A/N: It just won't stay dead!

I am so so so so so so so so so sorry that this took so long. I had camp for six weeks and then some college search stress leading to debilitating writer's block. But I finally did it! The chapter might benefit from some revision, but screw that. I want this published so people other than me know what happens.

I hope this chapter was worth the wait. Please, R&R!

Nazz rose early, just like Rolf. Anyone who'd known her a year before would have laughed at the idea: Nazz, a morning person? Granted, she still woke up with rancid breath and a sore neck, but the day after she first realized her true feelings for Rolf, she got to school before the late bell for the first time in her life. The distant sputter of a tractor idling beckoned her. For her then-boyfriend's sake, she couldn't follow the sound and instead had to greet the sunrise with her arms squeezing her childhood teddy bear. But now that she and Rolf were public, she was out of the house by six every morning.

It wasn't groping on top of a tractor by dawn, like the fantasy she'd described graphically to her teddy bear, but she was just there to say hello. He had grueling, sweaty work to get to, after all.

A week into December, it snowed overnight. Nazz put on the faux-bear-hide winter jacket Rolf had gifted to her (part of her "dowry") and brushed her hair for ten extra minutes before leaving. Today he was going to kiss her of his own volition and maybe apologize for being gay with Kevin, because the Old World vision of beauty was a woman who looked like a hairy coat.

She expected to find him awake from force of habit but bored from lack of work, and just bisexual enough to actually look at her, but clearly did not understand his work ethic.

Rolf was straddling a big John Deere, just like every day. And just like every day, he startled and fell off when she greeted him, "Good morning, baby."

He spat out a mouthful of snow and shouted, "Who flatters himself with the right to interrupt a shepherd's preparatory toils?"

"His fiancee."

Rolf rubbed the snow out of his eyes and squinted. "Oh. Good morning, Nazz-girl." He hoisted himself up, bare hands flat against the metal of the tractor. "Why do you call?"

Nazz frowned. "I thought you might not be working today," she said. She leaned slightly over the fence and scanned the yard.

"You mock Rolf, do you not?" He raised an eyebrow. "Had Nazz-girl taken the briefest gander upon the driveway, she would have seen the wretched blanket."

Oh. There was an attachment at the front of the tractor, sloppily put together but still, its reason was clear. Rolf was about to plow the driveway. Nazz protested, "There's, like, an inch of snow on the ground."

Rolf stared at her with eyes bright red from the snow. "Yes. Does Nazz-girl have a point?"

Nazz looked at the ground. She had to admit that the farm was not the most attractive place when covered in snow – glistening whiteness just made chicken poop ten times more disgusting. "No . . . " she muttered. Out of the corner of her eyes she could see Rolf shake his head and lift his leg to mount the tractor, and she realized that if he cared so much about his driveway, the only way to get her kiss was her Hail-Mary. Gently slipping off her jacket had always worked on Kevin.

Rolf's eyes widened and he abandoned his work. Success – Nazz closed her eyes in anticipation of his lips embracing hers . . .

"You are not returning Rolf's dowry!" he exclaimed. Nazz opened her eyes to see his gloved hand clutching his chest.

"What? No, never!" said Nazz, her heart suddenly racing. The jacket fell past her fingers and she scrambled to keep it off the snow. "I love this coat –" She snuggled it up to her chin. The long hairs poked into her nose and she fought not to sneeze. "– but I was getting too warm."

"Hmmph." Rolf nodded. "A poor excuse for a winter's morn, yes? Take these." He removed his gloves and shoved them at Nazz. "I have no use for them."

Nazz clutched tightly onto the gloves. They were big and rough and warm. It was almost like holding his hand.

"Now that Rolf's body is efficient, he must remove the pile of white flakes," he said, running back to his work before he even noticed that Nazz was melting over his gloves. He mounted the tractor and as it loosed smog into the air it became clearer than ever that she could not get a kiss from him, but she wouldn't admit it.

"Do you need any help?" she shouted.

Rolf advanced towards her, pushing along a dwarfing snowdrift. "No," Rolf said. "The winter weather has compromised your skills, I am afraid." His voice was powerful enough to be heard over the tractor without shouting.

"I thought you weren't cold!"

"Rolf is not cold. But you need to replace your bear-hide coat lest you harden like the contents of Nana's intestines."

Nazz sighed. She'd failed, and how could she have hoped differently? The love of her life was a gay boy. Oh well, at least he cared about her health. Nazz only glared at the jacket draped over her arm as she started to follow her footprints back across the cul-de-sac. Perhaps she was leaving it off just to be obstinate, but as she walked, a suspicion crept upon her that made her want to leave it there in the snow.

She turned around and shouted as loudly as she possibly could. "Rolf! This jacket – is the hair on it real?"

Rolf glanced at her through his protective goggles. "Skinned and sewn by cousin Dmitri himself."

Nazz cringed. Then she scrambled to her knees and prayed he hadn't seen her curl her fingers and accidentally drop the jacket.

"A foolish question, Nazz-girl. Only the best is appropriate for a shepherd's bride-to-be," Rolf added before revving up the tractor's engine.

Nazz brushed the snow out of her hair and ran the rest of the way home with real bear skin embracing her. It was definitely not going to school with her, but she'd stuffed Rolf's gloves in the pockets and she couldn't throw it away. If a kiss from Rolf was what it took to keep her going, she was going to have to make out with his clothes – the next best thing.

That very afternoon Nazz's ovaries finally burst in confusion when Rolf kissed her hard in front of everyone.

She had been taking her time on the front steps of the school, staring down at the other kids' footprints in the slush while Sarah ranted about coordinate geometry, dawdling and feeling certain that they were the last to leave the building, when suddenly someone behind her clutched her by the shoulder with a large staff. The next thing she knew, one of her feet was swept off the stair as Rolf's elbows hooked under her arms and their mouths collided. His hands pushed against her shoulders and back with all the familiarity he'd refused her not an hour before when they were alone in the computer lab. He turned their bodies so their embrace was on full display for the kids, who oohed and ahhed in disgust.

Nazz was immediately lost, but not so much that she couldn't hear another set of footsteps coming through the doorway. She squinted one eye open just in time to see a red baseball cap passing her by. The orange hair underneath it looked tousled.

The love of her life was a gay boy.

She drew away from Rolf with a sheepish smile. Her breath came out short. Kevin may have been her boyfriend once, but she was so repulsed by him that she couldn't make out with anyone with whom he'd just exchanged quickies. She could see the sex still lingering in Rolf's posture. Wordlessly (for she had no words to say) she waved him goodbye and raced to catch up with Sarah, masking her humiliation with girlish giggles.

"That is smoke I smell!" shouted Ed, who abandoned his friends and cowered by the bike rack until Nazz and Sarah passed. He jumped on top of his sister and said, "Sarah! Are you on fire?"

"Get off me, you idiot!" Sarah replied, throwing him to the ground. "I'm fine! Although . . . " She stopped and sniffed. "Nazz, do you smell smoke?"

Nazz grimaced and giggled. "Rolf has a pipe," she said quietly.

Sarah's eyebrows perked up. She leaned in close to Nazz and inhaled. "It's coming from her, Ed. Quit worrying."

"Nazz is on fire?" Ed had that vigilante look on his face again, and Nazz braced herself for him trying to put her out. But then he remembered who she was marrying. He hesitated, but soon he went running, cheeks flushed, back to Edd and Eddy. Not one Kanker reacted when he passed them.

Nazz's arm started to tickle and she looked down to see that Sarah's hands were all over her. She seemed hypnotized. "He was all over you, wasn't he?" she said huskily. "You are so fucking lucky . . . Ooh! Sorry, I have to go! Eddy stopped to tie his shoe!"

Nazz briefly considered walking home. Of course, she ended up taking the bus, but she feared that if the conversation swayed towards anything even vaguely related to Rolf, Kevin, marriage, or emotions, she would implode from an inability to express herself. She managed to avoid talking to anyone throughout the ride by snuggling up to the window and sniffing her coat as if she were reliving an intimate moment. She was really only cursing the existence of tobacco pipes.

By the end of the month, though, she would almost be used to it.

Rolf always smoked after he'd been with Kevin. He had to be covert with it at school, of course, but when they were back home in the cul-de-sac, he had no problems whipping out the Ewe-Thigh Pipe and taking ostentatious puffs for all to see, whistling out timber smoke, and singeing the collar of Nazz's shirt as he went in to kiss her.

He also always kissed his fiancee after he'd been with Kevin. It was heavy, dirty tonguing and always, always in front of people, as if his secret boyfriend was just rehearsal for the actual performance. There was nothing fake about it. The force behind the kisses drained Nazz of all energy and free will, often leaving her at the mercy of her tenuously supportive friends.

She ate it all up. Rolf was probably brilliant, with the way he rendered her incapable of jealousy. December brought her a level of sexual frustration the likes of which not even Lee Kanker could fathom. The scent of smoke came to be an instant reminder that she was being used, and Rolf was such a man that making a beard out of a girl was just overcompensating. But being used was the most fulfilling job Nazz could have ever wished for. She was in such a guilt-kissed haze that things got done: her homework started coming in on time and her blow-dryer found itself at the bottom of her bathroom wastebasket. If her own fiancee didn't care if she was sporting a cowlick, there was no reason for her to care. The boys stopped drooling and the girls stopped glaring, and she didn't even notice until Jimmy pointed it out to her.

"Girlfriend, you've lost yourself in the honeymoon stage. Your man might be wild and spontaneous, but as your maid-of-honor, I'm here to reality-check. This wedding is about Nazz."

"I don't have a maid-of-honor," said Nazz. She wriggled her shoulders, seeking out Jimmy's "magic fingers." Ever since he'd named himself her personal masseuse, it was apparent that his hands had been mirages all along.

"I've picked out a tuxedo the exact same color as your bridesmaids' dresses."

"Bridesmaids' dresses?"

"They're the exact same color as your roses."

Nazz turned around on her bed to face him. "Rolf likes chrysanthemums."

Jimmy frowned as he stretched out his fingers. Nazz could hear twigs snapping. "Owie! Oh, silly me. I'd have sworn you said roses."

Nazz shrugged her tight shoulders. "It's fine," she sighed as she flipped through the binder. Every picture was an explosion of frills and pinks and hearts and price tags she knew Jimmy could never reach. She didn't remember agreeing to anything, except for that simple sheath dress. She found it, taped together and ironed flat, after skipping over pages and pages of tulle and ruffles. As she gazed at it, her eyes kept drifting to the model and for the first time, she noticed her red hair, her long neck, and her pursed mouth. The model was Sarah, an older Sarah who was finally ready to commit to one special boy. And so, her dress was still in the running.

"Listen up, Nazz, because you are special. You are . . . " Nazz only caught pieces of Jimmy's rousing "maid-of-honor" speech as he paced back on forth on her mattress. "...and loved. Yes, lovely and loved, but . . . " She realized how lucky she was. "...do something about your hair, I beg you. It looks better in the humidity . . . " Sure, both her and Jimmy's loves were unrequited. But at least she still got to make out with hers. "... but above all, the opposite gender does not control you!"

Jimmy's face was pink as he placed his toes, pointed, on Nazz's footboard and raised a fist of empowerment into the air. Nazz clapped and was just about to fake a sincere "thank you" when something hit her window with a thump. It startled Jimmy and sent him collapsing into her lap.

"Is someone shooting us?" he whimpered.

"No, sweetie." Nazz hugged him and ran to the window. She peered out, hoping to see a confused bird lying on the ground. Instead, she saw one of the last people she wanted to see standing on her doorstep. She panicked and pulled down her blinds. "Oh God, what does he want?" she said, covering her face with her hands.

"Who?"

"It's Kevin." Nazz shuffled towards her bedroom door. He knew she was there, so she had to answer.

Jimmy leapt up. He was dizzy from his fall, but within seconds he was blocking the exit. "The ex-lover has come to ruin the wedding?" he said dramatically. "Not if I, James K. Jacobs can help it! You are not to see him under any circumstances, Miss Nazz, so I will perform as a conduit between the two of you."

Nazz's eyes widened. "Jimmy! Don't –" she cried, but she was unable to finish before her wedding planner had dashed downstairs.

Thirty seconds of awful screaming later, he was back upstairs with his left eye already swelling purple.

"Can I go talk to him now?" asked Nazz.

Jimmy coughed. "Be wary. He's horribly inebriated." He shuddered. "On Bartles and Jaymes."

Nazz lay him down on her bed before putting on a brave face and heading slowly downstairs. Jimmy had left the door wide open and Kevin had let himself inside. He was reclining against the wall with an empty wine cooler bottle in his fist and a shattered flowerpot by his feet. Nazz sighed in relief. If he'd been really drunk, he would have peed in it.

"So the kid tells me he's your personal bodyguard now. How many different guys do you need to replace me?" Kevin followed Nazz down the stares with his humorless glare. When she finally got close to him, he coughed in her face.

Nazz folded an arm across her chest as she stared him right in the shoulder. She hadn't spoken with Kevin ever since her engagement. In fact, she'd deliberately avoided him, giving him more time and reason to swell with jealous rage. "You didn't need to hit him," she muttered.

Kevin gritted his teeth. "No," he said. "But it was fun." Without warning, he took her chin in his reddened hand and tilted her head up. Nazz stared at his ear as he pulled her into a bitter kiss.

It felt like her head was stuck between two stubborn posts. She pushed weakly against Kevin's shoulders, and although each time he nipped at her and tried to pull her back in, it didn't take much force to break free. Shaking and gasping for air, Nazz shrieked, "Kevin, I dumped you."

Kevin furrowed his eyebrows and wiped off his mouth. "Worst mistake ever."

"You just slobber all over me, but only when it's convenient for you! It was all about you, and somehow you still don't understand that I love Rolf!"

"Fair point." Kevin cooly started walking towards her, and she covered her mouth in embarrassment. She couldn't believe she'd exploded like that. Kevin, meanwhile was completely calm. His expression was even softening, sloppy and red as it may have been. "But at least when things are all about me, they're all about you, too," he said, pacing towards her until she was on the spot, her back tense against the opposite wall.

Her heel grazed a shard of glass from a picture frame he'd knocked to the floor and she gulped. "You're drunk and you're not making any sense," she said hoarsely.

So he said the phrase he could never mess up. "You know I love you."

Nazz scowled. "Yes."

"Well, here's something else you oughta know. Rolf doesn't."

"You don't know that!"

Kevin smiled with false pity and reached out to stroke her hair. She slapped him away before he could graze her scalp and he withdrew slightly, shaking out his hand. "I know it," he said. "And I'll tell you how."

Nazz stopped breathing. Was she about to get a confession? A confession would make it impossible for her to pretend any longer.

But after a moment of hesitation, gazing at his red fingers, Kevin shook his head and lied. "I am Rolf's best friend," he said. "If he were in love with anyone, he would tell me. And dammit, babe, that son-of-a-bitch has never mentioned you." He snarled. "Or is he just a bitch now?"

Nazz could see the hatred dripping from his eyes. Of course Rolf hadn't mentioned her. She had a feeling that if he mentioned anything to Kevin in private instead of keeping him quiet with sex, Kevin would have ripped his throat out. Or at least he would've tried – Rolf was too much of a man to take that.

"I'm not getting back together with you," Nazz said. "No matter what kind of crap you say about Rolf, he is kind and generous and deep and, like, fifty times hotter than you. He gave me a blouse made from genuine stink-worm silk." Because Kevin was weak, she ducked around him with no trouble and was halfway up the stairs before he could even react. "And if you loved me so much, you would have confronted me like this a month ago."

"They'd kick me off the football team if I drank like this all the time, babe!" he shouted, with tremors in his voice indicating he was fighting off tears. "Double-Dork got me chatting with him and it turns out he's got a stash of B&J in his room. Drinks because his girlfriend likes to hurt him when they 'get intimate.' I say, a dork should take what he gets." He smirked, as if this was something he expected them to bond over. "What a fucking fag, huh?"

Nazz froze with her feet two steps apart from each other. Thank God her stairs had one handrail, because it felt like Kevin had punched her in the lungs without even touching her. Had he really said that word?

Fag?

The love of her life was a gay boy, and he couldn't love her back because he wanted this jerk. This hypocrite. In that one moment in the middle of the staircase, she had her first lucid thought in weeks. She would be more than a beard. Her fiancee needed her help to fall out of love with the other man.

A/N: I know that if I make any promises now, I'll just be making excuses later. I hope you enjoyed this chapter! Please review!