I'm fine, I promise.

personality

  We began kissing furiously, fast and quick like someone's knocking on the bathroom door at a party and we're trying to finish- wouldn't recommend, it's quite messy.

  It feels like all this unresolved tension that has been holding smugly in the air finally has been filtered out. Making the air clear, but not at the moment since Billy seems to be trying to suck the breathe out my lungs.

  I try and pull back, but it basically turns into a game of tug of war and the rope being my mouth in this instance. Damn, I knew Billy was very competitive in everything he did, but to treat making out like a competitive sport was something other worldly.

  (A type of competitive that would put Dustin to shame when he's playing Battleship, explaining it was a guessing game only fueled his rage, thanks Mike.)

  I finally push him away breathing hard once he's off of me. I gasp in breaths while he looks at me slightly surprised, but amused more than anything. His face is flushed, I bet mine is, too.

  Billy pushes his finger wrung hair out of his face while quietly panting. His face turns to one the Cheshire Cat would make, all troublesome and devious. A face he usually, if not mostly, makes when he's around me, usually giving me shit about Nancy and the kids.

  "Thank Mother Mary and Joseph! You're queer, too, I always had a little bit of a hunch you were: you're hair and that little ass swaying thing you do.", he says actually looking at ease and more comfortable than he did at the beginning of the night.

  "I didn't know what I was gonna do if you weren't. Don't want a gay witch hunt on my ass, the townies coming from all around riding their tractors and lawnmowers going street to street looking for the neighborhood gay.", he says laughing at the imaginary situation he came up with.

  What the hell! He literally believes I would do that to him or anyone else. Billy acts as if I would throw him to the wolves just because I didn't like him back.

  Perks of being king is that you know more than the middle aged supermarket gossipers, who heard and said about anything the thought was plausible.

  So it's quite obvious, if you know what you know, who the queer kids are and are likely going to ... experience them. Sure, I "dated" a girl or so, who most people expected of being queer to help her hide it. It was actually a fun experience: where I got a lot of my girl knowledge from. The relationship was basically us holding hands and pecks on the check, talking about girls we though were cute.

  A few guys, most of who have long passed this town, mainly graduates. Let's just say ninth grade year was ... fun, to say the least.

  "That's fucked up, I wouldn't out you like that and I'm not queer.", I say huffing a bit, cause fuck, why does he see me as the worst kind of person?

  "You're not queer? Really, princess, really. Tell that to the ass you were groping not even ten minutes ago."

"I'm not. I like both. I like girls and sometimes guys. I'm not queer."

"But you're not straight either. Don't get your panties in such a bunch, I had  a few friends back in Cali that did both, too.", he says running over the subject nonchalantly.

  At least I know that I'm not the only strange person who does this kind of thing. It's usually one or the other, not both. You either like it or ya don't.

  "You say you're ... queer, but you've fucked most of the high school girls?", I question him since we're interrogating each other about which gender gets our socks off.