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Tate Konstantin held all sort of surprises.

Parker had met her in an internet cafe earlier that year, and though the encounter wasn't terribly memorable, it wasn't unpleasant either. What was more interesting was how they continued to interact, though neither knew it at first. Parker was on a lot of forums, a lot of blogs sites, a lot of everything Internet-related. He had plenty on online friends, even if his real life list was a little empty. (How many times could he write "Dani" and still have it count?)

For months, he had chatted with tkonstantin (which, looking back, was a really terrible handle) about game systems and strategies. Parker couldn't risk owning his own system at Hillworth, but the local internet cafe provided time for him to test out the video games he planned to one day actually one. Then, one day, tkonstantin and .misotheistic.misanthrope. stumbled on to the topic of Soul Caliber IV.

After talking several times a week for months, Parker accidentally stumbled onto his new friend's identity. At first, he hadn't been certain, but the way she described her game play style was so close to what he had seen the girl in the Internet Cafe do it was hard to ignore. A series of awkward questions and AHA! moments later, and Parker and Tate discovered who they had been talking to the entire time.

At first, Parker thought it was awkward, but it slowly became awesome. Having gotten to know Tate through their forums, it was as if all the hard work for starting a friendship had been taken care of. Instead of just talking about games, they got together to play them. Tate kicked his a** at almost every single game they played, but she was helping him get better. And anything to get him out of Hillworth was a welcome gift.

In short, Tate was a total bro. BRO.

AND THAT IS THE MAGICAL STORY OF PARKER AND TATE'S BIZARRE FRIENDSHIP.

Meanwhile, in a coffee shop across town...

Parker was waiting for Tate. He'd texted her that morning to make plans.



Normally, they might just get together to play video games (read: 99% of their time together), but today, he had something else in mind. Tate might not be the greatest confidant in the entire land, but she was the closest thing that Parker had to a bro.

And right now, he needed a bro.

Fidgeting with the edge of his coffee cup, Parker glanced to the door began scratches of his pen in his moleskin notebook. Might as well past the time waiting by scribbling illegible thoughts down.

Tate swooped in unseen, as usual. Parker was too busy writing to notice her. He glanced up and grinned. "No tea?" he asked, poking at her cup with a pen. He knew Tate worked at that corporate tea place. He'd visited her a few times. She knew so damn much about the stuff that Parker figured she'd start growing her own any day now.

The vomit-inducing pink/purple/red pastiche that came around each year for February 14th was making Parker's head swim too. (Seriously, bright color overload.) But not just because of the cringe-worthy holiday that was fast approaching -- too fast, in Parker's opinion. It was because, for the first time in his eighteen years of living, he was actually dating someone during it.

Valentine's Day was important to girls. Super important. And though Dani wasn't exactly most girls, she still liked to feel special. If Parker dropped the ball on Valentine's Day, she might finally wise up and leave his a** like he'd been waiting for her to do all along.

It didn't help that he had been too chickenshit to kiss her yet too.

But a month wasn't that long to wait for a kiss, right? RIGHT?! Suppressing a sudden urge to hyperventilate like a fat woman at a cake sale, Parker did his best to maintain his impassive glance, even if his eyebrows furrowed together. "You can watch me fail to master grab throws any day," he said. It would be obvious that he was skirting the issue.

Parker turned his cup and it dragged across the table. "I have to ask you an awkward question," he said, not looking up from his cup. "And I'm just trying to mentally prepare myself for it." No use in beating around the bush with Tate. She was his bro. Oh wait, yeah, she was a girl too. Whatever. She was his bro first. The girl thing was all secondary.

Parker did not appear to be drinking his coffee, just moving his cup. "Pretend to be blind," he said, lifting his thumb from the ceramic edge. "Walk around, knock hot tea over on customers. If they fire you, you can claim prejudice." He waved his finger around, but he was still stalling.

The general ribbing and jabs that Tate threw his way were expected, typical. Parker didn't respond to half of them. And he never minded Tate's privilege because she really didn't throw her weight around. It didn't hurt that her Xbox was kind of his adopted child as well. Her car, too, could sometimes be depended on if he was in a pinch.

All of this was a distraction to the actual point of the meeting, aside from a cup of coffee. Mmkay, time to man up. "Tate," he said, glancing up to her, "I really don't want to ******** up Valentine's Day with Dani. And I kind of feel like I'm going to... and I need advice. From a friend. And a girl." There was a pause, and Parker lifted his coffee to his mouth. "Which is you." Then he drank.

Parker had seen the wall of shoujo manga, and it was with that in mind that he gave her a very serious are you ******** kidding me look. "I don't know why I even tried to ask you," he said, dropping his glance from her. Man, way to suck, Tate. It was pretty hard for Parker to bring this up, but he had done it because he needed too. But Tate wasn't throwing him a bone.

Not that he expected her to jump up and clap her hands over it, but you know, an answer might be nice. Annoyance set in his jaw. Great, he had made an a** out of himself -- and for what? For Tate to poke more fun and give him no answers. "I don't know what to do for Dani," he said, though saying the words seemed to bother him. "Silly me thought you might be willing to help brainstorm. You are a girl. Tell me what you would want then." Parker was being pouty, but this situation had him in a bad mood. He hated failing, and he felt like failing was imminent.

And Tate was his only hope.

Dear Jesus.

SERIOUS AS A HEART ATTACK.

Parker did in fact know other girls. But not on pleasant terms. Tate knew this so Parker really didn't want to confirm his terribly tiny number of friends by agreeing with what she said. And he doubted, "I know plenty of people on the internet!" was going to help him much either.

Instead, he straightened up when Tate pulled out her notebook, pleased to see that she was at least willing to humor him. "I'm not good at it either," he said. "That's the problem." One problem among many, actually. But Dani was worth it. Just thinking that made Parker cringe. He could feel the waves of affection bubbling up in him, and he was ill-equipped to deal with it.

Probably as ill-equipped as Tate was to deal with this.

Unfortunately things were what they were, and the two of them would just have to suck it up and work together. "Maybe I can just take whatever you say and do the opposite," he mused. He was kidding, but for a second, he actually contemplated it. Would that be much simpler?

Taking another sip of coffee, Parker rested his elbows on the table and leaned forward. What did he and Dani do? Hung out. They had held hands. They had hugged, though nothing terribly passionate. Honestly, that was one of the problems. Parker never went to Dani's house (parents are scary!) and Dani couldn't come to Hillworth. If they wanted to be private, their only option was PDA, and Parker had mixed feelings about that. Of course, this wasn't precisely what Tate was talking about, but it was where Parker's mind went.

"No parents, no," he said, shaking his head like that was the most ridiculous thing he'd ever heard in the world. Parker hardly did well with people his own age. Meeting parents? It could only end in disaster. "We get coffee a lot. We go see movies at the dollar theater. Dani likes to run in the park, and so I'll sit and read until she's done. We go to dinner. She comes to the library with me. I don't know. We do a lot of walking around Destiny City and talking. It's not like I can bring her back to Hillworth." Saying it out loud, Parker kind of felt like he and Dani didn't do anything. Walking? Wow, how exciting. But it made him happy, and she seemed happy too.

Parker would be happy anywhere with Dani.

Whoa -- goddamnit. There is was again. That caring. Parker looked vaguely defeated and stared blindly into his coffee cup.

Parker caught her pen last minute WITH HIS CAT-LIKE REFLEXES by sheer virtue of dumb luck. He set it down on the table with a definitive click. "I'm not really romantic," he said. "I don't want to have to try to be because I'll just be terrible at it." Parker's idea of romance was letting her pick which movie they would watch. Of course, he thought of doing really romantic, sweeping gestures all the time, but because he was Parker, those ideas died somewhere between the initial thought and the first action. He could never actualize all the things that were in his head.

"I don't want a production. But I want it to be nice. Should I get flowers?" A pause. "I think I should get flowers." Another pause. "I have no idea what kind of flowers she likes." Sigh.

Parker propped his elbows on the table and rested his head in his hands. "I am going to ******** this up so badly. I can feel it. I'm going to destroy it." Tate was a good friend (aren't video-game buddies always?) and she was probably the only person he would divulge this insecurity too. Lucky girl! His pessimism was reaching gale-force winds, and the corners of his mouth kept twitching like his whole body might start seizing any moment now.

Ah, young love.

Parker nodded along with Tate, though a flushed sheepishness hung in the lines of his face. The sooner this conversation was over, the better -- but he needed to get some answers first. "Not too ardent, no," he said, fidgeting with his coffee cup. He had just lifted the cup to his lips when Tate asked him a question:

"Have you kissed her yet?"

"Pffft - rawrghing!" That was the sound of Parker snorting/spitting up his coffee. It was very attractive, especially when 25% of his coffee splashed over the sides on to the table, his shirt, and his lap. He coughed and sputtered, pounding on his chest to try to clear some of the liquid from his lungs.

Parker reeeeeally didn't want to make eye contact with Tate right now. Instead, he hopped up and ran to the counter to grab some napkins, gently patting the table dry. "What's that got to do with anything?" he asked, wiping his mouth with a clean napkin.

Half of Shufflepuck stared at the table when Parker performed his waterworks show. The other half stared when Tate shrieked. A chubby woman dragging two children cupped one hand over the outside ear of each kid and then slammed them ear-first into her sides. Parker let his eyes stray to the annoyed woman, and when he looked back to Tate (begrudgingly), she was burning him with her laser vision.

"Stop staring like that," he said, pushing the drenched napkins into a tiny pile. "You look insane."

If he didn't feel awkward before, Parker sure as s**t felt awkward now. Tate knew. He knew that she knew. And it made his own guilt and shame and anxiety over the situation only worsen. Parker knew it was strange that he hadn't kissed Dani yet. He knew that.

Kissing Dani was important to Parker. So important that he didn't want to ******** it up. Being Parker, he knew that the odds of him ******** it up were far greater than the odds of everything going according to plan. This was a problem. There were plenty of moments where Parker thought of just leaning in and kissing her, but halfway into the lean, he'd start thinking about if this was the right moment and did his breath smell and was that guy looking and did Dani want this and maybe he should put on Chapstick and, by the end of it, the moment had passed. Dani might even be across the room. All the failed attempts only made him less willing to try.

But Parker had no intention of telling Tate any of that.

Fidgeting with the mound of wet napkins, Parker sighed. "Helpful." The flowers and a kiss thing were old news. The teen had thought of that a hundred times. What had he expected? This was Tate, not Oprah. She wasn't exactly the type to give meaningful, life-enriching advice.

Scooping the napkins into his hand, Parker crossed to the trashcan and dumped them out. Little shreds of white stuck to his hands, and he rubbed it off on his jeans. "Want to go practice grab throws? I'm done needing Dr. Tate's advice," he said, pushing aside his wasted cup of coffee.