To be honest, I don't expect to hear from Ryan for a while, at least a day or so. So, when he pulls me over on my way to math, I'm a little more than surprised to say the least. People are staring at us again, but this time, Ryan doesn't seem to notice. Or maybe, just maybe, he doesn't care. Except... no, because I don't think that's even like, possible.

"Ryan! Hi!" I beam, a little too over-enthused. But hey, give me a break, because I'm really surprised I'm not dumped here.

Wait, unless, that's what he's about to do right now. Right here in the middle of the hallway. Oh God, please no. Please don't let Ryan break up with me. I'll read the bible every night, and I won't lie, or steal, or talk back to my parents. I'll even be nice to Spencer Smith! I'll do everything the bible says, well, um, yeah, except for the gay part. But besides that, everything!

"Hey, um," he starts, uneasy. He tosses some hair out of his eyes, and gnaws on his bottom lip, and shit, he's nervous. He's so totally going to dump me. "I was just wondering, when like, your parents got home from like, work and stuff." He coughs awkwardly, and fiddles with his ear.

"Oh, um, well, my mom gets home at like, five, five-thirty and my dad, like, six or something," I reply, and I swear I can hear my heart pounding a million miles against my chest. I figure he probably can too. Scratch that, I bet the whole school can. "Um, why?"

"Oh, I just - " He wraps his arms around his middle, and takes a quick look down the thinning hallway, "I was just wondering if you know, I could like, come over after school for um, a bit, if that was okay."

"Oh, um, yeah, of course," I say, and I don't know if I should be happy or scared for my life.

"Okay, yeah, cool." He forces a cough again, and looks down at his converse.

"Um, yeah..."

We stand there for a few more seconds, not saying anything and just like, slowly dying in the awkwardness. I take this as a bad sign, because I mean, really, this bad of an awkward silence cannot be good. In like, any way.

The warning bell rings and I think we're both a little (okay, more like a lot) relieved that we both have a reason to slowly run away.

"Okay, well, I better get to class..." Ryan says, looking up from his feet.

"Yeah, right. Yeah."

He gives me a small, little half smile, then a short, just as awkward wave before he turns and starts off down the hall, backpack slung over shoulder.

"So, I guess I'll meet you in like, the washroom then?" I call after him.

He turns around, twitches his face together. "What?" he asks, confused. "Oh, right," he says after a second of thought, then shakes his head. "Um, no, that's um, no that's okay. I'll just meet you at your locker."

Before I can answer back, he disappears around the corner.

- - -

Lunch is pretty horrifically torturing too. I am tempted on numerous occasions, to get up and go sit beside Ran Rui Yi, the foreign exchange student from some country that I cannot pronounce (let alone even begin to try and spell), who has been living here since I was like, a freshman and still can't speak a word of English.

Spencer just sits there the whole time across from me, beside Jon, like always, and doesn't say a single thing to me the whole fifty-five minutes. I don't even think he looks at me. I mean, not like I want him to or anything, but seriously. He just has to make it so dramatically obvious too, because he just sits there with his classic bitchface on, and his whole body turned away from me. I even hear him mutter slut under his breath when I first sit down, and Jon kicks him under the table.

In the beginning, I can tell Jon is trying to split his attention evenly. Of course, this doesn't work too well because every time Jon goes to start a conversation with me, Spencer groans under his breath and does this whole, oh, I'm a big bitch, give me attention eye roll. So, Jon gives up after ten minutes and focuses all his attention on his little miss princess.

Ryan's tongue is shoved down Dayna's throat a few feet away.

I decide that I really need to find myself some new friends like, pronto.

- - -

After school it doesn't get any less awkward with Ryan and I either, if anything it almost gets worse. And, its like, okay, I know I did a pretty damn stupid thing, but could you like, give me some sort of a hint as to what's going on in that (beautiful) head of yours.

"So, um, how was your day?" I try.

"Um... okay," he says, like he's distracted or something. His knuckles are white he's clutching the steering wheel so hard, like we're driving down the freeway or something, but when in all reality, we're driving down a side street with only like, one car ahead of us. I didn't expect he'd say anything back, but after a few seconds he goes, "You?" but it sounds like he could really care less.

"Um, same," I mumble. If it was a normal day, I'd tell him about how me and Jon got kicked out of art class for getting caught drawing very inappropriate pictures in our sketchbooks. But... it's not, so I don't.

"Hmm..." he hums under his breath, and that's that.

When we finally reach my house we go straight up to my room without a word, and I'm really, really hoping it doesn't stay this awkward because I don't think I'll even know how to handle it.

Then again, I'd rather keep it this way than have him break up with me any day.

Ryan closes the door behind us, even though no one will be home for at least another hour. He takes a deep breath, then slowly starts towards me, looking me straight in the eye as he approaches. He presses his hand to my chest, slow and hesitant, and continues to look me in the eyes for a few suspended seconds, as if he's trying to read my mind or something. Then, he just kind of leans forward and kisses me.

But, since I was all like, whoa, not even expecting it, I end up moving my head, in like, pure instinct and he winds up catching the corner of my mouth. And, its like fuck, the kiss is even awkward.

However, I'm not really complaining because it's not like he'd kiss me then break up with me, right?

He pulls away, a light blush on his cheeks, but instead of stopping and like, walking away, he looks me in the eye for a split second, then his lips are pressing against mine, and properly this time. He tilts his head to the side, granting better access as he slips his tongue into my mouth and his fingers slip underneath my shirt. Okay, now it's not so much awkward as completely fucking hot.

Okay, and honestly, I don't really know what to think at the moment, but I really didn't expect this, or like, anything like it when he asked to come over earlier. I expected a lot of crying and yelling and throwing of objects to make up for two days ago.

He slides his hands back out of my shirt, and moves them to the zipper on my Death Cab hoody, and slowly begins to slide it down while his tongue still roams my mouth. And, I mean, this totally isn't normal Ryan kissing. This is like, whoa, over the top, desperate, the kind that only leads to sex kissing.

I don't really get the chance to think before my sweater's completely off of me and lying in a pile on the ground, and I'm being pushed down, quite forcefully onto my bed. Ryan falls down gracefully on top of me, lips and tongues still hastily attached. And just, holy fuck, I'm getting hard already.

He slides his hands back up my shirt, his fingers burning my cool stomach. He kisses down my jaw, then to my neck, murming, 'Mmm... take it off,' into my skin.

Uh, yeah, I don't really need to be asked twice, thank you.

While I'm pulling off mine, and tossing it to the floor along with my sweater, Ryan does the same with his, except a whole lot more quick and way more aggressive. And it's like, what? Is this even the same Ryan? Then, his shirt barely hit's the floor before his tongue is back in my mouth, and his bare chest is pressed flush against mine.

He trails his fingers down my chest, drawing messy patterns and swirls until he reaches my belt buckle. He immediately begins working on it, his mouth making it's way back down my neck, nibbling and sucking.

I grab onto his wrist, and he stops, looking up at me with wide, confused eyes.

"What - " I start, take a deep breath, then try again, "what are - " deep breath, "you doing?"

He smirks, and his fingers brush against the skin above my belt. "What do you think?" he murmurs into my mouth. He doesn't wait for an answer before he's kissing me again, nibbling at my bottom lip, and I have no choice but to let go of his wrist.

Ryan goes back to fumbling with my belt, and it takes longer than it probably should, but I don't really think much about it, cause uh, yeah, I don't think my mind is really capable of processing anything right now.

His tongue runs against mine, warm and sloppy, and it's like, no matter how he kisses he's fucking amazing at it. And fuck, this is just... I just don't want to stop ever. But when he starts on my jeans zipper, and I can feel his fingertips shake, quite noticeably, I know that something obviously isn't right, even in the fuzzy, in the cloud state my brain is currently in.

I grab back onto his wrist, and pry my lips away. And yeah, this definitely isn't easy because I'm pretty sure my penis is getting sick of this whole, not getting off thing (at least from something else that isn't my hand) and okay, maybe I just want this so, so, so bad that it's not even funny anymore. I mean, I'm sorry, but I like sex. God obviously made me into a very sexual being, it's not my fault, okay?

Anyways, back to the problem. I'm not stupid, and I know that this isn't Ryan. I cheated on him with my ex-boyfriend and he didn't get mad. We also haven't had a normal, non-awkward conversation yet. Now, he's turning around and pretty much saying he wants to have sex with me? How does that even work? Oh, yeah, that's right, it doesn't.

"Ryan," I start, and I'm huffing and puffing, and I'm hard as a fucking rock here, but I know that is isn't how I want it to be, no matter how bad I want it. "Ryan, shouldn't we like, talk first?"

"About what?" he asks, eyebrow cocked, and he really looks like he has no idea what I'm talking about.

"You know, Ryan." I sigh, and press my palms on my forehead. "About Ethan."

"There's nothing to talk about," he says, then slips his finger into my open fly. He presses his fingers into the material of my boxers, right into my throbbing cock.

I moan and curse under my breath, and he leans down and smirks, just before he presses a wet kiss back onto my swollen lips. "It's not like you had sex, you just kissed. Right?"

"Right," I reply, throat dry.

"So, then, it's no big deal. I mean, I kiss Dayna," he mumbles, and runs his boney fingers through my messy hair. And like, seriously, why does it feel like someone is stabbing me in the heart every time her name's mentioned?

I swallow and he leans down, leaving his lips just centimeters from his as he whispers, "Let's just forget about it, okay?" He leans forward the rest of the way, and then, his tongue's back in my mouth, and I guess I don't really have a choice.

Eventually, he winds up underneath me, all hot and half-naked, and it's pretty much like, dayumm (yeah, I totally just said that).

I guess he finally figures out that I'm not going to do it, so he moves his hands down to his own pants zipper, and begins to slide it down. I'm still not too sure about this whole thing (however, my penis really is, so it's very, very difficult decision to make. If you're a guy, you'd understand, and if you're a girl, well... just take my word on it, okay?), because I can still feel him shaking underneath me, and it's not just his hands either, it's like, his whole body.

And I mean, yeah, he could just be nervous. That's normal. But, I mean, I don't know...

I rest my hands on my shoulder, and push him back a little, just long enough that I can get out, "Ry, are you sure? Are you completely positive you want to do this?"

"Yeah." He nods, lips red and swollen, as hooks his index finger into the elastic of my boxers. He doesn't waste another second before diving into my neck, attaching his teeth and soft lips to my skin. It kind of tickles in an amazing, overly pleasing way.

Focus, Brendon, focus!

"B-but, what made you like, change your mind?"

He shrugs and murmurs, "I don't know." His voice sends vibrations down my neck, making me shiver and goosebumps pop up all over my skin. "I figured it's going to happen eventually so I might as well get it over with now."

Um, yeah, wrong answer.

I put my hands back on his bare shoulders, and push him away, once again. "Get it over with?" I repeat.

He sighs. "I don't mean it like that," he says, and rolls his eyes like, duh. "I just mean, you know, I'm just ready now. I thought it over."

"..." You're a terrible, terrible liar, Ryan Ross. But you're so, so, so, so sexy lying there on my pillow, lips swollen and your hair a mess. Why are you making this so fucking hard?!

"Brendon, seriously." He groans, then throws in a little heartbreaking pout. "Why else would I be doing this? It's not like I'd lie and say I'm ready if I'm not. You of all people should know this."

Hmm... the man does have a point there.

I guess when I don't say anything he takes that as permission to go back to molesting me. Um, why am I complaining about this again?

Once he gets his pants done completely, he carefully begins to slide them down his hips, while still managing to kiss me. Somehow even more sloppier and wet than before however, but still. Soon we're lying there, in nothing but our boxers, our jeans kicked to the floor. And I'm kind of like, oh god, this is actually going to happen.

Ryan's fingers dip into my boxers, and slowly begin to slide down, and I think I even hold my breath for a moment there because, like, hello, Ryan Ross is actually going to touch me there! However, his fingers are barely centimeters away before he's yanking his hands back out of my boxers like my dick bit him or something equally terrifying. And it's like, great, he's telling me he wants to have sex with me, like, right now, but he can't even fucking touch my goddamn penis!

I decide to let it go, because again, I'm way past horny here. However, he tries again a few minutes later, and he's even more slow and apprehensive this time as he slowly inches his fingers down into the fabric of my boxers. It's like he's literally forcing his hands to stay down.

"It's okay," I say, when I know I should really be stopping him, but his hands are like, two freaking centimeters away, and it's been a long time, as I'm sure you're well aware. Just as his fingers brush against me, he makes this choking sound from the back of his throat, and it's definitely not a good one either.

I mean, really, fuck. It's a fucking penis! He has one! How is this such a big deal?!

"Ryan, stop."

He listens, and pulls his hand out of my boxers, then stares up at me with wide, innocent eyes like he has no idea why I would tell him to stop.

"Sweetie, let's be honest here. You can't even put your hands down my pants without freaking out and you expect me to believe you that you're ready to have sex with me?"

"I am, okay?" he says, quick and defensive. "It's just my first time. I'm allowed to be nervous, aren't I?"

I go to open my mouth to argue some more, but then snap it shut. Again, he has a point. It's just, I don't understand, if everything he's saying sounds believable, than why don't I believe him even a little bit?

"I'm fine, really," he says, and he sounds so convincing so I really have no choice but to kiss him again. Then, we're back to us making out, with him shaking and the back of mind telling me to really stop this time before everything gets so much worse. Because I know it will if we actually go through with this.

Fucking hell, why do I have to be a guy and have my dick as my brain?

I kiss down his neck, nibbling then running my tongue over the irritated skin every few centimeters. I momentarily wonder about them leaving marks and then Dayna seeing, but Ryan doesn't stop me, so I continue. He's grips at my shoulders, his nails digging into my skin as I move down to his chest. He lets out a small moan, but at the same time, he's trembling, like, going to have a seizure trembling. I mean, really, talk about mixed signals, geez.

I kiss just below his rib, and hook my thumbs into the elastics of his boxers. He makes another choking sound from the back of his throat, along with whimper and then a sniffle on top of that. I pull my head up and look at him.

His head is turned away from me so I can't see the look on his face, but I think I have some kind of an idea. "Don't stop," he says, but even his voice shakes.

Um, yeah, I'd say now is about the time to stop. For good, this time.

I crawl back up to him, so we're face to face. He quickly wipes at his cheeks, but I'm not stupid. He sniffs again, and forces a small smile at me and tugs at my arm. "Brendon, come on, your parents are going to be home soon."

"Do you honestly think I'm stupid or something?"

His smile falters, but despite everything, he leans up and tries to press his lips to mine again. I push him back down. "Ryan, no. You're crying."

"I'm just... overwhelmed that's all," he lies. "I want this, really. I promise." He runs his fingers along my arm for good measures. Yet, his eyes are still wet and he keeps sniffing to prevent the snot from running out of his nose.

I roll off of him, and sit up beside him. Oh, yeah, and great, I have a fucking tipi in my boxers. "Stop lying to me, okay?" I say, teeth clenched, because for some reason, I actually feel a little hurt that he's so blatantly lying to me. "Why are you doing this?" I pull my legs into my stomach, and look down at him.

He looks back at me for a few seconds, like he's trying to decide if he should keep lying or not. He opens his mouth, closes it, then covers his face with his hands, and lets out a loud groan. "I don't even know," he admits, then kicks his legs up and down a few times like a child. "I'm so, so, so, so, so stupid." Then, to top it off, he starts pounding his fists into his head over and over again.

I grab onto his wrist for the 43857384573845743 time today, and it's like um, whoa? What exactly is going on right now? Who is this? "Holy crap, Ryan, calm down."

He stops immediately, and stares up at me, his fists in midair. Then, before you can say, myboyfriendiscrazy he bursts out crying.

"What is wrong with me, Brendon?" he wails, and I just kind of stare down at him, at a complete loss for words. I mean, seriously, what the fuck is going on right now? Is this some kind of joke? I feel like I'm on Punk'd. If this is, Ashton Kutcher, this is so not funny.

"What? Nothing. Nothing is wrong with you." I finally say, fast, because he seriously looks like he's on the verge of killing himself or something.

"How can you say that?!" he cries. "Look at me! I'm lying half naked on my boyfriend's bed bawling! This is not normal!"

I blink.

"Look, okay, it's stupid. I'm stupid." he says. Now, it's hard to tell, but in one big, rushed breath, he goes something like this, "You're right I'm not ready I just - I don't want you to break up with me and I know you will eventually cause I'm a terrible boyfriend and I'm just a big chicken every guy is jumping at the chance to have sex so what's wrong with me? Even Spencer slept with Jon. Spencer! So why can't I? What's wrong with me? Why can't I just get it over with and not cry in the end? 'Cause I do want to have sex with you, I really do, but why can't I? And I know it's only a matter of time before you actually cheat on me or go back to Ethan and I wouldn't even blame you if you did 'cause like, who wouldn't? Who would want to stay with me? I don't deserve you I hate myself I'm just a big, stupid chicken!" His face is all red and splotchy by the time he finishes, and he's even panting a little. I stare down at him, and if I wasn't scared before, I certainly am now.

I rest my hand on his shoulder, because that's really all I can think of to do at the moment, and go, "Take a deep breath, Ry."

Then, I guess he attempts to do just that, but he ends up like, choking on his breath or something, because all of a sudden he's like, hyperventilating and not breathing like, at all. And I'm all like, oh my god, what am I going to do? My boyfriend is going to die right here on my bed, sobbing and half-naked.

My boner is officially gone.

"Ryan, what the fuck?!" I cry, and I'm like, really freaking the fuck out here. I mean, seriously? What. The. Fuck. Is. Going. On. Here? This has to be a dream. Just one big fucked up dream. I'll wake up and I'll still be with Ethan. At his house, in his bed, post-sex without any of these worries. All will be good and calm, except... well, except I really don't want that at all.

"Ryan, calm down. What - I - Ryan, seriously." He's still sitting there having this crazy panic attack, so I'm like, okay obviously this isn't working, and probably only making it worse that I'm sitting there freaking the fuck out while he's having this crazy ass panic attack.

I take a deep breath, and calmly go, "Please, just sh, it's okay. I'm not going to dump you, or cheat on you, or anything, okay? I love you. It's okay. I don't care that you're not ready. Take as much time as you need, I don't mind. Whatever pace you like, that's fine. When I told you that before, I meant it, okay? I don't want you to think you have to like, you know, have sex with me or do anything for that matter if you don't want to."

I must go on for like, another five minutes repeating the same over and over again. At some point, I tried to rest my hand on his arm, but he just swatted me away, eyes wide and face red. I didn't try to touch him again.

Finally, his breathing goes somewhat back to normal, and he just lies there, clutching his chest. He sniffs, and snorts, and tears are still flowing down his cheeks. I still don't try and touch him. "Oh my god," he eventually wails, putting his hand on his cheek. "What is wrong with me?!"

"Nothing, Ry, nothing," I say, soothingly, and carefully move my hand to run through his soft his hair. Fortunately, he doesn't hit it away. "It was just a panic attack."

"A panic attack because I don't want to have sex with you?!" he cries. "How pathetic am I?"

I force back a laugh at how terrified he looks, because I know he probably wouldn't take that too well at this point in time. "It probably didn't have anything to do with that, or at least, not all. I get them sometimes. They're usually caused when you're really stressed, which is understandable in your case."

I lean down, and run my hands across his cheeks, then press a soft kiss to each one. He sniffles, and I press my face into his neck, his hair tickling my nose. "Why do I always end up crying?" he murmurs, and lets out a small, choked laugh.

"I don't know," I murmur back, walking my fingers up his stomach. "But, crying is good."

"Not as much as I do."

"You're going through a hard time, okay? I'm pretty sure you're allowed to cry a little more than usual, trust me." I point out.

He shrugs. "You're too good for me, Bren," he eventually says, sighing into the air.

"No, I'm really not," I say, and even laugh a little, because um, yeah, that's a little funny considering I just made out with my ex-boyfriend two days ago.

He shrugs again. "When you first told me about kissing Ethan, I'll admit, I was upset," he says, and he takes a deep, shaky, post-wailing tantrum breath. "But, once I got home I realized I had no reason to be. I mean, the whole time we've been together I've been with Dayna. Like, what is wrong with me, Bren?" He runs his hands over his eyes, and sighs. I continue to run my fingers over his stomach.

"I mean, what I'm doing is worse. I'm so scared to have sex with you, because deep down I still believe my dad. And it's like, it's one thing to kiss you... and you know, other things, but this is... this is big. This is like, official or whatever, you know? But I mean, isn't me lying and cheating on Dayna for months a sin too? Isn't that as much as a sin as being with you?"

I run my fingers over his protruding hipbones, and press a soft kiss to his chest, just above his nipple. I just don't want to think about this anymore. I don't want to hear Dayna's name anymore, or think about them together. Kissing, touching, whatever the fuck they do. I don't want to think about how everything I do is a sin. About Ryan's dad, and what he tells him. I'm just so fucking sick of hearing this day after day after day. Why can't we just be left the fuck alone? Why can't we just be together without all this stupid crap? How did Spencer and Jon end up getting it so easy, and we're left with problem after problem?

"I'm going to break up with her," he says, strong, and if I hadn't of heard it before, I would have almost believed him.

"No you're not." I shake my head, and I can hear his heart beating through his chest.

"No, I am, okay? Really, I promise."

"Considering you just told me like, five minutes ago that you promise you were ready to have sex with me, I can't really take your word for it," I joke, except I'm actually not.

He sniffs and wipes under his eye. "Fine, whatever. You don't have to believe me, but I am, you'll see."

"Okay," I say, but I really doubt I will anytime soon.