Date: Sun, 15 Apr 2012 01:13:52 -0400
From: Cy-kun <cysanonymouslyanonymousemail@gmail.com>
Subject: Oh Radio Tell Me Everything You Know Chapter 6

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: Wow, I'm actually kinda surprised no one tracked me down and
killed me for that cliffhanger, lol. Guess all that Metal Gear Solid I've
been playing helped me with my hiding skills. 100% camo index FTW!
Lol. But, I've made you wait long enough, and like I promised this one's
way less depressing! b^_^d Even less than the last one! Cue the sunshine
and puppy dogs!

	-Cy

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


	The weirdest things fly through your mind when your life is ending.

	When I was a kid, my dad used to sing this little dirty joke rhyme
to me. Back then it cracked me the fuck up, every time. To a five year old
it was the funniest thing ever. My mom used to get pissed at him for doing
it, saying that I was gonna pick up enough of "that garbage" when I started
riding the bus to school and that I didn't need to get it here too. My dad
would always promise never to do it again, then turn and give me a little
grin and a wink the second she left the room, which of course just made me
start laughing all over again. As I stood there in the middle of the
freshman hall, staring at the spot where seconds -or was it minutes now?
Hours? -ago Owen was standing right in front of me, the first line of that
stupid rhyme kept running through my head on a loop.

	'Here I sit, broken hearted....'

	And I was. Broken hearted, not sitting. At least, I thought I
was. I'd never had my heart broken before but if the tightness in my
throat, the burning in my eyes, the lead weight in my chest and the fucking
black hole in my body that was sucking my stomach into my bowels WASN'T
because my heart was broken, then I definitely never wanted to experience a
real one.

	Owen left, no, Owen RAN, and it hurt. Hurt worse than
anything. Worse than the locker, worse than the scrunchie, worse than
picturing the look on my dads face when he finds out that I'm gay. Worse
than all the beatings I'd ever gotten all rolled into one. The one thing
that I wanted, the only thing I ever hoped for and thought I could actually
get, was gone. And it fucking HURT.

	I ended up skipping class.

	Not that I made a decision to or anything, it just happened. I
didn't even realize I'd moved from where I was when Owen ran away until I
looked down and saw the floor moving under my feet. And even then I only
noticed it absently. I was lost. I was -another word I've never had to use
before now- in a fugue. I did things, like walking, but I didn't remember
doing them.

	All I remembered was what I thought.

	How could something so perfect go so bad? I mean, everything
leading up to me talking to Owen was classic romance. We met out of
nowhere, he made me feel like I'd never felt before, I finally found him,
the fucking crowd even parted and there was light shining down on him for
fucks sake! Every song and every movie ever made told me that the only way
that was supposed to end was with the boy getting the boy!

	Jennifer Aniston and Taylor Swift are fucking LIARS!

	And WHY did he run away anyway? That first look in his eyes, the
one when he saw me for the first time, that HAD to be recognition. He saw
me and he knew who I was. But...did he know who I was because he recognized
my voice or....did he recognize ME? THAT thought made my heart freeze with
dread. Oh my god....did he know who I was? Did he know I was THAT Andy? The
outcast fag boy that tried to molest Jarred Walters in the showers? Is that
why he ran away from me the second he saw me? Because the boy he was
talking to turned out to be the biggest loser in the school and he didn't
want anyone to know he was actually friends with him?

	Even as I thought it, part of me screamed that it was
impossible. Not him knowing who I was, but him reacting like that because
of it. Everything that I knew about people, all my 15 years of life
experience, told me that Owen was a nice person. A GOOD person. He wouldn't
just freak out and run away because someone he knew turned out to be the
most hated kid in school.

	But then there was the other part of me, the part that knew that
good things don't happen to me. The part that also had 15 years of
experience, most of it bad, to draw on. THAT part told me that of course
Owen reacted like that when he found out who I was. Anyone would. I'm
Andy. Everyone who isn't Cheryl or related to me hates me. Why would Owen
be any different?

	Both parts fought violently with each other as I walked around the
school. At one point my defenses tried to speak up and I had the sudden
thought that walking around the now empty halls in a daze while Jarred and
friends still wanted to kick my ass was probably a Bad Idea. The parts of
me that were fighting quickly shouted it down. I mean, really, what could
Jarred do to me that was worse than what just happened? Hell, maybe getting
my ass kicked would even get my mind off it for a few minutes.

	I doubted it.

	I have no idea how long I walked the halls, but at some point I was
dragged out of my daze and back into reality by the weird, hard-soft things
that I kept bumping into. I stopped and tried to blink the image of Owen's
face right before he ran away out of my eyes. Oh. People. That's what those
things are. And they're kinda giving me weird looks. Oh, right. Walking the
halls and crying. Kinda weird. I ducked my head so my hair hid my face
better. There.

	Not really sure how much that helped. And, if we're being honest
here, I didn't give a shit. It was habit more than anything that made me
try to hide. I didn't care if people knew I was crying, which was a pretty
damn unique experience for me. Kind of freeing, in a weird way. I probably
would have taken a few seconds to enjoy it if it wasn't for, you know, the
whole broken heart thing.

	At some point I started to head back to my locker. I'd just skipped
8th period and today my last class was a study hall so if there was any
part of me that was still able to think anything other than "you're never
gonna talk to Owen ever again, you unlovable loser" -in various ways- I
probably would have been going back there to pack up my bag so I could go
straight from the library to the bus. But there was no way I was able to
think that far ahead so it was probably just habit again. A class was over,
people were in the halls, so I should probably go to my locker.

	Or maybe I just wanted to tape the slits shut, lock myself in and
suffocate to death. Either/or really.

	Not even the Cheryl voice could come up with a good reason why I
shouldn't.

	A dark part of me was wondering if that would ever be possible as I
turned the corner to the hallway my locker was on. Are lockers airtight?
Could they be MADE to be airtight? And what kind of tape would be best?
Where would I get. . ."

	And that was when I saw Owen.

	I was about a foot away from my locker and he was walking towards
me coming from the opposite direction. I know, duh right? His head was down
and he wasn't really looking at anything but his steps were fast and sure
and he looked like he new where he was going. My throat closed up and I
couldn't breathe. Is life really this cruel? I go WEEKS without seeing him
and then on the day, the FUCKING DAY, that I find him and he ran away from
me I just randomly start running into him. And why is he even out of the
freshman halls anyway? What the fuck, life?

	Then, about three seconds after I noticed him, he raised his head
and like metal to a magnet his eyes immediately found mine and my heart
stopped.

	And so did Owen. He froze in the middle of the hall and his amazing
hazel eyes widened in surprise. I tensed. My defenses started shouting at
me that this was my last chance! That I needed to run towards him and grab
him and lock him up somewhere and never let him go. Every other voice in my
head stopped what it was doing, groaned and started throwing things at
it. They didn't need to bother. Even if I wanted to, I couldn't move. I was
frozen by his eyes. I couldn't even blink. All I could do was stand there
like an idiot and wait for him to run away again.

	And for a second, he looked like he was going to.

	He was about ten feet in front of me, close enough for me to see
his body tense up when our eyes met. His steps faltered after he stopped,
like his body stopped moving before his feet did, and his shoulders started
to move like he was about to turn around.

	But he didn't.

	He stayed where he was, totally still, just looking at me with a
surprised look that was slowly melting into panic. And then, like it had
never been there, the panic was gone. His jaw clenched, his eyes narrowed
slightly and he stood a little taller. I barely had time to think that he
looked like he was about to walk onto the front lines of a battlefield
before he started stalking towards me with a determined stride. He got
closer and closer and I was fucked up enough that for a second I thought he
was gonna take a swing at me, but in the time it took me to think how
stupid I was to think that he'd almost reached me. But instead of taking
those last few steps that would being him right in front of me he looked
away and started walking towards his left.

	Right up to my locker.

	He stopped in front of it, reached inside the pocket of his loose
jeans, took out a small piece of paper and slipped it through the slits in
the top of my locker. Then, without ever looking back at me, he turned
around and walked back the way he came. I followed him with my eyes until
he turned the corner, then I blinked, slowly.

	Did....did that actually happen?

	No, really, that's a legit, not even a little bit rhetorical
question. I mean, it's pretty obvious that I'm not exactly stable
here. There have been a bunch of times, mostly in the last few weeks, where
I wouldn't have been surprised to suddenly wake up in a padded room
strapped to a bed. Maybe Owen walking away was what finally made me snap?
Maybe I've, um, whatever the medical word is for completely losing my shit
and I'm having Owen shaped hallucinations? If so, that was a pretty crappy
hallucination.

	Or maybe it actually happened and there's something sitting in your
locker RIGHT NOW from OWEN and you're standing in the middle of the hall
like an idiot.

	The thought barely had time to form before I was running to my
locker and fumbling it open. My hands were shaking with anxiety and
fear. Anxiety that there really might not be anything there and fear about
what would be on it if there was. Dammit! This thing won't fucking open!
Ok, deep breaths. Slow down. Put the combination in carefully. God why
couldn't I be one of the people who left their locker open?! Finally, after
about a million years, I got the combination in and threw my locker open.

	Sitting on the top shelf was a piece of paper.

	My heart started pounding again, faster than before, and I reached
a shaky hand into the locker and picked it up. This could either be a
lifeline that would save me from drowning or a weight that would pull me
under. I was so scared to read it, but I needed to. I needed to know.

	It was blank on the side that was facing me except for the light
blue lines that identified it as notebook paper. It was part of a single
sheet, the corner, torn off and the light was hitting it just right so I
could see that there were words written on the other side, but not what
they were.

	Ok Andy, this is it. You can do this. Turn it over.

	I did.

	My breath caught in my throat as I read the message. It was short,
written in small, neat handwriting.

	It was a phone number. And then, 'please call me at 4. I'm
sorry. -Owen.'

	...

	Lifeline. Grabbed.





	Except sometimes lifelines are really just weights in disguise.

	It took me about a minute, a wonderful, glorious minute where my
whole body felt like it was made of calm and peace and smiles that I
couldn't stop, before what I was actually holding in my hand hit me.

	It was a phone number.

	To a phone I'd never called.

	Sometimes, the hatred that life has for me is so thick in the air
you'd need a blowtorch to cut it.

	Now it was almost four and I'd been pacing back and forth in my
room since I got home and I still had no idea what I was gonna do. I mean,
I WANTED to call. But....calling into Owen's show was way different that
calling a number left in my locker. Was it his cell number? His home
number? Who would pick up? If it's him, what do I even say? And what the
hell does "I'm sorry" mean? Sorry for what? For running away? Because you
don't wanna talk to me anymore? Is he just having me call up because he's
nice enough to want to at least tell me that he's not my friend anymore
instead of just ignoring me and hoping I get the hint? Why didn't he just
say something to me when he was RIGHT THERE IN FRONT OF ME!? And how did he
even know where my locker was?!

	And why do I have to call HIM!?

	He knows my number, for fucks sake! He recognizes it every time it
pops up on his caller ID at the radio station! Why is all the pressure on
me? Why can't he just call me, or at least wait until I call into his show?

	Would you have called in tonight?

	Um......no, probably not.

	Maybe he's not stupid and thought of that too?

	...shut up. The rest are still good points though!

	I reached the end of my room and immediately turned around to
continue my pacing as the thoughts rushed through my head. Every time I
walked towards my bed my eyes were locked on my clock.

	3:38

	Can I even call?

	3:43

	What do I say?

	3:52

	Why did he run?

	3:55

	Oh my god I'm gonna throw up.

	3:58

	Ohgodohgodohgodohgodohgod.

	3:59

	You can do this. You can do this. You have to,
Andy. Youcandothisyoucandothisyoucandothisyoucan-

	4:00

	Ten numbers. Come on, it's just ten numbers. This isn't hard for
99.99999% of the world so it can't be that hard for you. Just. Do. It.

	4:01

	I can't! I can't call! It's just....too much. I'm too nervous. I
can't dial the numbers, I can't think of anything to say, I just can't do
it!

	4:05

	What if he's waiting for me to call though? What if he really IS
sorry for running away and he just wants to apologize?

	4:07

	Oh god! Maybe he thinks I don't wanna talk to HIM! But, but, no! So
very much the opposite! I just.....

	4:08

	GODDAMNIT ANDY PICK UP THE FUCKING PHONE AND CALL!

	Trembling, sweating, I swallowed a big giant lump of terror and
dialed the number.

	I didn't even have time to pussy out and hang up, it was answered
almost before the first ring.

	"Andy, I'm SO SORRY!" It was Owen. A huge, massive chunk of my
nervous fear just vaporized when I heard his voice. It was actually
him. Not his mom or a brother or a sister or a babysitter. Him. Thank
fucking god. I closed my eyes and let out a shaky, relieved breath.

	Then what he said actually registered and my eyes shot open.

	He was sorry? And he sounded.....freaked out, really. I immediately
felt guilty for not calling at four. Way to go Andy, you really suck at
this. But, the guilt was followed by even more relief. That didn't sound
like a bad, I-never-wanna-talk-to-you-again-and-I-feel-bad-about-it
sorry. It was more like.....he was actually sorry for running. Which,
really, just started replacing the relief with confusion. Thankfully, he
was still talking so I didn't have to try and figure out which one of the
thousand questions running through my head I should start with.

	"I shouldn't have ran like that. It was...stupid and dumb and
incredibly fifth grade and I'm sorry." He sounded a lot like me when I'm
kicking my ass over doing something idiotic and I had the sudden urge to
try and comfort him. It sucks feeling that way. But....I had no idea what
to say. How do you comfort someone when you don't even know what the
problem is? Hell, how do you even comfort someone at ALL, you socially
awkward mess?

	Of course after asking that, when I could actually use some advice,
the stupid voices were silent.

	"Are you....mad?" he asked hesitantly.

	Mad? No, of course not. But how do I let him know?
Oh. Right. Words. "No." I said softly. My voice was slightly scratchy, so I
swallowed and tried again, just to make sure he heard me. "No. I'm not
mad."

	I heard him let out a long, semi-relieved breath. "Are you sure?"
he said after a few seconds. "Because I wouldn't blame you. That was a
crappy thing to do."

	I smiled, more than a little giddily. Owen didn't hate me. He felt
bad about running. Not that him feeling bad made me feel good! But, he
wasn't gonna abandon me. And that made me happy. But I was still
confused. If he didn't hate me, then why did he run?

	"I'm sure." I said, then added hesitantly. "But.....why did you run
away?"

	Owen sighed. "I...." He paused, and even over the phone I could
hear him swallow. "This is gonna sound really dumb but....um, I'm kinda
shy, in person." he said sheepishly.

	"What?" I blurted out. I wanted to laugh. Shy? HE was shy? If you
ever needed proof that the universe runs on irony....

	"Yeah." he let out a self conscious chuckle. "I'm actually kinda
really shy in person. Turning around and seeing you there sorta freaked me
out a bit. I don't think I could ever walk up to someone out of nowhere
like you did and-"

	This time I couldn't help it, I burst out laughing. It was
just....too fucking ridiculous! He was shy and implying that I'm NOT? Oh my
god! It's just.....come on! How can anyone not laugh at that? "I-I'm
sorry." I managed. "I swear I'm not laughing at you! I just....." I shook
my head, even though he couldn't see, and tried to get myself back under
control. Thoughts of Owen thinking that I was making fun of him for being
shy made it pretty easy. "I'm sorry." I said again. "But, god, I'm
TERRIFIED to make phone calls! I almost gave myself a heart attack trying
to call you today. And walking up to you? Jesus! It almost killed me! I
never would have been able to if-" I cut myself off there. How the hell do
I finish that sentence without telling him....things?

	He was silent for a few seconds, and I was scared that he was
waiting for me to finish, but before I could start freaking out about what
to say, he spoke. "Phone calls?" he sounded amused and relieved and, oh my
god, the teasing lilt was back.

	"Y-yeah." I said, and then it was my turn to laugh self
consciously. "Phone calls."

	Owen laughed. It was a beautiful laugh, the most beautiful one
yet. Not even the tiniest bit mocking, just....delighted. "That's too cu-"
he paused, kinda choking on the last word. "That's actually really
awesome." he said after a second or two of silence. "I thought you'd think
I was weird or something. You know, for being shy."

	"Never." I said softly. I winced slightly at how completely swoony
I sounded but, well, wasn't letting him know how I felt eventually gonna be
part of this master plan? Maybe with a few more accidental comments like
that I'd be ready to actually tell him.....sometime in the next fifty
years. I held back a groan. This was gonna be a lot harder than I
thought. But, there was one thing that was scratching at the back of my
mind. Something that had been bothering me ever since it
happened. Something I needed to know. "Um, can I ask you something?"

	Why is it those words always sound so ominous?

	I'm guessing I wasn't the only one to think so because when Owen
answered all the teasing and laughing was gone and in it's place was
slight, but noticeable, trepidation. "Ok."

	"How did you know where my locker was?" And since I was gonna ask
that I might as well ask this too. "And...did you know who I was before I
said my name?"

	He didn't answer at first, and I started to regret asking. God, I'd
spent all day worrying about him never wanting to talk to me again and the
second I find out that everything's still ok with us I ask something like
that. What if it's something embarrassing and he doesn't wanna talk about
it? What if he's seen you before and knows who you are and doesn't wanna
embarrass you by letting you know he knows? I actually started wishing I
could go back to being too awkward and stuttery to ask questions. I was
actually opening my mouth to take it back when Owen started to talk.

	"I...." he croaked, his voice sounding strained and horse. He
started breathing heavily in short, panicked breaths, and as horrible as
this is gonna make me sound that's what made me stop myself from telling
him he didn't need to answer. He sounded like he was three seconds away
from a full on panic attack but I couldn't let him off the hook, no matter
how much it hurt knowing I'd made him feel like this. There was a part of
me that knew whatever was coming was important, and I needed to hear it.

	After about a minute the breathing slowed, not much, but enough for
him to say something. "Please." he pleaded in a small, heartbreaking
voice. "Please promise you won't hate me."

	I blinked. How am I supposed to promise something like that?
Incredibly easily actually. "I promise." I put all the sincerity I had into
it. Me hate Owen? Maybe I could have before last Monday, but now? Never.

	"Ok." he said shakily, then took a deep breath. "Ok." I heard a
sound like maybe he was licking his lips, or swallowing, or both. Any other
time that probably would have sparked off a million fantasies and an
uncomfortable, embarrassing tightness in my underwear, but all I did was
hold my breath and listen. "I...I've maybe, um, sorta been.....stalking
you.... a bit, since the first week of school."

	Can your heart pound it's way through your chest and stop beating
at the same time? Because if it can, mine's doing it. My mouth dried up so
much I was sure I could taste sand, my hands started to shake, and
breathing? Yeah, breathing definitely wasn't gonna be happening anytime
soon. My brain wasn't much better. The Cheryl voice was taking laps around
my head, laughing gleefully as it's fists pumped in victory. My defenses
were yelling that now was my chance and I needed to go in for the kill. My
usual inner voice, the one that likes to yell at me and call me names, was
standing off in the corner wondering what the hell was going on. Even
through all that, my body trying to die, my mind trying to drown me in it's
loud psychoticness, there was one thing that drowned everything out. The
only thing that I could say and the only thing I needed to know.

	"Why?" I asked, quietly, hopefully.

	Owen let out a short, shaky, slightly manic laugh. "Because....god
I can't believe I'm actually saying this, you're....fuck Andy you're really
hot!" he blurted out. He made a tiny, strangled, choking sound, like he
really couldn't believe he'd actually said that but before I could even try
to recover from the insanity THAT caused in my head he continued, the words
pouring out of him. "But it's not just that. It's.....god, do you have any
idea what it's like? I was just, walking down a hall completely lost trying
to read that stupid, indecipherable schedule and I look up and you're
just...there. Almost right in front of me. With that amazing hair and one
of your long sleeve shirts and the way you hugged your books to your chest
like that it was just....." he trailed off. "And then you lifted your head,
and the hair fell away from your face and, I swear I couldn't even
breathe. You were just so-so-so, beautiful! And lost. And you had this look
on your face like someone just kicked your puppy and I had to actually hold
onto the wall to keep from running over and giving you a hug and never
letting you go. You looked like you needed someone and, god, I wanted to BE
that someone in the worst way."

	Oh my god, I think I actually remember that day. I don't remember
Owen, but if it's the day I'm thinking of it would have been the third day
of school, the day I ran into Jarred and his pack for the first time this
year. Up until then he'd completely ignored me and like an idiot I'd gotten
complacent over the summer and wasn't watching out and he caught me by
surprise, coming up behind me and knocking my books out of my hands. While
I was struggling to pick them back up while everyone laughed at me, Simon
picked up my schedule and tore it up, then sprinkled the tiny ripped pieces
all over my head. It was only the third day of school and I didn't have it
memorized yet and I was too shy to go to the office and ask for another one
so, yeah, I could definitely see me having a lost, kicked puppy look. And
Owen saw me that day? Wow. I didn't know whether to be embarrassed that he
saw me at a low point (yeah last Monday was WAY lower than that but he
didn't actually SEE me then, you know?) or giddy and ecstatic that he
wanted to hug me.

	"I-" I started, but he didn't hear me. He barely even paused and I
guess he was a bit like me this way, once he started in on something that
was hard to talk about, he couldn't stop.

	"After that I started following you around. I didn't know I was out
of the freshman hall when I saw you so I looked for you there first but
when I realized that you weren't there I started walking around the other
halls until I'd see you, then I'd just....follow you." He sounded so
embarrassed as he admitted that that I had another overwhelming urge to
comfort him.

	"Owe-"

	"I wanted to talk to you so bad." he cut me off again. "Every time
I'd see you I told myself that next time I'd just go up and say hi and
that's all I needed to do, but I never did. I chickened out every time. So,
eventually I gave up and just followed you." he let out a tiny laugh. "You
have no idea how many times I've been late to class this year."

	He paused for a second, and I decided to try again. "I-"

	"The worst days though,-" -No luck this time- "-were the ones where
people would....do things to you. Every time someone said something that
made you hide your face or pushed you into the wall or knocked your books
out of your hand I wanted to beat them SO bad. But even more than that I
wanted to just go over and...put my arm around you, or talk to you, or
SOMETHING to make you feel better. I HATED myself on those days, because I
was too stupid and shy to do it."

	He took another deep breath. "Owen-"

	"Please let me finish." he begged. Oh. Maybe he had heard me
before. I was about to say 'ok', but I guess he didn't want to give me a
chance to say anything else because he didn't wait before going on. "And
then, about a month ago, I was walking by your locker on my way to lunch
and I saw you, but you were laughing, LAUGHING, and.....I'd never seen you
laugh before. You looked...." he paused. "You looked great. And then I
noticed the girl standing next to you. You looked so comfortable with
her. I'd never seen you talk to anybody before but you talked to her like
you'd known her your whole life and......I felt so stupid. I mean, I never
really thought about it because I never actually thought I'd ever get the
balls to talk to you but, seeing you with that girl, it made me think about
it. About if you could really be g-....if you could ever like me." he said
sadly. "And then she touched your arm and you just smiled and as beautiful
as your smile was, it hurt so much because it was because of her, not me."
he sighed. "After that, I stopped looking for you."

	"Then a week later, someone, well you I guess now, called into my
show and, I dunno, for the first time since I stopped following you I
stopped obsessing over you too. I have no idea why, maybe because you were
the first person to call, maybe because you seemed like you didn't know
what to say and it reminded me of....um, you, maybe because you liked
Taylor Swift and Avril and didn't laugh at me for liking them, I dunno. But
the next day at school I barely thought about trying to follow you, the
first you I mean, and I really hoped you would call again. And you did. I
was happy, but so were you, and THAT made me even happier. Then you
laughed. God Andy, that laugh was the most beautiful thing I'd ever heard,
I couldn't even breathe for a few seconds."

	I suddenly remembered a weird silence during our second
conversation and him saying that he got 'distracted' and, oh god, that was
because of ME? I think this is the first time I've ever blushed from
happiness.

	"You know, I probably should have known then that you were
-you. When you laughed all I could think about was seeing you laugh that
day but I pushed that out of my head because I wanted to focus on you, not
you. God this isn't making any sense." he let out an annoyed
breath. "Anyway, every time we talked after that I just felt like we were
getting closer and closer and I started really liking you. But, I was
worried too. I didn't want to like you too much and then find out you had a
girlfriend or weren't into, you know, guys, but I was too nervous to ask
you or flirt with you more than the little bit that I was doing-" He was
FLIRTING with me? Wow, way to miss that Andy. "-so I kinda got frustrated
with myself." he paused again. "And then came Monday."

	I felt my face heat up more, this time mostly from embarrassment,
but with a bit of pleasure thrown in too.

	"You sounded horrible, crying like that, and I was so worried that
something terrible happened to you and when you told me you had a bad day
something kinda clicked and it was like, this is what I could never do when
the other you was getting picked on in school. This was my chance to make
someone I liked feel better and there was no way I was gonna screw it
up.....and then the only thing I can think of is to play that dumb song."
he laughed wryly. "After I started playing it I could have kicked myself
but then I got back and heard you laughing and you sounded.....happy."

	He DID hear the laughing! Oh god. This blush is all embarrassment.

	"I felt really good. I felt like things were different with
you. And then the rest of the night felt like we really connected, you
know? Like, there was a chance that you could like me the way I was
starting to like you. And that felt even better."

	I thought about thinking something almost exactly like that during
our call and I can't even describe how it felt to know, KNOW, that we were
both feeling it. I felt.....full, with some wonderful feeling that I
couldn't name and I was sure that it was about to explode out of my
chest. I wanted so badly to tell him, to let him know that I definitely
knew what he was talking about, but he never stopped talking.

	"Every day we talked this week I felt it more and more and I was
seriously thinking about just taking a chance and TELLING you...and then
you found me." He paused, and I could hear him do that lip licking and/or
swallowing thing again and this time it did make me stiffen up a bit. "The
second you started talking I knew it was you, radio you I mean. No one else
could be that awkward and adorable at the same time." his voice got
slightly teasing again, I don't think he even realized he was doing it,
and, yep, more embarrassed blushing. And maybe slightly tighter pants. "But
then I turned around...."

	He paused and I heard him take another deep breath. This would have
been the perfect time to interrupt him and tell him how I felt. But I
choked. Not because I was too scared though. I know! Trust me, no one's
more shocked than me. But because I really, really wanted to know what he
was gonna say next.

	"And it was you." he said like he still couldn't believe it. "Right
there. Looking right at me. At first I thought maybe radio you was behind
in person you but then you said that you were Andy and.......I kinda
panicked." he sounded embarrassed and annoyed as he said that.

	"A big part of it was the shyness, but it was also because it was
happening AGAIN. I finally find a boy I like, really like, and this time I
think he likes me back, and it turns out to be the SAME straight boy that I
was obsessed with before! I wanted to scream. But instead I ran away. And
then I was sitting in science replaying everything in my head, every
conversation and every moment where we got closer and I started to feel
really bad." He sighed. "You were a friend. And I treated you like
crap. Even if I wanted more and even if realizing that it wasn't gonna
happen really, really hurt, I shouldn't have ran away. So I wrote the note
and ran out the second the bell rang and, well, you were there for the
rest. But before you say anything I just want you to know that I still
wanna be friends. You're really cool and fun to talk to and don't wanna
lose a friend....I mean, if you still wanna be friends after all this. I
won't be weird or hit on you or anything, I swear! Just....." he sighed
again, a sad, tired sigh. "Please don't hate me."

	I didn't even know where to start.

	Owen likes me. Like, LIKES ME likes me! I could.....actually die
from happiness right now. But he's known me since the first week of school?
Well, not KNOWN I guess but, still! How many times during the year was I in
the same hall as him, never knowing it? How many times could I have
randomly turned around and he'd just....BE there? Would I have even noticed
him? I don't know. Maybe? And should I feel weird about basically being
stalked for half the year? No. Definitely not. That was a million different
kinds of flattering. Confusing, because, why the hell me, you know? But
flattering that Owen would notice me. But.....grrrrr Cheryl! Dammit it
would be her, wouldn't it? She had to make me laugh and get all grabby when
OWEN was looking at me. And....obvious logic jump (and I'm kind of proud I
can still DO logic with all this emotional overload) he thinks she's my
GIRLFRIEND? And that I DON'T like him?

	I had a sudden flashback to the first night I called his show. How
he answered and I couldn't force myself to say anything because I was a
shy, awkward mess and how he let out that little, disappointed sigh. How I
could almost see him deflate through the phone and deep down inside in a
place that I didn't even know I had I must have known that, at that moment,
I was the only person in the world who had the power to fix what was
wrong. And here I was again. In the exact same position. Except this time,
it wasn't buried deep inside me. I knew how to fix what was wrong. I wanted
to fix it.

	So. Maybe I know where to start after all.

	"Owen." I shivered a bit. God this is the first time I'm saying his
name after knowing he likes me! It feels so different! Shit, focus Andy!
"I...." I struggled to figure out what to say. I mean, I knew what I wanted
to say, but how do I say it? I've never told anyone I like them
before. Maybe I just need to not think about it. Maybe I'll take Cheryl's
advice, just this once, and do what feels natural.

	"I almost came in my pants the first time I heard your voice."

	Note to self: NEVER LISTEN TO CHERYL AGAIN.

	I heard a tiny gasp come through the phone and decided just to get
the rest out before I got too humiliated to form words. "I-I mean," I
sighed and closed my eyes. "I like your voice. And, I like listening to
you. But, I like...y-you. More. You're nice. Better than that, you're nice
to ME. That's.....that doesn't happen. Ever. You probably never heard of me
but, um, I'm kinda....uh, known, in school. And not in a good way. No one
really likes me. No one ever tries to. But you did. And....you don't know
what that's meant to me the last three weeks. You really have no idea. And,
me being straight?" I couldn't help the quivery laugh that forced its way
out of my throat. "God, I am SO gay for you. It's not even funny."

	I couldn't force my eyes open after that. Which was probably just
making my nervousness worse because I couldn't see that my room was still
empty so I imagined that Owen was standing right in front of me, staring at
me with those hazel eyes. It made my face heat up and my palms start to
sweat and even though I KNEW he liked me, I still thought he'd reject
me. Although maybe I wouldn't exactly blame him after that cumming in my
pants line. Or the 'I'm so gay for you' one. God, Andy is it really so
freaking hard to say "I'm not straight and I like you"?

	I held my breath and waited.

	The silence seemed to drag on forever, so long that I actually
started hearing the loud 'tick-tick-tick' of a second hand fill the room
even though my clock is digital. I could feel my face starting to turn red,
not from embarrassment or pleasure this time, just from lack of air. I
stopped holding my breath and sucked down a big gulp right as Owen started
to talk.

	"That girl.....wasn't your girlfriend?" he asked. He sounded
confused and hopeful and surprised all at the same time.

	"N-" I choked on the air I was breathing in, coughed, then tried
again. "No way! That was Cheryl. She's my best friend. And sometimes she
thinks I'm her pet and gets touchy, but no. Never." And then, just to be
clear since he seemed to be hung up on Cheryl so much that he missed my
embarrassingly lame confession. "Not in a million years. There's no
way. I'd date Fred the janitor before I'd date Cheryl." I winced slightly
at that last one. God, does he think I have the hots for the janitor now?
Ok, wow, out of all the stupid thoughts I've ever had that was probably the
stupidest. I need to get my calm back.

	"And....you like me?" he asked hesitantly, like he was afraid that
I might change my mind or he misheard or something. The uncertainty helped
get my head in order. Owen being uncertain or nervous still seemed wrong to
me, even more when it was about something as important as this. Usually
people only get one chance to tell their crush that they like them and make
a good impression. I was apparently gonna get two. And I didn't wanna sound
like a loser the second time.

	I took a second to steady myself, swallowed nervously, and
answered. "Yes." I said calmly. Or as calm as I could be anyway. "I like
you Owen. I like you a lot." And then because I can only suppress myself
for so long I blurted out. "THAT way, I mean. Like, like like. Because I'm
gay. And like boys. And you."

	There was another short silence that lasted just long enough for me
to wanna track down Jarred and beg him to beat me into unconsciousness for
saying something so incredibly stupid before I heard it. It was a soft
laugh. A totally and 100% Owen laugh. My chest felt like it was going to
explode -in a good way- and as usual the smile was on my face before I
realized my mouth was moving. I let myself fall back on my bed and sighed
happily. "God that makes me..." he giggled. Freaking GIGGLED! Oh god how
amazing is THAT sound? "I'm so happy. I never....." he laughed again. "What
are you doing tomorrow?" he asked eagerly.

	Hm, oh, let's see what does Andy usually do on Saturday's?
"Nothing." I answered. Too swoony and happy to think about why he might be
asking.

	"Great. Do you wanna hang out?" he asked. "Maybe go to the mall, or
the movies? Have lunch?"

	It took me a second for the question to register, I was too busy
replaying the sound of that giggle over in my head, but when it did I shot
up, back ramrod straight, and perched at the edge of my
bed. Oh. My. God. Is he..... "D-do you mean, like, a date?" I asked.

	"Yes." Owen said with that heart filling teasing lilt. "Just like a
date."

	I started to hyperventilate. Just a little. This was REALLY
happening, wasn't it? This was Owen. Radio Owen. MY Owen. Who LIKES
ME. Asking me out on a DATE! An actual, real life,
two-people-who-like-each-other-going-somewhere-together date! And I was one
of the two people! And OWEN was the other one! This....can't be
real.....can it? Oh god I hope it is. Or if it's not and it's a dream or a
hallucination I hope I never wake up. Maybe I should pinch myself, just
find out.

	"Ow!" Damn that hurt. But that means it's real! And I just said
that out loud. Shit! "I mean yes! Yes! God yes!" I laughed giddily and
tried not to imagine just how red my face was right then.

	"Awesome." Owen said happily. And maybe just a tiny bit
relieved. Or maybe not since I can't believe he'd actually think I'd say
no. But the happiness was definitely there. I couldn't stop giggling softly
to myself. God, I'D made him that happy. Just by saying yes to a date. Who
the hell ever thought ANYONE would be happy about going on a date -oh my
god, does this mean we're DATING?! More giggles- with me? "Hey, are you
ok?" he asked, sounding all amused and teasing.

	I managed to get the giggling under control -with the last tiny bit
of three weeks ago Andy wondering where the hell my dignity went- but the
happy grin that was about to split my face in half wasn't going
anywhere. "Yeah. Yeah I'm fine. It's just, no ones ever asked me out on a
date before." And doesn't that just make me sound like a big loser.

	"Good." Owen said, sounding extremely satisfied.

	"Good?"

	"Yep." he said happily. "That means I get to be the first."

	 I started to giggle again, but then a horrible thought cut it
off. "Um. H-have you...?" I couldn't even say the words.

	Thankfully Owen didn't need me to. "No." he answered
immediately. "You're my first too."

	I had a short flashback to our first conversation where I stupidly
and embarrassingly blurted out "I'm your first?" but I was too relieved to
be self conscious about it. "Good." I said.

	"Good?" Owen asked teasingly.

	"Good." I said firmly.

	"Good." he said softly, all traces of teasing gone, and I suddenly
got that this was just as important to him as it was to me. The thought of
Owen dating anyone else before me, let alone doing.....other things, was
enough to make me wanna throw up. Sounds possessive and needy? Well I don't
care. And neither does Owen because at that moment I knew he felt the exact
same way. If not more so.

	We sat in a comfortable silence that somehow said more than any
words could right then for about a minute before an important question
popped into my head. "So, how are we gonna do this...date?" God I loved
saying that word! "Where are we gonna go? How are we gonna get there?" I'd
never thought about it before but suddenly being fifteen and not having a
license really, really sucked.

	"Hmmm." Owen said thoughtfully. "Where do you live?"

	"Um, Caladan Drive."

	"Really?" he sounded delighted. "Wow, I live on Serenity. That's
like less than ten minutes away. Do you have a bike?"

	He lives THAT close to me? Cheryl lives on the next street
over. Damn how have I never met him before? Oh, yeah, I'm a shut in with no
social life. Wait, what did he ask? "Huh? Oh! Um, yeah." It's one of those
BMX bikes that you can do tricks and stuff on. My dad got it for me for my
birthday a few years ago when he accidentally thought I was cool.

	"Great. I'll give you my address and you can ride over and my mom
can drive us to the mall. Everything is right there so we can decide what
we wanna do when we get there." he said. "Um, if you want to, I mean." he
added after a few seconds, like he just realized he should probably ask
instead of just deciding. Not that I cared. I'd be perfectly happy doing
anything as long as it was with him.

	"That sounds awesome." I said, getting giddy again at the thought
of going out -going out! I can actually say that! Me and Owen are going
out!- with him tomorrow.

	"Sooooo, wanna know what time to come over?" Owen asked
teasingly. I blinked and, oh crap, I'd kinda been staring off into space
for a bit there huh? The goofy smile faded slightly as I blushed for the
seven thousandth time tonight.

	"Y-yeah." I said. "What time?"

	"Is eleven ok? Or is that too early? If it's too early that's
fine. You can come over later. Or earlier if that's too late." He rambled
and I giggled softly. "Sorry." he said sheepishly. "I might be a little
excited. I never thought I'd actually be going on a date with you. Either
of you." he added with a laugh.

	"Eleven is good." I said. "And....I'm excited too." I added shyly.

	"Great! I can't wait. It'll be-" he was cut off by someone yelling
in the background. "Hold on." he growled. "My mom's calling me."

	"Kay." I said and I heard a rustle that was probably him moving the
phone away from his head.

	"What?" he yelled. I didn't hear any answering yell but he was only
quiet for a few seconds. "Awwww come on! Can't I do it later?" A
pause. "Mom, I'm on the phone! Why can't I just do it after?" Another
pause. "You know I-" he stopped, probably being cut off mid argument by a
parent who knew he had a good argument and didn't wanna listen to it. I
wasn't exactly unfamiliar with that. "Fine!" Owen huffed. Then there was a
slight rustling again. "Sorry." he said sullenly. "My mom's making me do my
homework before I go to the station. I gotta go."

	My heart sank a bit. I didn't want him to go. I wanted to stay on
the phone and talk right up until he had to leave. And isn't THAT a thought
I never thought I'd have. But, I understood. One of the crappiest things
about not being eighteen yet is having to listen to your parents when
they're being annoying. "I wish you didn't." I said sadly. Yeah, way to be
understanding Andy. Haven't even gone on your first date yet and you're
already making him feel guilty. "But it's ok!" I added quickly. "Parents
suck sometimes."

	"Yeah." he grumbled. "Sometimes more than sometimes. You'll call
in, right?"

	I smiled to myself. "Of course." I said. Ok, I need to practice my
flirting, so let's give it a try. "I wouldn't miss it. Calling I
mean. And-the show too! I listen to it everyday." Which he knows because
you call every day, idiot. God I can be such a loser sometimes. "I'll
call." I added, hoping he'd just forget everything else I said.

	And because he was Owen, he did. "Great. I'll talk to you later
then." His voice got lower and somehow even sexier. "Bye Andy."

	I shivered. "B-bye. Owen."

	He hung up.

	With a happy sigh I collapsed back on my bed with my arms spread
out and a dazed smile on my face. Tonight.....was the best night of my
life. The best. And the best part about the whole thing? Tomorrow's gonna
be even better, and I don't think that's ever happened. I don't think I've
ever had a great day and then KNOWN that the next day was gonna be even
better. At least not since I started school. Life.....was really, really
awesome right now. I was giddy and happy and I have a date with Owen!

	 Oh. My. God.

	I have a DATE with OWEN. TOMORROW.

	And that's when the panic started.

	God, what the HELL do I know about going on a date?! What am I
gonna say? I can't even flirt! Am I supposed to flirt? Do people flirt on
first dates? Oh god! What if he wants to touch me or hold hands or KISS me!
What do I do? Will I even be able to? Or will I lock up and freak out and
run away? What should I wear? What do people wear to malls? Just, normal
clothes, right? But wait, we're going to a restaurant too right? Can I wear
normal clothes to a restaurant? What if it's a fancy place? Do they have
fancy places in malls? Or does he mean, like, the food court or something?
I..I...I...

	I'm so unprepared for this date.

	By this point I was sitting up on my bed, clutching my phone to my
chest in a death grip and hyperventilating. Why the hell didn't I think of
any of this before I said yes? Why the HELL-

	I jumped as my door flew open and slammed into the wall.

	"I'm using your desk." A scowling, backpack wearing Cheryl growled
as she shoved my door closed. She stalked across my room, shrugged her
backpack off her shoulders and flung herself into my desk chair after it
crashed to the floor. "Can you believe this crap?" she complained. She spun
around angrily in the chair -and yeah, I guess angry spinning is possible-
and didn't wait for me to answer. "It's my parents anniversary and the KICK
ME out of the house for a few hours so they can have 'alone time'." she
planted her feet down to stop her spinning and gave a disgusted
shudder. "That's so GROSS! Who does that, seriously? And right when I'm in
the middle of my homework too!" She scowled at her bag and gave it a hard
kick. "I swear to god Andy if I go back there and the house smells like
ANYTHING other than disinfectant and shame I'm gonna throw up." She let out
an annoyed snort. "At least they did it before I got to English so you can
help me."

	She bent down and reached for her bag, but then stopped and looked
at me for the first time since she barged in. I dunno if it was the wide,
panic filled eyes, the shaking leg or the short, rapid breaths but she must
have seen something that gave her a hint that I was less than at my best
here because her pissed off scowl melted into a pissed off look of
concern. Cheryl's face is really good for adding anger to any
emotion. "Dude, what's wrong with you?" she asked.

	My eyes focused on her like she was water in a desert and I
swallowed down a ball of hysteria. "Help!" I squeaked.

	The pissed off faded a bit as the concern grew. "Andy, what's
wrong? You look like you're completely freaking out."

	Really!? YOU THINK?! "I-I-I-....IhaveadatewithOwen!" I blurted out.

	Cheryl just.....stared. Right at me. It was a kind of wary stare
too, like I'd just told her I wanted to eat her skin and she was wondering
exactly how serious I was. Then, almost like I could see it happening, her
eyes widened and she made whatever mental leap she needed to go from "what
the fuck?" to "oh my god!"

	"Oh my god." she whispered, sounding almost awed. "You really just
said what it sounded like you said, didn't you?"

	I nodded rapidly, wondering when the hell we were gonna get to the
"helping Andy not have a stroke" part of the conversation.

	A slow grin spread across her face. "That's fucking great!" she
exclaimed happily and jumped up out of my chair. She walked across the
room, yanked me -roughly- off the bed and gave me a crushing hug. "I'm so
happy for you!"

	Not even the embarrassment of being hurt by a hug from a girl whose
head barely went past my nose could stop my panic. I stood stiffly in her
arms, tense and maybe even shaking a bit, for a few seconds before she
seemed to realize that something was wrong and took a step back.

	"What is it?" she asked, frowning. "Is having a date with Owen a
bad thing?" she asked slowly and cautiously, like she was maybe gonna hit
me if I said yes.

	"Yes! I mean no! I mean....." I pushed past her and started pacing
around my room. How could I ever start to explain why and how much this was
freaking me out? I couldn't. That's how. I stopped pacing, spun back to
face Cheryl and frustratedly shoved my hair off my face. "Help!" I begged
again.

	"Ok." she said calmly. "But maybe you should tell me what you need
help with. Unless you want me to just randomly start helping you with
things. And if I get to choose, we're definitely starting with the whole
pacey, freaking out thing."

	I glared at her. Do not hit Cheryl, Andy. She's a girl. You
shouldn't hit girls. Especially girls who can literally kill you with one
finger. Just take a deep breath. Ok that didn't help. Let's make that
fifteen deep breaths. Ok. Better. Now. Let's try this without the anger.

	"Ok." I started as calmly as I could with my heart still trying to
pound its way out of my chest. "So, I was walking through the freshman
halls after lunch....."

	I tried to get the whole story out as quickly as I could. Maybe I
should have just started with what was really bothering me, but I thought
that maybe something that happened before we agreed to the date would help
her give me better advice. Or something. I dunno. Maybe I just really
wanted to talk to someone about it.

	I kept glancing at the clock as I talked, getting more and more
annoyed as the minutes slowly moved closer to 6:00 and Owen's show. I
wanted to get this all out and done with before then because even though I
was completely losing my shit about tomorrow, I still really, REALLY wanted
to talk to Owen tonight. Except, rushing through telling a story kinda just
jumbles your words together and you end up having to repeat yourself, not
to mention the insanely annoying question interruptions, so I probably just
made the whole thing take longer. It was a half hour before I finally got
to the point.

	"....and so we're going out tomorrow and I don't know what to do!"
I finished my latest run on sentence and took a big gulp of air. "I don't
know how to act, I don't know what to wear, I don't know what to say, I
don't know ANYTHING about dates! So, help!"

	Cheryl just stared at me. "And you think I do?" she asked
incredulously.

	"You've been on dates before!" I yelled. "I haven't!"

	"Yeah. Three. Not exactly an expert here." she said.

	"You've been on more dates with-" I lowered my voice.  "-GAY GUYS
than I have!" I whisper-yelled. I almost regretted bring up the Brandon
date. So far she hadn't talked about it and I was more than happy to
pretend it never happened but I needed her to admit that she had more
experience than me and freaking help me!

	"Just the one!"

	"Still more than me!" I growled in frustration.

	Cheryl threw up her hands in a way that would look way too dramatic
on anyone else but on her seemed to fit. "Fine! What do you want me to do?"

	Finally! "Tell me what to wear, what to say, how to act. Anything!"

	She looked at me like I was nuts for a few seconds, then sighed and
walked over to my closet. "Fine. Let's see what you have in here." she
opened the door and started rifling through my clothes. "You know, you're
the only person in the world who would get EXACTLY what they want and still
find a way to freak out about it."

	I sighed sadly. "Yeah. I know." But if she'd just help me then it
could turn back into a good thing. I didn't say that though. One of the
first things I'd learned about life is not to start up an argument with
Cheryl when she's doing what I want anyway.

	"You have nothing in here but long sleeve shirts, jeans and cargo
pants." she turned around and crossed her arms. "What, exactly, do you
expect me to do with that?"

	I let out a frustrated breath. "I don't know! Don't I have a outfit
that, I dunno, makes me look good or something? Like, a shirt that-" God I
can't even believe I'm saying this "-brings out my eyes or something?"

	She cocked an eyebrow. "How the hell should I know?"

	"Grrr! You're a girl! You're supposed to know these things!"

	"You're gay! You're supposed to know them too!"

	"Shhhh!" I hissed and glanced back at my door like my parents were
gonna come barging in the second the word was said aloud. "Don't yell
that!"

	She looked like she wanted to throw something at me while still
somehow seeming apologetic. "Fine. Sorry. But I still don't know what the
hell you should wear."

	"Cheryl!" I whined and, yeah, maybe there were puppy
eyes. "Please!"

	"Goddammit! Fine!" she turned back to my closet and started
violently rummaging through my clothes. "Here." she said after a few
minutes. "These." She threw a shirt and a pair of pants at me. I dropped
the shirt and didn't even try to catch the pants. "You have the most boring
clothes ever by the way."

	"Thanks." I grumbled and picked them up.

	The shirt was dark blue, long sleeved of course, and I hadn't worn
it in over a year. I tried to remember why since it was a pretty nice
shirt, but I couldn't remember. The pants were an older pair of black cargo
pants that were about a size smaller than I usually wear, which means they
probably fit like they were supposed to. I like loose pants, so what? I
thought maybe they'd look good, but if I knew what looked good I wouldn't
be a mess over this so, yeah. "You sure?" I asked.

	She shrugged. "Change and find out."

	I blinked. "Here?"

	"No. In the driveway." she drawled. "Of course here."

	"In front of you?! No way!"

	She rolled her eyes. "You have boxers on, right?"

	"Of course!" I did blush a little bit though, suddenly really glad
this wasn't one of the days where I hadn't worn any. Not that I do that a
lot! It's just.....sometimes I don't like wearing them.

	"So? I've seen you in a bathing suit before. It's the same thing."
she said with a tiny smirk.

	"No it's not!" I glared at her. "And I'm not undressing in front of
you." I started to turn and walk to the bathroom -which I really should
have done like nine sentences ago- but then remembered that I'd have to
walk down the hall past the TV room and I really didn't want my parents to
see me changing clothes in the middle of the day and getting curious. "Turn
around." I ordered. Which sounds as about as impressive as you'd think
coming from me.

	Cheryl rolled her eyes again, but turned around. I changed really
fast, not taking my eyes off her back for more than a second or two. I
didn't trust her not to turn around. Especially when she was kinda annoyed
at me. I finished, and then remembered why I didn't wear the shirt anymore.

	"Um, Cheryl?"

	She turned around her eyebrows shot up. "Wow. You look....pretty
good." I probably should have been insulted by the surprised look on her
face, but it melted into a smirk before I could. "I'm pretty good at this
crap." she said smugly.

	I rolled my eyes and tugged at the shirt. "It's kinda....clingy."

	Cheryl snorted. "Only you would think that's clingy."

	I opened my mouth to argue, but the suddenly
very-disturbing-while-the-real-one-is-also-in-the-room Cheryl voice decided
to speak up, 'hey, you asked her for advice because you don't know shit
about this crap. Maybe you should listen?' I frowned, but couldn't really
come up with an argument to that so I turned towards the only mirror in my
room, the one on the back of my closet door.

	Ok, fine, maybe the shirt wasn't exactly 'clingy' but it was
definitely tighter than I was used to. Like I said, I like kinda baggy
clothes. I'm not exactly the biggest person in school and they make me look
more....normal sized, and less like a skinny loser who's easy to beat
up. But hiding wasn't really the goal on a date. I wanted to look good for
Owen. And if wearing this shirt did that then I'd try to suffer through it
for a day. At least it had sleeves so I wouldn't feel totally exposed.

	"Ok." I said reluctantly. "Maybe you're right."

	Cheryl grinned. "Of course I am. Now change before you get them all
wrinkled."

	I rolled my eyes again. "Ok mom."

	She flipped me off but turned around without waiting for me to
ask. I changed back even faster than before and placed the clothes
carefully on my bed like they were fragile glass. "What about the rest?"

	She turned back around. "What rest?"

	"The rest! What do I say? How do I act?-"

	"Should you put out?" she added teasingly.

	"Shou-what?" I yelped. "Oh god I never even....do you think he'll
want me to? I can't! I.....do you think he'll hate me if I don't?" I
groaned and buried my face in my hands. "This is too complicated." I
mumbled.

	I felt a pair of hands on my shoulders and jumped in surprise. I
lifted my head and found a very serious pair of Cheryl eyes looking right
at me. "Ok. I can tell you're seriously freaking out here so I'm not even
gonna mention how stupid everything you just said was. And I'm definitely
not gonna point out how you sound like an insecure twelve year old girl-"

	"If you're gonna make fun of me just fuck off." I looked away and
blushed when I said it though. She wasn't exactly wrong.

	"-but what I am gonna do," she completely ignored me. "is give you
the best advice you're ever gonna get, ok?"

	I looked back at her hopefully and nodded.

	"Be. Yourself." she said forcefully.

	I deflated a bit. I actually expected good advice. How stupid of
me. I sighed. "Cheryl-"

	"No. I'm serious Andy." she said and gave me a little shake. I
frowned and tried to back away but her grip tightened and I couldn't
move. Ow. "Owen likes you. You like him. Just get through your awkward,
stuttery shit and then be the Andy we all know and love."

	I couldn't help snorting at that. "'We all?'"

	"Fine. The Andy I know and love then." she said. "The one that made
me shoot turkey out of my nose at Thanksgiving three years ago because of
how funny he is. The one who let me dress him up in sparring gear and kick
his ass when I was stressed out about that tournament because he knew it
would make me feel better. The one who stayed at the hospital with me all
night when my dad got in his car wreck. Because THAT'S the Andy Owen likes
and THAT'S the Andy that deserves to be happy."

	I stared into Cheryl's eyes, more serious than I'd seen in a long
time, and tried to swallow around the lump in my throat.

	I really didn't expect things to get this....deep, I guess. It's
weird, but Cheryl's been in my life so long sometimes I forget how well we
really know each other. Everyone knows what's wrong with me, but she's the
only one who knows the few things that are right. Even when I forget them,
she's there to remind me. So, maybe I could trust her on this, even if I
usually see being 'me' as the cause of all my problems. Maybe this time it
could be the thing that solves them.

	"Ok." I said softly. "I'll try."

	She looked in my eyes for a few seconds, probably trying to see if
I was serious or not, then smiled. "Good." Then she abruptly let me go,
spun around and walked back to her bookbag. She reached down, rummaged
through it and came up with a notebook. "Now," she said. "since you made me
do girl shit like picking out an outfit for you, you can make it up to me
by doing my English." she walked back and thrust the notebook at me. "Get
to it." she snapped.

	I let out a loud, tension relieving laugh, suddenly feeling a lot
better. I opened my mouth to respond, but before I could I caught a glimpse
of my clock. 6:06. I closed my mouth and grinned. "Sorry. I'd love to but
Owen's show is on and I promised I'd call him." I tossed the book back at
her, ducked the swing she took at me with it when she caught it, and hopped
onto my bed, grabbing my phone with a smirk.

	"Fine." she mock grumbled. "Call your little boyfriend. But you're
doing this when you hang up." she held up the notebook threateningly.

	My smirk turned into a real smile. "Sure." I said. "And....thank
you."

	She smiled back. "Anytime." she said seriously. We looked at each
other for a few seconds. It was one of those moments of total
understanding. Where I knew exactly how much she cared about me and she
knew exactly how much I appreciated everything she did for me. Then it
passed and she made a shooing motion with her free hand. "Go. Call." she
said with a grin. "I'll just be over here not even listening in at all."
Her grin turned wicked and I knew she'd be listening to every word,
probably even sneaking close enough with her scary ass karate ninja skills
to hear Owen through my speaker.

	I laughed and flipped her off, then turned on the radio. Owen was
just finishing up introing a song and I forgot all about Cheryl. This was
the first time I'd be calling in knowing how Owen felt about me. It felt
different. Almost like a mini-pre date. I grinned to myself. 'First Date'
by Blink 182 was definitely a good choice for tonight's song.

	Still grinning, and feeling the same nervous, giddy anticipation
that I'd felt before, I dialed my Owen.

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

	The Witcher 2: Easily the most heterosexual thing I've drooled over
since Hemsworth