Date: Sun, 4 Mar 2012 15:51:47 -0500
From: Cy-kun <cysanonymouslyanonymousemail@gmail.com>
Subject: Oh Radio Tell Me Everything You Know Chapter 1

Disclaimer: Sex: This story has it, eventually. And it's between boys. If
that bothers you, or you don't like stories that don't jump into the sex
right away, then this probably isn't for you. Copyrighted material: Again,
this story has it. I don't own the copyrights, I don't pretend to, and this
is free so I can't get sued anyway. True stories: This is not based on one.

Introduction: So, this is my new story. Which, yeah, obvious right? Almost
as obvious as me having no idea how to start this intro off. But, we have a
bit to get to so let's just ignore my meness and move on. Like I said in
the disclaimer, this story takes a while to get to the sex. Just saying it
again since people usually totally ignore anything that says "disclaimer"
on it, lol. You don't need to read my first story to enjoy this one, but
I'm gonna whore it out anyway because that's just how I am. Take that
anyway you want.

http://www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/young-friends/everything-will-turn-out-alright/

If you like this one, or liked that one, you'll probably like that one, or
this one. I also have a Twitter this time, and I'll be putting updates on
when the next chapters are up/gonna be up/getting delayed/got stolen by
corporate spies, so you guys can just look there for that kinda stuff.
https://twitter.com/#!/Captain_Cy_kun Some other bastard actually took just
plain cy_kun, can you believe that crap? Anyway, you don't need to follow
if you don't want to. Trust me, I get not wanting someone like me showing
up on your thingy for all your friends to see. Just hide the link in the
dark, rat infested depths of your bookmarks and check back every now and
then. Of course, if you WANT to follow, I won't exactly be sad.... Just, if
you're gonna send me praise or hate do it to my email address, ok? Emails
are better than Tweets for that stuff.

	Ok, I think that's everything. I hope you guys enjoy the story! ^_^

	-Cy


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	My story, like all good stories, is about a radio.

	Wait, no, that's not right. I mean my story is about a radio, sort
of, but all good stories aren't about radios. Let's try this again.

	My story, like all good stories, is about love.

	Well, that isn't true either. Again, my story is about love, even
more than it's about the radio, I think, but not all good stories are about
love and all stories about love are sure as hell not good. Just look at
Pearl Harbor. That movie was about love and it sucked more than a hooker in
debt.

	Like I said though, my story was about love and radio. Maybe I
could start a whole new category? Maybe it'll take off and in a hundred
years someone will be sitting down about to tell their story and start it
off with "My story, like all good stories, is about love and a radio."

	Maybe not.

	Still, that's how my story is going to start off. Well, I guess it
already started with the radio line if you wanna get technical. Actually,
if you wanna get really technical, none of this is part of my story because
my story sure as hell didn't start off with love or a radio.

	It started off with me getting yelled at.

	"Andrew Allen Baxter V you get your ass down here right now!" my
dad screamed from the living room.

	Yep. That, unfortunately, is me. Andrew Allen Baxter V. For those
of you who don't know anything about Roman numerals, that's pronounced
Andrew Allen Baxter the fifth. Not Andrew Allen Baxter Vee or Andrew Allen
Baxterv. Not that I care, really. I make everyone call me Andy anyway. No
one but my parents or teachers ever calls me Andrew and no one but my dad
ever uses my full name and he only does that when he's angry or giving me a
lecture about the importance of carrying on the family name.

	We'll get into that more later.

	I sighed. I'd been expecting this. I'd actually been waiting up in
my room all day since I got home from school wondering when it was going to
happen. Five minutes ago the phone rang and five minutes after that my very
pissed dad yelled at me to get downstairs.

	So I did.

	I could tell my dad was more pissed than usual because he wasn't
sitting in his deep, leather armchair smoking one of the large cigars he
liked to tell his friends was Cuban but was really bought from a tobacco
shop in the next town over. No, he was standing in the middle of the living
room with his hands on his hips, his face flushed and my mom standing next
to him glaring at me.

	It might have been funny if I wasn't so worried.

	I know I said I'd been expecting this for hours but I didn't think
"the incident" called for this much anger. Unless they knew WHY "the
incident" happened. If they knew that then I was pretty much screwed. Like,
boarding school screwed. Well, actually maybe not. If they knew why,
boarding school is probably the last place they'd wanna send me. Maybe
military school?

	The thought almost made me chuckle.

	Again, it would have been funny if I wasn't so worried.

	They didn't say anything at first. They just stared. I knew what
they were doing though and it had stopped working on me before I even got
to high school. They were trying to get me worried or guilty enough to
blurt something out and that made me relax just a bit.

	If they knew the whole story they wouldn't need me to fill in any
blanks would they?

	I just stood there returning their stare. I was very careful not to
let any of my worry or my relief or really any emotion cross my face. If I
did they'd see and, most likely, take it as me being a "damned
disrespectful teenager" and make whatever punishment they had in mind for
me twice as bad.  After about a minute of staring it became pretty clear
that I wasn't going to say anything.

	"Andrew," my mother said coldly. "Your father just got off the
phone with Mr Erickson." Mr Erickson was the principal at my school. "He
told us what happened today."

	"Dammit! You should know better! You weren't raised to start fights
like some gangbanger hooligan!" my dad cut in.

	I almost shouted out that I didn't start the fight, which was true,
but if I said that I'd have to explain why someone started a fight with me
and I didn't have a good lie ready so I bit my tongue and kept quiet.
Something I kinda wished my dad would do.

	"Every single time you lower yourself like this you tarnish our
name, do you realize that?" my dad growled at me.

	Aw, hell. Now I knew why he was so pissed. I was happy that he
didn't know the whole story about "the incident" but if he thought I was
"dragging the family name through the mud" there was no telling what kind
of grounding I was gonna get.

	Now, just so you don't start getting the wrong idea, I think I
should explain something about my family.

	We're not rich. We never were. We don't come from old money and
none of us were ever part of any noble bloodline. We're not poor either. I
guess I'd say we're comfortably middle class. My dad works for an
import/export company and his position is somewhere between middle
management and Vice President. My mom writes for the local newspaper and is
a part time girls volleyball coach at the middle school in our town. I
don't think I'd ever been more glad that she wasn't the coach at my high
school. If she was she would have heard at least some of the gossip about
what happened today.

	So, anyway, the reason my dad was obsessed with the "family name"
wasn't because we had some long, noble history to uphold. Actually it was
because of the exact opposite. For five generations the first male child in
our family was given the name Andrew Allen Baxter and for almost three
generations every single Andrew Allen Baxter lived and died in near
poverty.

	My grandpa, my dads father, was the first to make something out of
himself and all of my dad's bedtime stories were of the horrors of growing
up poor and how important it is to Be Something. And of course to never do
anything that would cause anyone to think less of the family as a whole.

	It was really stupid when you thought about it. You had a guy who
overcame poorness and poverty and all that to make a good life for his
family and the first thing he teaches his son is how to be a stuck up,
arrogant asshole. All because of some dumb tradition of naming their sons
the same damn thing.

	My dad took it to heart though and even though he wasn't really
that bad of a person normally, he was involved with charities and was
pretty easygoing even with people he could have easily wrote off as
"beneath him", whenever something happened that he thought threatened "our
good name" he flew off the handle.

	Like he was doing now.

	I was used to his rants so I just stood there and listened
impassively as he went on about how "a Baxter should only fight in a boxing
ring or to defend himself or others" and how "a Baxter should never do
anything to make people think he was a common thug" and on and on. As mad
as my mom was at me for "starting" a fight she still gave me a look of
sympathy and understanding after about ten minutes of listening to my dad.

	"And another thing! If you're going to get into a fight you could
at least have the common sense not to do it in in the locker room! I can't
even imagine how undignified you looked rolling around half clothed on the
floor! A Baxter doesn't do those things and you know that!" he yelled. His
face was really red now so I knew he'd probably be winding down soon.

	The problem was my face was red too, but for a completely different
reason. I didn't expect the principal to go into that much detail. He
wasn't even the one who broke the fight up but I guess Coach Williams
didn't leave anything out when he told him about it.

	My dad took paused and took a deep breath. "I'm very disappointed
in you. We both are." Despite her earlier looks of sympathy my mom nodded
at this. I wasn't surprised. She always took my dads side. "You're grounded
for three weeks. No TV, no internet and no going anywhere except school.
Are we clear?"

	"Yes." I said sadly. Well, I hoped I sounded sad anyway. I almost
never watch TV, I could live without the internet and after today the last
thing I wanted to do was be seen in public so it really wasn't much of a
punishment. If they knew that though I'd just get more things taken away
and eventually they'd get to something I actually liked so I tried to act
like this was a terrible thing. Maybe I should have thrown a tantrum or
something to really sell it but I just wanted to get out of there.

	My dad took one last look at me, shook his head and stormed out of
the room. It was all for show, like so many things he did. He just went
into the kitchen and I knew the second I went up to my room he'd come back
in, sit in his chair, light up a cigar and watch the news.

	"Go up to your room Andrew." my mom said. "I'll bring you dinner
later but eating as a family is a privilege and you're going to have to
earn that back." She didn't make a dramatic exit, just stared at me with
angry eyes. I nodded, tried to look sorry and went up to my room.

	The second I had my door closed a small smile crept across my
lips. That went pretty much the way I expected it to. One thing about my
parents, they're predictable if nothing else. My smile faded as my eyes
fell on my cell phone. I sighed. I had one more thing to do before I could
try to put today behind me and I might as well get it over with.

	I picked up my phone and went through my small list of contacts.
Mom's cell, Dad's cell, home phone, Cheryl. How pathetic is that?  I
couldn't even fill up a Fav Five plan if I had it. I highlighted Cheryl, my
best friend pretty much since I was born, and punched send.

	She answered before the first ring stopped.

	"Andy! What happened?" she asked breathlessly. I didn't answer at
first. Even after fifteen years of knowing each other I still couldn't get
used to how abrupt she could be. I mean, would it kill her to say "Hello"
just once?

	"Pretty much what I thought would happen." I answered finally. "My
parents yelled at me and took away the TV and the internet. Oh and I'm not
allowed to leave the house."

	"Seriously?" she exclaimed. "All that just for getting in a fight?"

	I sighed. "No. All that for bringing shame to the great Baxter
name." I said with a pretty heavy dose of sarcasm. If I wasn't holding a
phone there might have even been air quotes.

	"Ugh, really?" she asked disgustedly. "You're dad's really gonna
need to get over that 'passing on the family name' crap really soon."

	I sighed again but this time much quieter and with a hint of
sadness behind it. "Yeah, I know." I said softly.

	I knew Cheryl almost as well as I knew myself so I knew that the
instant the words were out of my mouth she regretted brushing up against a
pretty sore subject.

	"Sorry." she said. "I didn't mean-"

	"I know." I cut her off, but gently. She knew me as well as I knew
her, so I knew she understood the implied forgiveness in my tone, but she
also knew that this wasn't something I wanted to talk about right then.

	"So," she said, changing the subject in the way that only teenage
girls, or best friends, seem to be able to pull off. "Are you gonna tell me
exactly what happened today? Or should I just believe the rumors?"

	I groaned. Not because she asked but because "rumors" kinda makes
it sound like there are more than one version of what happened going
around. I seriously didn't wanna know, but I needed to know what to expect
tomorrow in school so instead of answering, I asked "What are people
saying?"

	"Well, the one I heard the most was that you tried to suck Jarred
Walters dick in the locker room and he kicked your ass for it." she said
matter of factly.

	"WHAT?!" I screamed. I jumped as my voice echoed off the walls of
my room. I really should keep it down so I didn't draw up any concerned or
angry parents but I couldn't help it. "That is such bullshit! That's not
even close to what happened!"

	She giggled. "I didn't think so. So are you gonna tell me what
really happened?"

	I didn't even hear her. "He was...everyone else was.....Ahhhhh!
What the hell?! This is such crap!" I didn't know what the hell to
feel. Anger at what had happened, worry about what that stupid rumor might
cause to happen, confusion over, well, a lot of different things. It was
all swirling around in my head and I had to fight to hold back a sob even
as I was trying to figure out why the hell I wanted so badly just to cry.

	"Hey," Cheryl said softly, all trace of amusement gone from her
voice. "It'll be ok. No matter what anyone says I'll be here for you. And
if anyone says anything in front of me I'll kick their ass." I could just
picture the grin on her face as she said that and despite myself I let out
a small chuckle. She could totally do it too. Even though she was three
inches shorter than my 5'7" no one in school, guy or girl, wanted to mess
with her. She'd been heavy into martial arts since she was 10 and now at 15
she had a third degree black belt in Tae Kwon Do and more corded, compact
muscle in her tiny frame than even a lot of seniors had, so she could
definitely kick pretty much anyone's ass.

	Even though it made me feel like such a weak little wuss to need
protection from a girl, I still loved that she would offer.

	"Thanks." I said gratefully.

	"No problem." she said. "So, what really happened?"

	The last thing I wanted to do was talk about the "incident" but not
only did she deserve an explanation, she was probably the only person in
school who would actually listen to my side of the story. It might even
feel good to talk about it with her. I doubted it though.

	Once I opened my mouth it all came pouring out of me. "First of all
I didn't even do anything. It was all that asshole Jarred. He was showering
after gym and talking to his stupid friends and he just starts....playing
with himself right there in front of everyone!" In my mind I was back there
again, half changed, hair still wet from my own brief shower, watching
along with everyone else as one of the most popular guys in school groped
himself right there in the open. "I wasn't even the only one looking!
Everyone, literally everyone, in the locker room was staring. I mean, the
guy's practically masturbating in public for Christ's sake who wouldn't
look? But the second he sees me looking he gets all pissed off, walks over
and punches me right in the stomach! He starts calling me a fag and saying
that I was 'staring at his junk' and....I dunno I just snapped. I got up
and punched him in the face and the next thing I know we're on the ground
with him on top of me, still naked, hitting me and Coach Williams is
pulling us apart and I'M the one who gets sent to the office. I don't know
if he didn't see Jarred punch me first or if that asshole didn't wanna risk
his precious little quarterback getting in trouble but he must have told
the principal that I started it because I'm the only one getting detention
for the rest of the week!"

	I was out of breath by the time I stopped speaking. I don't know
why but once I started speaking I couldn't stop until I had it all out.
Well, most of it out anyway. I didn't tell her about the righteous anger I
felt sitting in the office waiting to be called into see the principal and
I didn't tell her how quickly that anger turned to disbelief when he didn't
even ask me for my side of the story he just gave me detention and sent me
back to class and I didn't tell her how I was filled with a different, more
helpless anger when my dad said that the principal told him it was ME that
started the damn fight.

	Now on top of all that some idiot started rumors that I was trying
to suck off that asshole? Didn't anyone who was there stick up for me? No,
of course not, but you would think that at least one of them would have
said "No, that's not what happened, the little fag was just watching him
shower" or something! Maybe they did and people just ignored it because the
rumor was more interesting? Grrrrrr!

	I hate high school.

	"That's such bullshit!" Cheryl was saying. "I can't believe no one
said anything! The guy attacked you and you just defended yourself, sort
of. I hate Coach Williams. That guy is a creep. I swear he watches the
girls way too much during gym class. Fucking perv."

	Once again, despite myself, I giggled. Our last two gym teachers
had gotten fired, not to mention sent to jail, for having sexual relations
with female students and it was a running joke at school that the only
reason that they hired fat, bald and hairy Coach Williams was that none of
the girls would ever wanna have sex with him. It was also very quickly
becoming a running joke that the only reason mean, bitter, kid hating Coach
Williams took the job was because he thought he might get some.

	"Or," Cheryl said slyly after hearing my giggle. "Maybe him and
Jarred have got something going on and Jarred just couldn't help touching
himself at the thought of being so close to his hairy whale of love."

	I laughed again. This time it was a full on belly laugh that I
couldn't contain even if I wanted to. After trying to hold in my anger and
frustration all day it felt so good just to let something out. I laughed
until there were tears streaming down my face and my stomach was in
knots. I ended up dropping my phone at some point but I could hear Cheryl's
tinny laughter coming out of it and that just set me off again.

	After a few minutes I pulled myself back together and picked up the
phone.

	"Thanks." I said sincerely. "I needed that."

	"That's what best friends are for." she said simply. I smiled to
myself. There was a few seconds of comfortable silence before she spoke
again. "So, what are you gonna do?"

	"About what?" I asked even though I had a pretty good idea what she
meant. It was the exact same thing that had been on my mind all day.

	She sighed. "Look, after today you know everyone at school already
thinks your gay right?"

	"Yeah..." I said quietly.

	"So why don't you just-"

	"I really don't wanna talk about this right now ok?" I cut her off.

	She sighed again but dropped it. "Alright. Just....think about it
ok?"

	"Yeah."

	There was another few seconds of silence, these slightly less
comfortable than the last ones. "Look I'm just gonna go." I said finally.
"If my parents come up and catch me on the phone they might take that away
too."

	I could tell she knew that wasn't the whole reason I wanted to get
off the phone, but because she is who she is she didn't say anything.
"Alright. I'll see you tomorrow ok?"

	"Ok."

	"And cheer up. Things will suck for a while but eventually some
cheerleader will get knocked up or Red Means Go Joe will total another car
and everyone will stop talking about what happened today."

	I snorted. I doubted that was true but I didn't wanna start a
conversation about it when I was trying to get off the phone so all I said
was "Yeah, maybe. Night Cher."

	"Grrr how many times do I have to tell you to stop calling me that,
Dandy Andy?"

	"About as many as I have to tell you to stop calling me that." I
laughed softly.

	"Whatever. I'll see you tomorrow." she said trying to sound annoyed
but I could hear the smile in her voice.

	"See you tomorrow. Bye."

	"Bye."

	I hung up.

	I tossed my phone down on the nightstand and lay down on my bed. I
flipped on my clock radio, closed my eyes and listened to the music.

	I was never into to TV or video games the way most kids are. Sure
there are a few TV shows that I'll watch if someone else is watching them
and I have fun at arcades like most kids and of course I'll go to the
movies sometimes but none of those are ever my first choice. If I had a
choice I'd either escape into a book or listen to the radio.

	I loved the radio. It fascinated me. It's the oldest form of
electronic entertainment in the world, a perfect blend of music and pure
conversational talent. You never knew what you were going to get. Yeah, if
you had an iPod you could hit shuffle and get a random playlist, but you
already know in advance what songs will play, just not the order. With a
radio it's always a surprise. You knew the genre and if you listened enough
you could probably guess a few songs that'll be played, but you still
didn't know what was next. You could hear anything from the worst, ear
rupturing garbage to the most beautiful, soul uplifting melody. I even
loved the radio shows that didn't play any music. The amount of talent it
takes to hold people's interest for three or four hours every day just by
talking to them is seriously underrated these days. Especially when you
consider that, for the most part, it's all done live with no second takes
or editing. I would rather listen to a radio show than watch the latest
superhero movie or mindless teen comedy any day of the week.

	Just another thing that separates me from everyone else.

	As the music played my mind drifted back over the events of the
day. I wasn't being completely honest with Cheryl. I knew exactly why
Jarred got so pissed at me for looking and not anybody else. And, if I'm
being honest here, she knew too. It really shouldn't have surprised me
since it was something I'd been putting up with for years. I'd never been
popular and when fifth grade rolled around and everyone that I'd gone to
school with since kindergarten was exposed to the words and mannerisms of
the "big kids" in middle school any chance I had of making any friends flew
out the window as I became knows as "that fag who's friends with the dyke."

	It wasn't that I acted gay or hit on guys or wore hot pink baby
tees or anything like that. I was just a normal guy, who acted normal and
dressed normal. My problem was that I LOOKED like I should be gay and my
only friend was the biggest tomboy in the school district.

	Not that I in any way blamed Cheryl. People would have started
calling me a fag whether we were friends or not. With my slender body,
delicate features, less than manly voice, girl soft skin, long black hair,
the fact that up until a few years ago I had a lisp, -not a gay lisp but a
legitimate speech problem that I'd been dealing with since I was five
fucking years old- and my complete inability to do anything that required
even the smallest bit of upper body strength, I was never going to be Mr
Stud the Manly Man.

	Before today though, I don't think anyone actually really thought I
was gay. It was just how people referred to me. If I was fat they would
have called me lard ass, if I wore glasses and tucked in my shirt they
would have called me a nerd and if I had crooked teeth and an accent they'd
have called me white trash. As it was I was just "that girly fag" or "the
little sissy that can't even do one pull up" or any one of a hundred names
that insecure assholes called me in order to make themselves feel
superior. My sexuality wasn't something anyone had seriously thought about.

	Until today.

	Whether or not everyone else had been doing it, I'd been "caught
looking" so as far as anyone was concerned I'd "outed" myself today. I'd
finally proved what they'd been saying all along and that, more than
anything, is what would bring them down on me.

	But do you wanna know what the real kicker is? After all the taunts
and insults, after all the lewd remarks and mockingly suggestive comments,
after trying for years to escape the "fag" stigma, I actually turn out to
BE gay. It's like God's telling a joke and my life is the punchline.

	I honestly don't know why I'm gay. Was I born this way? Is it the
result of years of people calling me a fag? Was it because my only friend
for my entire life was a girl who was more masculine on her worst day that
I was on my best? Was it because that friend, despite the "dyke" comments,
which by the way mostly stopped pretty quickly after she started taking up
martial arts, was completely straight and I spent the beginning of puberty
listening to her talk about how hot this guy or that guy was? Does it even
matter?

	That last one I can answer. No, it doesn't matter. If I could have
ever changed how I am that ship has long since sailed, been sacked by
pirates and burned to the waterline.

	That wasn't my problem. My problem, the one that Cheryl tried to
get me to talk about but that I didn't want to face, was what do I do now?
Do I "come out" and tell the world that, yes, I'm gay or do I try to tell
my version of the "incident" and hope that it, plus my passionate denial of
being gay, would eventually put me back in the "who gives a shit" category.

	It's not as simple as it sounds. On one hand there are some openly
gay kids at school, hell we even had a GSA. I could hope that if I came out
they'd offer their friendship and comfort, that maybe I could finally feel
like I belonged SOMEWHERE. Maybe I could even get a boyfriend out of it,
doubtful but at least it would be more likely than it is now.

	On the other hand no one has EVER stood up for me or offered me
friendship. The gay kids never said anything if they overheard me being
called a fag or saw me being shoved into a row of lockers so why would they
bother with me now? I could go through with it only to end up right where I
am now except looking more ridiculous for thinking that not being ashamed
of myself would make any difference at all.

	Then there were my parents.

	As things were, if they found out the full story of what happened I
could maybe get them to believe that I at least wasn't some gay pervert who
stared at boys in the locker room if I denied it enough. If I went around
telling everyone I was gay though and THAT got back to them, then I didn't
think there was any way I could talk my way out of that one. If my dad
found out I was gay he'd either have a heart attack or kill me.

	Or both.

	It's not that he has anything against gays. One of his best friends
is gay and he's been over at our house dozens of times. No, my dad would
kill me because you can't reproduce and pass on the family name unless you
have sex with a woman. It's kind of ironic in a way. Most closeted kids
would love to know without a shadow of a doubt that their parents were
accepting of gays but it didn't matter in my case because there is no way
he'd be accepting of me being the last of the Andrew Allen Baxter's.

	It's the punchline within the punchline that is my life.

	Even after thinking all that through I wasn't any closer to a
decision. I thought that maybe I could deal with whatever my dad did to me
-since, yeah, the murder thing is probably an exaggeration- if I had
support, more support than Cheryl I mean, but I couldn't be sure I'd get
it. I could end up ruining my life unnecessarily. But then what if I did
have support and still couldn't deal with whatever my dad did?

	Grrrr this was all too confusing! Thankfully I was saved from
further melting my brain by a knock at my door.

	"Come in." I said and sat up in bed.

	My mom opened the door and walked in carrying a plate of chicken
with mashed potatoes. If this was like every other time I'd had the
"privilege" of family dining taken away it'd be ice cold from sitting
around while they ate.

	"Here's your dinner." my mom said as she handed it to me. She
turned to leave but then stopped and turned back to face me with what
almost looked like a sympathetic frown. "Andrew, you know how your father
is, I don't know why you keep doing things that upset him like this. You
really should know better by now."

	"Mom, I-" But what could I say? She was right in a way. I knew what
my dad expected, he told me often enough, but how could I explain without
telling her things I didn't want her to know? "Never mind."

	My mom let out an exasperated sigh. "Look, please try not to do
things like this anymore ok? If not for your father, than for me. Please?"

	Dammit! I hate the guilt thing! Hate it! I don't even have anything
to feel guilty about and here I am thinking about apologizing. Well, that
sure as hell isn't gonna happen. I'm gonna stand firm this time.

	"I'm sorry, mom." the words were out of my mouth before I even
realized I was saying them. "I'll try."

	She smiled slightly. "Thank you." Then she turned and left. At
least she closed the door behind her.

	Damn her. I can deal with anything they throw at me except the
guilt. I picked at my food. Cold. Of course.

	I sighed. At least it broke me out of my thoughts. I propped up
some pillows and leaned back against my headboard and started to eat. Even
cold it wasn't that bad. My mom was a good cook.

	As I ate I got sick of listening to the top 40 countdown show I had
on so I played around with the tuner a bit trying to find something
interesting. Sadly, with this being early evening on a weekday, almost all
the stations were doing either some kind of countdown or a talk show and I
really wanted to listen to some music. I tried searching around in the
lower stations, the 80's and the low 90's. You know, the ones that usually
have college radio and the "godlessness is the root of all the worlds
problems" talk shows.

	I finally gave up searching for something listenable and decided to
put on the school's radio station. Yeah, my school has it's own radio
station. Don't ask how that happened because I have no idea. I was actually
pretty excited when I heard about it but it became clear pretty quickly
that high school radio is a lot like high school itself. Stupid, pointless
and almost impossible to sit through. Still, it was good for a laugh
sometimes, especially when the incompetent kids they got to volunteer spent
five minutes fumbling through trying to get a song to play. I figured I
could use some laughter after today and if it was at the expense of the
same kids who would be giving me hell tomorrow then all the better.

	I was surprised however to find that not only was there actual
music playing but it was a pretty popular modern rock song too. Usually the
kids that volunteer try to play really obscure bands to prove that they're
really into music or something. I dunno. The last time I was listening to
this station there was some god awful blend of polka and punk that
literally gave me a headache for like an hour.

	This was pretty good though. The next best thing to laughing at
idiots from my school really. Especially when the song ended and the next
one that played was one of my favorite songs. I smiled slightly as I
finished eating. This was a good find, and on such a terrible day too.

	Everything changed after the song ended though. Instead of a new
song, a voice came through my radio. "This next song was requested by
Rebecca and dedicated to 'someone special'. It's 'High' by James Blunt."

	After that the song started playing but I didn't hear it. I didn't
taste the last piece of half chewed chicken in my mouth. I didn't feel the
pillows behind my head. I suddenly forgot what day of the week it was.
Actually, I'm pretty sure if you asked me, I wouldn't even have been able
to explain the concept of a 'week' to you.

	All that I could focus on was that voice.

	It was the smoothest, most velvety voice I'd ever heard. Not deep,
definitely the voice of someone my age but it was more sensual than any
teenager's voice had any right to be, with just a little bit of a
mischievousness to it. Like it was sharing a naughty secret with you every
time it spoke. It had the slightest of rasps and tended to rise and fall
ever so slightly during words with more than one syllable. I'd never heard
anything like it in all my life.

	For those first few seconds I didn't even think of the person
behind the voice, there was just the voice. It was
so.....so.....perfect. Just two short sentences and I was hooked. I needed
to hear more. I was brought out of my thoughts by a sudden pain in my
crotch. I looked down and saw that I had an erection pressing painfully
against the zipper of my pants.

	I got hard from a VOICE! Holy hell! That's just.......well I would
have said 'not possible' but the evidence in front of me showed me the
painful truth. And painful it was. I winced as I reached down to adjust
myself.

	That was a mistake.

	The second my hand came into contact with my erection I literally
shuddered and turned to jelly. God it was so SENSITIVE! I'd never been this
sensitive in my entire life. And it was all over a voice!

	It was then that I started thinking of the person that voice might
belong to.

	 What kind of boy could have a voice like that? He had to be
beautiful. There is just no way someone hideous could have a voice like
that. Not that it mattered to me. I'd listen to him all day even if he had
three arms and half a face. He was probably older than me, but not too much
older, maybe 17? He seemed too confident to be my age, too....sensual.
Taller than me of course, strong but not overbearing, with arms that you
can feel secure in, like nothing could ever touch you......

	I shook myself out of my thoughts, swallowed my food and blinked
rapidly.

	Whoa.

	 This....is so not me.

	You have to understand, I'm the absolute LAST person that gets like
this. I don't buy into that 'love at first sight' mushy stuff. I know it
doesn't exist. All there is in the world is good looks and popularity
attracting more good looks and popularity. I've never looked for that and
I've never expected it. Were there guys I thought were hot? Sure. Did I
want a boyfriend? Of course. But that's all I ever expected. Someone to be
a friend and maybe eventually fool around with a bit and for me even that
was pushing the limits of reality. I certainly wouldn't find that until I
was off at college at the very least. I never had fantasies about finding
that one perfect love that all the love stories and Jennifer Aniston movies
seem to talk about and I certainly never obsessed over any of my super rare
crushes. Not like this.

	I'm not saying I fell instantly head over heels in love with that
voice on the radio. Don't think that. I still didn't really believe in that
type of thing. That voice though.....it made me WANT to believe. It made me
hope, just for a second, that maybe it wasn't all bullshit after all.

	I had to laugh at myself. Here I was, Andy, the outcast, the
faggot, the weak little boy that couldn't make a friend if he had a gun to
his head suddenly thinking "what if" about some nameless voice over the
radio. It was stupid. Even IF the person on the other side was the perfect
person for me and even IF I somehow found out who he was and even IF after
finding out I somehow got the courage to actually talk to him and even IF
he was gay and looking for someone, he wouldn't want anything to do with
me.

	And that isn't self pity talking, it's cold hard experience.

	I've never been able to make friends and I've never had anyone come
up to me and try to talk to me. The only reason Cheryl is my friend is
because my mom and hers have been best friends since they were little and
we spent our entire childhood at each others houses. Even back in
kindergarten and the early grades before kids knew what "undesirables" and
"social outcasts" were, nobody wanted anything to do with me. If it wasn't
for Cheryl I might have gone through my entire 15 years of life without
saying more than ten words to anyone other than my parents or teachers. I
was that pathetic.

	Great, now I'm getting even more mopey and pitiful. At least before
all I was depressed about was what happened at school but now I was
thinking about how horrible my social life has been since I first started
having a social life! And all because of two sentences spoken by an
angel. A totally and completely untouchable angel. I sighed. I think it's
time to turn the radio off and have a good, long sulk.

	I was actually reaching over to turn it off when the song that was
playing ended and the voice spoke again.

	"Welcome back to the all request hour on WJHS. Just a quick
reminder, if you wanna hear one of your favorite songs all you need to do
is call in at" he gave the number "and tell me your request. Right now
we've got a request from Sean for 'Walk' by Pantera."

	Once again I completely froze as the song started to play. Not so
much because of the voice, although that alone might have been enough to
send me into another swoonfest, but because of what it said. Not the part
about it being a request show. Or even the part where he gave out the
number. Nope, the part that made my body lock up was when he said "tell me
your request". Tell ME your request. That means that anyone who calls in
gets to speak to HIM.

	That means if I call in, I get to speak to him.

	 Now I had a serious problem. Well, two problems really.

	My first problem was that I was cripplingly shy. Like, so shy that
I can't even look waiters in the eye while mumbling out my order at a
restaurant. So, as you can imagine, actually starting a conversation with
someone was impossible for me. It really sucked because once I got
comfortable around people I thought I could be a pretty good guy to talk
to. Cheryl seemed to spend most of our conversations laughing and having
fun. Nobody ever got to see that side of me though, they just wrote me off
as the freak when I didn't walk up to them with witty conversation spewing
out of my smiling mouth. I was a bit quicker to open up online where I
didn't have to actually SEE the person I was talking to so naturally you'd
think phone conversations would be easier for me. This brings me to my
second problem.

	I'm afraid of making phone calls.

	Yeah, I'm serious. I don't even think there's a NAME for that but
if there is then I have it. Again, if I know the person really well and I'm
100% sure that they're the one that's going to answer the phone I can do
it, like I did earlier with Cheryl, but I've never been able to force
myself to call anyone I didn't know. Ever.

	See what I mean about problems?

	The very thought of reaching over to my phone and dialing the
number that I couldn't get out of my head was enough to send me into a near
anxiety attack. Yet the thought of not calling was like a weight on my
chest, no INSIDE my chest, that just kept getting heavier and heavier as
the seconds ticked by without hearing that voice and if I didn't call I had
no idea if this pressure would break or if it would break me.

	Twice my hand started to slide over to the phone and twice I
snatched it back. Why was I even doing this to myself?  I didn't seriously
expect to call and have him confess his undying love for me or even for him
to ask me to meet up somewhere for a quick screw in the back of his no
doubt incredibly sexy car. I didn't even expect a conversation. Was I
really putting myself through all this inner turmoil, on TODAY of all days,
just to have this guy talk to me?

	I thought back to everything the voice, the boy, said and I
suddenly realized what I wanted. " This next song was requested by
Rebecca....." " Right now we've got a request from Sean....."

	I wanted to hear him say my name.

	God, how sad is that?

	What's even sadder is that the second I realized this I immediately
started thinking, no, daydreaming, no, dammit Andy at least be honest with
yourself, FANTASIZING about just how he'd say it.

	'Next up is a request from Andy.'

	No, too brief. Realistic I guess but if I'm going to admit that I'm
fantasizing I might as well have fun with it.

	'This next song is one of my favorites and was requested by a very
special boy named Andy. I'm touching myself thinking about him right
now. Mmmmm yeah. Oh Andy I wish this was you touching me. Ohhhhhh.'

	Ok, so, maybe that was a little too overboard for this fantasy but
I'll be filing that away for later "use".

	'Our next song was requested by my new favorite listener, Andy. I
hope you call back soon.'

	Hm, not bad. Shows that he likes me but isn't too
pornographic. Suggests a possible interest in becoming more than just a
radio host and his fan. I like it. Of course, now that I've got that down I
need to start thinking about just HOW he'll say my name.

	Andy.

	AN-dy.

	An-DY.

	 A-What the fuck am I doing?

	This really isn't me. I know I already said that but this really
REALLY isn't me. I laugh at people who do things like this. No, actually
that's a lie. I've never heard of anyone getting all sappy and lo-like
struck over a voice. I laugh at the people who get this way over a picture
or a glance in the hall. If I ever heard of anyone obsessing over just
hearing somebody say less than 8 sentences I probably never would have
believed it and laughed at the person who told me about it for making up
such a lame story. So, I think I've established that this whole thing is
completely ridiculous for a whole slew of reasons, right? No need to pursue
this anymore. Just laugh at myself, forget about it and start planning how
I'm going to deal with school tomorrow, yeah?

	Then why am I dialing my phone?

	I actually completely froze when I realized that not only was my
phone somehow in my hand but that I had more than half the numbers for the
show already punched in. I didn't remember any of that. It's not that I
didn't reach for my phone before, I did, but I barely touched it before
pulling my hand back like I'd just reached into a pit of smoldering
coals. Now here I was seconds away from completing a call.

	 A PHONE CALL. To a STRANGER. That I was OBSESSING over.

	 My body must have betrayed me. Or maybe my mind was the thing that
betrayed me and my body was just trying to help me out? Maybe I'm just a
neurotic nutcase that's finally losing his grip on reality. God this was
hopeless! That's it. I'm putting the phone down and turning off the
radio. I'm going to go to bed five hours early, forget this ever happened
and hopefully come down with the ebola virus during the night so I can stay
home from school tomorrow.

	I finished dialing the number and hit 'send'.

	Ring.

	Oh shit! I called! I CALLED! I called the show! And it's
RINGING. Oh god, oh crap, oh fuck. I've never done this before! I'm calling
someone I don't know! No! Even worse, I'm calling Mr Sexy Radio Voice! What
the hell!?

	Ring.

	It's STILL RINGING! Shit. Hang up Andy! Do it now. Oh my God I'm
gonna throw up any second. Andrew Allen Baxter you hang up this phone right
now before he-

	"Hello, thanks for calling the WJHS request line, what song would
you like to request?" said the sexy voice.

	Can a person melt?

	Like, literally melt? I really hope not because if that's possible
then I'm definitely melting right now and I really wouldn't wanna have to
clean that up before going to bed. That's how it feels anyway. My body,
which was so damn tense and rigid not even a second ago, completely relaxed
when I heard that voice coming through the speaker on my phone. Well,
that's not entirely true. Most of my body relaxed but there was one part
that had the exact opposite reaction. Do I even need to spell it out?

	That isn't to say my mind wasn't still in total panic mode. It
was. I had the voice coming through my PHONE and all I wanted to do was
scream, throw it out my window and crawl under my bed. Or maybe
say....something. Either option sounded good but since my window was closed
and I didn't wanna explain to my parents why I broke it with my phone,
option two was starting to sound more and more like option only. The only
problem was I COULDN'T FUCKING SAY ANYTHING! Damn this stupid fear of
calling people! You would think it would go away after I actually made the
call but apparently fucking not. I thought about hanging up, I kinda wanted
to hang up, but my body wouldn't let me. I can't talk, I can't hang up and
I can't throw my phone through my window.

	If there is a hell it's going to be exactly like this.

	"Hello?" the mystery boy asked. His voice seemed for the very first
time to lack some of that easy confidence that had always been
present. There might have even been a hint of disappointment. "Dammit." he
muttered.

	I could see it in my head like I was watching it happen. His
shoulders would droop slightly as he realized the person on the other end
had either hung up or wouldn't say anything. His mouth with be set in a
small frown as he reached his hand to hit the button that would disconnect
the call and take him out of my life forever. Afterward, he'd completely
forget about the stupid kid who called but didn't say anything, my whole
involvement in his life forgotten within five minutes while I
hyperventilated myself to sleep. Just one more bit of proof that Andy the
fag boy was just as pathetic as everyone was always saying. Look at him, he
can't even force himself to talk to a call in radio show host.

	"Wait!" I heard someone yell. I jumped in surprise and looked
around my room to see who the hell had snuck in and started screaming. No
one was there. It took me a few seconds to realize that the high pitched
screech that I heard had actually come from my throat. I'm not sure which
shocked me more, the fact that I actually spoke or that I sounded like a
goddamn ten year old. Is that how I always sound or was it the fact that I
was seconds away from having an asthma, heart and diabetes attack despite
not having any of those problems?

	"Hello?" he said tentatively.

	My heart was pounding and I was pretty sure the sweat on my
forehead was starting to sweat. Why did I yell? Why couldn't my stupid
brain just let him hang up on me so I could stay up all night hating myself
and then let school distract me from how pathetic I am? I should hang
up. I'm going to hang up. I'm hanging up.

	I didn't hang up.

	At first I wasn't sure why I stayed on the phone. My body didn't
lock up and I wasn't suddenly overcome with anything that even resembled
confidence. I was still the same nervous, sad little boy that I've always
been but I just couldn't hang up the phone on this guy. I think in the end
it all came back to his voice. Not it's velvety, soul weakening sexiness or
even what it was saying, but the tone. It, he, seemed for the first time to
be unsure, but hopeful. The thought that, just maybe, I had some small part
in turning his earlier disappointment into cautious hope was enough for me
to push past my fears and doubts and insecurities just long enough to do
something I never would have thought myself capable of wanting to do, much
less actually doing.

	"H-hi." I squeaked.

	"Oh thank god!" he said with obvious relief. "I thought you were
another hang up."

	I blushed thinking of how badly I wanted to be "another hang up"
not even a minute ago. Dammit, now we're blushing? Jesus Andy why don't you
just cut your junk off and make it official? I covered my face with the
crook of my arm and tried furiously to get rid of the embarrassing redness
on my cheeks all the while knowing how incredibly stupid it was to hide
when there was no way he could see me over the phone.

	"Are you there?" he said, concern evident in his voice. Whether it
was concern that I hung up or concern that he might have a crazy calling I
couldn't tell though.

	"Y-y-yeah. I'm here." I managed. I was still squeaking and my heart
was pounding faster than John Henry on speed but I was able to get a
sentence out without stuttering. I decided to take that as a sign that I
was improving. Maybe if I was lucky I'll be able to actually express a
thought or two by the time this phone call was over.

	"Are you ok? You sound a bit sick." Oh god he DOES think I'm crazy!
What do I say? If I tell him I'm not crazy he'll just think I'm saying that
because I AM crazy. What if I agree with him? Maybe he'll take it as a
joke? But I don't think I can pull off a joke right now. I can barely
remember how to say hi. Ok, ok Andy get it together! Calm down now, take a
deep breath. No! Not that deep he'll think you're a pervert phone breather
or something! Ok, try again, deep, SLOW breath. Ok, there we go. Now
think. Did you give him any reason to think you're crazy? Ok dumb
question. But don't you also sound like you might be sick sick? Like flu
sick? See? Don't jump to conclusions. You don't know what he's
thinking. Right now let's just go with the less horrible of those two
options and answer him accordingly ok? You can do it.

	"Um, I-I'm fine." Still squeaking. I cleared my throat and tried
again. "I'm ok, um, good." A little better. Baby steps Andy, baby steps.

	He let out a small sigh of relief. "Ok, good. I wouldn't want my
first caller ever to keel over on me." he said with hint of mischief in his
voice and followed it up with a beautiful laugh.

	I didn't think people actually went weak in the knees but once
again my body was proving me wrong. I was so glad that I was laying down
because crashing to the floor right then would have been too embarrassing
for my already strained nerves to take. But even through my nerves and my,
god I can't believe I'm saying this, swooning, one thing nagged at the back
of my mind. Don't ask how I ever managed to get this out because if I live
to be a hundred years old and do nothing but think about this moment for
the rest of my life I'll never figure it out.

	"I-I'm your first?" Oh god you did NOT just say that! "First
caller! I mean...." I take back the thing about falling. THIS is too
embarrassing for my already strained nerves to take.

	If he noticed what I said, or my discomfort, he never mentioned it
and that alone was enough to make me want to fall in love with him,
disbelief in the emotion notwithstanding.

	"Yep." he said simply. "The first one that didn't hang up anyway."

	"But w-what about Rebecca and Sean?" I asked. Ok, ok this was
getting easier. As long as he didn't do anything like laugh or say anything
even REMOTELY suggestive or complimentary I could probably get through this
without having a heart attack or making a complete fool out of myself.

	"Oh, I made them up." he said like it was the most natural thing in
the world.

	"Why?" Yes! He said something, I responded without stuttering or
stammering. This conversation thing might not be so hard after all.

	"I kinda figured if I made it seem like lots of people were calling
in people wouldn't be so shy about calling in for real. It didn't really
work, until you anyway."

	Dammit that was way too close to a compliment. I can FEEL the
social awkwardness building up in my throat. Ok, let's just focus on the
irony in what he said. Me, being the first person not shy enough to call
in? Ha! Maybe I should say that. No! Then I'll have to tell him WHY I
called and I'm not even sure other than it has something to do with this
weird obsession I have with his voice and there is no way I can just come
out with that. He'll hang up. But isn't that what I want? Strangely enough
the answer to that is no. In fact the last thing I want is for this
awkward, stressful, taking-years-off-my-life conversation to end.

	What the hell is wrong with me?

	Crap, it's my turn to say something isn't it?

	"O-oh." Brilliant.

	"Hang on, the song is ending. I need to play something else." he
said. "Don't hang up, ok?"

	"O-ok." He didn't want me to hang up? He didn't want me to hang up!
That's good right? That means.....I have no idea what that means. I don't
even know what I want it to mean. He's probably just excited about his
first call. That's it. Nothing more. And do I want it to be more? I think I
do, which is stupid. This whole thing is stupid. I should just hang up. I'm
going to hang up. But he hasn't said my name yet.....ok, I'll get him to
say my name and then hang up.

	I'm such a sad little boy.

	"Coming up next is a request from Will, it's "Rockstar" by
Everclear." his voice came from my radio. Which means he'll be coming back
soon. Which means I need to think of something to say.

	"Alright, I'm back." he said a few moments later. Then, after a few
seconds of silence. "You still there?"

	"Y-yeah." Say something more! "I'm here."

	"Good. I thought you might have hung up on me before you got your
request out." God, that mischievous little lilt in his voice was driving me
crazy! Wait, request? Damn! He can't say my name if I don't have a song to
request, can he? I gotta think of something.

	"Um, 'Mine' by Taylor Swift?"

	Oh. Fucking. Hell.

	I don't know what's worse, that I just totally outed myself as a
teenage boy that doesn't exactly hate Taylor Swift or that the song kind of
fits this situation. At least in my head. Not like it matters. He's gonna
make fun of me. He's gonna laugh and ridicule me and the worst part is I'm
not even gonna get to hear him say my name first. All this stress and
panicking and this stupid fucking phone call has been for nothing.

	"One of my favorites."

	What was that now? Oh, so he's gonna wait for me to get my hopes up
and say something like "really?" before laughing and saying "no, what do
you think I am a loser like you?". I've been on the wrong end of that more
times that I can count....which is why I'm kinda noticing that he doesn't
have the usual slightly mocking tone that people usually have when going
for that. It almost sounded like he was being serious. I'd fallen for that
before too but there was a part of me that wanted so badly to believe that
this was going to be different, that this guy wasn't going to take the
little bit of vulnerability that I accidentally showed and use it to stab
me in the soul like so many others.

	I blame that part of me for the following.

	"Really?" I asked. I didn't even bother to yell at myself for
asking. I just closed my eyes and waited for the first stab.

	"Yep. I usually don't admit this to people but I actually kinda
like Taylor Swift." he lowered his voice and whispered
conspiratorially. "Avril Lavigne too, shh, don't tell anyone." Then he
laughed. Not at me. But at himself. I think the surprise was the only thing
that kept me from crying like a little girl at the sudden emotion I
felt. No one had ever not used any weakness, real or imagined, of mine
against me and then turned around and presented me with their own
vulnerability. It was.....nice, and I found myself laughing along with
him. Not at him. With him. I returned his kindness. And the best part? I
didn't have to taint my kindness with a lie.

	"Me too." I said softly after the laughter stopped. He didn't
acknowledge it. There was no "really? Wow." or "cool" followed by an
awkward silence where we both tried to think of a way to bring a dead
conversation back on track. He just accepted it and moved on.

	"So, what's your name? I don't have to say it on the air, I could
say you wanna be anonymous." he said it almost offhandedly but to me that
was another kindness, an invitation to protect the vulnerability that I
showed him. I was reading way too much into it but it felt like he was
doing it just to protect me. That's a stupid thought, I know, but what harm
could it do to pretend just a little bit?

	"A-andy. And you can s-say it." That was hard to get out. It went
against all my natural instincts but I really wanted to hear him say my
name. Pathetic but true.

	"Andy, huh? It's nice to meet you Andy, I'm Owen."

	Ohhhhhhh. He said my name. Twice! And he said it differently each
time. The first time was kinda thoughtful, like he was trying it out, with
a long 'A'. Kinda like 'Aaandy'. The second time was a bit playful, like he
was about to tell me a secret. I barely believed I'd get him to say it
once, but he said it twice! And then he told me HIS name!
Owen. O-wen. Ow-EN. Ooooowen. Wow. Perfection. It didn't even occur to me
to be annoyed that I didn't have to have my name said on the radio to hear
him say it. All I was thinking was 'he's gonna say it a THIRD time!'

	"I-it was nice to meet you too." Say it. Say it. You know you wanna
say it out loud, do it now so you're not doing it later into your pillow
like some stupid girl with a Tiger Beat magazine. "Owen." Wow. Nothing I
say from now until the day I die will feel half this good.

	"Thank you for your request Andy." He said it with such a playful
formality that I couldn't help but giggle. I was long past the point where
a simple giggle was the most pathetic thing I've done today so I just
ignored it. Besides he said my name AGAIN so when he says it over the radio
that'll be the FOURTH time. "I'm not supposed to keep the line tied up this
long, so I'm gonna have to say goodbye." Was that just me or did he sound
regretful? Probably just me. It didn't matter. I knew I wasn't gonna talk
to him again after today and I'd already gotten more out of this than I
thought I would. I didn't need him to want to keep talking to me. In fact,
it was probably best that this ended on such a high note before something
happened to screw it up. I deserved at least one wholly good memory in my
life that didn't involve my parents or Cheryl. "Thanks for calling
though. Really."

	"You're welcome." I said softly.

	"Goodbye." he said in the same soft tone.

	"Bye." I hung up.

	I turned up the radio and lay back on my propped up pillows. My
eyes closed and I tried to block out everything except the sound of the
radio as I waited for the song to end.

	"We've got a request from a new listener, 'Mine' by Taylor
Swift. This is for you Andy."

	I allowed myself a single sigh. It was better than I expected. The
song was for me. Yeah, it was probably because I was the first person to
actually call up and request something but I didn't care. I got a special
little dedication from Owen and that's all that mattered. It was more than
I expected and it was more than enough to keep today from being the worst
day of my life.

	Don't get me wrong, this didn't suddenly make everything all
better. Tomorrow would very quickly take the Worst Day Ever crown. But I
was going to hold onto this feeling until I fell asleep tonight. I was
going to let this one thing fill me and push aside all the worry and doubts
and self criticism for just one day. I knew this would never go
anywhere. It was just a stupid infatuation...ok fine, a crush, but that was
ok. It's already done more for me than anyone else, including Cheryl, ever
did and even though tomorrow I'd beat myself up for being such a stupid
little girl about this I could enjoy it tonight. I let myself have another
sigh as I softly sang along with the song.

	 Yeah, today wasn't even close to being the worst day of my life.

	I listened to Owen's show for the rest of the hour until it ended
and then shut off my radio. I lay there in bed for the next few hours with
a small smile on my face going over everything he said to me and everything
he said on the radio. The smile never left my face for the rest of the
night and before I fell asleep I whispered his name, once, into the
darkness. Then I did something I never thought I'd be able to do after
everything that happened today.

	I slept peacefully.

--------------------------------------------

	Oh, by the way, FUCK YEAH MASS EFFECT 3!!