A/N: surprise it's an update hoo haaa hooray. thanks for your reviews guys, and thanks for the love! seriously i'm pleased to know that people are liking this fic, so sorry for the lazy updates. life is still kicking my ass some. so yeah, love and such.
enjoy~
---
I stare. It's all I can do. My dignity is at stake here on two whole different levels and it's a lose-lose situation. I can lie and be made fun of and feel stupid or I can be honest and be made fun of and feel stupid anyway.
Humiliation, I think, is a talent of Craig Tucker's, and the way he's looking at me only makes me feel worse, too.
"Maybe I'm a virgin, maybe I'm not. So what?"
"So you are a virgin."
I descend my forehead against the L of my thumb and index finger and sigh, aware with irritation that I'm going scarlet. I hate Craig Tucker. I hate him so much. I have the advantage though; being in the company of Eric Cartman for 17 years teaches you a special talent, and that's how to play fire with fire in the land of assholery. I give him a serious look and try to put on my most cynical face.
"Are you a virgin?"
He looks genuinely taken aback by the defence and I can't help but let a smirk touch the corner of my mouth. These games are so easy to win.
"No. Actually, I'm pretty sure everyone isn't, except for you. Fatso probably has gotten laid before you. Your only competition could be the goth kids, but only because sex is so conformist these days."
I take a slow breath through my nose and knead my fingers in the material of my pants at his nasally imitation of Red goth's drawl.
"At least I can proudly say I've managed to chastise myself this long." Which is total bullshit. My mom always told my brother and I we'd go blind if we masturbated, and trust me when I say I wear really thick reading glasses.
"I'm not sure what to believe, Broflovski." He leans his chin in his palm with that crooked little grin. At this range I get too close of an inspection, down to the deeper blue colour of his eyes. My thoughts flutter and I lean back in hesitation, grabbing my glass only to put it between us and sip it wearily. There is a contest here. I'm starting to feel it more and more as he stares me down. A moment of Stan flashes through me as I feel kind of like throwing up but it passes and I lower my head a bit, searching for some kind of response as the silence creeps on.
"You should spend the night at my house." The way he's looking at me disturbs me more. I'm gripping my glass a bit tighter. It's not even a weary feeling or anything like that, it's that his expression looks entirely innocent.
There is nothing innocent about Craig Fucking Tucker.
"Craig? I don't like you. I've never liked you. You are the biggest asshole I've ever met, and I am willingly admitting this all to you. I think you're a creepy prick and I know that you sniff my hair in class." I leave the burn in the air a moment before continuing. "There is no fucking way in any sideways depth of hell that I am ever going to spend any night with you anywhere, especially at your house."
This seems to have hit a place in his little black heart, or so I hope, because he looks at me with a frown - not a glare, or surprise, or anything like that. Just a frown. He maintains this expression for a minute longer before he laughs it off like nothing.
"Are you fucking nuts, Broflovski? Firstly, I don't give half a shit what you think about me. I haven't given a shit about what you thought from day one, when you and your stupid friends robbed me of a hundred bucks in Peru. Secondly, I am not sniffing your hair, and I don't know where the fuck you could have gotten such a fucked up idea from. And thirdly, you have to sleep at my house tonight."
I narrow my eyes.
"And why is that?"
Craig grins sickeningly, and I feel my throat tighten with that glance alone.
"Because if you don't, you're going to be out of the closet a lot sooner than you intended."
He pulls out his cellphone and waves it in the air with a threatening look that makes me think once about my mother's face and go pale.
I fucking hate Craig Tucker.