FanFic - Unconventional Couples
"Opposites Attract"
Part 2
by NewMex_sky
Disclaimer: I've made several offers, but the WB and the Roswell producer's lawyers won't return my calls. Okay guys! Don't sell to me. Keep it for yourselves!!! Keep it all!!!!!
Summary: The story continues. Maria's has been hanging out with Kyle, causing her to have a 'revelation' of sorts. Kyle has one, too. So does Michael.
Category: Unconventional Couples
Rating: PG-13
Authors Note: Again, I'm a big M&M fan, but I felt Kyle needed the bump and Maria needed some of her spunk back. So here goes. P.S.-To all who gave me feedback and encouraging 'threats' (smile)---Thanks!
A light breeze kicked up some dust near the closest green. Grit spun through the air and Kyle Valenti felt something prick his left eye. Immediately it began to water. Mother Nature's timing was not the best since he was trying to watch Maria's swing.

"Whoa, DeLuca. Take it easy on that club. It's not an axe!" he exclaimed while vigorously rubbing his eye.

Maria turned her head towards Kyle with a look on her face that clearly warned, "You-want-a- piece-of-me? I-don't-think-so-buddy!"

Kyle wasn't intimidated. He was getting used to Maria's changeable moods, and admittedly, enjoying every moment of them.

"Hey look, DeLuca, if you want to learn to play this game, you're gonna have to learn to listen. Can you do that?"

The objective was to have the ball circle to the left, climb an inclined riser that encircled the head of a clown, break to the right, dip down a angled channel, and enter one of three holes located varying angles around the clowns ears and mouth.

Maria's response was to slice wildly at the little blue ball at her feet.

Kyle started to protest. "Don't chop at it!" But it was too late.

The ball lifted into the air, whizzing past the clown-head entirely. It crashed through a small bush, finally rolling to a stop in the grass next to the wooden boarder-surrounding Hole 6.

Kyle and Maria were playing Hole 5.

Maria yelled over her shoulder, "This thing is my nemesis!" She cursed at the structure through gritted teeth. ""But you haven't bested me, you wooden devil!!"

"Hope you enjoyed that!" Kyle called out. Gripping the pencil tightly, he calculated her score. I think I need an adding machine, he thought to himself.

This was the second time they'd ventured here. And it wasn't the first time she experienced trouble at this spot. The first time was three weeks ago with Billy and Cheryl, as planned. Maria had insisted on returning here. "This is where I take control!" she stated with warrior-like conviction. Kyle shook his head. Control of what exactly? He came along because he had promised her, and Kyle kept his promises. Truthfully, he would have come even if he didn't promise--he just admired how determined she was. He just had to see her through this.

Today's temperature turned out to be warmer than it had been all week. The air all around felt like they were standing next to an oven. Heat radiated off of everything. Sweat broke out on his brow and ran in small rivers down his temples. He attributed Maria's increased impatience to the desert heat. Crazy from the heat, he mused. Watching as she hacked at the ball, a half-smile crossed his lips as he recalled how much worse, yes, worse, Maria had been at playing this game only three weeks earlier. He was a good teacher. He congratulated himself.


Maria lifted her putter in front of her. She glared at it as if it were something evil and then tossed it into the bushes near the clown-head. Cheryl, a pretty West Roswell cheerleader with auburn hair, gestured towards Maria while looking quizzically at Kyle. Kyle shrugged in response. Cheryl smiled weakly and returned her attention to the game she had going with Billy.

At least they looked as if they were having fun.

Looking up from the score pad, he spied Cheryl Kosloff and Billy Ramos already heading over to the 9th hole. The objective for coming here was for all of them to play together. Maria's inability to play the ball within the wooden boundaries coupled with her insistence on continuing play beyond the 6-stroke maximum caused them to quickly fall behind Cheryl and Billy. Kyle accused Maria of being stubborn. She emphatically defended her 'tenacity in the face of adversity'. Kyle rolled his eyes. The only thing he was adverse to was Maria's chopping at the ball.

Refocusing his attention on Maria, Kyle watched as she stormed off the course. She plopped herself on the bench near Hole 7, looking as if she was about to break into tears. Kyle strolled over to the grass, retrieving both the putter and the ball. He approached, stopping directly in front of her. Looking down at her, he teased, "That's no way to treat an innocent putter." When she didn't respond, he asked her more seriously, "DeLuca, what am I supposed to do with you?"

Maria's lower lip trembled. She didn't look up at Kyle. She was thinking. Thinking what on Earth was she even doing here? She wasn't really a fan of miniature golf. She wasn't even athletic--that hand-eye coordination thing genetically escaped her. Cheryl and Billy? They seemed to be O.K. people, but she barely knew them. They certainly weren't part of the crowd she ran with. They would be a lot closer to "Isabel" kind of people--fashion-forward, popular, clear-skinned, self-assured and coordinated. The kind of people that would make Michael retch.


Why did she always think of him when things weren't going well for her? It's not as if the thought of him calmed her. Usually, she'd wind up feeling----wound up. Wound up and guilty.

"Guilt" was the latest addition to her already vast collection of neuroses. Guilty. In her mind, she replayed the word again and again. She wasn't doing anything wrong. What reason did she have to feel guilty? "Guilt" and Maria had been formally introduced at the same time that the Valenti-boys had deposited themselves into her family life. She reasoned that she shouldn't even be here right now. She wouldn't be here right now, but for the sense of growing isolation from her friends. It was as if some giant invisible chasm had opened between her and them. She wondered how long she could stand on her own without them.

So here she was. Herself and Kyle Valenti. Her unwitting 'partner-in-guilt'. Maria reasoned Kyle had his own reasons for being here with her; specifically the bonus points he scored with his dad. Kyle's 'Great Sacrifice'--hanging with the DeLuca girl. It certainly worked wonders in smoothing things over with Amy. That in turn benefited his dad in the love-department, which in turn scored Kyle points with his father.

As if on cue, Kyle leaned in closer to her bent head. He was speaking to her. "Hey, your score---your score isn't...." He struggled for a kind way to describe her score. Unable to find the right adjective, he changed the subject. "I'll return the putters if you want me to."

Maria finally tilted her head up at him. Her mouth was pushed into a pout.

Shrugging, he said, "Really, DeLuca. No harm, no foul. I guess this was a bad idea."

Maria, deeply lost in thought, closed her eyes. In the instant it took her to blink, Kyle scanned her generous mouth. Once again, he pushed mischievous thoughts from his mind.

"I thought you said you could teach me", she was saying to him. The sound of her voice dragged his mind back from Fantasy Island. "Or don't you think you can work some magic on someone so entirely...."

"Pathetic." Kyle finished for her.

"Thanks for the compliment," she said glumly. "Fine. Yes, P-A-T-H-E-T-I-C."

"You are pathetic. At least we agree about something." He crossed his arms over his chest. Sighing, he looked at her like a coach evaluating a rookie starter. "But, yes, I can teach you. If you'll listen. Think you can do that without it compromising your pride?"

Maria narrowed her eyes. "Sure. If you can curb your Napoleon-complex."

"Huh?" Kyle asked, confused.

"Mr. Montoya? Our history class? Sixth period? We're studying Napoleon's campaigns?" she quizzed him. Meeting his blank stare, she realized she wasn't going to score any points for her cultural reference. "Never-mind. Let's get to it." Maria sighed, pushing herself to her feet.


She had finally maneuvered the ball into the last hole, jumping into the air as she watched it make it's final descent into the windmill.

"Yeah! I'm bad!" she shrieked gleefully.

He was sorely tempted to say something typically sarcastic, but held his tongue. She looked so relieved. Anyway, he was relieved that it was finally over. They had taken so long, Cheryl and Billy had already left. "Okay, DeLuca. Let's pack it up," he said, clapping his hands together--partly emphasis to hurry up-- partly as applause.

She skipped over to him. "Did you see that?" she squealed.

He smiled at her. "Yeah."

He was happy for her. Such a silly game, but she took it seriously. Maybe not the game itself, but the playing of it. Every little thing had meaning to Maria. It was kind of annoying and kind of admirable all at once.


She drank from the water fountain near the Exit gate. He watched the arching water run over her lips as she held her hair back with one hand. Straightening up, she saw him approaching and waved.

As they exited the gate, she turned to him babbling an apology. "Sorry I took so long. You were extremely patient. I know you wish you were already home. . I should wear a sandwich board that says, "'Long, Slow, Torture' on one side, and 'Sign Up Here' on the other. "

Kyle shrugged. "No problem. I could think of worse ways to spend the evening."

Maria lifted a quizzical eyebrow. "You could?"

He couldn't resist. "Yeah. Like having to sit through another "DeLuca-Valenti Family Dinner".

Laughing, she punched him lightly on the arm. While making their way across the parking area, she again turned to him. "Kyle? Ever think about what you're going to do with your life?"

"Me? I'm not thinking beyond the teams' next beer-bash and panty raid."

"Stop kidding around! I'm serious!"

"So am I!"

Reaching his truck, she decided to try again. "Really. I'm being serious!" She placed a hand gently on his shoulder. He looked at her for a long moment.

"Ever think about teaching?" She squeezed his shoulder.

He was both embarrassed and elated by her suggestion.

"Me?" he questioned. She just had to kidding with him again.

"Yeah, you." she said simply.

He held the door open for her and she climbed into the cab, still holding his gaze. He was still waiting for her to laugh and say "Just joking", but that moment never came.

Kyle still couldn't think of a response as he pulled the truck onto the Interstate.


"This isn't a driving range! You didn't forget what I told you?" Kyle mopped the dampness from his brow with the back of his forearm.

"You're rushing things," he chastised her. "This is a small, contained area--Little movements for little places. "

He directed her to stand to one side of the green. "Just a little tap! Wait. Stop! We're going to practice addressing the ball," he told her.

"Are you serious? What are we going to call it?" Maria teased. I bet he won't get that one, either, she thought. She loved playing this silly 'reference' game with him.

Kyle shot her an impatient look. "Are we going to play that game every time we come here? That joke is only funny if you haven't watched "I Love Lucy" like three-thousand times."

Maria cocked an eyebrow at him. "Well, at least you got that one," she sniffed, "Even if it was about television." Kyle ignored her, positioning himself behind her.

"Unlock your elbows," he ordered. "Your major problem is that you're too tense. You're always wound up, DeLuca. Relax."

"Mmm huh," Maria responded distractedly. He slid his hands down the back of her arms. A little electric current rolled down her arms. Her stomach fluttered. He was standing so close to her. Did he have to be so close?

Unnerved, she shifted her weight forward to increase the distance between them. She felt his hands slide around her back, until his fingers lightly rested on her waist. She moved forward so suddenly that he dropped his hands to her hips to steady her. He lowered his eyes to where his hands lay.

The back view was as nice as the front view.

He mentally slapped himself again. Focus Valenti, focus. You're just giving instruction here. Tell yourself that this is just like teaching a rookie on the varsity basketball team. Unfortunately his libido wasn't registering his brain's protests. Oh, boy---Maria DeLuca did not look anything like a rookie on any team he'd ever played on. Or smell like one either. What was this scent she was wearing today? Cinnamon and flowers? She was always distracting him with her scents. He groaned in his mind. His hands were beginning to sweat a little. He knew he should make himself not have these thoughts. Especially since the discussion he'd had with Harry Opel. Kyle had to do a lot of bluffing to keep it from reaching Maria, and that was making it harder for him because he really liked her.


Harry Opel leafed through the glossy pages of the menu. He hummed absently to himself. Kyle cleared his throat. "Opel. Do you think you could stop that friggin' humming? It makes me nuts! You always do that when we're in a huddle. And in the showers. And on the team bus. Why do you do that?"

"Helps me concentrate."

Kyle narrowed his eyes. "Try concentrating on stopping it. Okay?" He returned to scanning the menu.

Harry smiled slyly. "Just going with the flo', bro." He chuckled.

Kyle dropped the menu to the table. He stared at Harry. A smirking Harry. "What?" Kyle questioned. Something in Harry's voice made Kyle pay attention.

Harry met Kyle's gaze. Kyle noticed that "The Smirk" was everywhere. In Harry's eyes. On his lips. Even his hair looked as if it was smirking.

"What? Why are you grinning at me!?" Kyle demanded.

Harry stirred his straw in his soda. "You're my hero, man."

"Huh?" Kyle was thoroughly confused.

"You, man. You've got balls--Brass ones." He reached across the table, punching Kyle in the upper arm.

"Ow, man! What the hell---! Why'd you do that? What are you talking about?" Kyle growled in a low voice.

"In front of her boyfriend. He is with her, right? Then you are definitely poaching." Harry answered.

Kyle sat back in the booth. "Poaching? Who are you talkin.....?Maria?! You're talking about Mar---DeLuca!"

Harry nodded silently; that stupid grin still fixed on his lips.

"Nah, man. You--you've got it wrong. All wrong. It's not like that." Kyle stumbled for an explanation.

"Man. I saw you, I heard you. Guerin saw you and heard you." Harry wagged a finger at Kyle. "It's all right by me. If he'd gone for you, I'd have your back." He pounded his chest.

Kyle's mouth was open. He was trying to form the word "No", but it wouldn't come. His mind searched for a reasonable excuse to explain him talking to Maria. Asking Maria out. In front of a witness. Nothing reasonable came to mind.

Kyle figured that his best bet would be to go with 'the best-offense-is -a-good defense' maneuver. In other words, say nothing.

"Nothing wrong with a little free lovin', man." Harry was saying. "She's cute. I was in her 7th grade homeroom. She was so flat-chested then. We called her Looka-De Pancake. Get it? Looka-De Pancake."

Kyle stared expressionless at Harry.

"DeLuca. Looka-De. Pancake? As in, "Flat as a ...." Harry was saying slowly.

Kyle continued staring.

Harry said defensively, "Well, it was funny then. She's got a bit more now. Those lips ain't bad either."

Kyle's eyes reflexively dropped to the table.

"Knew it!" Harry's slapped the table with his palm. He nodded his head up and down. "You're taking care of business!" he exclaimed a bit too loudly.

"Shhhh!" Kyle looked around nervously.

"Sorry, man, sorry. Shhh." Harry placed a finger to his lips.

Kyle leaned forward. "No. Let me state it for the record. You've got it wrong. All wrong."

The smile slowly faded from Harry's lips, replaced by a suspicious look, tinged with disappointment. "Then why you hanging out with her, man?" Harry questioned.

Kyle looked across the table at Harry Opel. Six foot six. Two hundred twenty pounds. Big doofus. Played on both West Roswell's basketball and football teams. God had given this guy more brawn than brains. Behind his back, his teammates called him "The Big Ol' Girl" because he was the teams' biggest gossip.

And Kyle had unwittingly revealed himself in front of him. Not a good move. Where was that "cop" instinct when he most needed it?

Kyle waved Harry in closer to him. He didn't have a clue what he was going to say--yet he felt he had to say something. His audience was waiting.

"Harry," Kyle started in a conspiratorial tone. He dropped his voice to a whisper. "Harry, man, you're a quick study. Caught me." Kyle's sheepish expression was real. He couldn't believe he was lending any veracity to what Harry had said. Why was he allowing Harry to run a hole through his defense? What was wrong with him?

People's expectations, that's what.

At first, Harry squinted at Kyle like he didn't quite understand him. Then, his eyes slowly widened and the smirk returned to his face. He started to nod again. "Yeah, yeah." He slapped his leg.

Yeah, yeah--Ya big, dumb hick. Kyle knew it was a lost cause. Harry would be gossiping the minute he hit school grounds tomorrow morning.

"Caught me." Kyle again confessed weakly. He made a mental note to tell Maria. God. Tell her what? That Harry, and probably a dozen more people by tomorrow afternoon, would think he, Kyle, was hooking up with her--Maria?

"Pretty nice piece, huh?" The doofus was speaking again.

Kyle winced. "Um, it hasn' that far."

The light in Harry's eyes started to dim again.

Jeez, this idiot is like a kid at Christmas with a toy whose batteries have failed. Excited one minute; deflated the next.

"It's not like that---yet." Kyle defended his lie. "Guerin. She's scared of Guerin." Boy was he digging a bigger hole for himself.

Harry nodded. "That guy is psycho." Harry whirled his index finger around his ear. "He's always squinting at people---like he's friggin' Clint Eastwood or something! He was in my homeroom last year. I think he only showed up like five times!"

Wow--Kyle thought to himself. I'm so bored with this whole discussion. Now that the entire situation was awash in lies, mentally, he began to shut down. "Look, Harry. Keep this under your helmet. I don't want to make trouble for her." Kyle turned his head towards the kitchen. "Can we change the subject? I mean her boyfriend is back in the kitchen. Probably preparing our food."

"Hey. Maybe we should eat somewhere else." Harry said nervously.

"Don't worry about it, man," Kyle said exasperated. He yawned. He felt drained. Maybe he should order coffee. Instead Kyle seized on an opportunity to turn the tables.

"Harry?" Kyle said. "I was thinking."


"If you repeat a word--one single word-- of this conversation, and I know you want to, I will make sure EVERYBODY knows what you were doing in the showers after last practice."

Harry gulped in air. "You....wouldn't."

Kyle smiled as he sucked the last drops of soda out of his glass.


"Stand still," Kyle ordered.

Maria did as ordered, but she wasn't feeling too comfortable. He was behind her again. The nearness of Kyle was freaking her out. She looked off towards the Interstate, trying to distract herself by watching the cars whizzing by.

Kyle's breath tickled the hair she had tucked behind her left ear. Her stomach instantly tightened, drawing her attention back to where she was---and where he was.

"Now, pay attention." His hands again moved to her arms, slowly sliding down the insides of her elbows.

"Relax." Kyle's voice was a commanding almost-whisper against her ear. He slowly stroked the insides of her arms, running his hands down until they were clasping her wrists. He could feel her pulse in his fingertips. He resisted the urge to wrap his arms around her.

Maria could feel his chest on her shoulder blades. Instinctively, she leaned back, but catching herself, stepped forward again.

As she pulled away again, Kyle decided to move around her so they were face to face. He snapped his fingers at her, breaking the momentary tension.

"So you see, relaxed arms and hands, and proper hip placement, leads to proper stance and a better swing," he said as casually as he could. He told himself: You are cool and in control, Valenti.

Maria sensed what he was trying to do, so she went along with it. As light-heatedly as she could manage, she joked, "All well and good, but I'm not trying out for the LPGA."

Kyle's lower lip curled at the corner. "Good thing, because you're no Babe Didrikson."

Maria lifted an eyebrow quizzically. "Who?"

"She was like the ...Nancy Lopez, Florence Griffith-Joyner, and Mia Hamm-combo of her day. A long time ago. A truly great athlete." He lifted his head in a superior way, glad that for once he'd sailed one over her head. "Anyway, let's get back to this," he said pointing at the ball. *********************************************

The Interstate lights were turning on when twenty minutes later, Maria had successfully managed to play the ball through her 'wooden nemesis', and Greens 6, and 7. She was feeling pretty good, having accomplished this feat. And her score wasn't too bad either, dropping out of the double-digits. Of course, they weren't competing; this was just for fun. Pure simple, fun. How long had it been since she'd had that feeling? ***********************************************

Kyle picked the spot. A hotel restaurant. Tablecloths and linen napkins. Not a fast-food joint or a diner.

Maria picked at her salad, reviewing how pathologically pathetic and desperate she had felt only three weeks earlier. She reminded herself why she had decided to accept Kyle's initial invitation to play miniature golf: Michael. She had hoped that by going out with Kyle, it would have the effect of making him miss her--maybe even a little jealous. The extra bonus was that she'd get to spend some time around people who didn't know anything about aliens and healing powers and FBI special units.

Hungry, or only half-full. She had grown tired of always making moves designed to get Michael to react. It all seemed so silly now. The anxiety, the desperation. I guess I got off on the adrenaline, she confessed to herself. She just didn't feel like hunting him anymore. An image of herself, dressed as Diana the Huntress from Greek mythology, floated through her brain. Now she wanted to be seen as more than some pathetic, desperately in love teenager. She worried how her friends would react to her now. Or would they question her motives? There I go again. Too concerned with other's perception. She had to find the strength to live her life and if that meant a little distance, she'd just have to learn to deal with that.

That was something else she would have to conquer. Something else she and Kyle shared in common.


Kyle returned to the table.

She stared up at him with what he thought was a strange look on her face.

"What?! Do I have toilet paper on my shoe?", he asked.

Maria continued to hold his gaze, then broke it off, shaking her head. "No. Um, no. Not that I can see."

He twisted his foot to see the bottom of his shoe. Satisfied that she was telling the truth, he sat down. "Did the waitress come back?" He looked around.

"No." She carefully regarded him across the table. The light from the small lamp on their table illuminated his face. Kyle had really surprised her over the last few weeks. He continued to surprise her. He was actually very considerate when he wanted to be. When his father had to break a promise to her mother to change the oil in her car because of some emergency at work, Kyle stepped up and did the job. He wouldn't even take any money.

Her mind drifted as she recalled the firmness of his chest against her back. The scent of his cologne and sweat mingled together. Her stomach fluttered again immediately followed by the sharp twinge of guilt. She sat bolt upright and picked away at her salad.

Kyle was studying the menu. He didn't seem to notice her watching him. Maria's mind drifted again. His eyes are so blue. Unconsciously, she licked her lips. An image of Michael suddenly floated through her brain. Michael's are a hazel brown--darker when he was angry or tired.

STOP IT! Stop it, Maria DeLuca, she ordered herself. Michael operated within a different universe these days. Maria constantly felt Michael's eyes on her, but he barely spoke directly to her. He was probably thinking every time he saw her: "Traitor".

"Hey!" Kyle was watching her with a concerned expression on his face. "What's with the pout?"

He automatically reached across the table for her hand. She pulled it back. "Sorry." He said quietly. Rebuffed, he picked up his menu instead.

Maria bounced her leg nervously under the table. Finally, the waitress showed up to take their orders. It seemed almost strange to her that she wasn't taking the orders. Her mind wandered to Liz--what could she be up to? Lately, they rarely saw each other except at school and work. Her voice-mail was packed with messages from both Liz and Alex. She just never seemed to find the time to return their calls.

Maria was spending most of her free time with either a combination of Kyle, her mother and the sheriff, or with Kyle, alone. Like tonight. It was Kyle who had suggested that they meet up and go do something--anything, tonight. He appeared to welcome her ideas for things to do; Thrift shopping; an arts festival in Albuquerque; building a kite. So she returned the favor. She accompanied him to an auto show; she watched football with him. Bowling had been his agenda for this evening, but she'd insisted that she wanted to return to the miniature golf course.

"Kyle," she fumbled for an excuse for her earlier rudeness. She knew he had been trying to be nice. "My hand just hurts, that's all. All that 'gripping' stuff and everything." Pathetic. "The grip on the putter is so small."

Kyle shrugged. "No problem." But his eyes showed that he'd withdrawn a little back into his shell.

He would do that. Sometimes, it was automatic--Like he suddenly remembered who he was "supposed" to be.

Sometimes, it was as a response to things like what she'd just done. Pull back-increase the distance, physically, emotionally, between them.

Maria was still processing what they were supposed to be to each other. Friends? Schoolmates whose parents were dating? Schoolmates whose parents were dating and now they themselves were doing the same? Her mind froze.

Could they be...having a 'relationship'?

Relationship? Her head swayed back and forth in the negative. No way. Just no way!

It would just be so wrong and creepy! Her mom was dating his dad! Both of them, being the devoted children they were, saw that their bonding made the situation easier for their loved ones and.....

And---Oh, God!!! They were having a relationship! It had just happened without her noticing it. Now it all began to make sense. Looking forward to seeing him; talking to him before bed.

Nervously, she looked over at Kyle with new eyes. What does this mean? Did he realize it, too?

"Kyle," she blurted out, "we are...I think...we're having a relationship. Maybe a little." She fidgeted in her seat.

Kyle gulped. That came out of left field! "Yeah, right, DeLuca." he said as casually as he could.

Maria nodded emphatically.

"You're not even my type," he added. Liar. Could she tell he was lying?

"Doesn't matter." she stated. "I think that's what's been going on. Believe me, it is weird that I just realized it."

Now she had his attention. Had his conversation with Harry gotten out? He prayed that it hadn't. No. Maybe she just sensed something. Something coming from him. He tried hard to mask it, but those feelings pricked at him every time he was in her presence. It was exhausting trying to play it cool.

Using a word like 'relationship' to describe what he and Maria were doing! His mind skipped to thoughts about his circle of friends. Cheryl and Billy had been cool even thought they thought that Kyle hanging out with Maria was strange. He'd explained that his hanging out with DeLuca was a 'family obligation'.

That was weak. It was a difficult sell. After all, he was Kyle Valenti, and doing charity work wasn't his style. But they seemed to buy it.

He really didn't want to have this conversation with her. He was suddenly afraid. Maria was still with Guerin-that's just the way it was. He knew that. That's whom she talked about---thought about---asked 'coded' questions about. Questions that began: "Kyle, you're a guy. If you don't call a girl for like a week, but stare at her behind her back all the time, what does it mean?" Questions like that. He thought about his own sad position. He talked to her on the phone several times a week. Sometimes, she was the last person he spoke to before he went to sleep. Many times, he had entered Maria's number on his speed dial, only to panic and hurriedly erase it. He wanted the connection to her, but rejected it at the same time. This was all too confusing.

Part 1 | Index | Part 2a
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