Note: This story came about as a form of written advice to a lot of my friends, who all seemed to be going through a similar situation - To Tell Or Not To Tell. That is the question, and when you start reading, you'll discover it's also the overall theme of this little bitty.

And before I get a ton of reviews saying, "Please finish!" I'm going to tell you right now that it is 100% COMPLETE. It is done; there will be no more chapters. You're not supposed to know what happens. The point of this is that "It doesn't matter if you win or lose, it's how you play the game." And some of my old coaches might kill me for using that as a dating motto, but meh. Now, go forth, my ducklings, and enjoy!

Wait For It By Sister Noir

"Lisa."

"Hold on a second, I've got him in a corner."

I stared at the screen in bemusement, wondering at the pull of blood and gore that was Mortal Kombat, before reclining back in a chair. It was made to look like one of those posh, cushiony, comfortable ones that people in the commercials fall into and then all their troubles disappear. I wriggled around a bit, and waited for relief, but instead all I got was a wicked jerking motion when I pulled back the footrest lever. Talk about whiplash.

"Oh, you fucker!" Lisa was obviously very into her game right now; her eyes were aglow and her little fingers were furiously punching away at the controller, baring her teeth in a very animal-like fashion at the characters on the screen. As scary as she was at the moment, that didn't stop me from continuing my previous train of thought.

"Lisa, I haven't had sex in almost two months. It hurts. Inside."

She hissed something awful, and then did an immediate 180 and let out a girlish squeal that really shouldn't ever accompany a game where the only goal was to rip out your opponent's innards. "Take that, you bloody bastard! Doesn't feel so great, does it? Does it?!"

Sighing, I rubbed the bridge of my nose and thought that if I was ever going to get anywhere with her, I needed to be some sort of Japanese ninja-like stud muffin. With a sword. Or maybe nun chucks. Something shiny. Girls like shiny stuff. Leaning over the side of the chair, I pulled the lever back to its original position and let the foot thing fall. It made an awkward, creaking noise, which actually succeeded in distracting the object of my affection.

"John, what the hell was that?" She blinked back at me momentarily, her cute little lips puckered up in confusion, before she realized that the game was still on and she was still getting her ass kicked.

"The chair. It died. Sort of like you're going to," I gestured towards the screen gracefully.

"I will not die! Scorpion is mine!" Lisa began her battle again, eyes glaring forward.

Her stupid determination was one of things I liked about her most. She never stopped fighting, never gave in. It was also one of the things about her that also drove me crazy from time to time, but only she could make it endearing. You have to respect that. "Lisa," I asked, "Did you hear me before?"

"Your mom is a goddamn hamster," she hissed to Scorpion, who really didn't seem to care either way. Another second went by before she then replied, "I don't know, John, something about sex."

"Yes," I repeated, my tone placating, "Sex."

"What about sex?" she asked, obviously trying to give me the impression that she was at least attempting to pay attention to me. Since that was the most I'd get out of her until the game ended, I went with it.

"I miss it. Two and a half months. Almost three, even. I'm going through withdrawal."

"You're just being a pansy," Lisa told me, although she sounded amused. "Why don't you go jerk off? Go ahead, you can even use my bathroom-- SHIT." She threw down the controller then, crossing her arms as she watched her character have the skeleton pulled out of it by Scorpion and his deadly claw thing. "That's a bunch of crap," she muttered, pouting, and then abruptly laid on her back. She was just too cute when she sulked.

I leaned forward and stared down at her, clasping my hands neatly before me. "I'm not being a pansy, I'm just hormonal."

She raised her eyebrows, her focus entirely on me now. It was beautiful. "Sucks to be you," she reasoned intelligently, before asking, "Why are we having this conversation, again?"

"Because I have emotional needs too, you know. I may have a penis, but that doesn't make me heartless."

"Pansy." She pushed herself up, and then perched on the armrest of my chair, pushing me to the side to make room. Not that I minded. "John, darling, I think you're being a bit dramatic."

I snorted, but didn't say anything.

After a moment she ruffled my hair and asked, "So who's the girl who's got you all riled up, then?"

I could almost hear her grinning. Craning my neck to look at her, I studied her face. "Who says there's a girl?"

She quirked an eyebrow at me, resting her feet on the other arm of the chair. I would be lying if I said I didn't like it, but it did make the situation sort of awkward. "Come on. I think I know you better than that."

I shook my head and kept silent. Now wasn't the time to tell her. Or maybe it was, and I was just too chicken. It amazed me how hard it was to tell the two apart, sometimes.

Pouting at me, she made a disappointed sound before swinging her legs towards the front of the chair, squeezing herself in the seat with me. "Then it is a girl. You little shy-guy." The term was an affectionate one and it made me grin a little. It must have been her objective because she smiled back and quoted fondly, "'If you're going to regret something, make sure it's something you've done, and not something you didn't do.' Don't let the opportunity pass you by, all right?"

That was like a sign from God - if that wasn't fate, then I don't know what is. "All right," I said, persuaded, and then kissed her.