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A New Plan, Part Two

Reply to Maude M. or visit her website

Posted to the RoswellSlash mailing list August 10, 2001

TITLE: A New Plan
AUTHOR/E-MAIL: Maude M.
WEBSITE: www.popslash.net
ARCHIVE: List archive, all other please just tell me where it's going.
PAIRING: Max/Kyle
RATING: R
SPOILERS: The Departure
NOTES/SUMMARY: Kyle is having some issues walking the eightfold path--he keeps tripping over the third precept.
DISCLAIMER: All is owned by the WB, Jason Katims and Melinda Metz, etc., etc., amen.
FEEDBACK: Yes, please-- maudelin@angelfire.com
NOTES: Many, many thanks to Aunty Mib and Jen for the beta reads. You both deserve much Pez.



        New plan. Pretty girl. No more thinking about Max. No more thinking about boys at all. Try to get in new girl's pants. That should help. What the hell is her name? Carol? Sharon? "Sheryl." I say aloud. Crap.

        "Hmm?" She turns away from the movie screen and over to me. She smiles. She's cute. Blonde. Pouty red lips. Perfectly painted fingernails. Smells like that expensive shampoo: coconuts or watermelons, or something.

        "Um... Do you like this movie?" Alright Kyle. Perpetuate the idiot-football player stereotype.

        She smiles again and nods enthusiastically. "Unless you don't. We could leave if you want to."

        "Oh, no, no. It's good. Really good." Excellent save there, Valenti. Just watch the stupid movie.

        And I do. Couldn't tell you a thing about it, since I was too busy not thinking about things I shouldn't be thinking. Yep, two hour void in my life punctuated by the immediate onslaught of questions from my date, the second we leave the theater.

        "Oh my gosh, I liked it. I mean, I think I liked it, it was pretty weird, but wow!" She titters, clutching my arm as we walk to the parking lot. "What did you think?"

        "Oh yeah. It was really... good. I was entertained." Good boy. Stick to unbelievably broad generalizations.

        "I know! Wasn't that part in the cellar creepy? I mean, I saw it coming, but it was still really creepy."

        I look at her, smiling a little, and she's still talking. She doesn't care one bit what I thought of this movie. I'm amused and relieved. I open the passenger door for her, and she beams at me with perfect red lips and shining blue eyes. It's nice. One little gesture and she thinks I'm Mr. Chivalry. I close her in and walk to the other side.

        "So," I ask as I slip into the driver's seat. "Do you want to grab a bite?"

        "Sure," she says. I begin to drive out of the parking lot and she says something else: "I'm glad you asked me out, Kyle. You seem really... different from other guys I've dated."

        Well, that's probably true. "Thanks, I think."

        "No, I mean it in a good way. There's something about you... kind of mysterious. Maybe it's your Zen thing. I just think there's a lot more to you than meets the eye."

        Her hand is on my knee. Wow. Chicks really do dig this mysterious, intense guy stuff. Maybe that's what Max has... Not thinking about that. I'm totally getting lucky with this girl. "I'm not really very mysterious." I know this will only perpetuate her idea, but I should say it anyway.

        "Sure you are." She squeezes my knee a little. "But I'm a good detective. I'll get to the bottom of it."

        "Oh yeah?" I'm going to go ahead and doubt that very seriously. But we're at the Crashdown now, and I'm going to go show off my interest in girls to everyone in there.

        Let's just get this show on the road. I turn to her. Sheryl, that's right, Sheryl. I give her a half smile, and cup her cheek lightly. She closes her eyes, and I have the major butterflies in my stomach as I press my lips against hers, getting a little tongue and a whole lot of lipstick. She makes some girly sighing noise, and it's nice. Just to be tasting someone again, to be so close.

        I let her go and there she is, just beaming at me again. Don't do that. I am using you. Slap me. Something. But no, just more beaming. I get out of the car, and walk to her side, trying to wipe the lipstick off my lips with the back of my hand. I open her door and escort her inside the diner.

        They're all there. They all see me as I walk in. Some eyebrows are raised. Maria gives me a thumbs-up. Max turns away all too quickly. Liz gives me that contented smile I'm so jealous of. We ease into a booth; she sits next to me instead of across. Maria, in full alien-diner-waitress regalia, is at our heels. "Kyle and... date," she stretches out the words knowingly. "What can I getcha?"

        "Fries and a Diet Coke," Sheryl says. How did I know she was going to order that?

        "Cheeseburger, fries and a Coke."

        "Hold the onions?" Maria asks with a raised eyebrow.

        Thank you. Thank you, Maria. Ever the instigator. "Yeah. Go ahead and hold the onions." Are you happy now? I'm blushing.

        "Check," Maria says cheerfully, bouncing away.

        "So," my date turns to me cheerfully. "Tell me about Buddhism."

***

        Back... in my car... my hand under her shirt. My lips on her neck. Radio playing softly. Doing what thousands of other lucky high school guys are doing at this very moment. She's making sighing noises, she reaches down, touching my pants. I gasp. It's okay. I'm hard. Teenage guys can get hard looking at suggestive cloud formations. I'm with ya, honey. You can decipher the mystery that is Kyle Valenti through fumbling teenager-sex.

        So stop thinking about him, Kyle! Stop thinking about him leaving suddenly from the Crashdown. Stop thinking that it could mean anything. Stop thinking that she doesn't feel like him or look like him or isn't him. Stop thinking about how, if this were him, your mind would be completely gooey and your skin on fire. Stop thinking about kissing him until those serious lips smile. Just stop.

        There are her fingers, unbuttoning my jeans, and I'm lifting off her top, and she's got those perfect little breasts covered in a satiny/lacey little bra and everything on her is just too little. Little waist, little fingers. I'm licking my way down her throat, down to those satiny breasts, and I feel her hard nipples through the soft fabric, and they're really nice, and oh... what she's doing with my now opened jeans is nice, and there she is, she's touching it...

        This is all wrong.

        "Stop."

        Confusion. Rejection. Silence. The radio is playing some song that just seems to buzz in my ears like a timer that's gone off, and I can't find it. I can't turn it off. But I can, and I reach over and turn off the radio, and I can think again.

        "What? Why? It's okay Kyle."

        "No, no, no. This is too fast. Just..." I don't know how to finish that sentence. I'm buttoning up my jeans, and, oh shit, yes I am still erect, but that's not the point.

        She's pulling her blouse on. She's offended. I don't blame her. It takes a lot of... (What? Guts? Low self-esteem?) to put out on a first date. Whichever it is, this is a kick. Can I say anything to her to make it right? "I am really sorry. I really like you but this is just too fast and..."

        "You're still in love with Liz Parker. I know," she sighs, and it's a little angry, but also a little wistful.

        I feel bad. Really bad. "No, that's not it at all," I'm telling the truth. Not all of it, but some, and that's a step, right?

        "It's okay. Don't be sorry. If it's not Liz, then I think it's sweet that you want to get to know me better. I like that."

        Oh, god, you're so wrong. I wish I never thought of this whole stupid plan. I'm going to end up making myself insane and you confused. "Good, I'm glad."

        I take her home. It's more or less a silent trip. She's thinking about how much I must really like her or respect her, and I'm thinking about how fast I can get her away from me without seeming impolite. I'm sorry for that. I really am. But it's a very chaste peck at her doorstep, and I'm peeling rubber down the street.

        Alrighty, Buddhism. Spent hours and hours studying. How about kicking in with some of that inner peace.

        I'm driving home like my life depends on it. If I can just get there, get back into my recently reclaimed room, I'll be safe and peaceful, and I can distract my mind enough not to think about...

        Max Evans. On my front porch. Sitting. Waiting. For me.

        Of course he's not, idiot. He's waiting for my dad to get home. Some official alien crap going on that I won't get to know about until they need my help. That's right. I know how things are. Stop doing this to me, Max.

        I get out of the car. He sees me and stands up. "I don't know when he'll be back," I say preemptively as I brush by him.

        I open the door, stepping inside and he says, "I'm not here to see your dad. I'm here to see you."

        The keys drop out of my hand as the door slams shut. He's inside. My stomach is doing backflips and my pulse has doubled which is a little weird, since, apparently, all the blood flowing to my head is stopped, because I say, "Oh yeah?" That's right. Oh yeah. The most startlingly brilliant thing I've said in ages.

        "Yeah." I am matched in my brilliance.

        I look at him and there it is. That long liquid moment of being: I'm as much myself as part of him and the stars shining through the window and the crickets chirping in the yard. I'm part of the rocks and the moment and the universe and maybe this is it. This is a simple moment of time and nothing more, but it's heroin-addictive.

        It stops. It has to. I slingshot back to singularity, and stare at him. "Why do you do that?"

        "Do what?" He asks a little suspiciously.

        "That thing where time is all stretched and everything is the amazing, and then you send me screaming back to reality. Why do you do it?"

        "You don't like it? I thought that's what you were trying to achieve through Zen." He says this very seriously, the same way that he says everything else. But he's looking me in the eye, and not at his shoes, and it feels like I'm in the beam of a spotlight.

        And then I realize what he's said. "You're trying to give me serenity? Why do you do that?"

        He shrugs. "Because I thought you liked it."

        "I do. But you have to stop." I'm almost whispering it. I can tell him. He's giving me this, on purpose, and now I can tell him. "You're making me confused." I shift around uncomfortably.

        "Don't be."

        There it is. A beat, then we're together, his lips crushed against mine, crushed against his, his arms wrapped around me and mine on his back. His tongue pushes into my mouth, and it's like tasting the night, it's such a dark and needy kiss. I'm playing too, though. My tongue is tasting him like I've never tasted anything before, and I can't get enough, and my hands are pulling him so close and he's smashed against me, and I don't know where I end and he begins, and wait... now I do, because I feel him, through his pants and he wants me and I want him.

        That's when he does it. Liz talked about the flashes, and I've had these uber-Zen moments, but this is different. It's both. I'm careening through the universe and there's nothing but him and everything, and I am so a part of it, and so a part of him, and I can't stop clinging to him, because if I did I would just fall forever. It's motion and it's raw and it is powerful, more powerful than any high-school boy should ever experience because, I don't know what to do with it and nothing is ever going to be the same. Nothing.

        There's a noise, and light shining through the curtains. It's my Dad's truck. I couldn't give a crap, just let me stand here and taste Max Evans, but he's aware, and he releases me, pressing a finger to his lips. I'm so dazed I wouldn't know my own name, if he hadn't been breathing it into my lips only a second ago. My dad opens the door, eyeing Max with that great big look of concern he gets and asks, "Everything okay?"

        Don't ask me. My brain is completely dissolved and I'm still careening around the universe somewhere, but Max can still think. "Everything's fine, Sheriff. I just needed to borrow Kyle's notes."

        He reaches out and grabs a handful of papers sitting on a table, and my dad nods. "Alright. Good to see you, then." He goes into the kitchen, and I stare. I just stare at this guy who can act so composed after all that.

        "Am... are you? Am I? Are we?" is all I can manage to say.

        He looks straight at me, serious eyes and a small shudder that makes me want to kiss him more and more and more. "Definitely. Tomorrow. Definitely."

        I watch as he gets in his car and leaves, wishing he could just stop time. He probably could, but he isn't going to. Damn. I turn to go to my room. My dad comes out of the kitchen, intercepting me. "Have a good date, son?"

        "Um, yeah, dad. I really did."

        "Strange, Max stopping by at this time of night for notes," he says, looking me over suspiciously.

        "I guess so."

        A small smile on his lips. "Especially when school's out for the summer."

        I'm heading to my room, but that stops me in my tracks. That means a couple of things. One that my dad knows we were up to something. More importantly, it means I had Max a little flustered too.

        Score one for Kyle.

        **End**

Continue to 'Zeno's Paradox'

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