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portrayed by

portrayed by

portrayed by

"I'm not saying he's untalented, I'm just saying he's no Tobey Maguire."

I scoffed. "Dude, he's perfect to be Spiderman. He's charming, he's good looking and he's-"

"-British."

"What?" I retorted, sitting cross legged opposite Ethan whose darkly colored eyes always lit up with the all too familiar competitive glow whenever we were debating something that usually involved movies.

This Time it was The Amazing Spiderman.

"Yes, he's British. I don't remember Spiderman being from Liverpool or drinking Tea and eating crumpets," he said at a breakneck speed , ignorantly I might add, in the worst attempt at a British accent I've ever heard.

"I'm going to ignore that," I said. "He's an actor, Ethan. He can act as if he's American."

He had that confused glint in his eyes again. "So, he can just not sound British anymore?"

I ran my hand through my hair, sighing. "Yes, Ethan, he can stop sounding British."

Ethan folded his arms, the child in him coming out in his facial features, courting so much that lines shut across his head and his lips settled into a pout. "I'm still not down with it," he said. "It's called Spiderman not Spider-The Englishman."

"Then don't see it."

"Are you kidding, it's freaking Spiderman!"

I moaned in aggravation. "You're so dense sometimes."

He got this innocent look in his eyes. "And that's why you love me."

"No, that's why I stand you," I murmured playfully.

He blinked twice before rolling his eyes. "Whatever, Spencer," he mumbled before turning back to the television screen.

The screen went black - like it always did whenever there was a new movie coming on.

After the opening, the narrator kicked in and almost immediately Ethan groaned. "Not (500) days of Summer again!" he shrieked, flailing his arms in the air like someone stuck at sea without food and a boat with a Denny's attached was passing nearby. "How many times do they have to bring on this pansy chick flick?" he huffed, continuing to be overly dramatic. His specialty.

"I remember you crying during this pansy chick flick."

"One Time!" he shot back. "Just one time. I mean the chick was kinda mean. She led him on the entire time then got married?" He scoffed. "I felt the guy's hurt. I'm surprised he didn't clock her in the jaw."

"Well that's because in society it's morally wrong for a man to hit a woman."

He kissed his teeth, grabbing the remote and looking down at the numbers. "Well it sucks that girls get to step all over us and shit and we have to take it."

"It's just a part of being a dude, dude. But hey," I paused, snatching the remote from his grip before he changed the channel, "if you don't like it you can always get a sex change."

He noticeably grimaced. "I want equality not a vagina."

I lifted an eyebrow. "Men being allowed to hit women is equality?"

He nodded at first before he noticed the horrified look on my face. Then he gaped. "No! I mean - No! Just that I don't think we should have anything that separates us is all," he tried to reason, "like gay and straight men."

"What about gay and straight men?" I asked, placing an elbow at the edge Ethan's bed. We were seated on the floor at the end of the King Size mattress because he was too lazy to put a sheet on it and I wasn't his mother.

"I mean, why can't we live in harmony without any judgment? I don't have anything against gays or lesbians for that matter." He got that sexual look on his face again. "Especially lesbians," he said with velvety emphasis, wiggling his eyebrows.

I narrowed my eyes. "You sound like an uninformed, overly self righteous teenager. And the fetishization of lesbian by straight men needs to stop."

He let out a big sigh. "Oh My God. You take one feminist lecture and all of a sudden you're Greta Thumberg."

"Greta is about the environment not feminism, you ass," I shot back.

He threw up his hands again. I chuckled at his agitation. It was always so easy and fun to mess with Ethan's short tempered, hot headed nature.

"I just can't win with you. Can I?" he moaned.

"You should have learned that lesson when we had the Rugrats - SpongeBob debate in fifth grade."

Before I could get out another word he snatched the remote out of my hands. Smirking, the dark haired, All American boy shot to his feet. "And you should have learned that I always win 'snatch the remote' after that time we had the Harry Potter- Crazy Stupid Love debate."

"Another pansy chick flick you cried while watching," I teased, rolling my eyes for which seemed to be the umpteenth time today.

It was damn near impossible whenever I had a conversation with Ethan to not roll them at least twice every ten minutes. I turned back to look at the screen but my eyes got a glimpse of the clock that sat on top of it.

"Shit," I growled.

Ethan gave me a confused look before his eyes caught the clock as well, then he smiled devilishly. "Weren't you supposed to be home like an hour ago for that barbecue thing with your dad's boss and his hot daughter?"

I shot him a look while jumping around, trying to put on my shoes. "It's not funny, E," I growled. "Who the hell has a barbecue at night anyways?" I grumbled to myself.

I sighed once I finally got the buggers on. Ethan came closer, folding his arms across his bare chest.

"Well it seems the shoe is on the other foot," He noted, still having that punch-able smirk on his face.

"I know you like throwing random, witty phrases around but that one doesn't work here."

His eyes traveled down to my feet. "Doesn't it?"

I followed his gaze before grunting like a whale being killed. My shoes were on the wrong feet. Smart ass bastard.

"I'll see you around," I mumbled, punching him hard in the shoulder. He winced. "Too hard, babe?" I asked, calling him by our totally not gay nicknames.

But smiled afterwards, rubbing the shoulder with his other hand, a smile at his lips. "I'll see you tomorrow when I pick you up, sugar bear."

I nodded and jogged out of the room, not bothering to switch my shoes. They would just slow me down anyways and I was incredibly late.

I basically flew down the stairs and started power walking to the front door, when a delicious scent hit me. Salmon?

I stopped almost immediately and backtracked to the kitchen that's entrance was next to the staircase. The first time I spent the night at Ethan's house, I was wandering for a full ten minutes for it - unknowingly passing it a dozen times before Ethan finally got off his lazy ass and came and helped me. Of course, I felt stupid but got over it once I watched almost every other guest make the same mistake.

I stepped into the brightly lit kitchen, drenched in that soft yellow glow.

Josh looked up briefly before looking back down at the kitchen counter, smiling. "Hey little dude." he greeted.

Josh's hair was this dark brown color. Ethan's was black and usually oily with products. Josh's hair looked like very dark chocolate. He only looked remotely like Ethan. You wouldn't know they were brothers unless they stood side by side.

I smiled, even though I knew he couldn't see it. "Hey Joshy." His smile grew once he heard the nickname. He always liked when I called him that. I think it's because he hated his name. 'Joshua,' he'd grumble.

He told me he felt uncomfortable having a biblical name. He almost felt the need to part seas and hand out fish and bread sticks. Josh wasn't a Christian, obvioulsy.

"It's almost nine o'clock at night - why the big dinner?" I asked, inspecting the kitchen thoroughly. The stove held two pots - both on with steam coming from the top of both, vegetables were all over the shiny, wooden counter and a gallon of juice, newly opened, was sitting on the counter right next to Josh who was busy cutting carrots.

"Shannon came over. We're having a dinner date."

I nodded a response.

"Aren't you on a date right now anyway?"

"A date is a social or romantic appointment or engagement, Josh," I said.

Of course he didn't mean an actual date. He was just referring to the fact that me and Ethan's relationship does seem like a romantic one. But it was strictly platonic. At least most of the time. The holding hands thing was questionable.

"And, I'm afraid I had to cut it off short."

"What was it this time?" he asked. He placed some of the correct into one of the pots. "Did he forget to compliment your new shirt?"

I rolled my eyes playfully. "No. I have a little thing to get to with my dad." I leaned forward toward the counter. "Besides I'm not the one cooking to get laid."

"Hey!" he sounded, looking up at me. "This is because it's our two year anniversary."

I folded my arms across my chest, giving him a skeptical look. He caved. "Okay and sex but mostly for the love."

I leaned off of the counter. "Well, at least one of us is getting action. All I've been getting lately is hot nightly sessions with my television and the only thing holding me close is my Snuggie."

He snickered. "Maybe your choice in potential girlfriends suck. I mean honestly, what does it take for you to fall in love?"

I perched my lip. I didn't know how to answer it. I don't think I've ever been in love but mostly because I avoided it. I see what love does to teenage boys. You turn into pretentious book characters. "I don't know," I answered honestly. "He would have a certain quality I guess. Enough to make me fall in love."

He sighed heavily, and jogged to a pot that was starting to overflow with water and carrots. "So I'm guessing that idiot still hasn't made a move yet?"

"Which idiot?"

Josh kept his gaze on the carrots in the pot, but a smile formed at his lips. Almost a knowing one. He stopped and went to the fridge, taking out a carton of milk. "Your friend."

I had a lot of idiot friends.

"You're going to have to be a little more specific," I snickered.

He took out a glass cup and poured the milk into it before pushing it gently in my direction. "Has the idiot told you he loves you yet?"

I stopped thinking for a moment. "He?" I asked. Maybe I didn't hear the 's' or maybe it slipped by mistake.

"Ethan, that is."

I nearly choked on the milk.

I chuckled, before wiping my mouth of any of it that slipped out between my lips. "Josh, we're not together. We're not gay. Did Ethan tell you something, again?" Ethan always joked that we were in a relationship so it wouldn't be surprising if he told Josh something stupid.

By this time, stupid was all that ever came out of his mouth.

"He doesn't have to. I have eyes."

"Alright Yoda, tell the other Padawan to study for the Geography Quiz tomorrow...he's failing and he needs to Ace that test before they render him too stupid to exit high school."

"Okay and Spence...?"

I turned back to face him, answering by lifting an eyebrow.

He smiled for a second. Josh always had this straight smile, even on both side. "You said he." he said, leaning against the counter.

"What?"

"I asked you what would it take for you to fall in love, and you said 'he would have a certain quality'."

I blinked. I just noticed how low hanging the ceiling fan was. or how yellow tinted the tinted the lights in the room were. It made it look like sunrise. "Slip of the tongue."

"Or heart," he mumbled in response. "See you around kiddo," was the last thing he said before he returned back to whatever he was making.

I stood in the kitchen door's frame a little while longer before turning slowly and exiting. I looked down at my watch . "Damn it." Dad was going to kill me.

I snatched my keys out of my pocket way before I even exited the Littman household, and sped off once I got in my car. The ride was long and for the most part quiet. Just the way I liked it. Whenever Ethan and I would drive, he would annoyingly turn up the music whenever a horrendous rap song would come on. Most of times he did it to piss me off and others just to avoid conversation when we had a fight.

My eyes drifted slightly from the road ahead to the chain the hung from the rear-view mirror. It danced this aggressive jig as the car trudged along with empty, misty road.

It had the letters SE inscribed into the golden dog tag that sat at the end of the chain link and it was Ethan's idea to get them.

I smiled lightly. Underneath all that idiocy, ignorance and jock-ish attitude lied my best friend. My sensitive best friend. My sensitive, clingy best friend. This took a turn fast.

I took a hand off of the steering wheel and took it off the mirror, slipping it into my pocket before refocusing on the road ahead.

My neighborhood was usually a quiet one, mostly because it was occupied by boring housewives and boring businessmen who wouldn't know fun if it kidnapped their perfect kids for ransom money. However, tonight everyone was alive and awake.

I decided to park a little futther away from my house to not make a spectacle of myself. Also to avoid Dad. I had to walk a little distance but it was worth it when I didn't see him, plus I got the chance to fix my shoe problem.

The party was in the backyard so that's where I headed.

I stopped at the side gate that led there and gawked. There were at least fifty people here all dressed in casual - yet elegant (if such a thing existed) attire and all chatting it up with one another. It made the grassy plain look far bigger than it actually was.

A string of Christmas lights were curled on the fence, providing what light they could. The old swing was pushed off to the side and abandoned.

I slowly opened the gate and walked through, not bothering to close it behind me. I spotted Aunt Angelina from all the way on the other side of the lawn. Her big red hair and blue eye shadow was sort of hard to miss.

I walked over to her next, to the barbecue and smiled and though it did take her a minute to notice me, when she did, she stopped the grill and smiled widely.

"Spencer, honey, how are you? Want a hot dog?" she asked. Her over-the-top New York accent was still as aggressive as ever. It pounded against your ears and threatened to steal your purse ,but it was what made her.

I grinned. "I'm fine, Aunt Angie. But have you seen my dad?"

"Uuumm..." She looked up over the crowd and pointed near the table where the older visitors were sitting. "David was there a second ago."

"Thanks. Have you seen-"

Someone cleared their throat behind me and on instinct I rolled my eyes. "Mom," I finished, turning around to face her.

She had on an apron and a hair cloth with a polka dotted red and white knee high dress. I couldn't help but snort. "I'm sorry, Lucy but have you seen my mother?"

"I hate it when you reference TV shows. It's unattractive." She scolded, but not seriously. "Where have you been all night? Eight went by a long time ago." Mom's hair was up in a bun. This golden brown color that always looked like it was blocking sun rays. Just shiny. Her eyes matched, although they were much more narrow.

"I was at Ethan's."

"Why didn't you bring him?"

I looked at her as if she was crazy. "...Mom, Ethan is a lively person he'd get bored quickly. The both of us don't have to suffer."

She gasped. "This party is not dead."

I bowed my head slightly but kept my eyes - skeptical, are you sure, eyes - on her. "Really mom?" I said looking around at the older people laughing while the younger ones just stood around aimlessly. "I've had naps more exciting than this."

"That's it...no more television. I'm pretty sure that's a reference to something," she barked.

I groaned. "Sorry, force of habit." I sighed."Can't I just skip this one?"

She shook her head slightly. "I'm afraid not. This one is very important to your father. His promotion is hanging on the hinges of its success"

She made it sound so dramatic. As if my Dad was some superhero and the literal planet's existence hinged on some backyard bbq.