I smiled at Taylor. He’s always the peacemaker. "And if I get too tired to play with both of you? We’ll just have to start having threesomes, won’t we?"

"ZAC!!!!"

I woke up to find myself drowning in a sea of Skittles. I scowled and sat up, causing all of the Skittles in my hair to jump out and land on the floor. Zac was leaning over the side of his bed above me and staring down at me eerily.

"What the hell was the Skittle shower for, asshole?" I muttered, shimmying the wayward Skittles out of my boxer shorts.

"Well, I needed to wake you up somehow for Pete’s sake!" Zac exclaimed, giving me a knowing look. "Looks as though someone was having a nice little dream."

I looked down at my shorts and groaned. With pink cheeks, I hurriedly flopped back on my bed and wrapped the covers around my waist. "Well, this is just great. You know, I really miss being a girl because this wouldn’t really be such a problem all the time."

Zac just grinned smugly. "So, how was I?"

"Deformed."

"Huh?"

"Well, what the hell do you mean by ‘how was I’?" I countered, glaring at him. He was acting so obnoxiously hoity-toity. I only feared that I had been mumbling only the most incriminating of dream mumbles. The last thing I needed was for yet another embarrassing factoid for Zac to hang shamelessly over my head.

And I’d never doubt for a second that he would do it too.

Heartless prick.

He shifted to find a more comfortable leaning position on his top bunk. "You kept screaming ‘Zac,’ so I merely assumed that you had to have been having a wild sexual fantasy consisting of you, as a woman, doing terribly violating things to my overwhelmingly sexy man-body. Your painful-looking stiffie is all the proof that I needed to confirm my suspicions."

I snorted. "Zac, you do realize that in order to have a hard-on that I would have to be actually attracted sexually to the person in the dream, right? You don’t get boners from outright disgust and revulsion, honey buns."

Zac made a face at "honey buns." "Okay, then who were you dreaming about then?"

"Justin Timberlake," I answered quickly, wrapping the sheet around my waist so I could stand up and make my way to the bathroom.

Zac groaned loudly. "Justin Timberlake? Good God, woman! And I always thought you had taste!" He paused. "Wait a minute, you think Taylor is attractive. I guess you never have had taste."

I gave him the finger and bolted towards the bathroom door. While the urge to beat Zac senseless with verbal thrashings was tempting, I had other fish to fry. And by fish I mean Taylor’s disgusting, over-active penis. Zac’d have to be thrashed at a later time.

And naturally, someone would have to be in the bathroom when I needed to get rid of my stiffie. I grunted loudly. Isn’t that always the case? No one’s ever in the potty until Abby has to get rid of her morning wood. I bit my lip as I tried to tap my foot to relieve some tension.

I just wish Little Taylor would go down already. Hello, I know it’s there! It’s not like I can forget I have a penis or anything. Been there, tried that. The stupid prick has already made itself known so it can just lie down again for Pete’s sake! I suppose in some way that Little Taylor is a lot like the real Taylor. Tall, obnoxious, always popping up at the wrong time… And you know what, they’re probably equally articulate.

"Isn’t that right, big, dumb, Taylor?" I muttered, looking down at my wrapped sheet. "Always so freaking demanding…"

I so needed to get into that bathroom. I’m starting to talk to his penis.

This is a downward spiral I do not need to deal with right now.

Now, there are two other bathrooms in this house. It’s not like nine people have to share one bathroom or anything. The Hansons aren’t that heartless and insane. However, in order to go to the downstairs bathroom I’d have to go by the kitchen. The kitchen is never vacant in this house. And the third bathroom is in Mr. and Mrs. Hanson’s bedroom. And wouldn’t that just be fun to walk into Taylor’s mother’s bedroom with my giant stiffie?

"Morning, son!" She’d call out as I would walk through her bedroom, sheet wrapped tightly around my waist. "How are things this morning?"

"Lovely!" I’d reply, energetically. "I would love to hang around and chat but that dang morning erection is really killing me! Excuse me while I relieve myself…"

Then she’d chuckle and shake her head. "Oh son! You go and use the bathroom then, silly duck!"

"Thanks, Mom. You’re the bestest."

"No, Taylor, greatest son of my loins, YOU are the bestest."

I shuddered. This erection was really starting to affect my sanity. There was no question that it must go and promptly. Whoever was taking a million hours in the bathroom on a school morning was going to get a hefty kick in the ass, compliments of Abigail P. Deluca.

After a few more minutes of excruciating torment, the bathroom door finally opened and Isaac stepped out. My mouth grew dry as droplets fell onto his bare chest from his sopping wet curly hair. He was wearing a pair of dark jeans that hung snuggly around his fantastic little butt and I couldn’t help but watch, utterly captivated, as he rubbed the towel roughly on his head.

"Morning," he mumbled, slightly muffled from the towel. I nearly keeled over.

"Isaac?" I began, in a breathy tone.

"Yeah?" He asked, straightening up again. His hair looked like it had exploded on the top of his head into a giant afro of light brown curls due to the expeditious friction of the towel.

Mmm…expeditious friction…

"Taylor?" Isaac questioned, cocking his head to the side. "You okay? Why are you carrying that sheet around your waist like that?"

I swallowed hard and closed the sheet tighter around my waist. "Your fly is open."

Much to my excitement and horror, he merely looked down at himself and zipped the front of his jeans so casually that I almost giggled. I could see everything he had just done in slow motion. I could examine the way his fingers carelessly caressed the small metal handle of the zipper and the excruciatingly teasing way he moved his hand upwards until he reached the top if his fly.

"Dude, are you drooling?"

I snapped back to reality. "No. I was, um, trying to see if it was possible to swallow my tongue." Isaac just gave me an amused look. Come to think of it, I wouldn’t mind trying to swallow his tongue... "Um, you know, we should hang out sometime. Like, just as brothers or something. If you want, that is. I mean, if you have time what with school and everything…"

Isaac beamed with happiness. It kind of made me feel a little bit fuzzy on the inside. "You know, Tay, I’d really like that. I’ve missed our talks together. I feel like I hardly know you anymore."

I smiled genuinely. "Well, maybe tomorrow night we could go out for coffee and talk? Starbucks loves me so I can probably get us some free java."

"Great," he replied, nodding enthusiastically. "But I gotta get going. My History of the Western World teacher is a real butt-face when we’re late. Don’t you have school, anyway?"

Shit. I do.

I rushed into the bathroom and jumped into a freezing cold shower. After about five minutes of trying to build up a good shampoo lather for my hair while agonizingly cold icicles stabbed repeatedly into my back, I finally emerged clean and calm. I quickly dried myself off with a towel, wrapped it around my waist, and dashed into Taylor’s bedroom like a madman.

Zac was already dressed in his uniform when I finally got into the bedroom. He gave me a knowing smirk and left the room in search of breakfast. Isaac was trying to gel his hair in a satisfactory way as I quickly stepped into a pair of Taylor’s boxer shorts. They were my favorite pair of underwear that he owned, because they were red satin with tiny black crabs all over them. Zac had told me that he had given Taylor these as a birthday present to remind him not to be a titanic slut. He had told Taylor that these crabs could become the real things some day if things didn’t change. I had pressed Zac for information about Taylor’s promiscuous past, but he refused to diffuse any information.

I’d have to remember to pester Taylor about it sometime. If I was stuck in this male body for eternity I at least had the right to know whether or not I was housing some kind of infectious sexually transmitted disease.

***

I was about two milliseconds from passing out in English class. It was the very last class of the day and I wanted nothing more than to just get the hell out of this place. I hate all of Taylor’s boring classes and I especially hate English. I don’t know why we’re required to take English past the eighth grade anyway. You know how to read and write good enough by eighth grade, so why continue to force it upon us in high school? I want to be a doctor, not an English teacher. So, what’s the point? I can speak good. Isn’t that enough?

And the worst thing is that English class ruins any desire I might have to actually read. It truly does. We’re forced to write papers and summaries, analyze, discuss, and then take tests and quizzes on the books we have to read. By the time I get done with all of the crap work, any joy I might have found in the story/novel is sucked out immediately. I hate the book and never want to pick it up again. It’s quite sad.

"Hey, Tay?"

I turned my head and noticed the smallish, dark-haired boy sitting next to me. He was wearing a navy blue polo shirt, his hands nervously resting in his lap. He’s one of Taylor’s friends, one that I’m forced to sit with during lunch, but I can never quite remember his name. It was either Eric or Aaron. I think it’s Aaron…

"Um, yeah, Aaron?"

He gave me the slightest look of being put out. "Eric! How could you forget my name when we’ve known each other since childhood!"

Balls.

"Sorry…" I began, weakly. I was about ready to compliment on something to make him stop dwelling on the fact that I’d sort of forgotten his name but he interrupted me.

"Is everything okay, Tay?" He asked, quietly. Ms. Tulley was discussing common grammar mistakes in our papers and he obviously didn’t want her to hear him.

I shrugged. "Same old, same old."

"You’ve been real different lately. Quiet. Distant. Are things all right at home?"

"Yeah, they’re fine," I muttered, slumping a bit in my seat. The last thing I felt like dealing with was some kind of interrogation. To the best of my knowledge, even the real Taylor wasn’t uber-thrilled with his two random friends. So, I don’t feel too badly just brushing this kid off. "I’ve just been busy."

"With Brooke Thompson and her friends?" Eric asked, sharply.

I shot a sharp look at him. Defensive mode, a second nature to me, immediately sprang into gear. "Yeah, does that bother you? Am I not supposed to hang out with her or anyone else just because you’re not friends too?"

"No, I’m not saying that at all," he began, hesitantly. "I just didn’t think that that would mean that you’d have to stop hanging out with Ashley and I altogether. Like, I get it that we all can’t hang out together because, God forbid, we’re not in the same circles at all. But, it just really sucks that you have completely cut us off. It’s like you think you’re too good for us now."

"Well, I’m sorry you feel that way," I muttered, opening my binder and leafing through some papers. His mouth fell open as I simply turned my attention away from him. I didn’t have the energy or the care to deal with crap like this when I had so much more heaping on my proverbial plate. If this kid wanted to make a mountain out of a molehill, by all means, he can go knock himself out. It’s not even on my top one hundred list of issues that needed to be resolved.

"Psst! Tay!"

I whirled around to see Brooke giving me a small wave. I smiled and waved back cordially. She grinned and passed a folded note to a friend, who gave it to another friend, who passed it to another friend, who handed it to me. I took the note and opened it quickly.

Tay,
Your butt looks cute in those pants.
~Brooke

My cheeks grew hot as I folded the note back up. How could she say that? First of all, Taylor has no ass. Second of all, I’m SITTING. The only thing setting its fair eyes upon this derriere was the seat.

Suddenly I grew incredibly sad. It had finally dawned on me that this note was nothing but simple flirtation. Flirtation aroused from crushing. This note was only yet another reminder of the sweet, beautiful girl who retained such strong affection for a boy who didn’t really exist. A boy whom she thought felt the same way.

I was lying to her, just sitting here. Just smiling at her. Just waving at her. I continue to lead her on by blushing and reading her flirtatious notes. This madness had to stop.

With a quivering hand, I wrote:

I passed the note to the girl behind me and she passed it back and so on. For the remainder of the class I struggled to ignore the angered boy next to me and the jubilant girl a few rows away from me.

***

I had been dreading this for a long time now. I knew I had no choice in this; that I was doing her a favor by doing this, but I still felt as though I was a horrible excuse for a human being.

Brooke had always been nothing but kind to me. When I was the brand new poor girl in on a scholarship, she befriended me immediately. I could have had the social life of Steve Urkel but instead I was granted instant popularity. That just doesn’t happen to people everyday.

So this is how I repay her. I get to break her heart. Personally, I don’t think this is my fault at all. In fact, I completely blame Taylor in every single way. He’s the one who made me take her out on the first date. It’s not my fault she found me fantastically charming and witty. Heaven knows that I wasn’t trying to seduce her by any means. It was idiot Taylor who wrote her a stupid note telling her he could see himself falling in love with her. And I only wonder if he meant it really. Does Taylor even know what love is? Would he notice if love dropped a gigantic anvil on his fluffy head or ran over his big toe with a Mack truck? Does he even realize how much such written sentiment could damage another person if not entirely meant? It was Taylor’s selfishness and Taylor’s selfishness alone that has led me to this point.

Brooke looked positively beside herself as she entered Molly’s, fully clad in a purple halter top, a frayed jean skirt, and flip flops. It made me green with envy that she had to try so very little to look so nice. As she slid down in the booth across from me, I felt the nerves swallow my stomach whole.

"Hey, Tay," she said, smiling brightly. Naturally, she has to be so excited to be near me. Couldn’t she hate me for some stupid reason and break up with me instead? Her cheery attitude was only making me feel worse about what I was about to do.

"Hey, Brooke, how are you?" I asked, trying not to appear as nervous as I felt.

"Just fine," she said, the smile still on her beaming face. I don’t think I’ve ever smiled like that before. It was so, for a lack of a better term, happy. It was like her fairy godmother had finally come to her and asked her what her magic wish was and she said, "Meeting Taylor Hanson at Molly’s so he can buy me a three dollar cheeseburger." I only wish that Taylor could come and see what he was making me do to her. I wanted him to see the happy sparkle in her vibrant green eyes and the slightly flushed hue on her cheeks whenever she looked at me.

"I hope you weren’t waiting for me too long," she continued, playing with the cheap looking silverware in front of her.

"No, not long at all," I replied, wishing that I could find an excuse out of this. Why did I always have to be the bad guy in this deal? Everything’s always so easy for Taylor and I have to deal with all the crap he somehow puts me through. "Are you going to brave the chilidogs again?"

"No!" She exclaimed, quickly. I couldn’t help but laugh. "No, I think I’ve learned my lesson well enough. I had the worst stomachache the next day! Besides, I consider myself more of a hamburger kind of girl."

"Well, for being a hamburger kind of girl you sure handled them better than Zac," I said, making a face. Our bedroom that night could have been quarantined as some form of biological warfare. Lord knows what that kid unleashed into the atmosphere. "And I’ll leave it at that."

Brooke giggled. There was a moment of silence that passed between us and I think I’m the only one who thought it felt rather awkward. But then again, I’m just a girl trapped inside a guy’s body trying to break up with my pseudo-girlfriend/best friend. So, I suppose the fact that I found anything weird in this entire situation was understandable.

The waitress finally popped over and I was grateful for the brief distraction. She took our orders and then disappeared with what seemed like the speed of light.

I suddenly felt a warm hand softly rest itself on top of mine. Looking up fearfully, Brooke shyly smiled. I tried hard to smile back. I really did. But it hurt so I gave up.

"Is something wrong, Taylor?" Brooke asked. I couldn’t help but think of how different we were/would be as girlfriends. At this point, I would have asked Taylor what had just crawled up his ass and died while Brooke is terribly concerned for his well being. She was so perfect that it made me a little bit nauseas.

"Well, actually I was hoping that we could talk about something."

"Yeah, of course," she replied, looking remarkably concerned.

My initial girlfriend reaction would have been more like Oh, shit, what did you do now, you too-pretty-for-your-own-good idiot?

"It’s kind of about us," I began, hoping that there would be some kind of fire in the kitchen that would allow me to run like hell out of this place. It sucks how there’s never a life-threatening situation when you really need one. "I don’t know how to say any of this… I’ve never been in a position quite like this before…"

"It’s okay, Tay, you can just say it," she urged, gently. She squeezed my hand and smiled encouragingly. I only felt like more of a gigantic asshole. She could have at least had the decency to be a bitch about all this. It might make it easier to break it off if I could muster so much as an inkling of satisfaction.

But no. All she did was look at me with those big, vibrant green eyes that were overflowing with stifled sadness and just a hint of shimmering hope. She knew what was coming, she knew what I had to say. But, there was this tiny, yet clearly evident spark of hope that maybe I wasn’t going to break up with her. Maybe I was going to say something, anything else to her.

I knew that look on her face all too well. I, too, have looked at Taylor that same exact way. The fear, the desperation, the star-crossed optimism…They were all too recognizable.

My mouth had suddenly gone dry.

"Tay?" Brooke urged, reluctantly. She was smiling at me bravely, trying to hide the slight quivering of her lower lip.

I sucked in a deep breath. "This…us…I can’t…" I took a swallow of my coke. I turned to her apprehensively. "Brooke, I’m afraid I can’t be with you anymore."

Brooke slid her hand off mine. The tears took over her fake sense of serenity and she immediately wiped them away.

I hardly knew what to do with myself. Part of me wanted to hold her and comfort her but the other half knew it would only make things worse. "I’m sorry, Brooke. I’m so sorry. I know this sounds lame and cliché but you have to believe me when I say it’s not you. It’s me." This made her let out a small choke. I sighed heavily. Everything that came out of my mouth sounded incredibly inefficient and wanting. "I can’t really explain what’s going on inside but it’s something that I have to deal with personally. I’m not myself… or at least who I used to be. There’s all this stuff going on and I just can’t be with anyone right now. You really are the perfect girlfriend, Brooke." She gave me a pained look. "No, I mean it. You’re beautiful and smart and sweet and I swear, if I ever wanted to be with a girl it would so be you…"

"You don’t have to say any of that," Brooke insisted, her hands lying listlessly on her lap. "It’s okay, Taylor."

I smiled tightly. "No, it’s not. I honestly never meant to hurt you…"

She shook her head. "Naw, I’m fine. Really." Another tear slid not so surreptitiously down her cheek. "Sometimes things work out, sometimes they don’t."

"But, I…"

"We can be friends, Taylor," she said, giving me a brave smile. It made my heart sink just a little bit more. "I think we have a lot in common and I like being around you. Boyfriend or not. There’s no reason why we can’t just hang out as friends. I mean, if that’s alright with you of course."

"Of course!" I exclaimed, immediately. "Your friendship really means a lot to me and I would be so grateful if we could still be good friends." I wanted to say more, but I just couldn’t find the right words. There was nothing that I could say that would make the unbearable tension between us disappear.

"Certainly."

The waitress came back with our food just then but neither one of us touched a morsel. We both had our respective reasons for losing out appetite. After about twenty more minutes of picking at greasy, unappealing food, Brooke cordially bid me adieu.

I watched her walk away sadly. The joyful glint in her eye that had been so disarming when she’d walked into Molly’s was replaced by something pained and vacant. Her saunter had dissolved into more of a robotic step. I watched her get into her flashy car and speed off quickly.

I could only stare at my bacon cheeseburger, sans two small bites. A bite for each person I’d hurt today.

Two broken hearts in one day. It must be some kind of record. Unless, of course, you’re Abby Deluca.