Goody, Like Two Shoes

"You and Frank slept together?!" Gerard's mouth dropped open and some coffee dribbled over his lips and down his chin until he actually had the manners to close his mouth, swallow the coffee and wipe his chin.

I nodded glumly, leaning my head on the kitchen table.

"Hey, you don't know that for certain, do you? I mean, we were all pretty smashed last night, maybe you just passed out ... with no clothes on and a box of condoms - that hadn't been there when you arrived - less than a metre from the bed."

"Very convincing, Gee..." I said sarcastically, "Very convincing.'

"Now, now, sugarplum, don't take that tone with me." he reached across the table and patted my hand gently, "I'm just giving you a list of scenarios that could'a happened."

I laughed weakly, "You should be one of those phone-advice-people instead of a teacher."

"Yep," he nodded, giving me a small smile before it disappeared completely, "So are you going to avoid Frank for the rest of your natural life? Even if you did sleep together or not?"

"Damn straight." I replied simply.

"How come?"

"If we didn't do it, he still saw me absolutely starkers ... and I saw him, too."

"And what's wrong with that?" Gerard asked, "That's no reason to avoid someone, unless you actually liked what you saw, and knew that you'd faint - and draw attention to yourself - the next time you saw them."

I bit my lip.

"Am I sensing some Frankie-infatuation going on here?" Gerard grinned and he cooed, "Aww, you like him, don't you?"

"Don't you dare tell anyone, especially him. I mean, I only like him a little, not much."

"Pshaa, "not much" my ass. If you didn't like him much, you wouldn't let him be your boyfriend-not-really-thingy, and you wouldn't let him hold your hand - especially out in public when your parents have no way of seeing you both."

I covered my ears, "Gerard, shut up, shut up, shut up."

A humungous smile crossed Gerard's features and he pulled my hands from my ears, "It's love, whether you tell me or not. I know love when I see it."

"It's not love. I mean, not love, right?" I gnawed my lip.

"Sweetie, you're doubting. That definitely tells me that you like - love - him." Gerard took another sip of coffee.

"No, I don't."

"Okay, so if you have no feelings, whatsoever, for him, just carry on as normal and casually drop "If we slept together, so what? It was just a fuck, nothing more. You sucked, anyway. I've had better." into conversation."

"I couldn't say that because--"

"Because what?" Gerard smiled, proud of his little interrogation.

"...because I don't want to hurt him." I stuttered.

"Did you know that avoiding him would just hurt more than telling him the truth?"

"But what you told me to say isn't the truth..."

God, he was really wrecking my head right now.

"What is the truth, then?" Gerard tilted his head to the side.

"I don't know." I sighed.

"I'll tell you what the truth is." Gerard put on a matter-of-fact tone, "You want to hold his hand all the time, you want to kiss him for no reason whatsoever, whenever, wherever, you want to snuggle with him just because, you want to spontaneously make out with him in public, and you want him to be your boyfriend because he cares so much about you, and whenever he's around you he's like a bowl of soggy custard.'

"A bowl of soggy custard?"

"Crap metaphor. Okay, so, like a twig that can't bend backwards because he would snap, but he'd bend backwards and break in half for you anyway, just to make you happy.'

I sighed.

"You know I'm right, sugar. You're falling for Frank. The Frank who's the same height as a gnome, or possibly smaller. The Frank who's crazy about you, too."

"He's not crazy about me."

"Sweetheart, he is. You know that time he took you shopping and made you oh-so-sexy?" Gerard asked.

I nodded.

"The money he spent on you was the money he'd saved up, for at least a year, to buy a new guitar."

"Uh..."

"See, who else would do that?"

"No one..." I whispered.

"Exactly. Now, get your rear into gear, get pretty, get your costume, come over to my place and bang Frank."

I glared at him.

"Okay, okay!" he laughed, "We'll leave the latter for when you've at least made out sober. With no clothes on. In the shower."

"I hate you." I groaned, drinking the rest of my coffee.

"'I'll give you a week off art homework if you puuuhlease just spend today with Frank. His birthday won't be the same without you there, Sashie."

"You know just how to make me feel awful about myself, don't you, Gerard?" I shook my head fondly and stood up.

He nodded, "'fraid so, m'dear. But it worked, right?"

Me walking out of the room and up the stairs to fetch my costume, get changed and grab Frank's presents was enough of an answer.

The ride to Gerard's apartment seemed to take forever, but in reality it was only a twenty minute drive.

I'd never been to Gerard's before, and, from the outside, the apartment building looked extremely grotty.
The main entrance and stairwell wasn't much better, either - peeling wallpaper, stained carpets and the smell of mould.

But, when we stepped into Gerard's apartment, on the fourth floor, it smelt of paints, wood varnish and ginger biscuits. The cream-coloured walls were covered in framed sketches and paintings, and the green carpet, in places, was stained with a multitude of different coloured paints - from the lightest yellow to the darkest purple and everything in between.

Gerard stopped to hang up his leather jacket and check the answering machine before cocking his head in the direction of a closed door at the end of the hallway, "Right this way."

He opened the door and we stepped into the brightly-lit living room where Mikey, Ray, Julie and Matt were.

They were scattered around the medium sized room - Matt and Julie on the window seat, Ray on the floor with his back against the armchair where Mikey was curled up.

"Where's Frankie?" Gerard asked, shooing me over to the empty couch, and I sat on the side that wasn't covered with crumbs.

"Gone to the store. Said something about cigarettes or something, but I wasn't really listening." Mikey looked up at Gerard, then waved in my direction.

I smiled and waved back.

"Right," Gerard nodded slowly, "That explains... a lot."
He then waltzed through a door into what I assumed was the kitchen, and then he returned, throwing a bottle of Lucozade onto my lap then flopping into an armchair.

"Did Frank join the band?" I asked after taking a sip of the red drink.

The guys grinned, nodding, and Ray said, "Yeah, he was dancing like an idiot, well that was until he realised that you weren't here."

"Yeah," Mikey said, "And then he went all quiet and smoked at least six cigarettes in the space of ten minutes."

"Oh..." I sighed.

"He'll be a lot happier now that you're here, you know." Gerard smiled knowingly at me.

And, right on cue, there was the sound of the door into the apartment opening and Frank walked into the living room seconds later, "Have you heard from Sasha? -- Oh, hey, Sash.'

"Hey, Frank." I said quietly, trying to avoid eye contact, and I thrust the plastic bag out to him "'Happy birthday."

"Oh, thanks." he sat next to me, his knee knocking against mine.

We both livened up a bit after he'd opened his presents and clambered onto my lap so he could hug me.

"The presents," he beamed, "They're great."

I laughed when he swung his legs up and stroked his new Converse, and, if I'd have been standing up, his toothy grin would have made me weak at the knees.

After his little outburst of hugs, he stretched out over the couch with his legs flung over mine.

"Sash," Gerard said quietly, beckoning me over to him, "Come help me get some snacks."

I followed him into the kitchen and he shut the door behind us, "See, being in the same room as Frank wasn't so hard, huh"

"No, not really. A bit awkward, though." I headed over to the counter and began pouring drinks.

"It'll all be okay." Gerard reassured me, patting my shoulder, and he waddled back into the living room with two big bags of crisps under each arm and a box candy in his hands.

I was putting the drinks on a tray when the door closed again, and I thought nothing of it; it was probably just Gerard anyway.
But when a hand reached over my shoulder and a piece of blue and pink material was dangled in front of my face, I turned around.

"Uum," Frank stuttered, "You left this at my place."

I looked at him, confused, and he shoved the material - that turned out to be my bra - into my hands, before hurrying out of the room with lighting speed, leaving me as red as a tomato and practically choking on my own spit.

Way to go, Frank.
Great way to make things even more awkward than they already are.