I was making another one of my mental T-charts of pros and cons (pro: if I went to jail, I wouldn't have to see anyone from school for the duration of my sentence.  Con: I doubted they'd let me take my flat iron with me) as I walked out to the parking lot that afternoon, so I was kind of distracted and didn't even notice Stevie was there until I ran smack into his chest.  I was about to step back and apologize when he wrapped one arm around me and slapped my back--the classic manly bro-hug, which I found somewhat perplexing.

"How'd it go?" he asked when he pulled away.  Pro: If I went to jail, I wouldn't have to put up with Stevie's dumb questions all the time.

"Okay..." I looked pointedly in the other direction.

"Well, it cant've gone so bad.  You're here, aren't you?"  His smile was only on one side of his face, as if half of him already knew how any attempts at humor would go over.

Pro: If I went to jail, my murderous urges would probably subside.

"You better thank me again," I told him.

"Thank you, Dodge," he said automatically, reaching out and loosening my tie.  I put up my hands to stop him before he got it all the way undone.  My dad had tied that for me nearly a year ago when we went to my cousin Amelia's wedding, and I wasn't about to learn how to tie it myself.

"Hey," he said, smiling and straightening out my collar instead.  "To show you just how grateful I am... Let me take you out for dinner.  You're all dressed up, anyway."

Con: The only sex I'd be getting in jail would not be with guys as good-looking as Stevie.  And they'd probably be even less considerate, if that were possible.

It hardly seemed feasible, currently, because sitting in the passenger's seat of his car while he drove and my license was suspended was killing me.  It was really stupid, I thought.  I was such a good, safe driver.  I may've only had my license for three days before I was stripped of it, but I was still the best teenage driver I knew.  Not like there was any stiff competition.

But, I'd done what I had to do to help Stevie.  I looked across the car at him, and he caught my eye, and reached out across the middle console to squeeze my hand.  I even tried, in a brave effort, to muster up a smile for him to match his own soft grin.  His face was haloed in the window by the glowing golden light of a sun near its death.  The way the light filtered through his fine, feathery hair and made his olive skin radiate with such vibrance made me realize, beyond any doubt, that the way things worked out, with me being blamed for the DUI, was the only way God could've wanted it.

"It's okay, Dodge, you don't have to smile for me," he said, tickling the palm of my hand with his thumb.

"Yeah, I'm just really tired," I said dismissively.  "Where are we going?"

"You'll see."  His smile broadened, in this close-mouthed, self-satisfied way.  "It's a surprise."

"We better not be going to Wendy's again, as much as I appreciated the birthday present, I'd actually like real food this time--"

"Dodge, hush," he cut me off.  "We're not, I promise, we're going somewhere nice.  So just calm down.  Relax."

I sighed and leaned up against the window, letting the late afternoon heat warm my cheek.  He was still holding onto my hand by the fingertips.  Before I knew it I was dozing, and when he woke me up the sun was set and we were sitting in a parking lot.

"Hey, we're here," he announced, shaking my shoulder.

"Oh... Where's here?" I asked, straightening slowly and rubbing the side of my head.

"Well," he said, "I know your favorite food is pizza--" he looked so pleased with himself, almost like he wanted a pat on the head or something "--so, I found this great little Italian place where you can order authentic Italian pizza.  It's really different from the kind of pizza you get at like, Domino's..."  He kept talking about his choice of dinner venue while we climbed out of the car and walked across the parking lot.  Having just napped for three-quarters of an hour, I really wasn't up to paying close attention to his constant chatter.

The restaurant did look nice, though.  It was a small place, nestled between a Barnes and Noble and a Dress Barn so that your eyes slid over it easily if you weren't looking hard, but inside it was crowded, and loud, indistinguishable conversations did battle with "That's Amore" playing at an obnoxious volume over the speakers.

As soon as we walked up to the hostess, she showed us to a table, even though there were at least ten other people waiting.  Stevie either had reservations, or he'd fucked the hostess.  I honestly had an easier time believing the latter.

The table was one of those little round ones that are barely big enough for one person, but are supposed to seat two, and it was by the wine rack and in dim lighting, with a lone candle flickering brightly in a bottle of Chianti.  It was clearly supposed to be romantic, but he'd never taken me anywhere "romantic" before.  I mostly felt awkward, sitting there across from Stevie, who flirted unabashedly with the hostess while she seated us.

But I felt like I should at least make an attempt to be pleasant, so when she left, walking away with her hips wiggling like I wasn't sitting right the fuck there, I stifled my comments on that topic, nodded appreciatvely and said, "This is a nice place."

"It's really loud," he said, but he was still smiling.  "I've never been here before, but it came highly recommended."

"Do you know the hostess?"  I'd tried to contain myself, but it was a losing battle.

"Oh.  No," he answered, looking a little perplexed.  "But she seemed nice."

"Oh."  I pinched the tip of my tongue between my molars to keep my mouth shut.

If he noticed that doing so made me look like I had a facial deformity, he didn't mention it.  "So," he said, crossing his arms over each other on the table and leaning over toward me casually.  "How'd it go today, really?  I know, I know, it went 'okay', but honestly."

I frowned.  "I guess it went about like I expected," I said.  "I just miss having a license."

"It'll be all right," he said, motioning over my shoulder. I half-turned in my chair in time to see a waitress, this perky little redheaded thing, bounce on over.

"Hi, I'm Judy, I'll be your waitress tonight," she said, beaming through deep, little-girl dimples.

"Hi, Judy, I'm Stevie," he said.  I "hmmed".

"Well, all right then, can I get you anything to drink?" she asked, sweeping her prettily coifed curls off her shoulder and pulling her little pad and pen out of her apron.

"You don't think you can get us a wine list, do you?" Stevie asked boldly, raising his eyebrows.  I shot him a death glare, but he wasn't paying any attention.

Judy smiled knowingly.  "I can get you a wine list, but I can't get you any wine unless you can show me some ID."

Stevie laughed.  "Oh, okay.  I'll have a Coke."

"Me too," I said.

"All right, then, I'll have those right out, boys."  She winked at us and turned away.  Stevie turned his attention back to me.

"Anyway, I was saying... You'll be okay.  You just gotta do some community service, right?"

"Yeah, pretty much.  And then there's that class."

"Like the one Andy's taking?"

"Yeah."  He just kept saying things that made me want to scowl, despite all the effort I was putting into being pleasant and forgiving.

"Aw, cheer up," he said, reaching over the table and chucking me on the chin.  "If I could do it all for you, you know I would.  You must think I'm such a shitty person, huh?"

I shook my head deliberately.  "I mean, I hated you at first, but you know that.  I forgave you, though--"

Judy picked this moment to return with our sodas.  "Here you go, boys, have you had a chance to look over the menu yet?" she asked as she leaned over to place our Cokes on the table, giving us a clear view of her ample breasts.  I glanced at Stevie to see him lifting his chin for a better look.

While he was preoccupied with that, I took the liberty of answering her.  "No, we haven't."

"Oh.  Yeah."  Stevie had to shake himself to awareness.  "Give us about five minutes, okay, Judy?"

"Sure thing."  Her dimples looked like someone had planted staples in her cheeks. I swear if I had to wait for Stevie to get back to me after watching her ass every time she walked away from our table, I wanted another waitress.  An ugly one.

Eventually, he snapped back to reality.  "Oh, where were we?"

"I forgave you."  For hanging me out to dry with the cops.

"Oh, right."

I opened my menu and started scanning it for the "authentic Italian pizza", whatever the fuck that meant.

"Listen, Dodge, I know I don't deserve your forgiveness."

I still didn't look up.  He just didn't understand that it wasn't about him deserving forgiveness, it was about me needing and wanting to forgive him.  I couldn't tell him that.

"I know I don't deserve it."  He still hadn't opened his menu.  I hid my face completely behind mine.  "I don't deserve you at all."

"Can we just order the food?" I mumbled.

"Well, I mean.  When I met you, you were just this good little boy.  You didn't drink or smoke or do drugs, you were a virgin for Christ's sake.  And after, what...?" He ticked off numbers on his fingers, "five months hanging out with me, look what I did to you."

"What do you mean?" I asked uncertainly, peeking down over my menu.

"I'm fucking your life up.  I don't know how much more proof you need.  If you'd never met me, you'd never have had to go through any of this."

"I think you're giving yourself too much credit," I said, lowering the menu, as the conversation had unexpectedly taken a dire turn and seemed to require my undivided attention.  "I mean, I can fuck my life up on my own.  I'm failing every class I'm in on my own, after all."

"Well, I'm not helping you any.  Relationships are supposed to be healthy, for both people.  And, well, I don't know.  I really didn't want to get too much into this tonight."

"Okay then, let's just forget about it," I said, my voice strained and my hands clenched tight around the edges of my menu.  "I think I know what I want if you do."

"I've just been thinking about it a lot..." he said, looking away.  The conversation died and was consumed by the cheerful chattering from neighboring tables and the systematic clinking of utensils against ceramic plates.

I probably should've just shut up and let him think about it, but stupid me, I couldn't let it go.  "You could've brought this up before."

"It's not something easy to bring up," he said.

"So you wait until right after I go to court?  What are you trying to say to me, anyway?"

"I'm just trying to be honest when I say that this isn't working out.  I'm trying to be a good guy for once."

"This is a really fucked up definition of good."  My voice came out louder than I'd intended.  "Are you breaking up with me?  Did you bring me here to break up with me?"  I wasn't quite shouting, but I was certainly attracting the attention of neighboring tables.

"I came here to do something nice for you and to talk to you, if you'd just listen--"

"I've been listening.  I do nothing but listen to you.  All the goddamn time, I'm always there for you."  My hands were shaking, and I could hear the ice rattling against the side of my glass from the vibrations.

"Okay, I'm sorry, just... Calm down all right, let's order dinner and then we can talk--"

He may have been trying to be reasonable, but I was well past that point.  "I can't wait anymore, Stevie, if you have something to say, just fucking say it."

"I didn't want to start a fight, here--"

"Oh, of course you didn't, cos now I'm making a scene in public, aren't I?"

"Well."  He scratched the back of his neck.  I threw a quick glance around the dining room.  About half the room was openly staring at me (and it was at that moment that I realized I was, in fact, standing up) and the other half was rather conspicuously looking away.

"So... what?  You told me to listen, so what do you have to say?"

The entire restaurant seemed to hold its collective breath.  Stevie took a deep breath and looked up at the ceiling.  "I think we need to break up before you get hurt anymore."

I hadn't really been expecting him to say it.  I didn't know what I'd been expecting, but as soon as it left his mouth, it was like the wind had been knocked out of me.

I wanted to shout, but all I could do was stand there and hate all the eyes on me.

Then there was Judy behind me.  "Hey guys, I'm going to have to ask you to keep it down, okay, I mean, I know it's loud all over, but..." I couldn't believe it, but she was giggling.  I glanced over my shoulder at her and those dimples were still boring holes into her face and goddammit, I could see out of the corner of my eye that Stevie was returning her smile sheepishly, as though he were apologizing for me.

Well, fuck that.

"No, it's okay, I'm just leaving," I said, summoning all the composure I could manage.  I was going to leave, too, but I felt like I was missing something.  For a second, I just stood there, searching, thinking maybe I'd throw my Coke all over him or slap Judy in the face, though now that we were broken up, I guess she had every right to flirt with Stevie, and how could she help it anyway, he was just so... He was a jackass.

I set my jaw, finally.  "Fuck you."  I looked him straight in the eye.  His eyes flashed away from mine, probably meeting Judy's and apologizing again, so I repeated it, louder: "Fuck you" and I reached out for my Coke, thinking I was going to throw it in his face, but I lost my resolve halfway through the motion and just ended up spilling it all over the tablecloth.

"Uh-oh," Judy said, as though it were just a little accident and stepped in front of me, pulling the rag off her apron to start wiping it up.

I shook my head and turned on my heel, making a beeline for the door.  The crowd parted to let me through.  Stevie didn't even try to stop me.