"Oh Lord, won't you buy me a Mercedes Benz? My friends all drive Porsches, I must make amends."

Dear God, she was at it again. I never could understand what Jason saw in that girl. For some reason, Cynthia (never Cindy, as she was quick to point out to the unsuspecting) felt that everyone else was put on this Earth to pamper her every request. And my dear, beloved, lunkheaded GUY of a best friend continued to perpetrate the myth. I knew more about Jason than he probably knew about himself. Being best friends and next-door neighbors with someone since 2nd grade would do that for a person. I knew that he could shoot free throws alone for hours when he was upset. I knew that he liked cold spaghetti sandwiches. I even knew when he lost his virginity to Jane Matheson in the 7th grade. The attraction to Cynthia I did NOT understand however.

Okay, that's not fair. I *did* know what part of the attraction was. Cynthia was one of those cute, tiny little women that men feel the automatic need to pick up, cuddle and protect from the big bad world. Cynthia, of course, played up to this with her "poor, helpless me" routine. Maybe I was just jealous. At 5'10" with flaming red hair and a frankly curvy body, I was no one's idea of cute. The fact that I also played volleyball and could spike Cynthia over the net also meant that I was not deemed helpless. The last time I was picked up and cuddled, I was 6 - and the man was my Daddy.

"But honey dumpling (honey dumpling?!), all our friends are over at the mall. Why do we have to be here? It's so boring!"

If you couldn't already guess, the one whining is Cynthia. 'Here' is our school's annual county fair-slash-fund raising event. It's the school's twisted 1950's take on fundraising for the clubs. You know the type. Booths selling everything from pies and pickled eggs to a dunking booth. Since volleyball isn't exactly an alumni favored sport, our team had a booth selling homemade cookies and kisses. As Jennifer, one of our best blockers and a really good friend, said, "Either way we're giving the customer something sweet - and we're going to make 'em pay through the nose for it, too!"

"I've told you. It's for a good cause. Just because the school supports the basketball team doesn't mean we should forget the other teams and clubs. Besides... if you're good, I'll win you a stuffed teddy bear in the Hoops game."

I rolled my eyes at that one since the only type of teddy bear Ms. Cynthia would accept would have to be covered in mink. I couldn't help but grin though at the typical Jason comment about supporting the other teams. Despite being 6' tall, popular, and the basketball teams star forward; Jason always had a soft spot in his head for the little guy. I used to tease him that had he been born a few hundred years earlier, he would have traveled the countryside looking for maidens to rescue and dragons to slay.

"Worked hard all my lifetime, no help from my friends. So Lord, won't you buy me a Mercedes Benz?"

Cynthia had been complaining about coming to the school fundraiser since I picked her up. A constant half hour of complaints interspersed with gossip on who was sleeping with who was starting to wear thin. Besides, I enjoyed the fundraisers. Sure they were corny, but they really were for a good cause. As my best friend Lizzie always joked, "Principal Peterson apparently watched too many episodes of Leave it to Beaver as a child. He has a warped view of reality 50 years later." Lizzie was part of the reason I was so interested in the fundraiser. Look, I know that life isn't fair. The basketball team, like the football and baseball teams, was school sponsored. Alumni practically threw money at the school for these sports. Having a close personal friend on the volleyball team though made me more aware than most just how little money was available for anyone in one of the redheaded stepchild sports. So I did my little part by going to the fundraiser and losing a few dollars for a good cause.

"But Jason..."

I could see the storm clouds approaching with the way she said my name. "Cynthia, we're here to support our school." That came out a little harsher than I intended so I tried to soften my tone and added, "We'll only stay a little while and then we'll go to the mall. Okay?" Her brow unknotted itself partway and she gave a short nod.

I knew Cynthia wasn't exactly happy with that, but quite frankly I was finding it hard to care. We had been dating for a couple of months. To be honest, I think we only continued to date due to habit. Cynthia enjoyed the habit of being seen on an athlete's arm and I enjoyed the habit of having her there. Was it a fulfilling relationship? Let me put it this way... have you ever had an éclair? It looks really mouthwatering, but once you've taken a few bites, you realize that there is nothing but air and calories in the middle.

Looking around, I finally spotted the volleyball team's booth. And immediately started laughing. Some wisenheimer had tacked up a sign proclaiming "Cookies and Kisses. $3 each. Ask about our cute guy discount." It was a toss-up whether Jennifer or Lizzie had made the sign. Knowing the two of them together, I was betting that Jennifer came up with the slogan, but Lizzie actually got her (and the coach) to put it up. Jennifer and Lizzie together had more mischief brewing inside than an entire class of 10-year-old boys with frogs.

I was still smiling when we approached the booth. And Lizzie. I wasn't sure I'd ever get used to the jolt my senses gave every time I saw her. Suppressing the emotion wasn't getting any easier with time either. But I did it. Over and over since about the 6th grade when I realized that Lizzie was a girl. For the sake of friendship.

"McIntyre! Did you remember to bring your credit cards?" shouted Lizzie.

Yep. That was my Lizzie.

"Oh Lord, won't you buy me a color TV? Dialing for Dollars is trying to find me."

I had to make some sort of smart aleck comment. It's what I did and maybe that would help me to remember that I'm Jason's friend. And ONLY his friend. As evidenced by the girl friend scowling at me from the vicinity of his right arm. I sighed internally, but decided to play nice.

"Hi, Cynthia. Enjoying yourself?"

Cynthia just gave a flat stare in my direction and then declared, "This is boring, Jason. There's no one here! I'm going to go call Mary and tell her we're coming to the mall." With that statement, she just walked away. Ah well. No loss there as far as I was concerned, but I was wondering how Jason would react. I should have known.

"I'm sorry Lizzie. That was rude and uncalled for. I don't know what's gotten into her lately." Jason was frowning in the direction of his defected girlfriend so didn't see me rolling my eyes.

I knew what the problem was but decided that discretion was the better part of valor and left it unsaid. "So Mr. McIntyre... did you come for the cookies, company or kisses?" I teased. "Any way you go it's going to cost you."

That got the infamous McIntyre grin that was guaranteed to fell beauties at 20 paces. I'd been the recipient of that grin many times throughout our lives without it affecting me at all. I wasn't sure that I liked the fact that I was noticing Jason's grin now. I'd always known Jason was good looking. He wasn't handsome by popular definition, but he certainly had presence. His features were regular with slightly plump lips that he claimed embarrassed him. His truly outstanding feature though - the one that had girls in the hallway at school swooning - were his eyes. Emerald green and crystal (pardon the pun) clear. When Jason focused on you, you felt that you were the only person in his world. Now those eyes were pointed my direction.

Leaning close enough to give my heart a jolt, Jason stared at my lips for a long moment before slowly raising his eyes to mine. I couldn't decipher the look in his eyes and decided I was entirely too terrified to try. I would have backed up a few steps had my legs been in working order.

"Your kisses are too precious to give away for a mere $3, Lizzie." Then the look was suddenly gone and my pal Jason was back. "But I will take some cookies. Macadamia and white chocolate, please. You know I can't have a monster marathon without cookies."

It took me a moment, but I was finally able to come back. "I know you can't. I still remember the time I made the mistake of bringing over a pizza instead. Jeez. I'd never realized a guy could be that big of a crybaby just over some cookies. I still can't believe you whined until I baked some." I laughed.

Jason and I had been having our Monster Marathon nights at least one Saturday a month since we were 10 and developed a mutual passion for bad B movies. It was an unusual interest for two 17 year olds, but it was an ingrained habit by this point. I think I'd been baking him cookies for about that long too.

"Hey," Jason held up his hands, "I helped you, didn't I?"

"Uh-huh. As I recall, you 'helped' by eating the cookies as fast as they came out of the oven. I think I'll just hold on to this bag and bring them over myself." I couldn't resist one last dig, "At least this way I know that they'll make it to the marathon."

Jason just grinned and dug out his wallet.

That's when I had a thought. Glancing over to where Cynthia was still on the phone I said, "Jase... are you sure about tonight? Don't you think you should make up with Cynthia? She does look kind of pissed right now."

Pissed was an understatement. Cynthia was now off the phone, but had both arms crossed under her breasts and was glaring at me. As soon as Jason turned in her direction, her expression smoothed and she headed our way.

While still looking at Cynthia I thought I heard him mutter, "I don't care." But as he turned to me all he said was, "Don't worry about it. Usual time, okay?" Then he casually leaned over and gave me a quick kiss to the lips. I think my heart stopped. I know that my mind did. All I could think was "YES!" while my hormones broke into the Hallelujah chorus. I just stared in shock as he walked away to meet Cynthia.

We had been friends for a very long time. So, of course, we had kissed before. But it was always on the cheek and, on one memorable occasion, when I broke my arm falling out of our tree house, my elbow. The point is it was always friendly but businesslike. This kiss was... moist. And hot.

When I finally regained enough sense to take in my surroundings, I found my friend Jennifer standing next to me with a triumphant expression on her face. I couldn't help it. I blushed. All she did though was give me a hug and say, "About time."

I must have looked confused because Jennifer laughed.

"What? You think no one has ever noticed?" she said. "It's been obvious for years that you and Jason were in love with one another. We've had a bet going for a long time about the date that the two of you would finally figure it out."

My mind really blanked at that statement. "But," I stuttered, "We're not... I mean, I know what it looks like... Jason just... that is... it's nothing." I finally regained my senses enough to explain, "It was just a friendly kiss. It didn't mean anything. You know we're just friends." I had to believe that.

Jennifer just gave me a pitying look and, thankfully, dropped the subject. The rest of the afternoon passed uneventfully with our booth racking up equal amounts of money for kisses as cookies. It was $300 we desperately needed for new equipment and uniforms. It was also 3 hours I used to rationalize a kiss that made my lips tingle into being merely friendly. Yeah, right. Friendly.

===end Chapter===

"I wait for delivery each day until three. Oh Lord, won't you buy me a color TV?"

I don't know what came over me, but I did not regret kissing Lizzie. Well, I did regret that it was so short. I really regretted doing it in front of Cynthia. Not because I was sorry for kissing Lizzie - not at all. I'd wanted to do that for years! Cynthia herself made me sorry with her ranting and raving and wild accusations. When I finally suggested that perhaps it would be best if we didn't see each other anymore, she had a major shift of personality. She became weepy. I did NOT like a weepy woman. Too many years around my manipulative mother had made me immune to a woman's tears. I've seen it too many times... a woman doesn't get what she wants and so she turns on the waterworks. Cynthia had just picked the wrong feminine trick to use on me. Which she realized after about 5 minutes. Then came the yelling.

I have to admit that I was impressed. Cynthia used words I wasn't sure she even knew the definition of. Lord knew she displayed more passion during her diatribe than during the few times I had gotten her pants off of her. When she finally flounced out of my car, slamming the door and yelling that she never wanted to see me again, I was glad to be rid of the theatrics.

When I finally got home I went to lie on my bed and think about things. Look, I knew that I'd been attracted to Lizzie for years. But being attracted in silence and kissing the object of your attraction were two entirely different things. When I was still a horny 14 year old I had decided that if I ever had the opportunity to screw Lizzie, I was going to do it. No regrets. No backing out. No questioning it. As an admittedly still horny 17 year old, I had different thoughts. Would I still like to screw Lizzie? Abso-fucking-lutely. Just give me a week alone with her and several boxes of condoms and I might - MIGHT - calm down enough to just want her 3 times a day.

I also wanted to make love to her. Slowly and thoroughly. I wanted to kiss the freckles across her nose. More telling, I wanted the right to cuddle her AFTER kissing the freckles across her nose. Did that scare me? You betcha. Lizzie and I had been friends since I moved here in the 2nd grade. We had been through chicken pox, puberty, and broken bones together. Lizzie knew every embarrassing thing that had ever happened to me. Heck, she had even caused a few of them. I trusted her with my life.

My mom was not exactly June Cleaver. She was an alcoholic for one thing. Some days she would be just fine. Those days, unfortunately, were few and far between. Most days she could be found in a drunken stupor just lying around the house. Apparently Dad was a disappointment to her. I'm assuming the bottle wasn't. The few times Dad got up the nerve to dump Mom's liquor, she would cry on his shoulder about her hard life until he gave in and gave her back her amnesiac. Don't get me wrong. I love my Dad. He was an A+ person. I just wish he'd get Mom help instead of acting as if her problem will magically go away.

The point is that with my family history, I'm not predisposed to trust women. After all, my example of womanhood comes from a manipulative, drunken wreck of a woman. But Lizzie snuck in under my radar. She was there from the time we moved into our house. She's always been there. She's one of the few people who know about my Mom. Do I love her? Yes. I always have. First as a friend - now as more. The question was what was I going to do about it? I guess I was about to find out. I had kissed her. Humpty Dumpty had fallen off the wall. "And all the King's horses and all the King's men couldn't put Humpty together again" finished the rhyme in my head. So be it. Prepare yourself, Mary Elizabeth Carrigan.

"Oh Lord, won't you buy me a night on the town? I'm counting on you, Lord, please don't let me down."

I walked into Jason's house just like I always had. I'd managed to convince myself that Jason had only kissed me as a friend. I was a little disappointed, sure, but I knew it was for the best. Did I really want to lose the best - and longest - friendship I had over a romantic entanglement that I knew would end in a couple of months.

I knew Jason and his history with women. He wasn't what you would call a player, but he certainly never lacked companionship of the female kind. They were always nice girls (the one exception being Cynthia) but they also lasted a maximum of 2 months. His relationships were light, flirty and brief. I even understood why. I'd had a long relationship with Jason only because I knew it was just friendship and didn't try for anything more. I also knew all his secrets. That sort of kills the 'mystique' in a new relationship.

So I was there to merely watch movies. With my pal. Just like we always did. I gave a quick "Hi" to Mr. McIntyre and headed straight to the door that led to the basement. Mr. McIntyre had finished the basement for Jason's private use. He knew that it was embarrassing to bring home friends when your mother was passed out in the middle of the living room, so he finished the basement - with its outside access - and gave it to Jason for his 14th birthday.

Since Jason and I had been friends for longer than that, my pattern was to come through the kitchen door before heading down to the basement. Besides... I liked Mr. McIntyre. He had a dry sense of humor that could crack me up in no time. Just because his wife was a lush was no reason for me to stop associating with him. So I gave my traditional Hi and wandered down to the basement. Where I proceeded to have a mini-heart attack.

Jason had his back to me, bending down to shove a dumbbell under his bed. Did I mention that he was wearing old sweats cut into shorts? And nothing else! My heart just about stopped watching the old fabric mold to his butt. His back was a sweaty work of art and I think I drooled a little before catching myself. Standing on the bottom step, I grabbed the railing to keep myself from falling down. I had seen Jason work out before. Heck, I used his weights regularly myself during the volleyball season.

I hated that my body was betraying me like this. I'd had no problem ignoring the majority of boys that came on to me. But one little kiss, that probably didn't mean anything, from my best friend and I fall apart. I was disgusted with myself. I gave myself a short stern lecture on friendship before finally coming into the room.

I swallowed hard but was finally able to manage a credible smirk to go with my nonchalant act.

"Jason, you stud. Is this manly display for my benefit?" I said.

Jason gave out a bark of laughter and turned around, toweling himself off.

"No," he said, "You caught me working off some frustration. Although," here he flexed his arm, "if it works on you..."

I laughed and came in far enough to drop the bag of cookies on the coffee table and myself onto the couch.