This Could Be Anywhere But Here
Chapter Seven
Kyle left my house about twenty minutes ago to pick up his friend from the airport. He wants us to meet this dude tonight, but I'm a little confused when Kyle calls me on his way there and lets me know what his plans are.
"I was thinking about just going to the Bijou or something. We can grab some food, too."
"The movies?" A movie theater is a weird place to meet someone. You don't pay attention to the people you're sitting next to when there's a fifty-foot screen with surround sound in front of you. But, it's not like we have many other options here in South Park. I'm sure Kenny will be disappointed, though.
"Yeah. Do you wanna do something else?"
"No, it's cool. I don't care. I'll let Kenny and Butters know what's going on when they get here. How's the drive?"
"Traffic. Good thing I left early."
"You by the city?"
"Yeah. Do you feel like staying on the phone and keeping me company until I get there? If one more person cuts in front of me, I may take up murder as a hobby."
I laugh, "Sure. It's like I'm saving lives."
X x x X
"Yo!" Kenny yells, and swings my door open like it's his own. Butters trails behind him.
"Jesus," I look up from the pages of my sports magazine, "don't you two knock?"
"Why? You jackin' off or something?" Kenny asks, casually.
Before Butters can even say hello, he looks horrified—like I'd really been whacking it a second ago. Sarcasm tends to fly right over his head.
Kenny approaches and takes a seat next to me on my bed, making himself quite comfortable, "You want us to come back? Let you finish up?"
"No way, dude." I glance at Butters, "And calm down, I was just reading."
Butters follows Kenny's lead over to my bed and takes a seat, folding his hands neatly on his lap, "Well, hey ya, Stan. What are we gonna do ta'night?"
I toss the magazine behind me, "I think we're doing the whole dinner and a movie thing."
"Dude." Kenny is, of course, surprised, "What the fuck is this? A first date?"
I shrug, "I don't know, Kyle suggested it. Remember he said he wants us to meet this Travis guy? I just have to finish getting ready and we can get out of here."
I head over to my closet to grab a shirt. I pull out a red button down and just throw it on over my navy tee. Good enough. I'm usually just sporting a t-shirt and jeans under my winter gear, so this is actually pretty fancy for me.
"Who is Travis?" Butters asks, his face already evolving into guilt that he may have forgotten someone's name.
I head for my bureau and spray some cologne while patting down small wrinkles throughout this shirt, "I don't know. He's some dude from Kyle's college." That Kyle has gotten pretty close to. I didn't think this visit was a huge deal, but Kyle has been talking about him a lot the past few days. I'm over that whole four year gap, I really am, but I can't help it—it gets annoying when he just keeps going on and on about stories from years that I wasn't part of with such excitement.
Kenny speaks up again, "Why does he want us to formally meet Travis at dinner and a movie? And dude…isn't it kind of weird that this guy is visiting him already? Didn't you two just come home a few weeks ago?"
I nod, checking out my hair in the mirror. I just want to get out of here so that Kenny will quit with all the questions.
I already have hat hair. I haven't put one on yet today and I already have hat hair. How does that even happen? I grab for my hair gel and pretend like I know how to use this shit.
I see Kenny's reflection in the mirror as he continues. "And I thought we were just going to the movies? Where did dinner come in too?"
"I don't know. Kyle—"
He cuts me off, "—suggested it, I know. Why'd you agree?"
"Dude, if you don't want to go, you don't have to go. It's not a big deal." Before I even open the gel, I decide that it's not the best idea. My winter or baseball hat might work better. Then again, you're pretty much a douchebag if you're in a restaurant with a hat on so I probably shouldn't go that route either. Plus, I pulled out the nice shirt, so a hat would look dumb.
I check out my hair again. Maybe it looks like it always does, but something looks kind of…I don't know…off. I brush my bangs slightly to the side with my fingers. Kenny's asking dumb questions anyway. Kyle invited us out tonight; it's something to do. I don't know why he's bitching.
"I definitely want to go. I just thought we'd do something else."
"Like what?" I ask, "There isn't shit to do here. At least this is a change of pace. I haven't been to the movies in a while."
He leans back onto my bed, propping his upper body upright with bent elbows, "We should go to the bar."
"Jeeze, Ken," Butters says, "is that the only place that you want ta go?"
I join in, just for the fun of singling Kenny out for once, "Yeah, that's pretty much ever your only suggestion. We don't have to send you off to any AA meetings, right?" I smirk at him in the mirror.
"Just because I like to go out drinking doesn't mean I'm a drunk. I like to have fun. We're fuckin' 21 years old, for Christ sakes. This is what people our age do." He grabs a pillow off the bed and throws it at my back.
I ignore it and let the pile of fluff fall to the floor. He has a point, "Maybe we can just go there afterwards."
Butters speaks up again as Kenny begins to ramble on about trying to get out of the whole thing and go to a bar anyway, "You've been looking at your hair for a, uh, little while now, Stan."
"Huh?" I turn away from the mirror.
Kenny smirks, "He's right. You've been looking at it for like ten minutes now and it looks exactly the fuckin' same. Check it out," he tussles his hand around the top of his own blonde head, "I'm done. It ain't that hard."
I turn back to look in the mirror. It doesn't look exactly the same. Just because Kenny can keep a hood over his head all day and still have it poof out of that orange parka doesn't mean everyone can do that.
"Anyway, Kyle's—" Kenny starts again, but I interrupt him.
"Jesus Christ, will you shut up about Kyle? He chose to go to the movies and dinner. I don't know why, but if you don't want to go, then don't go." I don't mean to be a dick but I don't know why he has to keep asking so many questions. We're going to the movies, so what? It's kind of lame, but whatever. We can always go to the bar afterwards.
The two of them give me an odd look for my tiny outburst and I immediately feel bad, "Sorry, I didn't get a lot of sleep last night." Which isn't entirely false. I haven't been sleeping great lately.
"Aw man," he stands up and shakes my shoulders, "wake the fuck up! If Travis turns out to be a Melvin like Butters, this could turn into a pretty funny night." He turns back to Butters, "No offense."
I laugh and push him away from me. Travis is coming from an Ivy League school, so there's a pretty good chance that he is some type of Melvin. I'm sure Kyle went to school with a lot of those stereotypical nerdy guys.
Butters stands as well, "Fellas, even if he is kind of a…Melvin…" he practically whispers the word, "we should still be nice to him. H-he is Kyle's friend and all, and Kyle wants us to meet him, so we should be polite."
I smirk. Kenny just waves off his comment, "If he's a Melvin, than him being Kyle's friend is even more of a reason to make fun of him."
"You sound like Cartman," I comment, still smirking.
His face contorts into a look of nausea, "Low, dude."
"Come on," I grab my keys off the bureau, along with my coat. "Let's get out of here. They're probably there already."
X x x X
During the car ride to the restaurant, I make a mental note to count the signs that this dude is Kyle's boyfriend. So far, they're all pointing to yes. He's been kind of shady about the topic since he's been home and I don't understand why. The only thing I know about this guy is his name gets dropped in all of Kyle's stories from college. I don't even know his last name.
Kenny and Butters walk ahead of me and I take my time in the parking lot. Dinner and a movie is such a dumb idea. Kenny hit the nail on the head with that call. And I'm not even hungry. We should've just gone to the damn bar. At least that's a much more social, laidback scene, and I can take a shot or two to get me out of this mood that I'm in. Dinner is so formal, and then the movies…I don't know what the fuck Kyle's thinking. He's not usually lame like this. He'd normally be up for drinks, not a three-course meal and a two-hour movie.
When we arrive, Kyle is waiting right inside with a guy that doesn't resemble a Melvin at all. So much hoping for hoping he'd be in an argyle sweater and thick glasses.
But he looks…well, pretty normal. Kind of like us. He's wearing jeans, an orange t-shirt and a brown jacket. He's short; I have a few inches on him, so does Kyle. His hair is dark, almost as black as mine, and he has a subtle, neatly trimmed beard.
Kyle seems excited. There's a bounce in his step when he sees us, "Hey, guys!"
He puts a hand on his friend's back and then points to us by name, "Kenny, Butters, Stan, this is Travis."
Each of us extends a hand to greet him. People say that you can tell a lot from a handshake. Travis looks me in the eyes, smiles and gives my hand a firm grip. No waver in confidence whatsoever. And it's not cocky; it's friendly.
The hostess approaches and directs us to our table.
There's a hint of awkwardness in the air when we sit down, but discussion is based upon what food to order so it could just be in my head. I thumb through my menu and go right for the drink list. I can at least start the night off in a good direction with a heavy beer.
Butters is first to drift off the topic of food, "So, uh, how did you and Travis meet, Kyle?"
Kyle folds his menu and places it in front of him, "We had a chemistry class together."
Then Travis takes the opportunity to speak up with a growing grin across his face, "How can you notbecome friends with the guy who almost blows up the entire chemistry lab?" His teeth are bright white, like he gargles bleach.
I run my tongue over my own.
A bit of a blush appears on Kyle's cheeks but he rolls his eyes anyway, "If you want to be all dramatic and put it that way."
To hear about Kyle messing up on a project is odd. He was never one to do that, the little academic perfectionist that he is.
"No way, dude!" Kenny exclaims, "You almost blew up an Ivy League school? That's something pretty cool to stick on a resume."
"That's not what happened."
Travis laughs, "Let's just say the professor had to run over to us with a fire extinguisher."
He has a slight accent. I think he pronounces his A's differently. I can't exactly pinpoint it, he just sounds different than us. Then again, I don't know anyone from the East Coast.
"He was overreacting!" Kyle objects, "The flame wasn't that big!"
Butters laughs along, "That sounds pretty darn dangerous if you need a fire extinguisher."
Travis completely disregards the defense, and points a finger into Kyle's shoulder. It's small contact, but it seems unnecessary, "And he definitely needed it. My chemical apron was an inch away from getting singed. And then all I saw were flames reflecting in Kyle's goggles."
"I seem to remember passing that class with an A, thank you very much," Kyle states.
There we go. Of course he pulled an A.
"You managed to get away with it and the experiment worked out in the end, somehow. That takes talent, Broflovski," Travis pats Kyle's back—again with the touching. Normal friends don't touch each other so frequently. I never touch Kenny. Then again, you never know where he's been.
And I hate when people call Kyle by his last name. You do that with easy names like Marsh, or Cartman. Broflovski is a little heavy on the syllable side for a nickname.
Our waitress comes over, introduces herself, and we all order.
I lean my elbows on the table, crossing my forearms, and try to listen to the rest of the conversation. I can't help but be distracted. My eyes trace over Travis as Kenny goes on about SP High being too cheap to buy lab supplies to even attempt to blow anything up. Travis definitely looks like an Ivy Leaguer. His speech is very articulate and he has this perfect posture at the table, like he's in the middle of an etiquette class. But like I said, he does seem like a normal guy, he's just…not very South Park.
He doesn't seem like someone you could talk to about digging up Kyle's dead grandmother or evencomprehend the concept of Eric Cartman. This was my replacement while Kyle was in New Hampshire?
Before I continue with my unnecessary and judgmental train of thought, I see Kyle, sitting across from me, staring right at me. I whisper, "What?"
My pocket vibrates.
I take my phone out and the screen reads 1 New Text Message.
You okay? You haven't said anything since we got here.
Have I not said anything at all? Really? I guess I'm not laughing much either, but it's not like I'm pissed off or anything. I reply back: Im fine, and then make it a point to put some sort of social face on throughout the rest of dinner.
After he reads my reply, I instantly receive another message.
That never actually means you're fine.
I scoff with a silent laugh. Kyle is observant. I've had a lot of things on my mind all day so I guess they've taken a toll on my want to socialize. Travis isn't really helping my attention span. I don't know why I keep judging him like this. I'm sure he's a nice dude, but I can't get the word "replacement" out of my head.
lol just a little out of it i guess.
The two of us begin to drift away and leave ourselves out of the conversation going on around the table. Butters, Kenny, and Travis seem to be getting along fine enough.
I receive another message.
check out the guy behind you.
I turn around and there are, who I assume, a father and son. There's nothing out of the ordinary about the son. He's probably a teenager, not too much younger than us. But the dad looks like he's ready for a golf game. He's wearing plaid shorts, high socks, white cleats, and a sweater vest. All he needs is a poof ball hat. It's eight at night—where the hell is this guy golfing at? A Monty Python movie set?
I turn back around, stifling laughter, and look at Kyle who's struggling with his composure as well.
he looks ready for a golf game I send him a message back.
He's a little far from the course don't you think?
maybe theres miniature golf in the back of the restaurant that we dont know about
He looks too serious to be into miniature.
gettin the pink ball into the gators mouth is pretty serious
Kyle puts his hands over his face and laughs to himself. Travis shoots him a curious look but Kyle just waves him off. I smile.
Kyle and I spend the next few minutes ripping on the guy sitting behind me through our cell phones. The other three have no idea that we aren't even paying attention to them, but Kyle eventually puts his phone down and I follow suit.
I guess I can't avoid conversation completely.
"Y-you're pretty quiet, Stan. How ya feelin'?" Butters asks, his face in genuine concern.
Before I can even respond with another one of my classic 'fine' responses, I'm suddenly the center of attention.
Well, fuck.
Travis starts, putting his elbows on the table as if he's getting ready for some deep insight. I try not to frown, "I've heard a lot about you, Stan. Kyle has always spoken very highly of you. How long have the two of you been friends?"
"Uh…Well," I use my hand to count as I rattle over the years in my head. I could subtract four, but I don't, "Like, eighteen years now. Something like that."
His eyes widen, "Wow. Kyle did say that you've been friends since about kindergarten. That's a long time."
"Pre-school, but, yeah. Pretty long time." I nod to Kenny beside me too, "Same with Kenny. And we started talking to Butters in elementary school."
"So, you're all childhood friends?"
We nod.
"That's really nice. I don't think I even know what is going on with the kids that I grew up with."
Did he just say that it was nice?
I shrug, "We live in a little mountain town. It's honestly harder not to keep in touch with everyone." I laugh awkwardly. Why am I uncomfortable? Fuck, this conversation blows. I'd much rather be ripping on that caddy and his kid back there than this small talk.
"You should've come up to visit us in Hanover. We would've loved to have had you."
I want to say that the thought had crossed my mind but I didn't think I was welcome. I glance at Kyle, but only for a moment, before turning back to Travis. I probably shouldn't bring that up again, especially now.
But what the hell is all of this "we" crap?
Travis continues, "Kyle said that he had a best friend at home. And—oh!" He interrupts himself and looks at Kyle with brewing joy, "Only one time, when he was drunk…"
Kyle's face flips a switch and turns bright red. He seems to know exactly what Travis is getting at, "Don't even go there, dude. You said you wouldn't."
I arch an eyebrow, "What?" I'm certainly in the mood for conversation now. Kyle looks embarrassed as hell.
Kenny and Butters both look equally interested. Kenny even looks like he wants to take notes on the impending embarrassment. His undivided attention is on Travis.
"Oh come on, let me tell them."
Kyle folds his arms like a child, "No way!"
Even though there's protest, Travis continues. "We were at a party one time, and Kyle got wasted…"
"Dude!" Kyle exclaims again, but he's ignored.
"He was falling all over the place—couldn't even walk. I was taking him back to the dorms, and we were just talking about this and that. Then somehow you came up, Stan—which, you were actually brought up a lot when he was drunk." Kyle punches him in the arm, but again, Travis just ignores him, the laughter in his voice slowly rising, "And he walks, well stumbles, up to me and says: 'You totally…TOTALLY…have to meet Stan.'" He puts on this poor, drunken impression, fluttering his eyes and slurring, "'He's the coolest person I've ever met. We used to hang out all the time, like every day. Every single day. He's my super best friend!'" Then he finishes in a fit of laughter.
My jaw drops and my face flushes at the name Kyle and I had for each other when we were kids. This is probably the first time that I've heard out loud it in…I don't even know how many years. Butters and Kenny don't hesitate joining in with the laughter. They're hysterical.
Kenny smacks the table in an all-too dramatic fashion, pressing my urge to just smack him upside the head, "I remember that! They used to call each other that all the time!"
Kyle's hands are over his face in embarrassment and I just look at the ceiling, trying to reverse the blood flow in my own cheeks. I don't think it's working.
Where the hell is our waitress with my beer?
"They used to say that shit all the time. These two were such little fags."
I feel like the word "fags" just hangs in the air, lingering and pressing for a reaction. Kenny has always had a big mouth. Even when he's buried behind a parka, he says whatever he wants, how he wants. Nothing has changed.
I pinch the bridge of my nose. Kyle told me he came out to Kenny at the party, but I don't know what team this Travis dude plays for. And we don't know Travis well enough to be saying that kind of shit anyway. What if he's insulted? Either way, I want to pull Kenny away for a second to avoid any possible negativity to his charming ways.
Or maybe I just want to go somewhere to dull the heat in my face, "Want to go out and grab a cigarette real quick?" I ask him.
Kyle cocks an eyebrow at me, "Since when do you smoke?"
"Since, recently?" It's a complete lie but Kenny won't turn me down. I already start grabbing for my jacket.
"Sure, dude. I could use one."
We excuse ourselves and head out front. Thank God Butters speaks up to regain Kyle's and his friend's attention.
We take a seat on a bench beside the front doors. Kenny pulls out his pack of cigarettes and offers me one. I decline, "Dude, you said you want to smoke."
"No, I'm good. I just wanted to get you out of there really quick." I shove my hands into my pockets, my shoulders hunched, "You can't just go throwing around the word 'fag' to people we don't know. They might get offended."
Kenny looks like he can't care any less as he flicks the lighter and ignites his cigarette, "It's not like I was calling Travis a fag, I was calling you and Kyle fags. And you guys totally were when we were kids." After inhaling the smoke, he pauses, exhales a long cloud with a grin and says, "And still are."
"What? We are not." I sound more defensive than I mean to. It's just a little uncomfortable for Kenny to insinuate something like that after Kyle is finally out. I know he doesn't mean it literally, he's just mocking our friendship, but still.
He laughs, "Haven't you hung out with each other every day since that party?"
"Well, yeah." He has a point, but I reason with him, "We're back in South Park, that's just what we always did when we were home. What else are we supposed to do around here?"
"You don't have to do anything else. Keep with the agenda, just do it with other people, or alone."
"Why does it even matter if I want to do all of that with Kyle?"
"It doesn't. I'm just pointing out that you could do things alone, or you can do things with other people, but you do it all with Kyle. Nothing wrong with it…but you're totally homos."
I roll my eyes and look towards the parking lot spread out in front of us, "shut up, Kenny."
He drops the topic and the sarcasm in his voice softens considerably with the next question, "Hey, by the way, you all right? You were quiet in there for a while."
I don't know why everyone's asking me that. Is it really that big of a deal that I wasn't cracking jokes and telling stories for ten minutes? Jesus Christ, "I'm fine, dude."
"You looked miserable until you and Kyle started giggling on your phones." He grins again, "Because you're super best friends."
I elbow him in the arm, "Knock it off. Can you do me a favor though? Seriously? Can you at least try to censor yourself in there? At least a little bit?"
"I'll try. But, why do you care what some dude from New Hampshire thinks of us anyway?"
"I don't care what he thinks of us. I just don't want to offend anyone, that's all…out of respect for him being Kyle's friend."
In all honesty, I'm uncomfortable with him saying things like that around Kyle.
Kenny shakes his head, "Man you two are fags."
"Kenny!"
"What! You said to censor myself in there! I have to let it all out here, dude."
I roll my eyes.
"Homo."
"Dude!"
He laughs, "I'm just fuckin' around. Chill out."
I notice that his cigarette has already shortened more than half the way down. We haven't even been out here that long. "Jesus, dude. You've really been smoking a lot lately."
He shrugs, taking another drag in the process, "I'm grave yard shift now, it's got my nerves through the roof."
"Why?"
"'Cause, dude! When you're in some lame convenience store all by yourself at 3 AM, what is most likely to happen? The place gets held up. Like I need that. I haven't died in five years. I'd like to keep the streak goin'."
"You might get lung cancer instead."
He sets the cigarette on his lips, squints his eyes in thought and puts both hands out in front of him, leveling the options like a scale. "Hm…" He raises his right hand higher, "Lung cancer is better, won't happen for a while. I'm dead in a few seconds if I get shot, and that can happen at work tomorrow night. Gettin' shot stings, dude. Especially in the face."
I arch an eyebrow, "It's amazing how your mind works."
He flicks his finished cigarette to the sidewalk in front of us, completely ignoring the fact that there is an ashtray a foot away, "Let's get back in there and eat some grub."
When we return to our table, the food has arrived (with my beer, finally,) and over the rest of dinner, I'm quite proud of Kenny because I don't catch him saying anything else regarding homosexuality. Before I know it, we're already at the movie theater.
We're watching some action flick that's been a struggle to get into the entire time we've been here. It's a traditional revenge movie with a rehashed plot that I've already seen about a hundred times.
Kenny is easily entertained, so he's highly engrossed in the film, and Butters hides behind his hands every time a gory scene appears. It's funny that stuff like this still bothers him, despite our age. Kenny is sitting to my right with Butters beside him.
I glance over at Kyle and Travis on my left. Kyle is leaning forward, both his elbows rested on his knees, and he shakes his head a few times at the screen. He's about as engrossed in the film as Kenny, but that headshake is definitely a sign that he's critiquing the entire thing in his head. No way that he would enjoy a lame movie like this either.
I gaze at the screen. The protagonist is now tied to a chair while the stereotypical antagonist with an eye-patch circles and interrogates him. What will happen next in this epic action film? Will our hero escape? Will he make it out alive? Will he ever avenge his father's death?
Of course he will. It's fucking Hollywood.
As much as I try to focus, I can't. I completely forget about the movie and my attention hones in on Kyle.
I try not to be obvious. My head is facing the screen but my eyes are on him. I can't see his face too clearly, but the light from the film dims and brightens as scenes slide in and out, accentuating and dulling Kyle's features. He's wearing a dark green t-shirt—again—and I smile. Ever since we've been home, all he wears are t-shirts. And even then, most of them are just different shades of green. I look down at my own chest and I have the same situation. I wear t-shirts all of the time too, and most of them are just different shades of blue. Tonight is the only night that I did something different with my wardrobe and it's not even that radical. I put a dress shirt over my usual blue t-shirt—not really something to write about in a fashion magazine.
I pause. Why am I acting weird tonight? I didn't have to wear this extra shirt, or try to put gel in my hair. I even snapped at Kenny earlier and then I barely said anything at dinner.
I didn't think I was acting strange, but yeah, I totally am. I never usually do anything with my hair. I wash it, it dries, and that's about where I stop for hairstyling. And the only time that I wear button down shirts is when I take a girl out.
I have to admit, I guess that I've been kind of jealous. I mean, we're all hanging out with the guy that took my place when Kyle decided to stop talking to me. Kyle and Travis shared classes, a dorm, an apartment…and Kyle got hammered and called me his "super best friend" with him.
I smile. It's pretty cool that Kyle still considered me that while he was away. That whole time, I thought he just gave up and moved on, but he was out getting drunk and talking about me.
If Kyle would have just stuck to the original plan and moved to Boulder, not Hanover, I would've been drunk right there with him. How can I not feel like Travis was my replacement? He played my role in Kyle's life.
My smile disappears.
Kyle turns his head from the screen and I never righted my sight forward faster than I do now. From the corner of my eye, I see him look towards Butters, Kenny, and then myself. He turns back to the movie.
I look at Butters and Kenny to see what he was looking for, and when I find nothing and turn back to him, Travis is running a hand over Kyle's back in slow, small circles. I assume Kyle turned to make sure none of us were paying attention.
It shouldn't be a big deal—and it's not—but there's a sudden hitch in my throat.
I immediately think about Kyle and myself. All of the times that we've done the same thing as kids. Different settings, yeah, and it was usually when the other was upset…but still. Fuck, I shouldn't even be thinking about us. This has nothing to do with us. Kyle can go to a movie and cuddle with his so-called "friend." It shouldn't even affect me.
I swallow, but I can't breathe in anything other than short whispers of air. My lungs are suddenly tight, and it doesn't let up with each circle that Travis continues to trace on Kyle's back. The fabric of the shirt buckles under each movement from Travis' touch, up and down, left to right.
I focus in on what I can see of Kyle's face and I swear that a smile tugs at his lips, mirroring mine when I was thinking of his drunken words: "super best friend."
He looks happy.
I have to get out of here. I can't breathe.
Fuck this movie. It sucks anyway.
I don't even think about whether I should leave or not. I just stand up, excuse myself, and walk right out of the theater.
I push through the double doors of the main entrance and I've never been more thankful for the cool night air. I take in long, desperate breaths, trying to calm myself down.
What the hell was that all about? Did I just have a fucking panic attack? My chest isn't tight anymore, but my mind is a whirlwind. Why have I been acting so possessive over Kyle lately? It should be totally fine that he made a new friend, it should be totally fine that those two are close, and it should be totally fucking fine that Travis had been rubbing his back… like Kyle and I used to do.
I'm acting ridiculous. I can't shake this jealousy. I'm being a total asshole.
Travis is a nice enough dude, but to be blunt, I don't like him. I don't want him in the picture. He had Kyle while I was stuck in fucking Boulder by myself. And I know that I shouldn't hold that against him, but I can't help it—I do.
It took Kyle this long to tell me that he was gay, and he's been distant regarding Travis. Is this dude a boyfriend? An ex-boyfriend? A friend that is entirely too close like Kyle and I were?
And then that damn Dartmouth application…I still haven't even brought that up. I haven't forgotten about those weird dates.
I feel like he's hiding something from me.
I don't know what to think, but that could be the problem. Maybe I'm over thinking everything. Why does any of this even matter? I'm just confused and stressed out for no fucking reason.
I can't talk to anyone about this, I'm embarrassed enough about the way I'm acting. I just stormed out of a goddamn movie theater for Christ sakes. It's not like Kyle was my girlfriend or something, but I sure as hell am acting like a jealous ex-boyfriend—or an ex-girlfriend, considering how much of a pussy I'm being. I can just feel my vagina growing.
I'm dumb. This is totally fucking dumb. I should just go back in there, calm down, and enjoy that shitty movie.
I lean my head back against the brick wall and close my eyes with a sigh.
I really don't want to go back in there.
"Stan?"
I turn my head to the direction of a sweet voice and it belongs to none other than a tiny girl I know all too well.
"Wendy?"
"It is you!" She quickly wraps her arms around my neck to bring me in for a hug and I happily return the gesture. She's the last person I thought I'd be running into right now—while I'm practically having a panic attack over my gay best friend.
Her smile is as bright as her blue eyes, "How've you been? God, I haven't seen you in so long!"
It's genuinely good to see her and she showed up at a good time. I could use a distraction.
She's still gorgeous. Her cheeks radiate and her lips are the softest shade of pink. Her black hair is longer than it used to be, and it's back in a ponytail, like she just threw it up to get it out of her eyes. Wendy never had to try hard to be beautiful. She's always been a natural.
After all these years, I still have a soft spot for this girl. I smile, "I've been good. When did you get back from school?"
"Last week. I'm on my way home from work now."
"Want some company on the walk home?" I don't feel bad leaving the guys behind. They have cell phones with my number in them. I figure I'll be back before the movie is over anyway. Her parents' house is pretty close, if that's where she's staying.
She smiles, "Sure, that'd be nice. We can catch up for a few blocks."
We begin walking down the sidewalk together, strolling slower than usual to savor the moment. It's hard to believe that I haven't seen her since high school, "You're on your way home from work? Where do you work?"
She reaches up and pulls the tie from her hair and dark waves flow down her back. She tussles her hand across her head to loosen restraint from the ponytail, "I'm a waitress over at Tweek's. It's just for the summer, before I go back to grad school."
"Tweek's?"
She nods, "Yeah, Tweek's dad turned his coffee shop into a diner. His shtick is still coffee though. If I have to memorize one more flavor, I'm going to scream."
"Is that the same diner that Butters works at?"
"Yep, he's the one who got me the job."
It's not ideal, but why not? "They hiring?" I could at least apply. I haven't received a call from anywhere in Denver, yet.
Plus, I kind of like the idea of being close to Wendy again.
"Actually, one of the cooks just left. Why, do you need a job?"
"I need one in the meantime while I figure some things out."
She smiles, "I can talk to the manager for you. I'm morning shift tomorrow, so if you want, you can stop by between six and three?"
I smile too, "Sure, I'll come by."
"It's not a bad place to work. My days go by fast. I found out about it when I was visiting just a few semesters ago. Speaking of! Did you even visit at all? I haven't saw you since you left."
"Barely. A few holidays, but that's about it."
"You really stuck with that whole 'Get Out of South Park' plan that you and Kyle had going, didn't you?"
I nod, "It was easier to stay away than you think."
"I'm sure it was."
"Kyle didn't exactly stick to the plan though. Well, I mean, he did, we just didn't go to the same school."
She looks at me for a moment with a pause before we cross a street, "I heard. Dartmouth, right?"
"How'd you know?"
"Facebook."
God, I hate Facebook.
"That had to have been hard for you."
"What?"
"Kyle being on the other side of the country. I can't imagine the two of you apart for so long."
Wendy always did know me pretty well. It's crazy how she can just pick up on things right away in any of our conversations, "It was really lonely, actually."
And it's crazy that I'm just letting shit fly right out of my mouth. Why the fuck am I comfortable enough to say something like that? I'm just walking the girl home, not paying her to be my therapist.
I haven't even noticed that we are close yet, but we're in front of her house already. Thank God. I don't need to pour my heart out right now.
She turns to me by her front door, her face earnest, "I hope you two are hanging out now that school's over."
"We are," I nod. I'm not sure why she's suddenly so serious, but I try to smile and lighten the mood. "You sound like you did when we were dating."
She laughs lightly, "I'm just making sure that bromance didn't let something like school get in the way."
Not a fan of that word. I never really noticed how often people use that term for Kyle and I, but I feel like it's said a lot. I make sure not to run my mouth again and continue to keep it short, "We came close."
"Here," She reaches inside her purse and takes out the smallest notepad that I've ever seen. She finds a pen and starts to scribble something down.
She hands me her phone number.
"We'll all have to hang out some time and catch up."
She smiles, and immediately looks just as excited as when she first saw me at the theater. She wraps me into another hug, "It was really great to see you again."
I hug her back, and she feels so familiar, "You, too. I'll see you tomorrow?"
"Yep, I'll see you tomorrow. Bye, Stan." She heads to her front door, gives me one last wave, and disappears into her house.
As I make my way back to the Bijou, I already feel a hell of a lot better. Despite the many, many times that Wendy and I have broken up, I'm excited to see her again tomorrow. Maybe I can ask her out on a date. She did give me her number after all. That has to mean something, right?
Anything to distract me from being overly jealous about my super best friend's love life.
I roll my eyes.
In front of the theater, it looks like I've arrived just in time. A horde of people is moving outside. The movie must have ended. That didn't take very long.
Kyle is the first familiar voice that I hear, "No way! That movie sucked balls!"
I walk up behind them and follow along like I've been here the entire time, but I'm immediately spotted.
"Hold up," Kenny grabs my arm and the group comes to a stop, "where the hell did you go? You missed the whole ending!"
Kyle chimes in again, "Which blew, just like the rest of the movie."
"Well, I sure thought it was pretty good. You're being a bit harsh, Kyle, don't ya think?" Butters says, shifting from one foot to the other.
"I couldn't pay attention to it anyway," I say. "It really was a piece of shit."
"Thank you! At least someone agrees with me."
Kenny scoffs, "You two just have lame fucking taste in movies. That was an instant classic. I guarantee you there's gonna be a sequel."
We make our way towards the parking lot and Travis decides to throw his opinion in too as he and Kyle walk side by side in front of us, "I don't know about a classic, but it wasn't so bad."
"Dude, are you kidding me?!" Kyle says, appalled. "That was just some stupid, rehashed plot of every other action movie out there. I was watching the whole time, and not a damn thing was original or even written well."
I look to the ground and smile as Kyle continues. I knew that he was analyzing and hating the movie when I looked at him in the theater.
Butters repeats Kenny's question, wondering where I had disappeared.
This causes Kyle to stop complaining about the movie for a few seconds and he glances behind himself, giving me his full attention.
"I came outside for some air, but then I ran into Wendy."
"Testaburger?" He questions, and slows down to walk beside me instead. Travis stays ahead of us, his sight still on Kyle's car.
"Yeah, I walked her home and she said that she's going to try to get me a job at Tweek's. She told me to come by tomorrow morning."
That jealous part of me notices Kyle's reaction. He's always liked Wendy, but one thing that annoyed him was how much of my attention went to her back in the day. I'm not going to lie, a part of me went into detail about who I ran into because I knew that it would grab his attention.
"Oh, really, Stan!" Butters jumps with excitement, "Why didn't you tell me that ya needed a job before? I could have gotten you one. One of our cooks just left last weekend."
I shrug, "I guess I really didn't think of it."
I never asked Butters before because I didn't want to lower my standards by working for minimum wage at some diner. Now that's it's come to this point, where I desperately need something, I'm okay with it. But, I don't tell him that. I always feel bad if I hurt Butters' feelings—like I'm kicking a puppy or something.
Kyle notices that I'm lowering my standards, though, "Aren't you going to wait until you hear back from those jobs you applied for down in Denver? I know it's only been like a week, but people might still call you back. I really think you have a chance at that insurance agency. They seemed like they really liked you."
The idea of answering phones in an insurance office makes me want to walk into traffic. I'm not someone who can sit on the phone all day at a desk. I don't really mind cooking, even though I'm not the best. Maybe I can just take this job for now until I find something that I'm really interested in.
So, instead of settling for a shitty insurance agency, I'll settle for a shitty diner.
We approach Kyle's car first, "All right guys, we're going." He says.
Kenny looks surprised, "Don't you two wanna go get some drinks or something?"
"I'm taking Travis up to his sister's house by Aspen pretty early tomorrow morning."
This is news. So, Travis traveled this far to visit his sister, not only to see Kyle?
"She wants me there by nine so that we can go skiing," Travis explains. "So, I'm afraid that I'm going to have to call it a night already." He walks up to each of us and uses the same firm handshake as he did earlier in the night, "It was very nice meeting all of you."
Travis is a polite and genuinely likable guy. If the situation was different, I know that I would've liked him. But it's not. So I guess I'm just a dick.
We all say our goodbyes. Travis hops into Kyle's passenger seat, and when Kyle heads for the driver's side, he stops, his hand on the car door. He looks at me and says, "I can come by tomorrow after I drop him off?"
There's no real reason for him to come over. We'd just be sticking to whatever routine this is that we've started. Kenny was right: I don't have to spend every moment with Kyle. And after that little episode I had in the movie theater, maybe I should take a break from seeing him so often.
But, Travis is leaving. Maybe it's just him being around. It may be better tomorrow. I couldn't have been this weird before today.
"Yeah," I say with a nod, "sure, dude. We can grab some breakfast at the diner."
He smiles, "Cool. See ya, guys."
"Well," Kenny starts as they drive away, "we goin' to the bar?"
I laugh. It's not like he'll take 'no' for an answer. "Yeah, let's head over."
