If you asked anyone in the school who Kyle was dating, they’d say you. Obviously you. You might’ve slept around but everyone knows at the end of the day you’re his. But you weren’t dating. Not at all. He’s the cool collected intellect and you were the school slut, the every guy has a photo or has had a taste, the football haze is to kiss you, type school slut. You seemed like the insane never would’ve guessed it couple of the school, but you weren’t. You were just friends. Just friends who kiss goodbye, who fall asleep in the same bed cuddling, who make out when one gets hot and bothered. Just friends who do everything girlfriend and boyfriend do. But you’re not. And both of you know it that way, and prefer it that way. Except for the sometimes he has to force himself to stop when you make out with him for fun, except for the sometimes he gets violent thoughts about your other friends, except for the sometimes he gets irritable and pissed off when he’s without you too long. He’s calm and casual with you, but the moment he’s without you it’s like withdrawal. Right now you’re in the school cafeteria, you straddling his thigh slumped against his chest, complaining about some other guy of the week “What exactly are you whining about now?” He asks in a casual tone, arm around you, filling out your homework