Brandon. Yes, THAT Brandon.

Many an Answer

        If it was a phase, a five year phase, it's over now. I think...

        What I do know is I like Christina. Having those feelings about other guys scared me, then annoyed me. But for now, it's done. And I'm okay with that.

        Chris and stands with Mitchell's crowd again. She said he had something "wicked" to talk to her about today. F&F for sure.

        "So, Christi... can I call you Christi?" Mitch smiles. I wait for my time to school him yet again. Christina shakes her head 'no' and giggles. So, yeah. What we're doing is mean, but Mitch has tortured me for five years. He deserves to be screwed over at least twice.

        Mitch is literally about to ask Chris to Fall Festival when I gently pinch Christina's sides. She yelps and giggles. "Hey, you." I kiss her cheek and wrap my arms around her.

        Mitchell's face drops. I've only seen him this devastated once. Hell, I almost feel guilty.

        "What were you going to say?" Chris asks. Mitch tugs at his ridiculously curly hair.

        "Um, M-Marshall's birthday is a week from Saturday. The day after playoffs first game," he grumbles. "He's having a party."

        "That's Janie Frieman's birthday, too," I nod. "She's definitely throwing a party. And she has the best ones."

        "They're having a joint party," Mitchell says icily through his teeth. "You're welcome to come, Christina."

        "Sounds fun. We'll be there," Chris smiles. "Right, Brandon? I mean, unless you have something to do, Babe."

        She called me Babe.

        "Nope. I do have to get Janie a gift. We're pretty good friends," I nod and smirk at Mitch. He looks like he may snarl or start raving like a wild animal.

        The funny thing is, he won't pick on me directly for a long time. So, there's nothing he can do about it.

        Chris and I hold hands throughout the day. I then realize we must look like Carter and Stephanie with our height differences. Chris is about 5'4". Stephanie is maybe 5'5", but Carter makes her look like a midget.

        Everything is okay for a few days. Besides football, that is. But I couldn't care less. I've talked about it to Chris; I think I'm cutting it out after our first playoff game. If Coach Troy tells me to stop being a girl once more, I'll stuff a football down his throat.

        I get done washing my hands in one of our "nun bathrooms" (we call them that because literally three people use it a week), and I hear the toilet flush. I had no idea anyone was in here. Don't make eye contact.

        "Hey."

        I snap my head up instantly.

        "What."

        "What's up with you and the blonde girl?" Conner asks. "Christina."

        "We're together," I reply blandly.

        "Oh, she's decent looking. Thin as a rail, though. Where'd you find her?" I don't answer. "Well, I guess you have to really look for the good in some people. Something I can't do as well as you. She's not my type, obviously." He washes his hands. Why am I even standing here? I need to leave. "But then again, she's not your type, either."

        "I'm not gay," I snap. "I was curious, and being with you just showed me exactly what I don't want." He's got nerve, alright.

        "Well I ditched Tyler, if that makes you happy."