The first time I touched Cody in a more-than-friendly way in public, I felt just a tad uneasy. I can appear on international TV, I can succeed at Junior High Debating Club, I can give speeches in front of my entire graduation class (although the chances of me receiving the status of valedictorian grow fainter the more time I spend here) When I do this, anxiety plays no part in my physiology. But to place a hand on his body, a body I have at least once laid claim to, it's next to scary.

So I stood behind him at the continental breakfast table, 'the morning after', so to speak. Although I went to bed shortly after our kiss and nothing kinky happened, I still felt as though any eyes in the room were knowingly drilled into the back of my head. My breath was clipped as I nudged my body further forward.

He piled fruit on his plate, topping it off with a fluffy croissant. He liked strawberries, so it seemed. I did a quick scan of the area – Lindsay, Courtney, Justin, Tyler and Bridgette were nearby. None of them had their eyes on me. The motion of my hand felt all at once natural and off, as I lifted it to place it on his shoulder.

It was completely arbitrary that I chose his shoulder, but once the awkwardness of the pose wore off, I settled in nearer to him

Nobody so much as glanced at us, so my hand is still on his shoulder.

"Morning." I choke out.

He pops a slice of kiwi into his mouth. "Hi!" he says, a touch over-excited. He swallows the fruit and carries his plate over to the tiny round table. I take my place across from him. He twirls a straw in his chocolate milk.

"Excited for the finale?"

"Mayb." I say lamely, not even bothering to make the utterance multisyllabic.

"Who do you think will win?"

"Duncan. I don't even remember who the other one is. "

"Beth, remember?"

"Oh. Well, I don't like either of them."

He peels a layer of thin pastry off his croissant. "God, you're sour. Do you like anybody?"

"Hey, I like you." His mouth warps into a shy little smile, which makes me like him a tiny bit more. "And I like Owen, and actually I kind of like Izzy now. Don't tell her, though."

"That's better than nothing. What about Trent? We hung out a lot, do you secretly hate him too?"

"Trent. Shit."

He displays a look of confusion.

"Shit." I repeat. "I completely forgot about Trent."

With that, I pull away from my seat. Mouth full, Cody makes a protesting noise, which causes a trickle of fruit juice to squeeze out the corners of his lips.

"We'll hang tonight, promise." I cast over as I head for the elevator.

I don't know what compels me, but I'm on a journey of redemption lately. To some degree, Trent was an unfortunate stepping stone on my journey to Cody, but a more sympathetic side of me can't help but remember the hot, green-eyes rocker I met many months ago, and feel a bit guilty that I exploited his absolute insanity for my own gain and release.

I stand before his bedroom door. How many times have I stood anxiously in front of a door these past few months? There are omens that my life in university residence will be complicated. Then again, what could be more complicated than time endured here?

His room is separated from the others by quite a distance, a consequence of his insistence upon choosing a room number that contained the number nine.

I knock. I've had worse doors to knock on in the past, haven't I?

Nothing comes from the other side. Shit, this event was very streamlined until now. I wait for a moment, and knock again, loudly. It's only just before ten, and Trent is one who has a tendency to sleep in. Still no answer.

"Trent?" I call, more of a whimper. It's at this moment it begins to dawn on me how little I want to deal with him again, especially now that I could just as easily hole up in my bedroom with Cody for the next four days and forget Trent even exists.

But then, that small sympathetic side of me begins to worm to the surface again. Years of personal and school politics have taught me a thing or two about diplomacy. So I leave and go to my room, but for a reason.

I tear a sheet from the hotel notepad, wearing thin after almost two months of use. I place my pen on the surface for a moment, and then lift it off. I hover the tip above the paper for a moment, knowing not where to start.

I decide that the paper is too small to say what I want to say. I head to my stack of books and rifle through them. Most are either without bookmarks or bookmarked with a proper, laminated bookmark complete with decorative tassel. One large volume, however, still contains eight or nine sheets of loose-leaf from a previous researching session. I pull one rare, precious sheet from the stack. I drag the book onto my lap as a surface, and after another instant of pondering, begin to write.

"Trent,"

Okay, that's a good way to begin. A good story always needs a strong opening line and a strong finishing line, so all I need to do now is get the middle right!

"Trent,

I know we haven't spoken much this week, nor have you spoken to Cody, and I kind of feel it's my fault. He still wants to hang out with you, but I was a jerk and I ruined that."

The apologetic side of me, revealed once more. I stuff it down in favour of realism, however.

"I'm sure it's no surprise to you that you got on my nerves a lot, which was a difficult feeling for me to handle as I also found you very attractive. I'm sure it's also no surprise that I am a homosexual."

I twirl the pen through my fingers during a quick pause, then resume:

"This message is not a declaration of love however; quite the opposite. This is a message to tell you that I'm kind of actually sorry about my behavior towards you, and for any, shall we say, events, that occurred involving you and I that you may not have been completely down for.

The truth is, Trent, I used to like you a lot when you were normal, and so did Cody, and so did Gwen, but something happened to you that I can't say I like. I know I'm neither a counsellor nor someone whose opinion you particularly value, but I feel that only someone as blunt as me would be willing to tell you that your recent behavior is bizarre and off-putting.

Maybe you should get help from someone who knows better than you or I. I know your talents and your cool side are in there somewhere, but as long as you continue your obsessive tendencies, regrettable things like this will continue happening.

In short, I have no hard feelings towards you, and despite the ensuing awkwardness, I feel out encounter was rather productive in the release of my mangled emotion, and with any luck, yours as well.

All the best,

Noah Khosla.

PS: Thanks for the sex. Seriously."

After a cursory read-through of my message, I depart from my room and head back to his. The activity behind his door seems to still be non-existant, so I slide the note beneath the door with a strong shove, to propel it into the centre of the floor where it won't go unnoticed.

And at that moment, another task on the checklist for 'Quests of Kingdoms of Noah: Redemption' has been completed.

Evening comes, and I'm where I most like to be: in my room, chilling with Cody. Once, while the summer was still running hot, it was a regular occurrence for the two of us to lie together in bed and talk, or to play video games and get mockingly competitive.

But with the isolation of hotel rooms and with the lack of any gaming consoles, things changed a lot since September rolled around. Yet now I'm here, beside him, snickering, and it's like everything is back to the way it used to be.

Except with a little bit of kissing.

It's a well-established fact that when you fall for someone, the first kiss is the obstacle and the goal. It's what preoccupies you, what you fantasize about, what makes you stay up sick whether you want to or not. But something many people forget is that the second kiss is almost as hard, sometimes. Almost as if the chances of rejection decrease gradually after the first goal is met, and not immediately. In my case, as a male attempting to get close to a 'formerly heterosexual' boy, my trepidation is even more founded.

So for that reason, my lips have yet to lock with his tonight, even though I know I could do it at any minute. I can only wonder when the right minute will happen. Instead I lie beside him, arm up, barely touching him though he remains wedged in the crook of my arm. I can only touch him timidly, like before – only this time he might be aware of it. Yet I'm still comfortable.

"So I need to ask," he says, lightly but firmly. "When did you realize you…liked guys?"

"Are you asking for….any particular reason?" I inquire.

He turns away from me, looking to the ceiling. He chomps down on his lower lip with his gapped teeth.

"Maybe. I dunno. Curiosity mainly."

I sigh deeply before weaving my tale.

"So I though Aladdin was super hot when I was little." I begin. "He's brown, youthful-looking..unf. But my older brothers of course loved Jasmine, you know, with those shapely hips and midrift-bearing shirt and calf-length hair…"

"I like Ariel mostly." He adds.

"Anyway, that was the first time. But it wasn't unusual because to be fair I also was weirdly obsessed with Megara from Hercules, I tried to imitate her voice…"

"I think it stuck. She's the one with the purple dress, right, sings with the statues?"

"Uh huh."

"Yeah, it stuck."

I snicker. "I can't decide if that's a good thing." My breath returns to its habitual place. "Okay. So when I was little I liked the heroes, not the princesses. But for a lot of my life, I was practically devoid of attraction. Like, you know how elementary kids claim one another as their boyfriends or girlfriends, without really doing anything to legitimize it, or even really ask? Yeah, I never did that. I never had my first crush, anything like that."

"I was such a loser in elementary, I liked a girl almost every year. Except for third til sixth I liked the same one."

"Yep, that never really happened to me, I just figured it wasn't my style. Then when twelve and thirteen came along, and with it, our budding adult bodies, I couldn't bring myself to give a damn if my male friends started talking about titties. But to be fair, I couldn't really bring myself to give a damn when my female friends talked about hot guys either. I think it's because boys usually have a different mindset about sex, they can more easily separate it from the rest of their thoughts and needs, whereas women are more complicated. Or maybe, more broadly, boys can just think of sex in a different way than girls do. And as fruity as I am, I like to think I'm still a boy, so maybe that explains it."

"So when did you become…not unsexual?" he asks slowly. His voice picks up again. "Wait, asexual! I knew there was a word for that, see? I'm not stupid." He grins. Cute.

"Eh, I guess when I was thirteen or fourteen. Somewhere around there. See, I've got a bad birthday so I was just turning thirteen at the start of grade eight, whereas many of my friends were on the brink of 14. What year was that? I'm in twelfth now, so 2006 I think. Yeah anyway my dick got hard when guys made out on TV, I got a girlfriend, didn't really feel like banging her so I cheated on her with her own cousin. That about sums it up."

He waits for a moment, indecisive of his next actions. Then he begins to chortle. "That didn't explain much. How did you know? What was the moment?"

"Seriously, dude, it just happened slowly. I had my spring's awakening. And surprisingly I didn't even go through a bisexual phase."

"A bisexual phase?"

"Yeah sometimes gay kids still like the opposite sex for a little while, because 'society tells them to' or some other dippy left-wing anti-patriarchal bullshit like that. I just knew I liked guys more so that's what I'd call myself."

"Wait, you do like girls?" he rises a little off the bed, almost in outrage.

"Okay, it seems someone has strong feelings on the matter…? Not really. I can tell if a girl is hot or not, I mean, I enjoy looking at pretty women, but if it came down to actually being in a relationship with someone I'd never, ever, go that route. Can you ask me something different now? This is a little weird."

"Okay. So. Which girls do you find attractive here at total drama?"

"Seriously." I roll my eyes at him.

"Seriously!"

"You first." I look at him, and it dawns on me that I already know his answer and would prefer not to get another breakdown of those facts. "On second thought, forget that I said that. Um, Heather if she wasn't bald. I kind of feel bad for her, she was a pretty good sport most of this season but people just don't want to forgive her. Also she had gorgeous hair and it's a shame it's, well, gone. I guess. And um…maybe Bridgette? I didn't think so before but ever since she started dressing up fancier for these aftermath clips I'm kind of seeing her appeal. Why would you even ask me that?"

"I dunno, I feel like asking you questions." He's wringing his hands again – he managed to make it quite far in this conversation without gesturing, but alas all things will end.

"Listen dude, I've been interviewed for student counsel and I've been interviewed on the 5 O'clock news, and I don't need to be interviewed by my own – " I cut myself short. "Yeah," I begin to chuckle. "Fine. One more question, and make it a doozy."

Cody's hands drop back to the mattress. "Okay. I have a…" he takes a breath. "Doozy."

"Go on." I roll onto my side to face him.

"When did you decide you liked me?" his voice becomes small and pinched, as if the walls are too thin to hold the truth captive for long.

"I'm not sure…" I say slowly, but then something lights up in my mind. "July 27th, in the morning."

"Oh. What were we doing that day?"

"The day you took your bandages off."

"That was a nice day." He says wistfully. "I'm not sure when I decided I could maybe see you as more than a friend. Last night? Maybe." His arms wrap around his torso, hugging his own ribcage.

For some reason, I feel emotionally drawn when he says this, possibly because it's a rare phrase from him that implies a romantic desire. In a simple, unadorned movement, I wriggle closer to him and place a closed, dry kiss on his small mouth. His lips split into a tiny smile, as do mine.

"Sorry." I mumble. Propping himself on his elbows, he snickers for an instant.

"That reminds me," my dry mouth utters, "How did that bear scar turn out?"

His eyes come to life and he rises to a sitting position. He lifts up his shirt unceremoniously, pointing to the jagged, dark pink line across his chest.

"You were right Noah!" he squeals. "It does look badass!"

"It certainly does." I say, gazing up at him. In fact, the scar is so badass that it adds a more menacing side to the innocent-looking teen. Or at the very least, provides a stark contrast to his unassuming form.

I, too, rise to a seated position on the bed. I place a palm against the scar on his chest, and begin to trace the line with a fingertip. I'm reminded of that day, a few months ago – the day we just reminisced about.

I feel the blood pump behind my ears, but far more gently than it had that first July morning.

"The first time I ever felt like kissing you," I nearly whisper, "I was touching this scar."

"That's…kind of kinky." He says, voice dim like mine.

"I want to make out with you now, that's not…forward or anything, is it?"

He rubs the back of his neck and makes a seemingly affirmative grunt. I bring my face nearer to his, as he brings his hands to hover in an unorthodox fashion near my upper back. The kiss spends an instant being tender and gentle, like the one I placed on the corner of his mouth a minute before, but soon deepens considerably.

I tangle my fingers in his short hair and he grabs me by the wrist. Often, it feels as though he completely stiffens at my touch, and I'm wary of moving further. But my mouth parts slightly and as soon as he allows my tongue to slip into his mouth, his posture becomes softer. He uses his grip on my wrist to pull my arms around his waist, and we tumble back onto the mattress.

I lie facing him as we place feverish kisses on each other's mouths. Before long, I can't resist the temptation of bringing my lips to his pointed, protruding adam's apple. Our arms are tangled around each other's torsos; our breath is deep but quiet.

I'd hate to make comparisons, but Cody is unlike Trent, just as I expected. I'm not burning up with desire and a need for forward motion; I'm not asking to be pinned down and destroyed. I can lie here and enjoy every sensation, as I feel him slowly loosening up more and more.

We slow our pace and pull away, after some time. I have a tingling arm wrapped around his waist, as lies on an angle. Our faces are still close – he looks at me saucer-eyed.

"What's up?" I say

His gap is revealed. "I dunno, I feel…um, content, I guess."

"That's good." I say, placing my head down on the pillow. "And by the way, would you be okay with hanging out with Izzy and Owen tomorrow?"

"I thought you were scared of Izzy." He says, slow and fatigued.

"Oh, good Lord, of course I'm scared of Izzy. Anyone with a brain should be. But I'm alright with her now, I think. Maybe we can be friends after all. Provided I print off a list of guidelines and ground rules for her."

He produces a deep-voiced giggle. "Nice to know you're actually able to change your views sometimes." He wiggles away from me slightly, rolling onto his back.

"I'm tired. I went swimming today. Maybe I should pack 'er in."

"You don't need to leave." I muse

His brow furrows as he looks at the ceiling, then to me. His mouth forms a small pout.

"Alrighty…" he begins. "Lemme get my PJs?"

He rolls out of bed and exits my bedroom. He returns within five minutes, in lounge pants and holding a toothbrush.

"Nice oral hygiene." I note.

"Hey, do you really want to be…" his voice lowers "kissing me, if I didn't brush my teeth?"

"Point taken. Hey, did you ever…think about getting braces?"

"Braces are expensive."

"You're an only child. I have nine kids in my family. It would take our teeth growing in upside down before any of us would get braces." I cross my arms behind my head.

"Well, truth be told…I know it's weird but, I kind of like my gap. I used to be self-conscious about it, because it got a lot worse when I was little and lost my baby teeth. I didn't really have it in my baby teeth." He squeezes toothpaste on his toothbrush. "But I got older, and one day I looked at myself in the mirror and suddenly didn't want the gap gone anymore. I guess it's just…a part of my face." He stuffed the brush in his mouth and begins to scrub. "Do you think I should try and fix it?" he says, muffled due to his full mouth.

"Frankly, Cody, I think it's the most marvelous tooth-gap in the history of mankind."

After he spits, I wiggle to one edge of the bed, staring at him expectantly.

"You want me to just take this other bed here?" he asks, pointing to the other, unused bed in my room. Although I'd be thrilled to share a bed with him, my mouth speaks before my mind does:

"Sure, go ahead." I slowly moan, stretching my body out again. "It's nice to have…room I guess."

"Sweet." He grins, sneaking a stuffed bird under the sheets before snuggling in. I had sort of forgotten about the doll.

"You'd rather spend the night with an ostrich than me?" I joke.

"For your information, he's an emu, and his name is Jerry." He says with a laugh.

"Well excuse me!"

He chortles again and pulls down the metal chain on my bedside lamp.

"Nighty night." He says.

"You're such a kid." I chide.

On Wednesday we file into the aftermath studio one last time, in anticipation of watching Beth and Duncan duke it out for the gold. I personally find it hard to believe that Beth made it this far, she seems so forgettable to me that I'd ignored her very existence until the chance of her victory bubbled up.

Cody and I get off the bus and head towards the filming area. We file behind the peanut gallery bleachers, when someone catches Cody's eye.

"Trent! How's it been going, dude?" he says. They exchange a feeble fist-bump. Trent briefly glances at me with a tight smile. I decide to hang back as they speak.

As I observe Trent's motions, he still seems fidgety, but present – I suppose he received my note and took its contents to heart, whether or not it translated into actual results. Or perhaps someone else just so happened to echo my complaints, and it made an impact on him. I take my place in the back row, near Ezekiel, and wait for them to finish conversing.

Cody climbs up the bench to sit beside me. Taking his personal space into mild consideration, I shift as near to him as I can, mostly to escape the peculiar, gamey odor that emanates from Ezekiel's coat. Trent takes his place in front of us, and the smell of his body spray that was once quite attractive to me wafts upwards, mixing with the bizarre eau-de-Zeke, creating a nauseating aroma that will only become stronger as all of our bodies melt beneath the blazing stage lights.

In a pseudo-acrobatic leap, Tyler hops to the top step of the bleachers and sits beside Cody, not before placing a friendly hand on his shoulder with an utterance of 'hey dudes.' A small voice in my head kind of wishes that Tyler had been on my team at some point – because if there's one thing that I've learned from my days at Total Drama, it's that often, a kind simpleton is far more enjoyable to spend time with that a conniving genius. I smile at the incompetent athlete sincerely.

Having to watch the finale from a jumbotron is far less rewarding than experiencing the victory first-hand, I'd wager. But one upside to my position means I can just remain seated throughout the performance. And thus, it begins.

I watch with mild interest as Duncan and Beth are subjected to death-defying stunts once again. Despite my initial disdain at not being selected to participate this season, the more I watch the events, the more grateful I become that I was privileged enough to be sidelined all month. During season 1, the worst thing to happen was leaping off a cliff, Heather losing her hair, Trent being in traction, and Cody getting very briefly pawed at by a bear before being swiftly rescued by the crew. This time around, any standards set in favour of our safety seem to have been completely thrown to the wayside; the sadistic host and his gang completely detached from the real possibility of our deaths.

I stare at the screen as I contemplate the moral conundrum of Total Drama when I make a realization. I nudge Cody.

"Dude, this is bullshit."

"Hn?"

"They say it's live," I whisper "But look at how bright out it is! Wasn't the sun setting when we were outside? That means someone already won, and we still need to sit through this garbage."

"Come on Noah, show a little spirit! You seemed pretty excited last time."

"Well, one of my best friends in this insane asylum won last time. I've never had a positive interaction with Duncan, and I've never had an interaction at all with Beth."

"Hey, Beth isn't a bad girl. Her breath used to be a little rancid 'cause of the braces but she's really sweet! Her and Lindsay tried to give me a manicure and do my hair during the summer, remember?" he hisses.

"God, you're gayer than me."

This line shuts him up, face taking on a mild pallor. We return our attention to the action. Beth prattles out a landslide of information that I can hardly keep track of. She should date Harold – between the lisping and the trivia, they'd have their own little impenetrable bubble of loserdom.

Bridgette was born April 4th, 1993. Izzy is the only contestant to come from a territory, not a province. DJ stands for 'Devon Joseph'. Noah has the most siblings. Heather's favorite colour isn't really a colour, it's 'metallic silver.'

She finally stumbles when posed a question about how many campers come from outside of Ontario. I know that maybe half of us come from Ontario, but the only non-Ontarians I can think of are west-coster Bridgette, Saskatchewan prairie boy Zeke, east-coaster Cody, Newfies Harold and Tyler, and of course as I've just learned, the territory-born Izadora Quigg.

Despite her failure on the single question, her ability to memorize this sheer amount of trivial facts is impressive, to say the least.

It isn't long afterwards that our victor is heard clamouring to the edge of the stage. Whoever comes in first will be declared the winner. Finally captivated, I peer anxiously at the wings of the stage.

And met with gasps from the peanut gallery, both Beth and Duncan thrust themselves onto centre stage.

The tie was broken with votes. Well, eventually. Before that there was a quiz show and a body-contorting contest, but that was so inherently disturbing that I'd prefer not to discuss it. When it was my turn to ask a 'final question' to the finalists, I went with some nonsense about their favorite movie. Duncan picked a messy, low-budget horror film. Beth said A Walk to Remember. Predictable.

Finally, the actual voting occurred. While standing in line to enter the 'improvised bathroom confessional' (literally the stall of the soundstage's washroom), I lament to Owen and Izzy about how I can't decide who to vote for because neither finalist tickles my fancy.

"I double doozy dare you to vote for Explosivo!" Izzy trilled with a chuckle.

So that's exactly what I did.

I really hope the vote I wasted on Explosivo wasn't the potential tie-breaker, because in the end, Duncan came out victorious. On the bright side, perhaps it means that he will no longer need to resort to stealing to get all the junk he needs – though I remain uncertain on how someone could steal a piercing.

We crowd towards the centre of the stage. Not feeling particularly attached to either of our finalists, I simply move to stand wherever Cody and Owen ultimately go. My eye catches on Duncan as I migrate to the centre of the stage.

"Hey." I suddenly utter. He gestures a 'sup' nod.

"Congratulations on your victory." I put simply.

"Thanks, faggot." He says with a wide grin.

I shrug "At least you call a spade a spade."

The smile he produces is not just the cocky grin of a bully, but one with the slightest hint of appreciating my sarcasm.

The lot of us stand together in a tight circle.

"This is it, guys!" Bridgette says in disbelief. "The real last episode of Total Drama! I really meant it before when I said I'd miss you!"

"Yeah dude!" Geoff adds. "Every last one of you rock."

"Even Heather, right?" Iimplore.

"Sure!" Geoff says, wrapping Heather's shoulders beneath a strong arm. "Why not Heather?"

For an instant she stiffens and sneers, but as he draws her in closer, her mouth cracks open to reveal a genuine, toothy smile. We squeeze together – strange how the dissolution of the competition aspect also manages to soften our tension, even though we're all losers in the end. Geoff tosses his camera to Beth's boyfriend, Brady.

"Yo dude, take a pic!"

Brady leans as far back on the stage as he can, gesturing for us to nudge together. Our faces freeze into elastic smiles as he presses the shutter. He hands the camera back to Geoff.

Amid banter of 'this is so going on Facebook!' and 'What, my eyes are closed! I don't remember blinking!', Beth raises her voice.

"Hey, everybody?"

We turn our attention to her. "Um…" she starts, fiddling with her glasses. "I have a suggestion to make. It might not be a popular suggestion but I'd like you to listen anyway, okay!" Inquisitive, the entire group turns to face her.

"I know tonight is like…our last night ever on Total Drama. And it's been a long journey since we first sent out applications last December, through to this summer, and now even in late October. We made enemies and found love…"

A bit anxiously, my fingers find Cody's hand, as he stands beside me. I stroke a thumb against the back of his hand.

"And maybe broke a few bones. And um, I guess what I'm saying is we should have a nice get together to top it off before we leave!"

"When exactly does this become an 'unpopular' suggestion?" Leshawna bellows from the crowd.

"Well, I asked Chris, and he says it's okay…and…well I was wondering if maybe we wanted to do a final camp-out back on the island, like, the place that started it all?"

"That Island brought me pure misery." Gwen grunts.

"I could have died over there." Cody adds.

"But…" Owen pipes up. "Maybe we should make good memories there to outweigh the bad?"

After a brief instant of silence, the others begin to nod in affirmation. A final campout at Camp Wawanakwa it is. And I don't want it to show externally, but I'm a tiny bit excited.

We sit around the campfire in the frigid late October air. We crunch twenty-three bodies into the confines of a tight circle to preserve warmth. This isn't a tropical paradise, this is Ontario, and this is night time on October 22nd – not a time for sane people to camp.

But as the events of the last few months have proved, the sum of this group does not amount to sane people.

I squeeze in with Cody beneath a comforter, the 10 o'clock air forming my breath into barely-visible clouds.

"Are you actually cold?" Izzy jests. She's wearing her normal outfit, with only a light cardigan over it.

"Why must you mock me every time I'm cold?"

"You sillyface, I spend a lot of my kidhood in the Yukon! You don't know cold until you spent Winter nights at school, waiting for those two hours of sunlight where you won't instantaneously die of hypothermia simply from being exposed to the torrential snowflakes!"

"Does it rain liquid nitrogen where you are?" I scoff, pulling the blanket tighter on me.

"Maybe it snows solid nitrogen, you never know!"

"The melting point of nitrogen is, like, negative 200 degrees, so I don't think so." I roll my eyes, but I can't help but smile. For all her annoyingness, I've grown to actually like Izzy.

"Haha, oh Noah, you smartypants, you would know that." She says, leaning in. "By the way, you look super adorable snuggled up with Cody under a blanket like that."

"I'm thrilled." I state. Izzy crawls away from me.

"I have an idea!" Bridgette exclaims. "How about we play truth or dare?"

A groan escapes the group.

"I think we had enough of secrets and challenges." Leshawna pipes up. "Why don't we just talk without making a game out of it?"

Bridgette pulls the scrunchie from her hair, ruffling her scalp. "Yeah, I guess you're right." She pulls her blond locks back neatly, reaffixing her elastic. "Why don't we…share out best moments? Or maybe some secret we never shared?"

"I think that our winner should start." Heather sneers.

"Oh, I don't think so, girlfriend." Duncan retorts. "You heard my secrets in the treehouse, and that is never making the edit."

"Fine! But I think you're just a wimp, because I'm not scared to say my secret. Okay, okay: when I was a little girl, I was fat and awful."

"Some things never change…" Leshawna sneers.

"Shut it! I'm trying to tell a story!" Heather raises a finger, and then lowers it as her face returns to a more neutral expression. "When I was in grade nine, I had like no friends, and I used to get made fun of. It was not good for my confidence. I felt like I was invisible, or at least, only visible when people were looking at the negative aspects. Also I weighed like a hundred fifty pound, which is not cool either. I used to dream about all the ways I could get back at the people that used to make fun of me, and during the summer between junior and senior high, it dawned on me: just be better than them! So I dropped a ton of weight and practiced all those 'popular girl things'…"

"Balancing a book on your head, repeating that the 'rain in Spain stays mainly on the plain…'" I interject. She looks at me with daggers, but also with a hint of amusement.

"Oh forget it! I know one thing will never change: when people look at me, they want to see the negative. I think accepting that was the only way I didn't go bonkers in junior high."

"Who says you didn't?" Gwen says with a snicker.

"Alright, let's be nice, everyone. " Bridgette says, waving her arms to elicit attention. "I'll go next: I claim to be a vegetarian, but I still eat salmon. Raw, cooked, smoked – I can't resist it. I feel bad because I know fish are animals, just like cows or chickens, but I can't give up salmon! I'm glad none of you are vegetarians because trust me, they'd go nuts on me for my betrayal."

"I tried to be a vegetarian a few times." DJ says sadly "But my Momma wouldn't let me. Said I wasn't getting enough protein, that I'd lose my football skills. So now I just avoid thinking about the poor critters I'm eating."

"You guys are pussies." Duncan interrupts. "I ate a chunk off a raw side of beef once. It was a dare. It was fucking tasty."

Laughter erupts from the group, amid sounds of disgust.

"My confession is…" Tyler says with a big sigh. "I never actually was part of my high school basketball team. I got eliminated in the cuts. I used to play in Junior High though! But then again…so did all the boys in my grade." He begins to rub the back of his neck as his thoughts sink in. "Even the one with cerebral palsy." This is also met with raucous laughter.

"The only time I ever got less than 85% in a class at school, I was so devastated that I tripped over a chair while running to the bathroom to cry." Courtney says as Duncan places a reassuring hand on her shoulder. "But I know it's because the teacher just didn't like me. And that is absolutely unacceptable to give someone a worse mark for such petty reasons! If I could see her today, oooh, I'd take her to the cleaners!"

"That's my princess!" Duncan says with a laugh, drawing her in closer.

"I had to help my sister out when she had diarrhea on a date…" Lindsay starts.

"We've heard this story before!" another voice interrupts.

"I made a personal ranking of all the girls in order of attractiveness." Cody says meekly. "…And the guys too."

"Yo, that's a perfectly normal thing to do." Ezekiel says, making arbitrary gestures.

"Nobody will ever see that sheet of paper." Cody replies.

"Lemme guess, your little girlfriend was at the top of the boy's list?" Duncan teases.

"No, I think Trent was." Cody says curtly. "Okay! Someone else say something now, please."

"Okay so now that Chris isn't listening, I have to admit: I fell asleep like an hour into the awake-a-thon, for like ten or twenty minutes. No one even noticed, so I didn't get eliminated!Except maybe Sadie but, of course she wouldn't rat me out, would you?" Katie says, voice lowered.

"Of course not!" squeals Sadie. "I remember that day."

"Don't we all…" I say quietly.

"How about you, Neil?" Lindsay chimes in. "I don't remember even talking to you much…do you have anything interesting memories?"

"Lindsay, when have you ever seen a brown guy named Neil?" I say, shaking my head in disbelief. I don't bother directly correcting her.

"I bet Noah has some good memories of the awake-a-thon, eh?" Izzy ribs me, while literally elbowing me in the ribs.

"Yeah, I feel asleep. Big whoop."

"But when you woke up…"

I shoot her a very poisonous glare, but try to slough off her comment as languidly as possible. "Yes, yes, I was spooning Cody. Not one of my proudest TV moments. Or Cody's. Eh Cody?" I nudge him.

"Um…" he fails to formulate words. I send him a warm smile.

"Haha, I think we all know you tops your list." Izzy snickers.

"Oh yes, he's a real cutie, isn't he?" I say jokingly, poking him in the side of the head with a fingertip.

"Cute, Noah liking boys. That's only the least surprising thing we've learned today, with Tyler's lack of athletic skill coming in close second." Justin says mockingly.

"Pretty sure if we were taking dibs on who's the biggest homo in this camp, you'd also be 'coming in close second.'" I reply with a sneer. This is met with some snickers. I hate Justin passionately. I can never offer an adequate explanation as to why – it's just something I've always felt. "And I have another question, who decided it would be a good idea to bring marshmallows every time we have a group gathering? I can never think of marshmallows in a positive light again."

"That's easy for you to say, you didn't need to eat one every time your stomach was in knots from near-elimination." Heather says, absently popping one in her mouth. "Victory may be sweet, but victory marshmallows feel like Styrofoam going down."

I sneak a piece of chocolate from the s'mores kit, hoping no one notices that it throws off the precious graham-to-hershey ratio.

I lie beside Cody, loosely wrapped in a blanket. I'm sure that nobody is comfortable – we all fell asleep down here beside the fire instead of sleeping in the cabins, despite the time nearing three AM. Members of the group are in various states of dozing; only a few hushed voices can be heard above the meager crackling of a weakened fire.

With a woosh, someone drops another bundle of twigs on the fire, and meanders back to their place between blankets on the rocky group.

I'm cold.

I find the guts to whisper to Cody: "Where was I on your list?"

He snickers, and his red-lined eyes peel open a slit. "After Tyler."

"You bitch."

We laugh. "Well I don't think Tyler would want to share a blanket with you." I add.

"I'm alright with that."

His eyes shut and his breathing softens to a slow rise and fall of his chest. I stare up at the starry sky and am reminded of that ridiculous night at the awake-a-thon. That was the day we became friends – sitting beside that log, right there, about two metres behind my head.

Cody rolls to his side and wiggles away with a tiny yawn. The unconscious twitch of his legs, reminiscent of a dreaming dog, indicates to me that he's sound asleep.

All sounds die down until nothing remains but the crackling of embers. I slide behind Cody and wrap my hands steadily around his waist. I pull his slim, warm body closer to mine, hot pulse heating up my frigid fingers. My nose becomes engulfed by his wavy, flyaway hair, and I allow myself to smile.

I close my eyes and recall the early hours of July 4th, and in a romantic yet pathetic attempt to recreate the moment, I plant a kiss on Cody's neck, right beneath the ear.

Morning comes and we pack up. We head to the bus, as before.

This time, the butterflies don't come when his head tilts onto my shoulder – not for me, at least. He smiles a quivering smile as I allow myself to take him by the hand. It only takes a few minutes for his hand to get clammy and slip away from me, but I am not bothered.

And strangely, just like before, we decide to follow Trent as he approaches his gate for takeoff. The only difference is that Gwen isn't with him this time.

Throwing his guitar case across his shoulder, he holds out a hand to Cody.

"It's been real, dude."

"Likewise."

They perform an awkward sort of fistbump-handshake combo. Trent's gaze then falls upon me.

"It's been an...eye-opening experience to say the least." He adds.

He comes in for another fistbump/handshake thing, but I am unsure of how to position my hands. I raise a flat palm when he forms a fist, then his fingers unknot just as mine tangle up. He musters a pearly smile and instead wraps an arm around my shoulders, pulling me into a hug. I release a small chuckle as I feel his form against me, one last time – stiffness replacing any former sensuality.

He gives us a lingering yet joyous gaze as he approaches the boarding gate.

"You guys will have a song written for you, promise." He calls out as he leaves.

About an hour later, Air Canada flight 608, Toronto to Halifax is called out. Although we'd been jabbering on and off all evening, for the hour that expired since Trent went away, the two of us have been all but silent.

What remains to be said? A lot, I think. We'd suddenly upgraded our friendship to whirlwind romance a sparse five days ago. Five days, while better than nothing, is a short contract – a promise for a half-finished love affair where everything that could be said remains unsaid.

We never grew to be at ease enough to fully understand one another, or why things unfolded the way they did. We never got a chance to really glimpse what went on in each other's minds.

I never got the chance to question whether he loves me anywhere near as much as I love him, or if he's only going along with my whims out of curiosity or mercy. I like to believe that isn't the case, and that he truly enjoyed each fleeting moment, each messy, inexperienced kiss. But I can't be sure. If the truth is any different, I never want to know.

"I should go." He says, rising to his feet from the waiting area bench. I sit frozen, staring at his retreating form. He turns to look at me, a confused glaze in his eyes. I decide to stand, following him to the gate.

I've said this many times before, but when Noah Khosla is speechless, something is assuredly wrong. All I can muster as I look at him is a shuddering sigh.

He is next to whispering when he speaks: "I've met friends here like I've never had before."

I stop staring at his feet and look into his teal eyes again.

"And…" he anxiously looks side to side. "I'm glad you like me for me."

In one fluid, quick motion, he puts his hands on both sides of my neck, and pulls in close. He plants a quick kiss upon my lips and pulls away. Opening his eyes, he says curtly: "I left you something. It should be easy to find."

In the short moment it takes my heart to groan at the words, he slips away down the hallway to his gate.

I need to get to my train station. My train leaves at eleven, and everyone I care to bid farewell to is already gone.

In a Via rail train making short work of a short trip across Ontario, I recline in my seat.

My spine pops, bone by bone, in vengeance of last night's sleeping position.

Maybe, I say to myself, I should get some sleep.

But now I'm thinking of Cody and it makes me feel stupid. There are no big words to describe how I feel – well, maybe there are, but none I can think of that would do anything but cheapen the moment.

I don't want to say I'll miss him, but I will. I'll never see him again. Maybe.

There are tons of people in the world just like Cody Anderson. In fact there are like five guys just like him at my school, not including people actually named Cody, Coady, or Kodi.

But they aren't him, and this is why I feel like a moron. I feel like a moron because I might be in love.

I root in my bag for my mp3 player, praying that progressive metal and alternative rock will drown out my buzzing, swarming thoughts.

I check the front pouch first, and find a sheet of paper. The edges are torn. It looks like a list of instructions on how to set the prompter text of the Total Drama Aftermath stage. How did this get down here, in my luggage?

I unfold it further and flip it over. On the other side is pencil-written text, messy and angular.

With an unmistakeable lefty's slant.

"Search Facebook: Cody Anderson (no middle names)

Codemeister401

Cody Anderson

14 Brierly Road

Antigonish, Nova Scotia.

I can't leave like this."

NOTE: At the end, where it says Codemeister401, it should have 'at gmail dot com' written beside it but somehow that vanished when I posted the chapter. Perhaps has blocks in place so people don't divulge actual email addresses in their stories. Besides, don't send a message to Codemeister401. You don't know what you may find!

For some reason while writing this I closed a speaking tag with 'Gary Said' when I meant Cody. I have NO CLUE where it came from.

Anyway this chapter essentially came together all in one day (26 Aug) but I waited til now to post it, because I felt like I was losing grip on Noah's narrative voice so I swapped a word here and there to make it more snarky. The only time I'm not fully satisfied with is the kind of open-and-shut nature of the Trent affair, I feel like I could have done more with it, but then again people came for noco not Trenah and the entire event was just so weird that to leave it as it is seems nearly suiting.

I'm back in university now and it's hard to find the quiet time (somewhat cause of work, mostly cause of partying and socializing...) to continue writing, so I can't promise many updates for now. But I will promise at least one before xmas break, and then at least two chapters throughout the Christmas break itself!

I'm pretty happy with how this chapter came out. Also, what's today anyone? September 9. [my personal] Happy Birthday to NOAH :D