The idiocy of perfection

Chapter Five: Everything coming up Spencer

Unfortunately she seemed to think the exact opposite of me.

"Come on." Kyle says genuinely, that's rare, "I saw the way you looked at her when she came through the door last night."

Taylor had looked perfect, I had been frozen in place. But it didn't end well for me did it? "That stupid kid made her flirt with Josh, I told her he liked her. They're probably dating now." I sigh.

"You set her up with Josh?" Derek asks, wide eyed.

"I didn't set her up, I made her aware of how Josh felt." I reply, slumped over on my bed.

"And they got together?" Steve asks sitting down next to me.

"I don't know, probably." I answer, putting my head in my hands. I want to hate Taylor but I can't.

"That's only a maybe." Kyle answers, sitting on the other side of me.

"They've been best friends forever, I don't imagine it would be to hard for then to have taken the next step." I groan.

"Come on, you're not going to brood all day. Put on a shirt and pants, we're taking you out." Kyle announces.

"I have pants on idiot."

"Pajama pants dude. You're wearing grey flannel pajama pants." Derek deadpans.

I gather up a smirk, "Treat for the ladies, me in my pajamas."

"Ladies? Or Taylor?" Steve mutters.

I frown, idiots.

"Just put on a shirt." Kyle rolls his eyes. I smile faintly and pull open my drawer. Mostly t-shirts, a couple band tees shoved to the bottom, a hoodie or two.

Grabbing a light blue shirt I shrug it on then turn to the three guys in my room who are basically watching me get dressed.

"You guys wanna leave? Or are you gonna watch me change pants?" I ask, smirking.

"Leaving." Steve announces and the three guys file out. I roll my eyes and put on jeans, it's just cold enough outside that shorts weren't an option.

I wonder what Taylor- no. I'm not going to wonder about that. As far as I know, she's taken. I'm not going to like a girl with a boyfriend.

When I get downstairs the guys have raided my kitchen for all it's worth, bagels are heating up in the toaster and bottles of Snapple are strewn around the kitchen table.

My mom pulls me aside, "You're cleaning all this up." she whispers and I take a side long glance at the mess.

"I guess." I respond and my mom walks out.

"I'm going grocery shopping, I'll be back in a bit." she announces.

"By Mrs. Spencer." my friends chorus.

That's as polite as they get. The minute she leaves they're back to discussing the football line ups, and occasionally three-part harmonizing to various pop songs.

I fit in with these guys, I love football, I sing loudly and obnoxiously (but I was still best) and I eat just as much as they did. Still, today I was weary of it. Too much noise.

"Dude, Adrian Peterson, deserving of salary or not?" Steve asked.

I shrugged, "He's kinda mediocre." That starts a heated debate.

Bagels pop out of the toaster and cream cheese is slathered on, I mentally noted to ask my mom if she bought more.

"Ok." Kyle says, swallowing bagel and putting a hand to the table, "Down to business."