"What's wrong with what you're wearing? They look sexy on you–" Then, as if realising something, he cringed and his eyes got big.

"EXCUSE ME?!!!"

"I-it was a joke–"

"GET OUT!!!"

------------------

I enjoy getting burned when cooking–not! I sighed. What's wrong with me today? I mean, look at these burn marks. They look so off on my smooth, creamy, milky white skin. I shouldn't even care, I'm a man, so these would be battle scars. But they're just soooo ugly. I lamented the damage on my beautiful skin. Sigh. Anyway, I just can't get him out of my mind! Argh, he's sooo infuriating! I just don't understand why he said that. OMG, is he, like, gay? Was that what yesterday was about?

We were playing our usual game of Call of Duty when I died because he wasn't healing me. "Maaaaaaaaaaaaaaark! What are you doing? Why didn't you heal me?" I pouted at him.

"Huh? Oh, damn, Billy, I'm sorry. I was just..."

Then I noticed him staring at my chest, which, naturally, I had to cover with my arms, arms too slender to actually cover much, actually. I was conscious about my little bumps. I mean, I was proud of them, but still, I didn't want him staring at my pecs. Sure, they're kind of soft now, but they'll be hard, like, real soon. "And what are you looking at, mister?"

"N-nothing, I just thought, there was, no, nevermind." He rapidly looked back at the screen. Weird. He'd been acting strange lately. He even wanted to help carry my books the other day when we were walking to our class in another building on campus, about 5 minutes walk away. I can carry my books just fine, thank you very much, even if it was nice of him to ask.

"Look, if you're not gonna pay attention, our kill to death ratios are just gonna drop. Why don't we just–I don't know–go to the mall? Cruise for some, uh, chicks? It's a nice Saturday, after all."

"Yeah, uh, sure." He got up, turned off the teevee, put his wallet in his pants, and slicked back his hair. Walking to the door, he looked back at me. "Come on!"

"Wait! I need to get something to wear." No way am I going out in a tank top and short shorts!

"What's wrong with what you're wearing? They look sexy on you–" Then, as if realising something, he cringed and his eyes got big.

"EXCUSE ME?!!!"

"I-it was a joke–"

"GET OUT!!!"

"No, I was only kidding..."

"GET. OUT."

Head down, shoulders slumped, he headed for the door. For some odd reason I could not fathom, I started crying. I just don't understand.

Which brings me back to today. He hasn't contacted me back. I'm so worried.