I often wondered why.

Why did this relationship start? I had no interest in Skittery; my heart went out to Swifty. And there would be no lie in saying Skittery wasn't attracted to me. There was no love in it.

So why did it last? I'm not sure. The sex seems to be the most likely explanation. That was good. There was a kind of dizzy passion that came with it. But that was all. That dizzy passion. Then, nothing.

All that had happened was Skittery had come to my bed one night and insisted we share. Later, there was sex. Then, we sold papes together during the day. It was the same boring cycle day after day, night after night. I was sure Skittery pictured someone else's face when we kissed, but that was okay; I pictured Swifty.

Then why not end it? I wasn't sure of that either. I could do it; Skittery would be more than happy to be freed from this. But… there was security. And, of course, the thrill of hiding our relationship from the other boys.

Only two others knew: Mush Meyers, who had discovered us kissing, completely an accident, and Snitch Riccio, who found out on purpose: Skittery, for some reason, kissed his hardest whenever Snitch was around.

One day, I went up to Skittery and asked him why.

"Why what, Pie?" He responded, a cigarette in his mouth, even though Kloppman didn't like us smoking inside.

"Why are we together?"

"I dunno," Skittery shrugged. "We just are."

"You came to me. You'd know better than I would."

"Why does it matter?"

I shrugged. "It doesn't. I just wanna know."

Skittery exhaled smoke. "The truth?"

"Sure," I said. "Better than somethin' we both know's a lie."

"The truth, then." Skittery nodded. "A'ight. The truth is this: I want Snitch. I went to you 'cause I didn't know what else to do to get him to want me too."

"I don't get it."

"Me neither," Skittery admitted, puffing more smoke into the air. "It made sense that first night, but now… it just seems stupid. I likes you and ev'rythin', but… " He threw his cigarette to the floor and put it out with the toe of his boot, looking more like a pansy than I'm sure he intended to.

I smiled.

"Why didn't you just tell Snitch in the first place?" I smacked the back of his head, sending him reeling forward. "Dumbass."

Skittery glared at me. "Like you're one to talk! What about Swifty?"

I blushed. "You know about Swifty?"

"Of course. You say his name when… when you sleep. I don't think you ever realized it, though."

I blushed brighter. "Then why didn't you do something?"

"Why didn't you?" He shoved me with one hand, laughing. "The sex? Am I that good?"

"Shut your mouth!" I said, feeling very hot in the face. "How 'bout we both do something? Now?"

"All right. We're over?"

"We're over," I stuck out my hand and we shook. "Y'know, Skitts… you make a better friend than boyfriend."

"Same to you, Pie," Skittery grinned, putting a hand in my face and playfully shoving me. "Same to you."

Two weeks later, and Snitch and Skitts are attached at the hip. I wave at them as they round the corner to head to their selling spot. They wave cheerily back.

I turn and start my walk to Glendale's, an art store often filled with old, rich, and merciful customers.

So busy is my scheming that I don't see Swifty until I slam into him.

"Watch where you're goin', Pie!" He shouts, kneeling to pick up the papers he'd dropped. Quickly, I kneel to help him.

"Sorry, Swifty," I say, humiliated, handing him his papes.

He takes them. "It's okay. I wanted to talk to you anyway."

"Why?"

"Um…" He blushes softly, adjusting the way he holds his papes. He's so cute. "Um… you wanna sell with me this afternoon? We can talk while we sell. Okay?"

I can't help but smile. I know by his fumbling movements exactly what he's going to talk to me about.

"Okay," I say, moving my papes to my other hand to link arms with Swifty. "Let's go."

***AUTHOR'S NOTE***

See, now this was easy to write. **nods** My contribution to Pie Week.

Ten bucks says this easy-write (which is just barely two pages long and took less than two hours to write) gets up to ten reviews while Then, Reality Strikes (which is eleven pages and took six days to write) stays at five. Oh, I love having the stuff I work hard at appreciated. **sighs** Ah well. Dem's de breaks, as my daddy says. ^_^;;

Ah well. Back to work. Night guys. ^_^