“Thanks, dude, ‘cuz I totally wanted you to agree with me on that.” Stan teased, trying to dodge the incoming ‘smother attack’ and ultimately failing.
“You know what? I don’t think I want to tel h- uh, this person, after all. Or maybe… maybe I should think about it, first.” Stan fidgeted with his hands, but a smile grew onto his face. “Who knows? I may end up telling them never, or… it may even be… today.” The boy looked up at Kyle, that grin still on his face, a sorry attempt to disguise the twists and turns in his stomach, and the flips and flops in his mind.
“Yeah, go over to their house at this ungodly hour and play Careless Whisper outside their window. When they open the window to yell at you just yell back something poetic and super cheesy. Works in the movies.” Stan clearly was having trouble making his mind up.
Kyle pulled the pillow flush against his chest this time to rest his head upon it. He admittedly was getting hit with small waves of fatigue.
