"So you said you're single," I asked, though I did my best to made it completely clear that I wasn't expressing interest: just small talk.

"Yeah; for now. But you might want to check back in a week," he said.

"Oh? This sounds like there might be a good story in there," I said, perking up.

"I suppose. I've always really been single; you know the closet, then all of this damn work, not to mention virtually non-existent pool of possible suitors. I mean I'm not opposed to the notion of dating, but all of the blocks haven't really fallen into the right places," he said putting his pencil down on the table and slouching down in the chair.

"Well you can't exactly sit around and do nothing and wait for the blocks to fall out of the sky in perfect order."

"That's what they tell me, and I know it; however, getting everything in perfect order is a lot harder than you'd think."

"I know." I said taking a sip of a Pepsi. "They?"

"Never mind," he said as his face went blank while he looked for the next thing to say, and got lost somewhere along the way.

"So you're not opposed to dating someone, circumstance has prevented you thus far, but what's this about a week?" I asked hoping that this would bring him back around to the juicy gossip that I was waiting for.

"Wha--? Oh, right. Yeah," He said as he found his place and resituated himself in the land of the coherent. "So there's this guy…"

"This sounds like it's about to be a really bad pun."

"I sure hope not," he said chuckling.


"Just think, out of the people we know, who seems the most likely to be gay?"

"Tom?!?" I asked shocked that he would even think of being interested in Tom.

"No, not Tom, you Dimwit," he spat.

"Oh, yeah, him, that seems like a fairly safe bet, though I'm not sure."

"Are we ever really sure until they tell you? Even then? At this age, here, it's scarcely even worth it. But beside all of the obvious little things which don't necessarily mean a whole lot, he's been flirting with me for weeks," he said, attempting to not seem shallow or devoid of insight.

"Yeah, I've kind of seen that."

"And the vibes I'm getting from him are somewhat intense. But you've noticed it too? A couple of other people noticed it. That's a good thing I guess, I mean it makes me feel like I'm not projecting this all," he said sounding relieved and somehow excited. Now he was interested in telling the story: it looked like I just might get my story after all.

There was a prolonged silence where neither of us spoke, and before he got the chance to drift off into some other realm, I thought it might be a good idea to jump start the conversation. "So say something. I don't want to count how many times you've told me that one."

He chuckled: this was a start. "Yes, but given his reputation I wouldn't want to push to hard and have him be wierded out and run away screaming."

"He was great when you came out though," I pointed out recalling the somewhat comedic episode.

"Yeah, and that really surprised me, so I'm questioning all of my previous assumptions, but at the same time you know people act differently when 'You're Gay?' suddenly becomes 'I'm Gay,' and I'm not about to ruin anything with rash behavior." He explained.

"Fancy that!"

"Shut up, you know what I mean."

"Yeah," I said smiling. "I agree and in the end it's you're relationship—such as it is—after all. We'll ignore for a moment the fact that it's so obvious to everyone that you two are cruising each other," I said, punctuating the point with a grin and a very soft chuckle.

"I suppose, but anyway. Things may be looking up though." he said shifting his weight in the chair and yawning.

"So you've said. What happens this week?" I asked. We'd discovered long ago that blunt communication was better in the long run for all involved parties.

"Well a couple of days ago he said 'And there's something I need to talk to you about,' in that way. I mean what else could it be?"

"I'm not going to answer that for your piece of mind." I said chuckling.

"Oh, shove it would you," he spat. "When I approached him about it later, he was like 'after we get done with this next project,'" he said illustrating his quote with a wide sweeping gesture that puzzled me slightly.

"That doesn't seem logical."

"Well it wouldn't be logical to you or me, but let's look at it from where he's standing," he suggested and stared at me, I suppose he expected me to take in the alternate perspective without any assistance.

"I suppose it makes sense. Maybe a perfectionist thing, or just wanting to have free time, or just wanting to be free of commitments so he can crash and smolder if he needs to," I theorized, speaking almost before the thoughts were fully formed.

"That's where I was coming from. The accounting for every contingency would certainly fit with the character," he agreed.

"Since the project is over this week…"

"Yep. Whatever will happen will happen."

"Which is of course too slow for you right now?"

"I don't think time could move slower," he lamented

"Hi there Mr. Kydd! What's the plan for today's class?" I called out over his shoulder to our history teacher; the only problem was that Kydd was on the other side of the building stuck in front of a half awake, at best, class at the moment.

He jumped in his chair and looked around frantically for the teacher who wasn't really there; but the point was made. "I hate you. I really hate you. You know that don't you?"

I couldn't help but laugh. "You know, not to seem like a complete asshole right now, but why are you getting your hopes up, he's not going to be here or anywhere close in six months, and besides you two have diametrically opposed interests and opinions. If you don't kill each other within the first six seconds, I'd personally be shocked," I said growing serious. The sad part is that it was the truth.

"Thank you for your vote of confidence. I think worrying about him leaving is really putting the carriage before the horse, hell; this whole conversation is putting the carriage before the horse," he said appearing somewhat frantic.

"I'll give you that one," I said looking inquisitively as he calmed down a little. "But you still are opposite types."

"Isn't that what makes things interesting. And I don't think we're opposite types. Opposite backgrounds perhaps, but are we really so diametrically opposed type wise?"

"Probably, but you're right, I suppose." I said. Despite the fact that he was slightly confused and not quite sure of where he was going, he still had more insight into this screwed up world than he, or anyone else I knew, deserved to have. Damn him.

"I mean where's the fun if you always know what he's going to say, do, or think? Remember what Brad Grahm said in that Fray story? 'Passion, requires just that, an undying passion to discover the unknowns of the other person' or something like that."

"Granted," I relented reluctantly.

"So there's not much I can do," he said loosing himself to some alternate plane of thought, only this time I let him go.

"Except wait."

"Except wait," he repeated absentmindedly.