Call It What You Want To - Style

05. It's Hard to Explain

In first period art class, Stan can't stop thinking about Craig. The boy's always been elusive and mysterious, ever since they were kids, but since when was he so God damn cryptic? Maybe Stan is stupid, but he genuinely has no idea what the hell Craig was talking about. He's so lost in thought about this, in fact, that he doesn't notice someone standing next to his desk until they slam their hand on it.

"Stan," they say, and Stan follows the hand up to see Wendy towering over him.

There's something off about her, he thinks while he stares at her blank face. Something's different. He keeps looking for that thing, forgetting he's supposed to respond. She raises an eyebrow. "Oh," he says finally. "What?"

She plasters on a smile, and her lips glisten in the light. She's wearing makeup. That's what's different. More makeup than usual, at least. "Can I sit here?" she asks, pointing to the empty seat next to his own.

He wonders why she would even ask. She doesn't usually ask about stuff like that.

"Sure," he says.

Wendy sets her sketchbook on the desk and sits. Something is drawn in it, but it's so sketchy and messy that he can't make it out and doesn't bother to ask.

He doesn't know whether she's going to talk or whether she expects him to talk. And if she does expect him to talk, he doesn't know what she wants to hear. He's not prepared to speak to her. They've never legitimately broken up before, and he doesn't know how to navigate it. Finally, after an uncomfortably long awkward silence filled only by Stan's anxious thoughts, Wendy speaks.

"So," she says, putting her pencil back on the paper, not so much continuing the sketch but going over the same lines out of either boredom or an attempt to avoid eye contact. "I heard about you and Kyle."

Shit. What do you say when your ex-girlfriend of eight on-and-off years asks about your new, fake – but she doesn't know that – boyfriend? "Yeah?" he says. Did he really say yeah? That's all? He's so fucking stupid .

"I didn't know you liked men," Wendy says plainly.

Stan can't pick up her tone, and he really doesn't want to look at her to read her facial expression. He hopes it was light because he jokes, "Me neither, I guess."

Another moment falls between them. Then, just as Stan is about to start overthinking again, Wendy puts her pencil down. "How come we never went on dates?" she asks in a whisper, eyes glued to the sketchbook.

"What?" Stan says. He knows what she said, he heard her alright, but the question takes him so off guard that he physically can't say anything else.

"We never went on dates," Wendy says, finally looking at him. "You were always busy hanging out with your friends, but as soon as you start dating Kyle you go out to eat together. The most we did was make out at parties."

"It's hard to explain," Stan says, and it is.

Wendy rolls her eyes. "Of course it is."

"No, really," Stan starts, but Wendy cuts him off.

"You always make excuses like that, Stan," she says bitterly, turning away again. She mumbles something after, and it almost sounds like she says, "That's why our relationship never worked."

Stan looks around. Everyone else is preoccupied with their art, conversations, or both. No one is paying any attention to anywhere near Stan and Wendy. He sighs. "It's a dare," he says quietly. It's the only way she will believe him.

Wendy's head jerks up towards him. "What?" she asks, face reading nothing but utter, comical confusion, with lines between her eyebrows and a slightly open mouth.