Brian finally decided on it. He was determined to mend the whole situation. He took a deep breath and picked up the silver telephone receiver. The dull dial tone dared him to hang up, intimidating him. But he pressed the numbered buttons.

One ring. Two rings. Another ring, then ---------- an answering machine.

"Hi, this is Nick. I'm not home, you know the drill. Thanks. BEEP!"

Brian took a deep breath. Nothing came out. What should he say? Should he talk casually?

"Talk is cheap, Kid Nicky."

Nick flung his jacket restlessly on the chair, hit the answering machine's stubborn button and raged to the kitchen. He had two messages. The first one was from Tracee:

"Look, man, I'm sorry for what I did. But I won't take it back. I never regret anything I do. Never have, never will." Her voice grew sterner. "I'm sorry if you can't handle the truth. Call me if you ever get that bug out of your ass."

Nick laughed heartlessly and took another bite of a sloppy peanut butter and jelly sandwich as the next message came on.

"Talk is cheap, Kid Nicky."

Brian.

Nick got scared. Those were three little words that he avoided. "Talk is cheap" was the Boys' long-lost term for them to cool their tempers. As corny as it always seemed to sound, it worked.

No one used that term anymore. Now there was no point. Not that it wasn't overly used, more under-used. It was useless to use if nobody listened. Tempers and egos flared of two people. The two people that everybody thought were least likely to cause the break-up. Brian and Nick.

Frick and Frack.

Kevin looked over and saw her, her arms crossed.

She looked different from the last time they'd seem each other. She was once blond, no glasses, speckled with freckles, and these gorgeous green eyes that seemed endless. Now: wavy, red locks with blond highlights, wire glasses. She was thin, but not scrawny like before. She was toned well, in fact. Her eyes were the only thing that stayed the same. They shimmered with excitement and anticipation. Not only that, but with tears.

"Hi, Kevin," she whispered as he approached her and gave her a hug.

"Hey, Temprence. You look so different," he commented. He pulled her off him and held her at arm-length.

Kevin felt something pointy on her finger as it pierced his skin. Her brought her hand up to his face.

A wedding ring.

Kevin smiled slowly. "Four years is a lot of time, isn't it?"

"Yeah ---" She grinned. "C'mon in." She waved her hand in a motion for him to go.

"So where's the lucky man?" Kevin asked, concealing his hurt. He really loved her and now it was too late. He should have taken her when he had the chance. "Actually, the best question is: Who is the lucky man?"

"He's from our high school. Peter Richie."

"Temprence Richie?" He smirked. He bowed and kissed her hand. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Richie."

"Mrs. Richie-Williams. I still have my dignity, thank you."