Warnings: Language, slight fluff at the end.

Authors Note: Is it just that Style is too mainstream for Kyle's virginity? XD Well then, I guess we'll all find out who the lucky taker is. In time.

I don't own South Park or any characters used in this story.

-(^_^)-

Try and guess how the day went. Extremely unsettling.

The guys took some peculiar chances walking on very shallow waters. They all sat closer than usual, wanted to assist me with problems I already knew the answer to, and even attempted that casual "friendly" touch on the shoulder. Don't be fooled by the word "shoulder," though. Token tried swinging my whole body into his arms, Butters aimed for some hand holding action the whole time, Cartman was basically hauling me beside him, and Tweek even went as far as feeding me, but jerked a bit and ended up spilling the food all over the table.

It was finally sixth period. I walked in towards my assigned seat in the back of the room. Our desks in this class are in groups, two partners sitting next to each other, then two directly in front of them to have a team of four. Due to our latest seating chart last week, I sit right next to Kenny, with Stan in front of me, and Cartman diagonal; ahead of Kenny. Both groups to the sides of us were the rest of guys, just to add-on to this hell-story.

My pencil glided across the paper as Mr. Garrison went on about some probability question. I was drawing a cake cut up into even slices, so it's not like I wasn't doing the math. To keep it looking like I was paying attention, I glanced up every so often to look at the board, like most of us play it these days. It was about 30 minutes into class when I pulled my head up again and out of the corner of my eye I noticed Kenny staring at me. My eyes trailed leisurely in his direction, looking at him sideways. Kenny had his fingers interlocked precisely and his chin resting on top. Actually, after I scanned his position, the entire top half of his body seemed to be completely angled at me. And then I got a glimpse of his face.

Oh my god, he was grinning like a fool.

I immediately dropped my head back down to my paper and started sketching again. Not even five seconds later, I felt a tap against my leg. I shifted over to gaze through the crack between me and Kenny's desk, and saw his leg was clearly in my leg area. He then lifted his knee up again to budge it against mine. It's like he was trying to start a footsie game, but with thighs instead of foots.

And goddamn it, can he please just wipe that smirk off his face.

"What do you want?" I angrily whispered to Kenny.

His expression remained the same and he puckered his lips. "You, my love."

"For fucking real. What is it, you cockjuggling twat?"

"Hey," Cartman tilted his head back a bit, and slid an arm up to rest on Kenny's desk. "Stop trying to steal my man, Kinny."

I shook my head while scoffing at those words. "I'm not yours either, Cartman."

At that moment, Mr. Garrison's shout echoed from the front of the room. "Kyle, Eric! Pay attention!" And he turned back to the white board, packing it up with more numbers and small diagrams.

Stan leaned a bit back on my desk and his eyes followed over to the other two in the process. "Just give him the note, Cartman. We can claim territory later!"

That statement left me confused and appalled at the same time. "Stan! Wait, what note?"

"About tonight," Cartman answered, tossing a folded up yellow sticky note on my desk. "But you have to wait until after school to open it."

I glanced down at the piece of paper. My lips pursed, and when I stared back up, the guys were already facing forward, like their attention changed in a matter of milliseconds.

. . . -(^_^)- . . .

The bell rang. I managed to be the first to make it from the back of the room to the class door and out to my locker without anyone dragging behind me. The note was in my pocket, and I intended to read it when I returned home.

"Hey, fella!" Butters voice rose up from behind and he placed a hand on my back. "So, what do you think?"

I pulled my bag out of my locker and turned to him, throwing it over my shoulder. "Think about what?" I twisted my body around a bit more, shaking his hand away from me. Across the hallway, I saw the guys watching us closely while mumbling undefinable words to each other. "If it's about the note, I haven't read it yet. I was planning on going home first."

"Oh," Butters gave his signature smile and nodded his head. "That's great! You go on and do that. See you tonight, then!" And he spun around on his heel, shuffling back to the others to spill the information. I took no time to proceed down and out the hallway, and head back to the comfort of my house.

. . . -(^_^)- . . .

When I shut my room door behind me, the sticky note was already in my hand. I stepped over to my bed and set my backpack down beside my feet. I stopped for a few moments at the side of my bed, eyes glued to the note lying in my hand. Before I knew it I was peeling it open and reading the words that were written for my eyes.

Kyle, 3
We're meeting at Cartman's house at 6, and it would be stupid to not have you tag along. But of course if you don't come, forever will you be a lonely, un-sex educated, virgin Jew.
Stay sexy. –Kenny
–The guys

Just by looking at the note, overt observations could be spotted. The handwriting was decent, so I'm guessing Butters might have written it. Based on the last sentence however, Cartman or Craig was probably the ones to tell him what to put down. It was written in red pen, and the font stays constant until the "stay sexy" part from Kenny, which is where I assume he stole the pen and jotted it down.

This is a trick. Of course, I could just go with my logical gut and slap them tomorrow for calling me a un-sex educated Jew, but then again I could always just hop out the window in Cartman's room if crucial measures were necessary. I guess I will be going to this meet up.

. . . -(^_^)- . . .

"Let me out!"

It was dark, and super cramped. I didn't even get a complete three sentences out of my mouth before someone grabbed me from behind, and shoved me in one of Cartman's closets. It's been about four minutes now, and when I placed my ear against the door, all I could hear was small chatter off in the far distance. I banged on the door again, entreating aimlessly at someone who could possibly hear me on the other side. No one responded, so I just stepped to the furthest wall in the closet, and slid my back down it until I was sitting. I couldn't even see my shadow, and the outline of my hands and lower body were hazy in my vision too.

Then my ears picked up mutters. They grew more distinct as they traveled closer to the closet door, and in a breath I was sitting upright, ready to bash whoever had the balls to finally let me out.

"G-Guys, we should just drop this! He'll be r-really mad if we actually go through with it!"

Stuttering panic tone. Tweek.

"Or, if someone would hurry up and get his ass in the closet, he could take the heat instead of us. And by someone I meant Stan. And by heat I meant the ass kicking he'll most likely give to the first one of us he sees."

Raspy accent, probably Craig. He wasn't wrong, though.

But… Stan?

What is Stan going to do?

In an instant after that, the closet door was thrown open, and I became blinded with the hallway light. I tried to shout and crawl forward, but another body collided with mine and threw me further back into the darkened area. Then I heard the door snap shut again, and the lock click back into place.

"Fuck…" I sighed, pushing the unknown figure from my body. "Who are you?"

"Don't be mad," the other started.

"Maybe if you spill your identity now, I'll choose an easier form of torture than stabbing your limbs off with a pair of heels."

"It's me, Stan!"

"Stan?" I exclaimed, pausing my search on the floor to find some type of shoe. "What the hell, dude? I thought you were on my side with this!"

"I can't help that I won…" his voice trailed off in the darkness.

"Won what? Did you guys literally assign some stupid deal just to see who could get in this restrained , dim box while the oxygen gradually kills itself off with every breath we intake? I'm guessing you have a death wish, Stan."

"6 minutes!" A voice hollered from the opposite side of the door, along with a little smack on it to make sure we were aware of the notification.

I shifted my attention from the door over to where Stan was sitting in the closet and sent him a scowl, even though he couldn't see my expression. "What did they mean six minutes?" I demanded.

"Look, Kyle, let me explain. We did a rock, paper, scissors tournament to see who would come in the closet with you. Seven minutes in heaven, you know? I didn't try to win, I swear."

I placed my hands on the floor and pushed myself up. When on my feet, I stumbled over to the door and hit it with solid blows. I was about to add shouting to my actions before Stan grabbed my other wrist and pulled me back down. I landed straddling him, and I could feel the blush rise to my cheeks as I stared down at his eyes, which appeared blurred in the dull light with everything else.

"Kyle," he started, "we have six minutes. Let's make them count."