"Marc, that is so not true,"

"Is so,"

"Not,"

"How can you say that? I'm easily the most popular guy in eighth grade," Marc smirks. Gia collapses into a fit of giggles. It's contagious,

"Yeah, sure Marc," she gasps. Marc looks offended,

"Hey, no need to gang up on me�just cause you have no friends,"

"I have no friends? My dear Marc, you must be confusing yourself with me,"

"No, no I'm not. I don't have loser friends. Where do I even begin? Lisa, Casey, Michael, Jay, Taylor," he lists off, counting them on his hands. He looks at me grinning, "No offence dude, just making my point," he says in a diplomatic manner.

"None taken," I hold up my hands defensively, I says just as Mrs Mazziatto admonishes,

"Marc!!! Apologize now!"

"Sorry Taylor," he states sheepishly.

"In my day," Mr Mazziatto starts, "I was like The Fonz. Too cool for school," Gia and Marc give each other a look.

"Yeah dad,"

"Sure you were," Marc states patronisingly,

"True,"

"Did you wear a leather jacket?" I ask as I polish off the last piece of veal on my plate. Homemade Italian food is the best, especially made by Gia's mom.

"Oh yeah, you kiddin' me?" he replies smiling as Mrs Mazziatto puts more on my plate. I don't even bother trying to refuse, I just smile gratefully at her while Gia stares in amazement at me,

"How much can you pack away?"

"Gia, leave him alone," her mother laughs, "Although if I didn't know her better, Taylor, I would swear that your mother didn't feed you," I try to grin while chewing on my tortellini,

"Oh God! Taylor, don't do that!" Gia, squints her eyes in horror.

"By the way, Gia, Juventus versus Arsenal..." her dad wiggles his eyebrows,

"Oh, oh, oh!!!" she starts pseudo-convulsing, "Who won?"

"Juventus. 3-1,"

"WOOHOO!!!" she yells throwing a fist in the air, her wavy hair bouncing as she does,

"Gia!" her mother sighs, "shhhh,"

"Sorry," she turns to her dad, "Goal scorers?" Juventus is her all time favourite soccer team. She's a big soccer fan. And Juventus is an Italian team. Which is her favourite. I ignore the soccer talk, which is being thrown around me and concentrate on filling my stomach. I barely know what the offside rule is all about. But I guess I'm partial to playing a good game, or watching it. But I have no idea bout the teams. Manchester United, Arsenal, Real, some random team, Bayern Munich? Don't ask me. No idea.

"Taylor? Taylor?"

"Huh?" I look up,

"You finished filling your guts?"

'I guess,"

"Wanna head up to me room?"

"Uh, sure. Wait, Mrs Mazziatto, do you need help cleaning up?"

"Taylor you're such a suck!"

"Gia! Stop it, just because he's being polite...You should take some pointers," her mother turns around and I stick my tongue out at Gia, forgetting that her dad's watching. He erupts into laughter.

"Come on up," She nods with her head. We race up the stairs and head into her room. I park myself onto the floor spreading my legs out and put my weight on my hands. She flops onto her bed and I can see her chest rising and falling with each breath she takes. I can't take my eyes off the sight. Hey, I'm a guy. I have no other excuse. Unless of course you count this mild crush I've had on her for the past three years. Eh.

"So, what's news?" she asks,

"Nothing," I reply. Up, down, up, down, "What's news with you? How was school today?"

"No need to rub it in. I know you don't have to put up with the crap that I do,"

"What crap?"

"Eh, nothing, I'm just complaining about nothing,"

"Sure?"

"Yeah,"

"You may have to put up with crap but never forget that I have explain algebra to Zac, okay? That's impossible. That's like, I dunno, assassinating the president,"

"Which wouldn't be too difficult if you were the shooter on the grassy knoll,"

"Point taken. Okay, it'd be like assassinating the president and not getting caught,"

"Which wouldn't be too difficult if you were the second shooter on the grassy knoll,"

"The guy who had Lee Harvey Oswald as his scapegoat,"

"Exactly!" she exclaims. She rests her hand on her stomach, "Is it hot today or what?"

"Uh, yeah," I choke out. She casts me a concerned glance, "Fine," She looks away and looks back at me quickly, catching me out mid-stare. "Why you being so weird today?"

"Weird?"

"Yeah,"

"How?"

"Well, for a start, you just keep staring at me. So why? Have I got something on my teeth? It's my hair isn't it? I'm having such a stinky hair day," she murmurs. I roll my eyes,

"Gi, I don't think it's yer hair,"

"What then?" she presses. Good work Taylor, why did I just tell her she had shit hair instead of working myself into a position where it would eventually come out that I'm actually being weird cause I'm sick of liking her and not doing anything about it. There's a knock on the door behind me and Mrs Mazziatto sticks her head into the room,

"Taylor honey, your mother just rang and she wants you to head home as soon as possible,"

"Sure, Gia probably has homework anyway," I state getting up.

"I'm sure she does," her mother gives her a look raising her eyebrows,

"Yes mom, I'll do it as soon as Taylor leaves,"

"Good," her mom states and leaves.

"So, I should go,"

"Yeah, suppose so. And leave me to burn in certain pit of hell that is known as Geometry,"

"Sorry," I smile apologetically.

"Hmph,"

"Alright, see you later? Oh by the way, I was thinking of having a movie night tomorrow,"

"Okay. Right,"

"Done," I nod and giver her a wave. I walk out the door smiling to myself. Saved by the bell - of the telephone. Must remember to thank mom. I farewell the rest of the Mazziattos and walk out of the house whistling.