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"Damnit, Lars! Get your balls out of my face!" I cried as Lars stood between me and the TV.

"Ali, are you even listening to me?" He put his hands on his hips and leaned towards me. I tried to lean to either side of him to watch the screen but he shifted his weight to stop me. I hit the pause button on the controller.

"Yeah, yeah. I'm listening. I swear, if you waste this credit I'm going to punch you," I said back to him.

Lars sighed and sat back down on the bean bag in the corner of my room. Being a gray hound, his long legs arched up high as he tried to conserve space, and his shorts stayed firmly wrapped around his runner's thighs. Damn Lars, had to join the track team. How predictable of his breed.

"Ali, I'm being serious here. I don't know what to do." He threw his hand out like a dice throw and used the other as a head rest. He looked at me with his big, dumb, brown eyes and after a while I found myself looking for images in the black markings in his brown fur. What the fuck does he expect me to say? If I had a choice, we wouldn't be having this conversation. But shit, the things you do for your friends.

"I don't know, Lars. You should know that I'm not the most knowledgeable about this type of shit." His ears wilted and he looked down at the floor. His broad chest expanded as he inhaled, and his big shoulders sagged when he sighed. Stupid Lars always coming to me with problems like this. What does he expect me to say? It's like he thinks I'll have the answers just because I'm a girl. I hate to see him looking so down, though.

"Look man," I begin. "Why don't you try, I don't know, talking to her?" I put the controller on the floor as I roll over onto my side, cursing how difficult it is to get a good stretch thanks to my feline body. I caught Lars staring at my midriff as my shirt got pulled up with my arms, and became very self-conscious of the lack of hair. Mom and Dad just had to have the "perfect" peterbald genes. Jesus, I must look like some wet, twisted towel. I sat back up and looked at him.

He looked off to the side and shrugged. "It's hard for me to do that," he murmured. He gave me another look, his eyes pleading for direction. I just rolled my eyes.

"I'm serious!" he cried. "I just can't walk up and talk to her. I get all knotted up inside." Heh, knotted. I'm not surprised he'd have difficulty talking to pretty girl like that when all he has on his mind is knots. Typical stud.

"Pun intended?" He scowled at me. I smiled and continued. "Look, all I'm saying is that you won't get far if you never try talking to her. Maybe it would help if we find out why it's so hard. Think that would be a step in the right direction?"

He mulls over the thought in his head for a bit before nodding. "Sure," he says. I nod.

"Alright, pretty boy. Why can't you talk to her?"

"Well, it's just that, she's a girl, you know?" I raise my eyebrow.

"This might come as a shock to you, but I too, am in fact a girl." I reply. He waves it off.

"Yeah, but you're different. For starters I've known you my whole life. Plus, you're hardly what anyone would call typical for a chick." He said, pointing to the walls of my room. I looked around at the assortment of posters, records, figures, and other ornaments I had hanging. He's right, in a way. Not many girls in this day and age would have a poster of Dr. Frank-N-Furter giving a strip tease next to a print of the Tarman's face, or a collection of records ranging from Cab Calloway to Gentle Giant hanging on the wall. Hell, what the fuck kind of self-respecting high school girl would still have dream catchers in her room? Well, I guess I'm not all that self-respecting.

"Guess you have a point there, "I muttered, lying down on the bed to watch the fan. I craned my head to the side to look at him. "What the fuck are you going to do when you see her Toxic Avenger panties?"

He arched his eyebrow and lowered his voice. "They have those?" I couldn't help but laugh at how genuine his question was. He brushed me off and continued. "Besides, she's different, Ali. It's so hard because I think I really like her."

That killed the mood. I stopped laughing and rolled onto my side to get a better look at him. "Don't you like me?" I asked.

"Come on, Ali. I mean 'THAT' kind of like. You know I don't see you that way."

Ouch. Dick head Lars always knows how to say the right thing. I couldn't keep the tsk from escaping my lips, but I kept everything else under the hood. Luckily for me, he continued.

"She's just, you know. Smart. Pretty. Funny. Have you ever talked to her? She is so nice all the time. She's really down to earth too," he gushed. He had a goofy smile on and I had a pit in my stomach.

"If she's so nice to talk to, then just talk to her, dude." I rolled over once more to check the clock. Shit was getting late. "Lars, it's getting late. You have track tomorrow, right? And I bet you haven't studied for the math test yet."

His ears perked up at the mention of the test. "Oh shit! I left my binder in my locker." I could see a glimmer of hope in his eyes. I sighed and reached for my school bag.

"Here, you can borrow my notes. Carey isn't the only one who happens to be smart. I already have it down." I said, handing him my binder. He took it and slipped it in his track bag. "Promise me you won't keep it in there," I tell him. "I don't want you to return it reeking of teen spirit."

He grins as he gets up, lifting the large bag onto his shoulder. "Ah, don't worry about it. Besides, when have you complained about how I smelled before?" he said. I hopped off the bed and opened the door for him to exit. We walked down steps and I unlocked the front door before leaving him space to walk through.

"Hope you can get some studying done." I say as he walks out.

"Thanks! And don't worry, I'll make sure to bring it to school this time!" He yells from the driveway. As he gets on his bike, he stops and turns back to face me. "Ali?"

"What?"

"Sorry for ruining your 1cc run."

I smile. "Don't worry about it," I call out to him. "Unlike you, I don't suck at video games." I can see him smile before he turns back and starts pedaling into the darkness. Soon, the only thing I can see is the red flashing light of his bike light in the distance. I make my way back up to my room to continue my game. As soon as I un-paused, my ship gets blasted by a stray laser and the continue screen pops up. There goes that run, I guess. I shut off the genesis and land back on my bed, twisting around in the hopes of getting my tail somewhere at least a smidgen comfortable.

I watch the blades of the fan spin as I try to keep myself composed. Stupid fucking Lars and his ineptitude at seeing how I'm feeling. Dumb ass Lars who always does this kind of shit. Asshole meat head Lars who always has to be so fucking naïve and blind. Fucking Lars, man. I grab the clicker on my desk to shut off the lights before I can feel the tears coming. Once showered in darkness, I curl into a ball and choke back a sob as I can feel that pit in my stomach phase through my body and then sits on top of my body, exerting this crushing force that makes me feel like dying.

Stupid fucking Lars, always head over heels for some chick. Stupid fucking Lars for always saying stupid shit. Stupid fucking Lars for never noticing that I like him. Stupid fucking me for not being someone he could like.

This is bullshit. I'm going to bed.