"What do you want?" I ask staring directly into his eyes for the first time in awhile.

He seems to not have expected this question.

"Do you want me to love you? Or would you rather go on as though I don't love you?" I ask turning my gaze back to the ground, "I-I can do w-whatever makes you h-happy."

Craig doesn't say anything, "W-Would you prefer to p-pretend I didn't e-ever say anything t-to you? That w-we never talked? We can if y-you want to..."

I felt Craig's hands on my shoulders.

"What the hell are you talking about?"

I look up at him, perplexed.

"Why would I ever not want to-"

"Hey Craig," we both turn and see Bebe standing there.

"What now?" He asks, not taking his hands off my shoulders.

"I was just wondering - since you're not doing anything - if you wanted to (fuck) hang out," Bebe said twirling her blonde hair on her index finger.

Craig stares at her for a minute, then sighs, "I'm kinda busy here, Bebe."

I turn back to Craig and give him a stunned look. We aren't doing anything important.

Bebe turns and looks at me, "Oh. Hi... Tweek?"

I (want to punch her) want to get out of here, before it gets awkward (like it's not already.)

"Y-yes?" I ask trying to sound polite.

"Could you leave me and Craig alone for awhile?" She asks, narrowing her eyes.

I open my mouth to (argue with her and call her a whore) ask her why, but I close my mouth and nod.

"S-Sure... (Sorry I'm in the way all the time.)"

I start to walk away, but Craig tightens his grip on my shoulders. I look at him and he's (giving me the where-the-fuck-do-you-think-you're-going look) giving me an odd look.

"U-Um Craig? Could y-you-"

"I don't want to talk with you Bebe," he states simply turning to her.

She rolls her eyes and places her hands on her hips, "Listen, Tucker, we need to talk."

"I don't want to," Craig says. This seems so much more like an (argument between a mother and her 5 year old child) argument.

"We really need to talk, alright? Why do you even want that stupid spaz here, anyway? You know the more you're around him the more people think you're being a little to pitiful," Bebe shouts.

I just stare at her. (I wish I called her a whore earlier.)

"Don't you fucking talk about him like that."