize the danger. Izzy cleared his throat and stared at the sidewalk, suddenly unable to withstand the pleasure his words gave her. He imagined his hand hovering over a button that would turn his filter back on and longed to slam it. But, while he was feeling brave, and while Amy was receptive to his honesty… He had to make one more push for what he needed. "I would be much obliged if, in return... You set aside time for me when you're preparing for exams."

The weight of her gaze was incredible, but Izzy kept his eyes firmly on the concrete. She moved closer still, until their legs touched. "I'm really sorry, Izzy. I didn't realize... You missed me?"

Izzy's mind scrambled, tripping all over itself to conceive an answer that was both safe and soothing. His heart clobbered his ribs; it seemed a wonder that she didn't hear it. After a long silence, he produced an uncomfortable grunt and placed his hand on hers. What else could he do? Saying yes was impossible, but then… So was lying to her. He suppressed a grimace, gathered his courage, and glanced at her, apprehensive about her reaction.

"I'm hungry," she said, obviously changing the subject- and still smiling as if she had never been more pleased, despite his lacking response. "We should meet Joe at the student union."

"As you will." Slowly, Izzy stood and helped her rise with him. She held his arm as they walked, and somehow, Izzy knew that she had understood him- and his difficulties with expressing himself. That understanding was such a rarity, such a welcome relief that he hardly knew how to digest it. He trotted at her side in a daze, nodding at appropriate intervals as Amy's voice chirped pleasantly above him.

Then, a hand landed on his shoulder with jarring force. Izzy turned to see a tall, thin boy beside him. His stomach soured when he recognized Michael, a boy from his high school, one of Shauna's friends. He had doleful blue eyes, obscured by thick-rimmed glasses. His black hair was shaggy around his weak chin and shallow cheeks, and, as ever, he had a day's worth of scruff on his face. He wore a plaid button down, a green cardigan, and tight blue jeans.

"I thought it was you, Scarecrow." Michael's voice was as mournful as Izzy remembered, even as he smiled with pale lips. A muscle twitched in Izzy's face at the sound of that nickname. He glanced at Amy, dreading that she had heard it. She tipped her head quizzically, glancing between them. They were blocking foot traffic, so Izzy allowed himself to be led aside by the girl attached to his arm- the girl who could soon learn things he would desperately prefer to remain hidden.

There was a pause, as Izzy refused to answer to Scarecrow. Amy's other hand joined her first around his arm. "Are you talking to Izzy?"

"I'm trying to." Michael lifted a brow and stuffed long, spindly hands into the pockets of his cardigan. He fell into his typical slumped posture, as if he strained beneath the weight of the world, like Atlas. And, with that thought, Izzy realized that Amy's prattle about Greek and Roman mythology had leaked into his brain.

"It would help to use his name." There was a strain in Amy's tone that Izzy had never heard before.

"What?" Michael tossed his head to swing hair out of his eyes. "We called him Scarecrow in high school." He frowned and slid his gaze back to Izzy. "This your new girlfriend?" he asked, smirking.

Panic dropped down Izzy's spine like a stone, spreading ripples over the rest of his nervous system. He wanted to grab Amy and run, but there was a disconnect between his inner world and outer world, like a dream where he was being pursued, but could not move.

"Why would you call him Scarecrow?" Amy asked, ignoring the rest of what Michael said. "I assume it's not because he needs a brain, because that's just silly."

Michael cracked a smile, then cocked an eyebrow. "Can't you tell? Just look at him."

Amy turned her eyes to him. Izzy felt like a deer in headlights, unable to prevent the impending impact. He watched their progress over his frame, starting at his forehead, working down, and then back up. Finally, she put her hands on her hips and shook her head.

"I don't see it." Izzy was finally able to pinpoint why her voice sounded strange. It was laced with that odd buzzing undertone that Tai's had when his temper was strained. Izzy stared at her in astonishment- was she capable of that kind of anger? But he pushed those thoughts away, because she was still speaking, and every word could potentially reveal vital information.

"What I do see is a sweet, intelligent gentleman. And I would much rather continue our conversation than have this one with you, so... Excuse us."

And she half-pulled him back onto the sidewalk, so swiftly that Izzy didn't stand a chance of observing Michael's reaction. He was astonished, and probably would have behaved like an actual scarecrow if Amy weren't dragging him. She was breathing hard, and her footsteps were clomping. Izzy touched her hand, and the contact seemed to break through whatever mood rode her. She blinked and released him.

"Oh, stars. Was that your friend? Was I a total bitch to your friend? I'm so sorry, I don't know what came over me. I can go back and apologize- I'll go back and-"

"Amy, stop." Izzy tried to smile reassuringly, but he felt too raw. "No one who calls me that is my friend. Please, calm down." He was too overwhelmed to notice that he was squeezing her hand. His mind was alight with horror. What if the nicknames that were Shauna's parting gift followed him here? He should have known better than to attend this university! So many local kids went here! But the full scholarship, including room and board, was too tempting, and he wanted to remain near his parents.

But then… Shauna's crushingly descriptive gossip had shadowed him since sophomore year. This was the first time someone objected and replaced cruel words with kind ones. His grip tightened on Amy's hand.

"Thank you." He wished he had a better way to express what her defense meant to him.

Amy exhaled slowly. "I'm glad he isn't your friend. He seems like a self-satisfied jerk." Her mouth curved into a deep frown. "Why would he call you Scarecrow? I still don't get it."

Izzy raised an eyebrow. The jibe made immediate sense the first time he heard it. "It's a remark on my frame." She stared blankly, so he held his other arm out. He was scrawny. She didn't know, having never seen him shirtless, but his ribs were visible, as were the sliding motions of the slight muscles beneath his skin when he moved. That was apparently repulsive to Shauna.

Amy huffed and looked away. "People amaze me. Too fat, too skinny, too short, too tall… What they should really worry about is how boring they are, wasting time judging other people's bodies. I think you're fine.

"Any dang way," she continued, as if to brush off that encounter, "I'm soooo hungry. Let's go to the student union, Joe is probably looking at his watch every two seconds."

Izzy couldn't help but smile. "He almost certainly is." His fingers tightened around hers, an she glanced down, staring at their connected hands. Nerves rocked him when he realized that she was just now noticing. He cleared his throat and released her. Should he say something? Apologize, perhaps? Impossible; he was too damned flustered. Instead, he increased his pace.

Running away, he thought bitterly. Fleeing from one who would defend me. What's wrong with me?

"Slow down," Amy cried, and he was surprised by the suppressed laughter in her voice. "I won't starve to death in the next ten minutes." She hurried to his side and slid her fingers against the inside of his elbow.

Was Amy that clueless, or was she pretending that nothing happened? Could it be that she wanted to hold his hand? Regardless, his emotions calmed as she prattled cheerfully. He listened, indulging in the musical sound of her voice, and grinned as she related an embarrassing tale about Tai with sister-like affection.

It was a ten minute walk, but they arrived at the student union as fast as blinking.

XXX

Izzy sat at a table with Joe in the crowded student union food court. They usually ate in the cafeteria, where they could use their meal points instead of cash, but Joe and Amy wanted to celebrate after their first midterm, which apparently meant eating fast food. He and Joe purchased their meals quickly, but Amy still stood at the back of a long line.

They had a corner table near cushy armchairs. Every chair and table was taken, and even more students sat on the floor. The din of chatter was unbearable.

"Did she mention her test score?" Joe asked, glancing towards Amy. Izzy shook his head, and Joe reached for his duffel bag. "Hold on, I asked her to lend it to me."

"Joe, why would you want her test?" Izzy speared a bit of lettuce with his fork. He wasn't particularly interested in food and viewed procuring nourishment as a chore.

Joe snorted, opened a folder, removed a paper, and handed it to Izzy. "That's why," he said, poking the red numbers at the top of the test.

Izzy frowned. "110%?" he read, speaking into the paper, as if it would offer an explanation. "That's… excessive. Wasn't the test difficult?"

"The average was a 65. I got an 87. She's really smart. Read her short answers." Izzy nearly asked why, but something about his friend's expression convinced him to obey. He flipped through the pages, then read a few answers. They were thorough and written in thoughtful, concise language.

"They're strong responses," he admitted, returning the test.

"But she struggles with calculations and logic, or at least, that's what she keeps saying. Whenever I praise her, she points out her weak spots. It's frustrating."

"That much I'm familiar with- and you should be, too. People often react harshly when presented with evidence that someone outperformed them academically. She's attempting to ward off that reaction."

"Well, the numbers speak for themselves." Joe put the test away and zipped his bag. "And my point is that she can keep up with you- intellectually, I mean. Or at least, you wouldn't have to translate your thoughts into simpler language with her-"

"I'm not interested," Izzy interrupted. "And, besides, it's not as if I can convince her to date me because someone said we're compatible. There's no evidence to suggest she's interested in me romantically." He dug into his salad, shredding the greens with his fork. Why was everyone trying to get involved in his love life? He didn't want a love life. That's it, he thought darkly, drowning an unfortunate leaf in a pool of dressing. I need to downplay my relationship with her. I can't cut her off like before, but I need to see less of her.

Memories of the previous week played forcibly through his brain. He spent it alone, which should have been bliss. But instead, the quiet was unbearable, the stillness stifling. He nearly joined Amy and Joe in the library a few times, but the notion offended his pride. After continually emphasizing that there was nothing special about his relationship with Amy, he didn't want to chase after her at the first signs of her diverting attention elsewhere.

But he couldn't deny that he strongly desired to do so.

Joe broke through those thoughts with an exasperated, "Izzy. Please. You like Amy. She likes you. Why do you keep insisting that there's nothing there?"

"Because there isn't." Izzy pressed the words out through gritted teeth.

"Pardon me, but… I beg to differ." Izzy shared a quick look with Joe, then turned his attention towards the unknown voice. A boy sat on one of the nearby armchairs, with a massive textbook open on his lap. Izzy's glance fell on his placid blue eyes. The stranger was also redheaded, but the hue was lighter than Izzy's, and his cut was longer. His bangs fell into his eyes, and he absently swept them out, splaying them across his regal forehead. His nose was long and pointed, and his lips were thin and flat. He held himself straight and motionless, almost like a fixture in the room, rather than a living person.

Izzy had no idea how to respond, so he stared blankly at the stranger. Apparently, this was enough of an invitation to continue. "I noticed your group earlier, mostly because the girl with you was speaking with such animation. I know it's rude, and I do apologize. My name is Ryo Hiraki. I study psychology," he added, as if this gave him license to eavesdrop.

"Indeed," was Izzy's insipid response. He finally took a bite of his salad, using it as a prop for something to do, because he was utterly bewildered. He didn't give his name, as that would imply that this was a normal conversation, which it most definitely was not.

Those thin lips twisted into a wan smile. "Yes. And I overheard your claim that there's no romantic interest between yourself and this girl- Amy, you said."

Izzy continued to stare, not bothering to suppress a grimace. Just what he needed- a complete stranger telling him how he felt, another person trying to interpret his actions. Didn't these people have anything else to do?! "And I assume you have an alternate theory." He speared a radish and crunched it noisily.

"Now, now," Ryo replied, steepling his fingers. "I'm trying to help."

"Kindly get in line," Izzy muttered. His eyes roved over Ryo, as if to find a weak spot that would make him go away. All he noticed was the logo sewn onto his button down shirt. It was the insignia of a nearby college, a prestigious one where students paid three times as much for the same quality of education. Izzy's heavy brow furrowed.

Ryo's eyes flicked towards his lap, and his hand twitched, as if he wanted to take notes. Izzy took the opportunity to shoot a disgruntled look at Joe, but he looked amused, curse him.

"Her body language is more telling than yours," Ryo continued, as if there had been no objections, "so we'll begin there. She leans towards you when you speak, and she mirrors your gestures. Furthermore, you have a distinctive way of speaking, and she's adopted some of your word choice and syntax. These are all signs of deep regard. And I doubt I have to explain the significance of her making physical contact with you at all opportunities. The evidence of her being romantically interested in you is overwhelming."

He delivered his speech in a detached monotone, as if he wasn't saying anything remarkable, as if he hadn't just dipped his fingers into the lives of strangers and analyzed specific details. Izzy's annoyance morphed into shock and something close to awe.

"That's… amazing," Joe sputtered.

Ryo smiled faintly, but his lips straightened back out as he continued. "You're much more subtle. The most obvious sign of your interest in her is, contrarily, the vehemence with which you deny that interest. And it's not just what you say. You've been destroying your salad and closing off your posture. Defensive, unsettled physical twitches." Izzy drew back in his seat, away from Ryo. Then he grimaced and forced himself to sit calmly, to deny him the signals he was pointing out.

"Furthermore, you place your body between her and the nearest person, subconsciously showing both dominance- this is mine, if you will- and the desire to protect. She shrinks when someone other than you and your friend gets too close; you seem to be trying to prevent that fear. Your body language relaxes when she's close to you. And, finally, you speak to her in a softer tone than you use with your friend- Joe, yes? Not conclusive evidence of attachment, but strong evidence."

Stay calm. In truth, Izzy was lowkey freaking out. He felt naked, as if Ryo had stripped him in the middle of the food court; and, in a way, he had. He fixed his eyes on his tattered salad and took an obscene amount of time selecting his next bite.

"I've upset you," Ryo observed, adjusting his bangs again. "I'm sorry. I wouldn't have said anything, but… She seems like a nice girl, and you only live once." He closed his book and stood. "I won't trouble you further." With that, he nodded politely and slipped into the crowd mulling along the edges of the food court, disappearing.

Joe frowned and glanced about, looking disoriented. "Did that just happen?"

Izzy sighed and pushed his ruined lunch away. He bent his elbows against the table and dropped his chin into his upturned palms. "Indeed it did." He was going to say more, but Amy was approaching, weaving through the crowd.

"Gosh, that took forever!" she complained as she sat beside Izzy. Then she scooted her chair towards his, bent her elbows against the table, and dropped her chin into her palms. Izzy's eyes jerked to Joe's.

Another damned point to the obnoxious psychology boy.

XXX

Izzy was occupied with his computer when a knock on his dorm room door disturbed him. He glanced at Joe, but he was apparently too absorbed in his organic chemistry textbook to be bothered with such trivialities as visitors. Besides, there was a playful, rhythmic feel to this knock, and Izzy was fairly sure it was for him.

A glance through the peephole confirmed his suspicions. His hand rested on the doorknob, but he seemed unable to twist it. So, he thought regretfully, we're back to this. Every shred of evidence indicating that something was building between Amy and him made him more nervous, more frustrated. In truth, he was desperately afraid, but he tried not to acknowledge that.

"Let her in, Izzy." Joe's volume was soft, but his tone was not. "I am not watching you do that to yourself- or to her- again."

The muscles in his back tightened. No. No, he couldn't stomach hurting her again. But, in an attempt to salvage some pride, he tried to clear the tension from his frame and speak lightly. "Of course I'm opening it."

And then he did just that.

Amy was beaming, and Izzy cleared his throat. She acted as if she hadn't seen him a few hours ago at lunch. And, with that thought, his stomach produced a massive growl. He grimaced, recalling that he destroyed more of his salad than he ingested.

Amy blinked. "So I guess you haven't eaten yet, huh?" Izzy colored with embarrassment. Amy placed a palm against his stomach, so softly that he wasn't sure if she was touching him. "Poor tummy. You don't always eat as much as you should. You hardly touched your lunch."

"He forgets to eat half of the time," Joe said, turning away from his book. Izzy scowled, but Joe gave him a tiny smile in return. "I try to make sure he eats something every day -his mother made me promise to- but I could use some help."

"Izzzyyy," Amy scolded, pressing her palm more firmly against him. "Your stomach is wriggling. Doesn't that hurt? Stars!" His gut chose that precise moment to rumble again. Izzy shoved his hands in his pockets to prevent himself from slapping his forehead.

"Don't treat me like an errant child," he said through gritted teeth. "And Joe is grossly exaggerating. I do occasionally forget to eat, but it isn't a daily occurrence. And I eat plenty when I'm at home."

"I would, too, if I were you," Joe said, sighing longingly. "Your mom's cooking is amazing. I can't believe how thin you are. I'd be round as a walrus if I lived at your place."

"It's really that good?" Amy asked, sounding impressed. Joe flicked his eyes to Izzy's, and he swallowed hard, sensing that his friend was about to set him up.

"It really is. You should go home with Izzy and see for yourself. I'm sure his parents would love to meet you."

Izzy glared at Joe and made frantic 'stop it!' hand motions behind Amy's back. That hint was just too strong. He doubted that people usually took romantic interests home this early in the semester, not unless they were dating and it was going very well. And if Joe ever informed his mother that he was exhibiting signs of interest in someone at school- which was a distinct possibility, as he and Joe had known each other forever- then his parents would want to know all about it, and wouldn't that be a fun conversation?

"To meet me?" Amy echoed, tilting her head.

"Pay him no mind," Izzy said hastily. "He's being facetious. Now, I assume you want to go to the cafeteria?"

Amy blinked, looked at him, then Joe, and then back at him. "Uh... Yeah, do you want to grab food and come back? Maybe we could play video games? Or we could watch Futurama. Are you hungry, Joe?" She wandered to Joe's desk, glanced over his shoulder, and grimaced. "Oh, no! Orgo is our next exam, isn't it? I'm gonna get destroyed..."

"You'll be fine. I'll help you study. As for dinner..." Izzy could guess Joe's dilemma: he was hungry, and he wanted to go with them, but he also wanted them to be alone together. Joe sighed, clearly unsure of how to navigate these uncertain waters.

Amy placed a hand on Joe's shoulder and leaned in, and Izzy felt his interest sharpen. With the exception of himself, Tai, and Matt, this was the first time he saw her intentionally touch a boy. It struck him that Amy thought highly of Joe. He considered the time they spent together in classes, labs, and libraries. In fact, she had probably avoided contact with everyone but Joe during her test preparations.

A foreign, uncomfortable feeling slithered along Izzy's gut, and it was much more distracting than his hunger. But it was unidentifiable and unfamiliar, so he dismissed it and watched their exchange.

"I get it," Amy chirped. "You're hungry, but you're in the zone, right? We'll bring something back for you!" Then she abruptly turned back to Izzy. "Ah, um, assuming you'll come with me?"

"My pleasure," he replied, in a flat tone suggesting that it very much was not. Izzy was far past his emotional threshold and longing for his old, stoic existence. Joe scowled, but Izzy returned his gaze calmly, providing no reaction.

Amy asked Joe what he wanted, then said, "Um… Let's go?" Her hesitance caused a surge of repentance. Izzy formally offered her his arm, bent at the elbow. A smile softened her face as she accepted. He led her out of the room and towards the elevator.

"You know," Amy said, drumming her fingers along the inside of his elbow, "I bet we look silly to most people. This gesture went out of style, didn't it?" Izzy produced an indifferent grunt, as he was still distracted, but focused when he realized that she had stiffened.

"I'm not interested in the opinions of strangers and acquaintances. I have no reservations about offering you my arm, unless, of course, you do."

"I like it. I really do. You're so…" Amy trailed off, head tilted in consideration. "…dashing."

Izzy nearly missed a step in his stride, but was able to recover before he pulled them both down. "You're joking," he choked. He knew exactly what he was: a nerd, straight to the core, and he was happy with that. And nerds were not dashing. They were generally awkward and antisocial, and, if there were exceptions to that stereotype, he was not one of them.

Amy frowned. "That wouldn't be a funny joke?" Izzy felt his eyes narrowing suspiciously, and she huffed and looked away. "What. I feel safe when I'm with you. It's… nice."

He hastened to dip into his larder of wit and dry, subject-ending humor, but he had nothing. Well, except for a desire to keep arguing the point, which he knew she wouldn't like. He grimaced, aware that he was turning a compliment into a mild altercation in the name of curiosity. "I can't provide much safety. I doubt my usefulness in a physical fight would be superior to yours."

"Well, I don't intend to get in a fight," Amy retorted. "There's more to it than muscle." She sighed and turned her eyes towards the sky, where the sun dipped towards the earth, turning the world coppery and extending its shadows. "Much more."

"Such as?" Idiot! Just thank her and close the subject. But no, of course he had to keep prying until he knew exactly what she was trying to say.

For a moment, Amy was silent. Then she smiled and patted his shoulder. "Nooope. Sorry. Fishing for more compliments will get you nowhere." Izzy reluctantly returned her grin. She was dodging the conversation in that swirling way of hers, passing off her reluctance as mischief. Therefore, her definition of feeling safe was too personal to discuss, at least at the moment.

The awkwardness was crushing, and Izzy didn't know how to fix it. Women, he thought, then scolded himself. He was the one who made things uncomfortable with his prying, not her. Fixing it was his responsibility, but how could he manage it? I suppose there's always reciprocation, but that will require more earnestness than I'd care to display…

"I…" Izzy began, but his voice rose from its typical tenor monotone to a harsh, grating squeak. He tsked and looked away, embarrassed by the unattractive, uncomfortable sound.

"You…?" Amy prodded. The sight of her cocking her head like a spaniel, the image complete with her brown eyes and dark hair, eased some of Izzy's discomfort. His lips curved upward.

"I feel significantly lighter of heart when I'm with you." And then the words were out in the open, beyond his ability to retract or alter. That statement wasn't much, but still, it made his palms sweat. He was suddenly grateful that she preferred holding his arm, not his hand.

Amy smiled, and Izzy's eyes were drawn to her full lower lip, its decadent shape, its light pink color. She tilted her face away from him, but he sensed her pleasure in the sudden rhythmic sway of her stride.

Their talk gradually turned to other, more commonplace topics, but that subtle warmth between them remained.

XXX

Izzy and Amy dropped off Joe's dinner and were making themselves comfortable in Amy's room. "I have Halo 4 somewhere," Amy said as she glanced about, "but where the heck… I bet Tai moved it, ugh…"

Izzy made an indistinct sound from her desk chair, watching her. She moved slowly about the room, swaying her hips in a distracted way. "I bet you'll be really good at Halo 4, and then we can team up with Matt and Tai. We'll kick all kinds of butt!"

"There are different kinds?" Izzy asked as he opened his dinner takeout box. The rumbling of his stomach had progressed to a sharp ache, but still, he was more interested in watching Amy meander.

"Smartass!" Amy cried, all surprised delight. A retort popped into Izzy's mind, and he grinned, loving the way they set each other up for banter.

"That is one type, I suppose." Peals of snorting laughter cascaded from Amy, and that had him laughing, too. Then, focus snapped across Amy's face, and she hopped towards her bed, sinking to her knees.

"Awww, whaaaaat, how did it get under here?" Amy pulled a green-rimmed box out and frowned. "No, wrong one." She tossed the offending article onto her bed. "But there are more way under there… Why are there games under my bed?! Stupid Tai…"

Izzy sensed that Tai was a catch-all scapegoat for Amy, but, from what he had seen, there was probably justification for that. Amy flattened her upper body against the ground and raised her hips, sticking her head and shoulders below the bed frame. Her dress hiked up, and Izzy made an unexpected acquaintance with her tastes in panties. Hot pink, black laced satin stretched across her generous curves, the saturated hues contrasting deliciously with her skin. Izzy's brain was instantly abuzz with search-engine like activity, scanning for an appropriate protocol for this situation. Unsurprisingly, nothing useful was forthcoming.

At last, a sane thought broke through his panic. Stop staring, fool. It's disrespectful. With a reluctance that he was not going to explore, Izzy turned the chair towards the desk and diverted his attention to his sandwich. He took a bite, but his mouth was so dry that swallowing was nearly impossible. As his panic subsided, he became aware of other thoughts and emotions, some embarrassingly base.

And that, I suppose, is another type of ass. The humor edged away another layer of discomfort, and suddenly, he was jarringly aware of being aroused. Izzy nearly choked on his food, but was able to sell it as an innocuous cough. His mind flew back into uproar. He hadn't been physically or mentally turned on for a long time. That was uncommon behavior in a boy his age, he knew. But in the absence of a romantic partner with a talent for taking what she wanted, sexual thoughts weren't that interesting to him.

So what in the world was happening now?

"Aha! Found it!" Amy cried, and he heard her approaching him. He grit his teeth and said a thousand mental thanks for the desk guarding his lap. She placed the game on her bed, then sat down near him. Izzy handed her dinner over, and she thanked him and popped the container open. He listened to her explain how Halo 4 worked, trying to calm, looking anywhere but at her. If she noticed the slight trembling of his hands, she gave no indication.

It was growing harder to convince himself that this relationship was platonic. Ryo's mild baritone seemed to echo in his head, repeating what he said earlier today: "The evidence is overwhelming… She seems like a nice girl… You only live once."

I would prefer to live on my terms, Izzy thought, somewhat savagely. But it seemed that he was no longer in charge of them.

Author's Note: Ryo Hiraki is an OC made by Aveza- check her out, there is a link in my favorite author's list. Ryo Hiraki has no relation to the Tamers Ryo. Aveza also created Hana, whom we have seen, but not been formally introduced to (Amy knows her as Tiny Dancer at the moment, a nickname she gave her).