With his sisters video chatting with their boyfriend, trying to color coordinate and decide on their full ensemble to wear to homecoming, Niles Sinclair laid on the couch, giving himself distance from the music blasting out of their bedroom. On the coffee table was his work in progress chunky knitted blanket, halfway completed. On his chest was his phone. Contemplative and deep in thought, the doctor’s son stared up at the ceiling, replaying his morning, over and over again. 8:30 PM was approaching and he was regretting eating spaghetti dinner instead of taking a quick swim in his family’s pool to get his thoughts together.

His mind was stuck on first period, in the library. He had a deep-seated feeling he royally messed up. He didn’t know why but when he turned back, looking over his shoulder, to the almost closing doors and caught sight of Rye shaking in Helen Well’s arms, an unsettling storm erupted in his stomach. His heart sank. Niles knew his communication skills weren’t perfect. He wasn’t like his father or uncle who were charming and knew how to sell. He wasn’t like his cousin who spoke from his heart, never telling a lie, and felt with every fiber of his being. He wasn’t like his sisters, who could manipulate and use flattery to get them what they wanted. Niles was a reserved boy and when he felt, his immediate reaction was to avoid. Walk away, let it fester and deal with whatever he was going through on a rainy day.

It wasn’t healthy. He knew that. His therapist of five years was still working on him with that but it helped him cope, especially when it came to his grief. If he was honest with himself, Niles was having a hard time understanding what he was going through in general. When he immersed himself in the water, closed his eyes, and held his breath, the noise disappearing, he once thought about only the memory of his mother. No one had ever breached his mind, not even his two ex girlfriends, when he swam.

Now though?

Bringing his hand up to view, above his head, staring at the size of it, Niles reflected on the moment he intentionally placed it on Rye’s lower back, before pulling the boy close to him. The scent of hyacinths and sandalwood was becoming a core memory and something Sinclair couldn’t forget. His mother’s memory was fading and he found himself looking forward to a short boy that loved the color purple, had the cutest, little giggle, and was a ball of anxiety. He could feel just by being near Rye, and getting to know him, how much his tiny acquaintance embodied kindness, connection, and love. Niles never met someone that could make him feel this comfortable, easily understood and undoubtedly seen, as his classmate did. The genuine smile he couldn’t hide when he noticed the boy getting closer and closer to where he sat in the library, just to be near him. It was cute how dedicated Rye was, assuming Niles didn’t notice, spending days just to be at the table next to him to hopefully breach his walls. Niles noticed, of course he did. He was observant as hell and that day forced the dominoes to fall. No matter where they were, or how crowded the room was, Niles could see him. Niles always found him. Niles habitually found himself searching for him. It was honestly maddening.

Bringing his hand down, Niles grabbed his phone and checked the time. One minute until he promised to make the call. After sitting up, he unlocked his phone and opened Rye’s contact information. As his finger hovered over the video chat icon, Niles spent one last dreadful moment thinking about what he’d say. He could be totally off the mark and Rye hadn’t cried because of him but because of his cousin… the sudden thought of his cousin and Rye, being an item, made pressing the video chat icon even more daunting.

Why was he feeling like this?

If he kept closing up when AJ and Rye became a topic of discussion or he saw something he didn’t like, then he’d never grow. Niles became cold when he wasn’t happy and the last thing Rye deserved was to feel that kind of frost. The only offense Rye committed was wanting to be Niles’ friend and the doctor’s son had yet to decide if this was a good thing or bad thing yet. Kim, however, encouraged him and said branching out and socializing beyond his books and his best friends could do him some good. She was sure his mother would want him to make the most of his senior year. Grabbing the fleeting confidence he gathered by thinking of Kim’s encouraging words, he called Rye and waited.

The other boy did not pick up immediately, as much as he wanted to. Instead, he spent a nice short moment experiencing sheer panic before he bolstered up the courage to answer the call. Rye had gotten home shortly after dropping JJ back off at her moped and had plenty of time to work himself into a tizzy in the silence of his and his mother’s too large house. He had no idea why two people would ever need this much space, especially when his mother was sometimes gone for days on end, sleeping in the on-call room. He always turned on the speakers in the living room and blasted music loud enough to be heard wherever he managed to wander, just so that he didn’t feel so alone.

The music didn’t stop him from thinking about Niles’ inevitable call though, and any practice he’d done in his head over the past couple of hours was wiped completely from his mind like a shaken etch-a-sketch the second his jittery thumb hit accept and Niles’ face appeared before him.

“You were, like, super prompt. That’s impressive,” He praised as an opening line while imagining pushing his own dumb ass off of a cliff. He sounded so stupid, what was it about so much as the thought of Niles suddenly turning his typical sharp tongue and quick wit into as stumbling a mess as he was with his physical coordination? “I mean, hi! Sorry, I should have said hi first, that was rude.”

“Hi,” Niles responded back, less animated. His gaze softened at the sight of Rye. He found himself relaxing, all pre-jitters dissipating now that the moment was finally here. “I promised I’d call you…” Niles pensively answered, wondering to himself was it weird to follow through on promises or was Rye simply surrounded by people that didn’t prioritize him? He cleared his throat and leaned back. “It’s just how I am,” he began to explain. “My dad’s drilled punctuality into me since I was little. I mean his job depends on it but even outside of work, it’s a sign of respect. Your time is just as valuable as mine. If I’d made a commitment, the least I could do is show up for it.”

That was something Rye could understand, of course, what with their parents working at the same hospital alongside JJ’s stepmother. He should have known the other doctor’s boy would have the same respect for time as him, but the way Niles worded it had heat creeping up his neck and trying to betray him by reaching for his cheeks. “Well, thanks for that,” The blush won over as he gave back another stunted reply, and it took everything in him not to hide his face behind his hands, or maybe drop it flat onto his desk in embarrassment. Scratching anxiously at the back side of his neck, Rye looked up to the ceiling to gather strength, maybe miraculously find his brain cells floating up there, and tried again.

“Thank you for doing a video call even when you’re not a fan of them, it helps me out.”

“Because of your tinnitus, right? You brought it up two weeks ago,” Niles asked, making sure he was remembering correctly. He didn’t want to mistake his knowledge but that library talk consisted of music and for the briefest of moments, Rye did divulge into his hearing issues. Or at least that’s what he recalled. The only reason why he was doubting himself was because there might’ve been nights he woke up from having exceedingly vivid dreams and he didn’t want to mix reality with whatever was going on inside his head. He needed to make sure.

“Oh! I-yeah, I didn’t think you’d remember,” Rye responded, trying not to sound as breathless as the slightest bit of Niles’ attention made him feel. Two weeks ago, it had been such a quick mention. They’d been talking about music and Niles had asked if he was playing music in the earbuds that practically lived in Rye’s ears even when talking to others, and the boy had explained that it was to drown out the noise so that he could have the conversations with others without as much distraction and unprocessed words. Then, he’d shifted to asking Niles about his favorite music, for once feeling something teetering towards discomfort with the attention on him. He really figured it was a forgettable time for the other. “I just…I don’t hear as well as I let on. I like looking at your lips.” Rye’s eyes widened. “Reading your lips! Just! Reading lips in general is really helpful!”

Shut up shut up shut up ohmygod.

Niles tried his best to hold back his smile, fighting his cheeks from rising. That unexpectedly made him feel good. He knew what Rye was getting at but the mishap was adorable and he was getting more and more amused by the second. This was not why they were having the call though. He almost forgot the intention behind this date because he was having such a nice time, organically, with this boy, like he’d known him all his life. “I hope I have nice lips, if you’re constantly looking at them,” Niles teased, realizing he couldn’t help himself. Rye was so easy to play with. He needed to redirect before he killed Rye with embarrassment. They still had to talk about this morning. “I’m just poking fun, you’re cute when you get all flustered. I’m relieved because I thought I hurt your feelings. Did I?” Niles asked, running his hand through his hair taking a beat, before putting emphasis on his question, “Hurt your feelings?”

Flustered was an understatement for how Rye felt at the moment. He just knew that his whole face was red enough to show up even on the phone’s crappier front camera, and Niles calling him cute had even made it worse. How the hell was he supposed to talk to this boy? No one he’s ever been with has gotten under his skin this way, made him fall apart without so much as a touch. He knew he really liked Niles, but the taller brunette’s newfound willingness to tease Rye on this level was just showing the shorter that this is more than some infatuation or crush.

Oh, I’m fucked.

“No! You didn’t hurt my feelings!” Rye answered in too high of a tone after clearing his throat anxiously and shifting his eyes away from the screen. His finger found the edge of his wooden desk and he dug his thumbnail harshly against the routine worn and pitted surface, focusing on the pressure feeling and trying to ground himself. “What even made you think that?” He’d thought he’d waited until Niles had been out of sight to break down, so unless the swimmer was also psychic then Rye was really off his game.

Catching every gesture and infliction, like Rye looking away, Niles strategically patted the couch off screen. A little jingle could be heard and then suddenly his Belgian Tervuren hopped up onto the couch, pouncing on her father and licking his face. Niles began calming her down and directed her attention to the phone, “Sadie, say hi. This is my friend, Rye.” The dog wagged her tail excitably, as Niles stroked her back, continuing to calm her down. In seconds, she found herself snuggled on his lap. He hoped her presence would make things less intimidating for Rye. They weren’t alone, not completely. “She’s not usually allowed on the couch but my dad will live. My sisters are too distracted to come downstairs and use it as ammunition so,” Niles smiled down at his pet, kissing her forehead, still holding his phone throughout this. “We will be rebels, isn’t that right, Sadie Mae?” He whispered to his dog, cutesy.

“Where were we?” He adjusted his position, methodically petting his dog with his freehand. “Ah, yes. Why do I think I fucked up? I kept walking and having a bad feeling, so I turned back and saw you with Helen. By then, you were already in her arms and walking away.” There was no point in hiding the truth. Niles abruptly left, regretted it, and his regret was solidified when he saw something he likely wasn’t meant to see. Something he caused. “If it isn’t about me, great, but the last thing I want is for you to misunderstand me.”

“The best pups always get to break the rules,” Rye watched the entire scene with rapt attention, absolutely smitten with this new side of Niles that came out with his dog around. The dog herself was absolutely gorgeous and adorable, and coupled with the way Niles dutifully pet her while she laid against him it was a scene that Rye wanted to commit to memory and replay any time he felt low. He knew Niles was hot, he even knew Niles was sweet if he wanted to be, but knowing about a softer side and seeing it were two very different experiences. When Niles responded to his question, he found that while he was not at all happy with the answer, in fact he was extremely embarrassed, he didn’t feel the need to avoid the screen as much. He didn’t stop digging his thumbnail into the wood of his desk, but even the presence of the most amazing animal couldn’t alleviate all the anxious energy Gavriel Shomer generated on a daily basis.

“It wasn’t you,” Rye wanted to leave it at that, but he hasn’t been in therapy as long as he has without learning how to talk things out even when they bother or embarrass him, even if he thinks no one actually wants to hear an answer. “I just, um, I do a little more than overthink, y’know? Like, I really overthink, dude, the second a conversation is over, sometimes before it even ends,” Kind of like now. “I perceive shit weird and sometimes I can’t be talked out of whatever stupid thought process I latched onto until I’ve had a panic attack and get too exhausted to overthink. Fun right?” It was not fun. “But yeah, totally not you and totally the chemicals in my brain being funky or however that works,” Rye knew how it worked, in great detail, but he was sure Niles read the same psychology textbooks as him just as he’d caught him with the same medical books. Rye didn’t need to add anecdotes of his practical experience. “People like Helen and JJ are grounding though.”

Niles was silent, allowing Rye the space to express himself as freely as he wanted to. He knew he wasn’t entitled to any of the details but he was happy to hear that this was more than something he did. He wasn’t an idiot though. He still had that feeling in his gut, in his throat and in the back of his mind that because of his actions, he triggered Rye. He would need to do better in communicating, leaving no room for Rye to worry. It wouldn’t be easy, especially since Niles was trying to understand his own feelings on the matter and why he felt a hint of jealousy when it came to his cousin, but it was his job to try.

At least he was aware that his actions weighed heavily on the other boy. It was never his intention to put him through a panic attack but Niles knew, as much as he wanted to take a couple pages out of Kim’s book, he was innately selfish and there would be times he’d put himself first, no matter what. He’d hold himself accountable, just as Katie did, calling him out whenever he became an asshole and didn’t consider anyone but himself. That’s all he could do until he could change for the better. “I get that,” He acknowledged, looking away from Rye and down at his dog. “I’m not as put together as I act but I have those that remind me where I am. Kim, Katie, my baby girl Sadie.”

There was a pause as he thought of his next words. He didn’t let the silence linger. He apologized, “I am sorry. I know you say it has nothing to do with me but,” Niles looked up at the camera, resolute and serious on the matter, having already made up his mind. “I didn’t really end our conversation on a good note and that’s on me. I don’t know why… I just needed to walk away and I’m sorry I did that to you.”

“I…thanks,” Rye didn’t know what to say, had a habit of making jokes to break the tension when his friends tried to approach him with serious apologies because a lot of the time, for him, the simple act of the apology was enough to wipe the slate clean. Rye surrounded himself with people in constant pain that had a habit of lashing out as a first defense, he was well used to understanding the things others didn’t say, and despite there being small occasions where something he says really gets a reaction out of Niles, Rye still felt like he couldn’t get through to the almost surprisingly attentive boy. It was unlike any of his other relationships that he tended to navigate with much more ease from the start. But Niles was opening up to him, giving Rye a chance to get under his skin as he’d gotten under the Morning Show host’s.

“So, sorry if this really ruins the chill vibe, but I need to ask for future interactions,” Rye scratched at his neck again but did his best not to look away. He took a deep breath. “Should I like, not mention AJ around you? Is he a trigger for you or something? I- I thought you guys were on good terms but that’s sorta where I saw the shut down- what I perceived as the shutdown- happen. So like…god sorry I don’t know how to word this, this is so awkward. Is it- do you not like when I talk about him?”

Damn. Niles wasn’t as subtle as he’d hoped he would be. He didn’t even know why lately his cousin was annoying him. AJ was going through alot and still being stringed along by his ex, and knowing that Rye was a crutch for his cousin, made him tick, but that had nothing to do with Rye. That had everything to do with how he perceived the situation, not understanding why Rye would get caught up in that mess. How should he word this without sounding hurtful? “I would much rather you speak your mind.” He said firmly, not liking the idea of Rye actively filtering around him, as if he was a minefield. “If we’re going to be friends, I need to know you’re comfortable to talk to me about whatever and if there is something like this that comes up, we do exactly this. We talk through it.” He instructed, trying to avoid Rye taking the nuclear option that would make him actively mad. “My cousin… AJ.”

Niles took his hand off his dog to rub his face, really not wanting to sound insensitive. “We’re alright but I’m best friend’s with the twin of his ex. I try my best to stay out of his shit and it’s a lot, which I’m sure you know seeing how you…” He stopped himself, changing his train of thought quickly. “He’s good hearted but it doesn’t take a rocket scientist to see that he’s drowning from a broken heart so I don’t want you— what I'm trying to say is be careful, okay?”

Rye did finally look away again when Niles halted himself mid sentence, well aware of what the other boy was going to say. Also now swirling around in his mind was Niles use of friends, as unintentionally damning as it likely was for him as he spoke it. Rye knew that’s what he was signing up for this morning when he agreed to see Niles at the party, but it still sobered him a bit and netted some of the butterflies that had been free roaming in his stomach. Niles definitely didn’t understand what was going on between him and AJ though. Rye was there for the other boy because of that broken heart, because those moments that they spent together was just as much Rye extending a life preserver to a drowning AJ as it was the gearhead doing the very same back. In a way, Rye could see how another version of himself, less secure in his relations, would be jealous in a twisted sort of way. At least AJ needed someone else to send him off the deep end. Rye just needed a quiet night alone at home.

Like tonight was going to be.

But people didn’t get it, and it wasn’t just his emotions and life here, it was intertwined with AJ’s and even though Niles was his cousin, Rye didn’t feel any more comfortable divulging more on the matter than he did with JJ. Shifting in his seat, Rye brought his hands to his lap and intertwined his fingers, tapping his thumbs together rapidly. Niles said he’d prefer if he spoke his mind. He hoped he meant it.

“I don’t do well alone. I know it’s not healthy to not know how to be comfortable with just yourself but I just get really fucky in the head really quick,” He glanced quickly at the screen, hesitating and smiling tightly when he saw Sadie had her head perked and tilted as she stared at the phone. He wondered if she could hear the tiny tremor in his tone. “AJ does not do well alone. I am…aware of his, ah, drowning and I promise I’m not acting like some ‘I can fix him’ girl. We are friends that seek comfort in each other and it just so happens that that comfort is…more in depth than most people are comfortable with.” He let out a strained laugh when he thought of the blonde that was often around the garage when he was. They’d had a pretty good relationship all this time but he hasn’t seen her as much since he and AJ started their thing. “God, Katie’s probably so sick of both of us right now.”

“Fortunately for you, both she and Jamie do not know about you, yet. As far as I’m aware, Jamie and AJ are back on their bullshit,” Niles was getting increasingly annoyed. He went back to petting his dog, trying to contain the seething anger he had over the situation. Regardless if he wanted to be involved or not, as long as he was attached to AJ and Katie, he’d hear something and he’d like to think he led a life with little to no drama. But his cousin, his fucking cousin, had a life full of it. “I’m glad you’re there for him but coming from someone who has known AJ since we were in diapers, there’s a lot about him that you have yet to unpack. He was born on the fast lane and when things slow down, and he actually has to think and feel, his addictive personality starts coming out. My uncle and aunt aren’t the best role models. Hell, my father has his own set of issues, which only escalated when my mom died. I know who you’re friends with, so I know you are aware of how an environment can impact someone. I just don’t want you to get burned and being around AJ will do just that. Trust me when I say that.”

Niles stopped himself, not realizing how easy it was for him to go off in front of this boy who barely knew him. He breathed in and out. He needed to find his center and inner peace. He needed to get over this. AJ wasn’t worth the agitation. He adjusted himself and sat up. “I’m sure you can take care of yourself, just know if you need me, I am a phone call away. Okay?”

“Guess it’s a good thing I train with the Junior Firefighters,” Rye instinctively joked, mostly to himself, at Niles’ comment about getting burned. However, the stray thought brought up a certain Junior Firefighter that had burned him and found himself going from tapping his thumbs together to digging his nails into his skin with a tight grip against the sudden shakes. Trying to focus back on the conversation at hand, Rye nodded stiltedly and glanced shrinkingly at the screen. “Thank you, for the offer and for being open. I appreciate the worry, I do. I know he and Jamie are doing their thing again, I’m not oblivious or anything, but like I said AJ and I are friends first, and friends are there for each other when they’re vulnerable.”

He could see the frustration that Niles had been trying to hold back as he spoke, and he didn’t want the boy to think he was arguing with him when he was just struggling to explain. Niles got some of it if the ‘I know who you’re friends with’ bit was anything to go by, but he didn’t know about the nights spent in bed with some of them, AJ included, where the dark allowed the damaged to divulge their demons with abandon. Rye knew more about AJ than Niles knew, and for the show host and King gearhead, that was a two way street. Rye was as careful as he could be while staying true to himself and making sure he didn’t collapse inward, into the black hole aching in his core since before he and his ma ever moved to California.

“Um, the offer. I will take you up on it if I need, I’m serious. I’m not too proud to admit when I need someone, in fact I’m usually pretty shameless about it.”

Except where it counts, apparently.

Niles’ storm was calmed at Rye’s last bit. He was taken aback from the genuine words of him being needed. Rye needed him. Why did that make him happy? “You might be right. AJ might be a trigger for me but that didn’t start until,” Niles looked away, diverting eye contact for the first time, bringing all his attention to his dog. “Until I started noticing you around him a lot.” Just saying that outloud made him embarrassed as fuck. He didn’t even know how his face was looking but all he knew was he did not like being this emotionally transparent. It was weird and quite frankly, not something he was used to.

As if something knew he needed saving, hoping he wasn’t blushing or anything, Niles’ phone alarm went off, signaling his bedtime approaching. Swim season was near which meant he had practice at 6:15 AM in the morning on Saturdays. Saturdays were optional but the last thing he wanted was to fall behind. The team relied heavily on him which meant he had to practice, practice, practice so they could go to state. Looking back at his phone, he minimized his chat with Rye to turn off his alarm before bringing the video back up, “I hope you do call me more. This was nice.” He scratched the back of Sadie’s ears, returning to the feelings he had before he made the call. Anxious and on edge. “I hate to be that guy but I have to get up early for swimming. If you do see me tomorrow, and have time, save me. I hate parties. I’m going to die.”

Rye laughed through the blush Niles’ words had once more brought to his face. He didn’t know how to respond to Niles basically saying his increased contact with AJ was the catalyst for his…tension with his cousin, especially when the way Niles said it tore a hole in the net and let all the butterflies loose to cause chaos in his stomach. Until he started noticing Rye. Even the imminent ending of their conversation couldn’t clear the haze that that had put on his brain.

“Oh yeah, can’t keep the champion from his proper rest. Go swim team!” Did Rye know the name of the swim team? No. He also didn’t know most of the others or retain them in his memory outside of reading them out for morning announcements. After the cameras go off anything sports related is promptly wiped from his mind to make space for more song lyrics and puns. “I’ll do my best to find you blending into the wallpaper and peel you off for a little bit, scouts honor,” Rye was never a boy scout. “Thanks again for talking with me, and introducing me to miss Sadie there, it was nice. But, like- yeah, because you already said it was nice so..you…knew…”

Always one sentence too many with you.

Niles smirked.

“If you don’t find me, I’m sure I’ll find you. Scouts honor,” Niles chuckled. He wasn’t tired but he knew if he didn’t go now, he wouldn’t want to leave. Through the embarrassment, he was finding himself wanting this conversation to go on and on until they both inevitably fell asleep. He would not be okay during practice if he didn’t sleep so for now, he would keep to his bedtime. This, however, was a milestone for their friendship. Whether Rye knew it or not, he was officially someone forever on Niles’ radar and that meant sooner or later he’d be welcomed into the boy’s world. The good times and the bad times. That’s what friends were for.“Goodnight, Rye.”

“G’night!” Rye called back enthusiastically before ending the call, his phone dropping to the desk the moment he did and his hands shoving against the desk to shove him away in his rolling chair. When he had space he bent over his knees and covered his face with his hands like he’d wanted to the whole call, letting out an overwhelmed groan that slowly turned into a light giggle that bordered on the edge of mentally stable in its rhythm. Trying to be just a friend had never been hard for him before.

But god damn, there really is a first time for everything.

Looking up from his hands and taking in the dim music still playing from the downstairs speakers, Rye grabbed his abused phone back from the desk as it buzzed with a text, grateful he hadn’t put it on do not disturb yet when he saw a text from Niles.

From: Niles 😳
For your contact photo.
Attachment: Photo.png

Attached was a picture of Niles snuggling Sadie in his bed, the dog’s laying content pillowed in front of him and the faintest hint of a smile on the more serious boy’s face. Somehow, Rye was left grinning even harder. Niles had texted him again too, another thing he wasn’t fond of but was obviously willing to do to interact with Rye. He found that with the thoughts Niles left him with, and the adorable photo that he immediately set to the contact, he felt a little better about spending a night alone. For the first time in years, he wasn’t dreading an empty bed.

Once they’d finished their early dinner with the family and Mo had fixed up Stella’s makeup properly, the two best friends had split ways to depart in their separate cars, Mo needing his to bring Cael home after the game. He’d spent absolutely no time paying attention to the actual game and almost all of the time focused on his fellow Pixie, staring the bright boy down as if he could mentally communicate all he’d wanted to talk about with him since a paper appeared in his locker before the pep rally. He hadn’t talked to Stella about it, his lifelong bestie having enough on her own plate to hear him obsess over a new mystery. Besides, he was the Candy King and this was a matter of discerning hope from hoax, and he needed the help of his Prince for that before he risked putting himself out there talking to Stella or Minnie and the rest of the Candies about it. Now, with said Prince in his passenger seat as Ramón drove them back home, the smaller of the two turned down the music and asked what's been on his mind.

“Hey, how likely is it in this day and age that someone genuinely puts a note in your locker that, like, leaves you a riddle that amounts to ‘meet me at Beverly Gardens Park before the dance’? You know, and it’s not someone just fucking with you?” He asked casually, keeping his eyes on the road. “Also what was up with you tripping over your feet while cheering today? You never slip up like that.”

Cael was in the process of reaching for the volume knob at nearly the same time that Ramón did. Surprised, he pulled his hand back while his gaze darted to Mo’s face. “Wait… what?” Icy dread froze the wings of the butterflies previously fluttering in his stomach. He could feel them fall in time with the drop of his heart. “You… got one too?” Was it just some sick prank? To tease the twinks? Would someone do that to the Candies, of all people? They didn’t really make enemies, they helped people! Hell, even Cael’s exes were on good terms with him. He fished in his pocket for his own note, his palms suddenly felt sweaty.

“Too?” Ramón sighed in utter disappointment as he caught Cael pulling a paper out of his pocket in his periphery. Of course it was too good to be true, it was silly of him to even have entertained getting his hopes up. Painted nails digging into the stitching of the leather steering wheel, he glanced quickly to his best friend. “And what, dear Stix, do you think this means? Who is it? Couldn't be an ex, they all love you and I haven't had one since seventh grade.”

Rather than respond immediately, Cael sagged into the passenger seat like a deflated balloon. He was pouting, and he wasn’t too proud to hide it, especially not in front of Mo. Ramón was one of his comfort people, a twin flame and kindred spirit in this wild world of theirs. “Well, it wasn’t Jonah, I asked him already. Jem would literally never, plus he writes like a bear is chasing him. And it’s not Minnie’s writing either, my first thought was that it could be her pranking me to get back for the dare, but nah… she wouldn’t do that, it’s too mean.”

Cael sighed as he watched the houses whiz by through his window. “Was it really that noticeable? At the game?” He peered over at King Ring Pop for confirmation. One of his fellow cheerleaders, Troy, had teasingly mentioned something between routines as well, so he must have been really messy. “I was off because I was too busy thinking about this!” He scoffed, letting the note crinkle beneath his frustrated fingers.

“This, and how I wanted to talk to you about it, and how there was suddenly a themed party to plan for, and how I had just committed a crime, it’s A LOT. You know?” Cael ranted in exasperation.

Mo raised an eyebrow from the driver's seat as the cheerleader ranted beside him, glad at least that he wasn't alone in his upset mood. “Don’t be silly, I’m sure I have something in my closet for you that would work for the theme. And it was only noticeable because I was watching you, Stix. You recovered well enough each time, at least I thought,” And Jonah wouldn't dare mess with Mo and send him on some mystery hunt lest the mastermind be sent into his domain with clothes designed to fall apart at the seams. Not that Cael needed to know that part, Mo had a secret brand he made the clothes of The House under, simply labeled as such, for various reasons. Some of his best work and Mo Drama Designs would never get the recognition for it. The petite Pixie glanced down at Cael’s thin fingers grasping the paper tight, only to double take at the angle and roundness of the letters. “That…isn't the same handwriting as mine,” Mo revealed, intrigue filtering past the irritation at the forefront of his mind as he turned onto his street. “Did this person really think changing their handwriting would keep us from figuring it out the second we talked to each other? How positively dul- wait, crime? What crime? Do I have to hide a body?”

“A body? …what? Oh, fuck! Damn it! That was supposed to be a surprise!” Despite all of the nerves, stress, and hopeful delusions that were dashed into despair, Cael laughed. He was still running on a few hours of sleep and he always got giggly right before he crashed. “No, I—” He was interrupted by his own chuckling. “I bought drugs. It was my first time, and they’re called Candy too! But pleeease DON’T tell Minnie! They’re a surprise to celebrate such a successful execution of a dare. I’m so proud of her, truly.”

Cael was quick to hop out of the car as soon as Mo pulled into his spot. Attempting to reinvigorate his energy stores, he grabbed his bag from the back and skipped over to the other boy’s side with a cheeky grin. Leaning up against Mo as they walked to the front door, he gazed at his Candy King with mismatched blue and green eyes that shined with affection. “Would you reeaally hide a body for me?”

“Of course I would, what the hell do you take me for?” Mo responded without missing a beat, supporting the lanky boy's sudden weight on him with practiced ease and ignoring the warm comfort it spread throughout him much the same. Their back and forth, as always, was a chaotic and tangled mess that likely only their fellow pixie Minnie could follow easily. Speaking of… “I won’t tell her, and I’m proud of her too, don’t tell her I said that. And thanks for the heads up, as I assume I'll be looking after you two.”

“Orrr, you could join us, Dad,” Cael rolled his eyes teasingly. “Although I do like when you take care of me, hmm...”

Smiling at Cael’s comment as they entered the front door of the Montoya household, Mo ducked his head to the side to avoid the decorative pillow flying towards his face at breakneck speeds. The muffled thump from behind him told him that even after all these years entering through the front door, Cael still forgot to expect the unexpected from the rest of the family. The smallest Montoya turned to his older sister with an irritated expression that was mirrored back to him flawlessly. “Rio already got your revenge, don't get greedy.”

“Delete the photos I know you took and maybe I'll entertain that,” Rosa replied, hands on her hips as she stood in her perfectly pressed power suit. She must have been gone earlier with his father for a strategy meeting if she was still in that at almost eleven at night.

“Not a chance,” the baby of the family scoffed, grabbing Cael by the hand and slowly leading him around his sister like they were trying to pass a dangerous animal. “What a literal case of ‘you snooze you lose,’ right?”

“You better hope that Cael helps you sleep with one eye open tonight, Mónie, I swear to god,” the frustrated woman threatened through gritted teeth before turning to the red haired guest, her entire face morphing into a warmer and more inviting tone when she addressed him. “Hey kiddo, sorry about the pillow. Also try not to take it personally if I kill my little brother for his constant disrespect.”

Recovering from the sudden assault by pillow, Cael almost reflexively threw it back at Rosa. He was used to playing such childish games with Philomena. Instead, he tossed it back towards the sofa from whence it came. “What? Why?” Cael asked the eldest sister. “What’d he do?” Despite how much he enjoyed the feeling of his hand in Ramón’s, Cael pulled it back and crossed his arms over his chest with a brow raised in accusation. “What did you do, Ring Pop?”

“Don't give me that stance less than a minute after calling me dad, Stix,” Mo bitched at his meddling best friend right before putting on an expression of faux innocence, ignoring the annoyance at the loss of contact from one of the only people he liked it from. Cael, while a much newer addition than Stella, was equally as integrated into the Montoya family. Unlike Stella, he enjoyed teasing Mo by playing sides and backing up his siblings, especially if he could tell it was because Mo was being a little shit. A wide eyed, guileless gaze met mismatched green and blue when the smaller brat in the room spoke up. “I was being a good brother.”

“He was being a little shit,” Rosa interjected, reaching again for the same pillow Cael had tossed back while Ramón jumped behind the other pixie to use him as a human shield. “I said fifteen minutes.”

“Excuuuse you, I am not a shield. Take your lumps, you bottom.” Cael teased, attempting to side step, but Mo just followed along and stayed behind him.

“You love this bottom so you better protect him,” Mo mumbled as he continued to hide behind Cael’s form before calling back at his sister. “And I said you haven't slept for four days and I wasn't going to wake you up, not my fault you didn't set an alarm.”

“And the photos?”

“How do you even know I took any?”

“You always take photos.”

“Wow, and you still passed out with me in the room?” the youngest Montoya shook his head in disappointment from behind their guest's back. “So much poor planning on your part. Isn't mitigating risks just like this, like, a whole part of your job?”

Rosa practically roared in indignation and reared her arm all the way back with the pillow once more in her grasp. “Cael, sweetheart, duck or die with him,” and then she launched the pillow before following after it with her own body, intent to grab hold of her brother as soon as his best friend moved.

Cael didn’t immediately move, instead he reveled for a moment in the chaos that he helped foster, even if it meant taking another pillow to the chest. The Montoya siblings were an amusing distraction if nothing else, plus he liked the way Ramón got feisty when his feathers were ruffled. It was kind of hot. “Hold on, hold your fire,” he called out, letting the pillow drop with arms his raised in surrender. “I can practically feel this temporary hair dye dripping down the back of my neck, and if you get it on the pillows your mom will kill us all. Sooo… I’ma just head upstairs and shower real quick before my fitting while you two sort this out.”

The Candy Prince beamed at Mo with cherubic innocence before flicking his gaze to Rosa. He glided over to her with his dancer’s grace before planting a quick kiss on her cheek. “Please don’t hurt him, he’s too pretty, plus I need his help with stuff tonight.” After that, he scampered off upstairs with his overnight bag in tow, leaving Ramón defenseless against his rampaging older sister.

“Hurt is relative,” Rosa replied under her breath at the same time Ramón yelled, “Traitor!” at Cael’s retreating form- despite the fact that the temporary redhead had taken two pillows for him- leaving him open for his sister to pounce on him and send them both to the floor in a heap of tangled limbs until she got the upper hand. Mo was in a headlock in an instant, his legs flailing just as they had earlier with Rio but this time thud thud thudding against the hardwood floor from where the momentum had taken them off the living room rug.

“See, this doesn’t hurt? It just sucks for little brats with shit eating grins.”

“Do you see me grinning?” Mo protested from where his sister had his head pulled back a bit, his voice straining from the angle. Trying to wiggle out only made her tighten her headlock on him and he slammed an irritated fist against the floor. “Being the same height doesn’t mean you aren’t heavy, Ro, get off!”

“Delete the photos.”

“Delete the demands, I got those fair and square!”

“I’ll delete your fucking life, you little turd-”

“What is happening out there?!” Came a groggy yell from the home office, alerting both siblings to the fact that they awoke their father from where he’d passed out at his desk as per usual.

“Nothing, papá!” The siblings called at once, Rosa’s arms immediately leaving her baby brother’s neck and back of head and the older girl rolling off of her brother after a moment of dead weight, much like their older brother had done to him previously. The two siblings glared at each other from their spots on the floor for another long moment, Mo breathing a little heavier and Rosa’s lips twisted into a demanding frown. When the silence stretched a bit too long with Mo remaining stubborn, Rosa sighed and got up, thwacking Mo on the back of the head in reprimand.

“Hey!” His hands didn’t even have a chance to fly to the abused spot before she pushed his head down and gave the area a light kiss, making the youngest release a disgusted groan as he realized she purposefully got her lipstick all over the strands her kiss touched. “Well, I was going to wait to take a shower.”

“Don’t act like you weren’t already thinking about joining him, tarado _(Moron),” Rosa scoffed against Ramón’s sudden indignant spluttering. The latino teen was suddenly quite red in the face at his sister’s casual callout, and she dragged him up by the collar of his jacket despite his protests and shoved him towards the stairs. “Seriously though, go have fun with your little bottom buddy, because if those pictures see the light of day, it’ll be the last time you experience anything other than death.”

“So scared of the woman who was drooling on that pillow earlier. You know it’s decorative, ri- careful!” He yelled as said pillow made its way toward his face for the third time, and this time he had to catch it instead of sidestepping lest it hit the fragile decorations adorning the ornate stand that sat against the wall of their quarter landing. “You’ll get both of us experiencing death sooner than expected if you break mamá’s figurines!”

The fearful glint in Rosa’s eyes told Mo she was already imagining the alternate universe where the glass and ceramic figurines had shattered, and he took a bit of pleasure at the dread he was sure she was experiencing. “You’re right, sorry,” She admitted, rolling her eyes at his smug grin. “You’ve earned your freedom this time, Mónie, but don’t get cocky.”

“Be more careful with your warning, I could have made plenty of jokes from that alone if I so wanted,” Mo rolled his eyes right back, another perfect mirror of motion with his sister, before tossing the pillow down to her and waving her off while heading up the second half of the stairs. “I’ll delete the pictures if you finally let me teach you how to dress. Now, I have a shower to take.” With that, he disappeared around the corner, as always never seeing the proud smirk on his sister’s face. As always, her baby brother refused to be a pushover, just as she’d helped raise him.

Meanwhile, in the upstairs bathroom, Cael had made good on his word of wanting to take a quick shower. He was already stripped down bare and in the process of rinsing the temporary dye out of his hair. Without even adding shampoo yet, the warm water ran down his shoulders in endless rivers of red. Scrub and scrub as he might, the pigmented water refused to fade to clear. Red droplets splattered the walls like a crime scene and the pink rinsate gathered in a pool around his feet. Cael pulled his hands away to reveal them stained from fingertips to palms.

“Fuck,” Cael muttered to himself, hoping that the dye wouldn’t stain the tub just as badly. Although the Montoya’s would be able to replace it without much thought, Cael’s shame would know no end if it came to that. He could already imagine the scolding his mother would give him if he caused such a mess at his own home, let alone someone else’s. “Christ, it looks like I’ve killed something...”

The sound of the bathroom door closing softly startled Cael out of his musings. He perked up as a turbulent fluttering stirred in his stomach for the umpteenth time this day. “Mo?” Cael called out from within the shower and there was no mistaking the tinge of hope coloring the inquiry. Doing his best to rinse his face clear first, the Candy boy peeked from behind the curtain.

“So… you’re not mad at me?” Cael asked with a faux pout and pleading eyes. This wouldn’t be the first time Ramón joined him in the shower, but the prospect was no less enticing. Cael’s Candilicious brain was already spinning with possibilities and scenarios. He was practically giddy, make no mistake about it. So when Ring Pop sassily pointed to the red lipstick print in his hair, Cael grinned wide enough that his own sharp dimple adorned the corner of his crooked smirk.

“I see you two managed to kiss and make up. Come on,” he opened the shower curtain a little wider in invitation. “Beware, it looks like I've committed a murder in here. Maybe we do need to hide a body…”

“You know, you’re quite lucky you’re cute or that smartass mouth might get you in more trouble,” Mo finally responded verbally to him, clothes already off and in the process of getting hung on the door hook so he could take care of them later. He stepped up and past the opening Cael had made in the curtain after setting his glasses on the sink, doing his best not to run his hand through his hair and smear the lipstick more before he could rinse it out. Mo loved makeup and color, glitter and glamor, but that all ended when it came to his hair and Rosa knew that. While he did love to dye it quite often, with it currently being a soft cotton candy pink, the particular boy did not like anything else in his hair if it could get in the way of his concentration or risk messing up his designs. He would adorn his whole body with glitter, dress up the whole nine yards, but he would not put the shiny material in his hair so it could fall like dandruff all day over his work. He also didn’t use spray-in color for much the same reason, as running his hands through his hair was a bad habit of his. He’d already had a red tint to his fingers all day from running his fingers through Cael’s hair earlier in Belmonte’s class, but that was the price of loving his pixie prince.

Speaking of spray-in color… “You’re so lucky you used my shower, mamá would kill us if she saw this much stain in the family bathroom,” Not that Cael has ever used anything other than his shower when he was over. He took in the red to pink splatters across the white tile and acrylic and didn’t even bat an eye at the pigmented massacre that now defined his shower. This was not the first time these surfaces had been splash-dyed another color and it would not be the last, but that didn’t mean he didn’t get to tease his pixie about it. Ramón slid around Cael so that he as the shorter was in front of the stream and ducked his head under the water to scrub viciously at the spot Rosa had left in his hair, continuing until his locks were thoroughly soaked in water before turning his gaze to his equally soaked companion. The water running races down Cael’s pale skin was now a light pink, staining streaks down his body like watercolor strokes, and Mo didn’t stop his gaze dropping from there, if only to make the other boy squirm a little. It really was a shame that neither of them were tops, because this boy would likely have been it for him from day one otherwise. Smirking at the other, not letting him in on his thoughts, he followed the trails back up and to Cael’s face and higher, only to see that his hair was still absolutely loaded with product despite the obvious multiple rinses.

Cael didn’t squirm or balk at Ramón’s obvious ogling. Instead, he straightened his posture and made sure his slender abdomen was flexed tight and smooth, his right arm bent upright so that his fingers delicately brushed his collarbone. Presentation was everything, even in nothing but one’s skin. The Candy boys were of one mind in that, hungry for the moment when all of their hard work succeeded in capturing another’s rapt attention. Ramón’s gaze didn’t make Cael squirm, no… it made him want to pounce.

Humming happily at Cael’s response, not even upset that his reaction was the opposite of his intention, the smaller boy reached past the taller and took a healthy pump of his shampoo from the bottle on the wall, resigning himself to having fingers stained just like Cael’s as he wordlessly stretched his arms out to reach and dropped the product onto Cael’s color-bleeding mop of hair. As he began to lather it into the other’s short mane, he couldn’t help but give his two cents as always. “Stix, sweetie, no one, not even the guinness world record holder for longest hair, ever, ever, needs this much fucking spray-in. I’m surprised you didn’t sweat this into your uniform while cheering.”

“Ugh, don’t make fun of me, just helppp,” Cael drawled out in a whiny tone. The dramatics weren’t necessary, of course, as Ramón had already begun scrubbing shampoo into his locks. Just like this morning, Cael instinctively tilted his head back to give the other boy complete and easy access to work his magic. Unlike this morning, Cael did not conceal the lecherous moan those talented fingers elicited, the sound vibrating in his throat like a purring wildcat. Letting the feeling wash over him, he felt all of the stresses of the day melt down the drain. Nothing else mattered, no notes, no meddling, no overpacked schedules… nothing but the two of them caught in this intimate moment, together. Cael might be exhausted, but not so much that he couldn’t turn to face his King with a look that foretold this shower would remain steamy long after the water ran cold.



Now both freshly cleaned and hair dried with Mo’s soft robes hugging their bodies, the two boys were back in Mo's design room with Beverly Hills High’s very own Edna Mode going to the corner opposite the one he had earlier for Stella’s dress. Sitting there on a dress form was Cael’s homecoming outfit, almost subtle in the corner until the light hit it just right. He rolled it out for his Prince and presented it with a grin just as proud as it was with Stella’s reveal. Mo did not have worries when it came to showing his friends what he made for them, completely self assured in his skill and knowledge on what would make them gasp or swoon, but that didn’t mean he didn’t also crave feedback and praise. He was an artist after all.

The lightweight collared dress shirt started off as a pale gray at the shoulders before slowly saturating to black as it reached the waist. The arms billowed gently in the soft breeze created by the ceiling fan, exposing the peasant sleeve design as well as the fabric’s lightness and breathability. It had a plunging neckline that was only held closed with three white buttons beginning just below the abdomen, the dots in stark contrast with their dark gray-to-black background, while the rest of the fabric disappeared behind a subtle cumberbund. The sash itself was mostly covered by the band of the black pleated skirt that sat over the almost sheer dress pants, the skirt designed to flow out and catch the air as Cael spun. Before his pixie had a chance to comment on it, Mo held a finger up and strolled over the switch on the secondary lights, almost having to squint under them himself as they did their best to mimic the natural light of the sun.

This exposed the best part of the design, in Mo’s humble opinion. Threaded throughout the dark fabrics like strings of liquid light was almost a whole spool of metallic rainbow strands, meaning that once it was hit by proper lighting the whole outfit practically shone and sparkled. He knew Cael preferred his pops of color, or really, mostly color, but he was also sure that this design was perfect for his fellow attention seeker. It was much more likely that people would double take at the lack of color and then their eyes would catch the shimmering secret than it was that they would be surprised at a full blown rainbow outfit. Waving proudly at the work of art, Mo dropped onto the couch next to Cael and nudged him towards it.

“Threading all that properly took days, I’ll have you know. I expect proper appreciative compensation.”

“And here I thought I already compensated you plenty,” Cael smirked in reply with a naughty glint in his eye. Jokes aside, he turned his attention to the shimmering outfit hung upon a dress form set to his own measurements. He was pretty sure that Mo kept a set of mannequins for both Stella and his Prince separate from the others, just for convenience in how much he worked on stuff for the pair alone. Even with being as integrated into the Montoya family as Cael had become, the casual indulgence in wealth and luxury was still foreign to him.

The sleepy pastel pixie approached the garment slowly, staying uncharacteristically silent as he did so. His fingers brushed along the soft fabric almost reverently, as if it were precious Himalayan cashmere that might get damaged if he was too rough. It wasn’t that he thought it was too rich for him, though he was sure that Ramón spared no expense on material costs, it was that it was valuable in ways that had no price tag.

Mo said he had spent days on the threading alone, and who knows how many more on the sketches, sourcing of fabric, making patterns, and hours spent bent over a whirring sewing machine — lost in his own little world, slaving over a passion project meant just for him. Cael’s heart swelled with emotion, he could feel his eyes getting misty. It would be stupid to cry, but he was so overtired and love drunk with the taste of Ramón still on his tongue.

Cael might still find all of the opulence a foreign concept, but he was no stranger to the hard work and dedication required to pursue perfection. He saw Mo’s commitment to his craft similarly to how he himself approached dancing. He too labored for hours, until his feet bled and his muscles ached in protest, all in the hopes of creating something beautiful. Even if only for a moment.

“It’s gorgeous, Pop. Truly, you outdid yourself…” Cael intoned fondly, his voice warbling a bit. His fingers caught the end of the pleated dress-like part of the ensemble. “Oh my god, it has a skirt! Oh, I love it so much! It’ll be so pretty when I twirl around the dance floor!”

It was like the weighted blanket of exhaustion had been lifted from Cael’s soul. He perked up, eyes sparkling with delight, and his mouth running as fast as the thoughts poured in. “Can I put it on? Like now? Is it all one piece? Probably not. Will I need help? Come help me!”

Mo was practically glowing at Cael’s praise, a red tint rising from his neck to his cheeks at the more than positive response of his Prince. The skirt had been just as much for Mo’s benefit as it had been for Cael’s, one of the Candy King’s favorite pastimes being watching the other dance and twirl and flow. It was why much of his designs for Cael used lightweight fabrics that swirled and cascaded around him like wild waves as the pixie moved. Cael had a grace and gift for dancing that he worked hard to hone that Ramón could never even hope to achieve with his two left feet. He admired that about the taller twink. He admired much about him. Following the other boy and standing up, Mo walked over and began to carefully remove the outfit from Cael’s custom dress form.

“While I do enjoy seeing you lounging around in just a robe, I did keep you in it to make getting the outfit on quicker,” Mo answered, getting the shirt off first and motioning for Cael to remove the robe from his shoulders and arms so he could begin putting it together on the model it was made for. Once he’d gotten behind the other and gotten his arm’s through the sleeves, Mo ran nimble fingers all the way out to Cael’s shoulders from his spine to make sure the fabric laid properly before circling back to the front to do up the bottom two of the three buttons before lightly tugging the fabric into place. Next he got the pants and handed them to Cael for him to get into while Mo retrieved the cumberbund. “Tuck the shirt in loosely, then it’s just this and the skirt.”

While Ramón turned around, Cael looked at himself in the mirror and noticed the dark circles forming under his eyes. His hair, now freshly clean and dry, was once again the pastel purple hue it had been for the past month or so — except it was now tinted a bit pink from the so-called ‘temporary’ red dye. In his own eyes, Cael looked as tired as he felt, and was almost embarrassed that Mo was not only seeing him in such a state, but had kissed him and thensome. Pushing the shame aside, Cael busied himself with trying to fasten the third button of the very low cut shirt that Ramón must’ve missed. His actions were cut short by Mo slapping his hands away from the button, scolding him to stop and that it was meant to be unbuttoned. “Oh my god, do you want everyone to think I’m a whore?”

“I want you to leave my artwork as it was envisioned, but would it be so bad if I did?” The designer snarked. Once the other had complied, Mo wrapped the cumberbund around his waist, pleats facing upwards of course, and then knelt down to help the dancer step into the skirt after grabbing it from the form. Once the two buttons had been done at the side of Cael’s hip, securing the skirt in place, Mo stepped back and smiled large and wide, dimples on full display. Cael looked absolutely elven in the most ethereal sense, and the glints from the metallic rainbow threading were as perfect as he’d envisioned. Looking one of his favorite models up and down, Mo demanded with barely constrained excitement, “Well don’t just stand there like the dress form, Stixie, let’s see that twirl!”

Cael was standing surprisingly stock still, having been stunned by Ramón’s admiration. It was always heartstopping to see his Candy King smile wide enough that his dimples showed. The fact that Mo was looking at him like that when his exhaustion made him look like a junkie fiending for his next fix was enough to make Cael look away with flushed cheeks. Mo was probably just admiring seeing his work on a warm body, it was utterly stunning, after all.

“Of course, as you wish…” Cael replied, looking around Ramón's work and dressing room to assess the space. Something so beautiful deserved something equally as special in return. Stepping off of the pedestal in front of the full body mirror, Cael began to push some of the furniture aside to make a big open space in front of the couch Mo had previously been lounging upon. Cael fetched the other boy by the wrists and guided him to stand in front of the couch.

“Wait right here. Don’t move,” he instructed before flitting off into the attached bedroom. Cael came back with his cell phone in hand, tapping the screen as he walked. He pulled up a song on Spotify, one that he had been choreographing a dance routine to for his next ballet recital. No one outside of the studio had gotten a sneak peek of Cael’s hard work, but Ramón was about to. Cael passed the phone to his fellow pixie. “Press play when I tell you to, ‘kay?”

Cael waited for a nod in confirmation before closing his eyes and pretending to settle himself. He adjusted his feet to third position and took a deep breath in as he reached his right arm forward, placing his palm against the bare skin of Ramón’s chest, which was left exposed by the robe he still wore. Cael’s eyes opened to reveal a gaze that was full of mischief rather than keen focus, just before he gently pushed the other boy back into the couch with a giggle.

For real this time, the pastel pixie gracefully made his way to the center of the space he’d cleared and began to take his starting position. Cael closed his eyes and took a few steadying breaths, letting his mind wash clean of any thoughts besides this silent space, his choreography, his audience of one, his love, his passion, and the music soon to fill this place. To fill his soul. “Play.”
The routine started in fourth position, with Cael’s left hand extended above his head. His fingers were fanned out delicately with his index finger pointed heavensward, perfectly in line with the rest of his body, all the way down to his heels. A ballet dancer’s line was foundational — the core source of all of the beauty and grace in their movements. As the song’s introductory notes pulsed from the phone’s speakers, Cael’s toes swept in alternating circles as he covered wide stretches of the space he’d cleared. Without his pointe shoes on, he felt the cool marble tiles beneath his bare, scarred and blistered feet. Everly was right earlier that day, Cael’s feet were gnarly. The first time he lost a big toenail, he had nearly thrown up and quit dancing on the spot.

Thank god he didn’t quit, this was worth it.

As the melody began to swell, Cael releve’d on the balls of his feet and twirled. The lyrics of the song began to pour in and Cael became a conduit. His torso twisted and turned in time with the music, his body fluidly speaking a language all its own. As he pirouetted, the lights above caught the threading of his waist skirt, shimmering like an oil slicked river of black diamonds. The notes of the song flicked from the tips of his fingers and toes like drops of watercolor, painting the room with love and life. Like some kind of heaven.

When the pounding baseline picked up, Cael’s choreography shifted to match the energy. He covered large swaths of space, leaping and spinning with liquid limbs. He was a hurricane of emotion and song, splashing into each corner of the room until it was full of his artwork. It was smaller than the stage Cael was used to practicing on, so he had to pull back early and modify some of the motions due to his lack of appropriate footwear, not that Ramón would notice his freestyling. Cael’s breath became heavy before the song’s midway point. He was too tired to perform it fully, nor did he want to give away all of the routine. That’s not to say he didn’t still have a surprise in store… Instead, he danced his way towards Mo’s place on the couch. He extended a hand to the boy and pulled him up into a quick twirl. Cael spun Mo around a few times before drawing him into a tight embrace.

“It’s perfect. I love it. Te amo.” Cael murmured as he pressed a kiss into the hollow of Ramón’s collarbone, revealed by the way his robe now sagged down passed his shoulder from spinning around. Standing them both up straight, Cael sighed sleepily. “Now take it off before I get all sweaty. Then it's you, me, bed, snuggles, sleep. Please.”

Cael’s routine, like much of what he did, was phenomenal and breathtaking, as well as enrapturing. Mo watched silently and intently, sparing only the briefest moments to make sure there was nothing malfunctioning with the outfit before his eyes would be more focused on the fluid grace and beauty of the dancer wearing it. This was definitely a new routine, so he gave it every ounce of respect it deserved and barely blinked throughout the sneak peek the pastel boy was gracing him with. When the lavender-turned-heliotrope haired boy pulled him from the couch and twirled him, he let out an unabashed giggle and followed willingly, never feeling his two left feet less than when Cael led him. It turned into a genuine laugh by the second spin that eventually petered off as he was pulled into the paler boy’s chest. When Cael spoke and kissed his skin, the soft gasp he released had only a small amount to do with the contact and almost everything to do with Cael speaking to him in his other first language.

Sure, of course they’d said I love you to each other before, of course he’d heard Cael speak spanish, hell he’d helped teach him most of it. Still, this was the first time he’d ever said te amo and something about hearing those words fall from his lips just before he sealed them to his suddenly overheated skin was as showstopping as the boy himself was. It felt like more and Mo couldn’t figure out why. Blush sitting on his cheeks like the sun setting on the horizon, Mo looked into Cael’s tired eyes and gave him one more wide smile.

“Te amo también, Cael Lee, _{(I love you too)},” He doubted Cael could yet pick up the difference in meanings depending on the wording, but the response Mo had given back was reserved for a higher level of intensity than te quiero también would have been. Clearing his throat and breaking eye contact, Mo reached out and began to help Cael out of the outfit and return it to its dress form, no longer making eye contact as he perseverated over something that likely didn’t actually matter to the other. Once Cael had been returned to his own robe, Mo grabbed his hand and pulled him from his office into his bedroom where his queen size awaited them both. Truly, with all the outfits Mo had been working on lately, he was just as exhausted as his pixie Prince and more than ready to turn in for the night.

He pushed the tired cheerleader gently down onto the mattress and watched him instantly crawl up to his spot and pillow with an adoring gaze. He did his best not to collapse onto the bed immediately and instead followed Cael’s lead and crawled up to his spot from the end of the bed, tossing the covers back and making sure the other boy lifted his body enough that he could get the sheets out from under him and covering his weary body as well. Once they were both snugly beneath the soft weight, Ramón put his arm out and dropped it around his tactiley obsessive twink as Cael’s head fell against his chest, his soft hair tickling the skin it touched. He dropped a kiss to the top of Cael’s head and began to run deft fingers through the pastel strands before saying his last piece.

“Dre’s coming to get his outfit in the morning, but after that we are figuring out this note shit, Stixie,” He frowned at the ceiling in the safety of the dark. While he was rather irritated if he was being messed with, he would be absolutely vindictive and volatile if someone was really messing with his soft hearted lover in the same way. The two thespians handled things like this very differently. “No dejaré que nadie te lastime _{(I won’t let anyone hurt you)}.”

Holding her Minnie Mouse lunch box, her mother not liking her eating the cafeteria food, Philomena Ramsey’s soft eyes rested on the Candy table, seeing her friends talk and chatter. Cael caught her looking, widely smiled and waved at her to come hither. Without saying anything, the two best friends had a silent conversation through facial expressions (sassy brows, playful eyes, and smirks). The manic pixie dream boy raised an eyebrow when Minnie gestured to the area of attack. When he leaned in to whisper something into Ramón’s ear, Minnie used that moment to gather herself. She wasn’t going to overthink. If she did, she would mess this up completely and Minnie wasn’t going to royally fail at her dare. That was not how she and Cael did their dares! It was go all in or don’t even bother.

_{“Oh shit, I totally forgot to tell you. I dared Minty to ask someone to the dance this morning. Look!”} Cael hissed a quick whisper into Mo’s ear. The temporarily red-headed pixie watched with rapt attention from the lunch table that sat both Candyland and a large part of the senior grade thespians.

_{”You what?”} The Candy King asked in amazement, just as quietly before his eyes too locked onto their friend. This was not something that he could miss even a moment of.

She had already freshened up in the bathroom, reapplying her lip gloss and misting her juicy and electric raspberry punch and coconut sugar perfume. This was her chance to ask someone on a date. The only scary thing about this was what if the person she asked refused her? She’d be the laughing stock of the school but that’s fine. This was to be expected. Who would want to date her, anyways? Minnie spent practically all morning social stalking multiple people before coming to her decision. After thorough research and perhaps watching a specific person in math class since she sat behind him, she decided who the perfect person to ask out was that she realized she was attracted to. She hadn’t realized her attraction until Cael forced her hand and she had to think who was a good match for her.

Now it was time.

Lunch was here and she knew exactly where to find him. Subtly, she breathed out into her hand to check her breath. It smelt minty fresh. This was good. First impressions would be in her favor and if things went how she imagined, he would know who she was. They both were popular but he was like, really popular in comparison to her. Still, she’d like to think they were sort of in the same orbit, maybe. Oh goodness! She was overthinking already. After shaking her head, getting all the doubt and negativity out, Minnie patted her cheeks with her free hand. Finally, she mustered the courage to saunter onward, passing many tables until getting to her destination.

Cloud Olympia.

Her target was sitting in between his sisters and when they all acknowledged her by a simple glance, she was too nervous to read into their faces, her surroundings blurred out, like black noise. This was nerve-wracking. Minnie bowed and anxiously whispered, _{“Her-Hercules, would you like to…”}

Seriously, Min? You can do better than that.

Her sister’s voice appeared in her head when she needed encouragement the most. Minnie picked up her head, like the Brave Little Toaster that she was, and locked eyes with the boy. Shooting her shot, not even knowing how she felt about him, only knowing that she found him cute and she hoped he found her cute too, she shouted, “WOULD YOU LIKE TO GO TO THE DANCE WITH ME?!” Her loud, cheerleading voice resounded in the cafeteria. When her cheeks were kissed pink, Minnie lifted her lunch box up, covering her blushing face, completely and utterly embarrassed. She didn’t mean to yell that. Why was she so loud? “Hercules, I mean. Although you two are pretty too.” She clarified, her cute, little voice muffled against her lunch box.

Cael was midway to popping a grape in his mouth before Philomena enthusiastically declared her invitation for all of the cafe to hear. _{“Oh my god!”} The pixie prince stifled the oncoming giggles of secondhand embarrassment into Ramón’s shoulder. The last thing he would want was for Minnie to see him laughing at her and get thrown off her game. <sub>“Oh my god, she did not.”

"Oh, but she did,”</sub> Ramón replied, equal parts mortified and mystified by Minty’s actions. He’d dropped his frenchfry directly into his ketchup in shock when her voice had boomed across the cafeteria. With an aggrieved sigh, Mo patted his prince’s head before turning his attention back to Minnie, food entirely forgotten in favor of the scene.

There was something in the air that morning.

Hercules Helmsley had realized it when he opened his eyes for the first time, and the sun peeked just right into his bedroom. There was something in the energy he felt even hours ago that told him something interesting was going to happen today. Something exciting! After leaving his tower bedroom that morning, Hercules had gone to find his mother to discuss the vibe of the day. That discussion ended quickly when Parker had insisted they continue the good energy of the day the only way she could think how: with chocolate chip pancakes shaped like Mickey Mouse.

A breakfast that filling had tided him over until lunchtime rolled around, but now Hercules Helmsley was in the process of shoveling the lunch he and his mother had put back together. A few leftover pancakes, some peanut butter, apple slices, and… a Capri Sun (Tropical Tide). It was hanging from his mouth by the straw as he slurped away at it and rapidly scribbled down notes in the digital notebook sitting before him. Enemies-to-lovers is so cliché… you’re better than that, Herc! He slashed a line through one of the notes.

He hardly registered the girl at first, her voice was so quiet. When she screamed her question, he visibly jolted, and flicked his head upward — causing the Capri Sun to start sliding off of the straw he held between his teeth. He quickly snatched the pouch and caught it before it fell down and made a mess. As she spoke and complimented his sisters, he sucked at the juice.

Hercules thought about what she’d said for a few seconds. He knew she’d asked him to the dance, but that wasn’t what he was interested in. Something… else was on his mind. There was something about the way she’d phrased the compliment to his fellow Olympians. He sat the Capri Sun down on the table and tilted his head as he looked up at the pretty girl who’d asked him out to the dance. Hercules held his hand up, pointing with a single finger toward his face. “You think I’m pretty?” He asked, almost incredulously. He blushed. He looked away. He smiled. He looked back. He smiled wider.

“Of course! I’ll go to the dance with you. Duh.”

Calliope Jane looked up from her phone, grinning. This was much more entertaining than her game of Subway Surfers. Her eyes danced between her brother and Minnie like she was watching a deeply riveting game of tennis, rather than two teenagers stumble into a date. “You should come get ready at our place. Mom will show you all of Herc’s baby pictures, and then you’ll know if you really wanna commit,” Calli said, leaning forward and resting her chin upon her closed fist. It was a shockingly genuine gesture, in a school full of falsehoods and cruel tricks. Truthfully, Calli just enjoyed an opportunity to embarrass her brother.

The third Helmsley triplet was also enjoying this spectacle, watching intently as the small girl that stood at the foot of their table fidgeted nervously, her question hanging in the open air. Athena took in her body language, trying to hide the smile that graced her lips as Minnie hid behind her lunchbox. The girl was shy, it was obvious, and it had taken a lot of gusto to approach her brother - as if using Minnie Mouse as a shield would help. She swatted Calli playfully, before piping up with a delicate laugh, “You can sit down if you want, we don’t bite.”

Everything was happening so quickly. From Hercules saying yes, more open than expected, to his sisters being inviting and friendly, Minnie found her head spinning. She never thought asking someone from the richest families at her school out would go this smooth. The Chairman, her grandpa, had told her many tales of what people do to stay in power. He said as long as there was a free flow of information, wealth could easily be challenged. Information is what undermines political legitimacy. Unfortunately, this fell on a simple mind because Minnie was not like her cousin, Reagan, who was built for business and likely would inherit everything one day. She wasn’t like her other cousin, Mei, who could use martial arts to get her point across. She wasn’t like her sister, who oddly enough shared the same name as Hercules’ sister, Calliope, who had so much grit and gumption to become a worldwide k-pop idol. She was just Minnie and she loved to dance.

While Minnie was mostly Chinese, her mother did have Korean in her. It made sense why Callie chose the career that she did. Sometimes when she’s in the area, Minnie is offered opportunities to dance on stage with her, which is always a fun time because she could make art with her sissy. Her auntie and uncle, Reagan and Mei’s parents, chose more pragmatic pursuits. Auntie Shannon was a psychologist and uncle Will owned his own MMA gym. Her parents, on the other hand, chose to go down more unique paths. Art and culture was important to who they were as people and that’s why if you ever entered a wealthy Chinese home, you would find traditional Chinese art throughout it. That was a sign of prestige. Her late grandma, the Empress as her sister would call her, saw art as the highest human performance and her daddy took that personally. Unconventionally Samual Ramsey chose to start a funeral home business, taking pride in fixing and repairing the deceased, making them anew, as if they only went to sleep. Her mother nowadays focused on being an art dealer, but prior to that, she did work in conservation and handling at the local museum. Both her parents had meticulous eyes and firm hands, the main thing that separated them was her father was a man of humor, even if it leaned on the dark side, and her mother loved to apply pressure because all she wanted was to see her daughters succeed. Minnie had more family of course but her immediate side and Uncle Will’s family would be the ones that she was the closest with.

As you can see, her family was well off but they weren’t Green, Helmsley or Lyon well off. In the halls of Beverly Hills High, Minnie had always felt a little intimidated by these families. They were legacies and they were filthy rich. They could ruin her family if they really wanted to. Anxiously swallowing as she became the new pretty showcase for the privileged, Minnie brought her lunch box down and giggled out loud, letting her intrusive thoughts take over, “Oh that’s fine! I’m a biter.”

Oh. My. God.

Did she just say that outloud? Where was her best friend when she needed him?!

“I mean, I don’t either!” Minnie tried to quickly fix her error by redirecting the conversation back to the dance. Sitting across from them, she playfully smiled like Wendy, John, and Michael did when they first got to Neverland and they were amazed at the fantasy that laid before them. With no hesitation anymore since the ice had been broken, she began, “If I’m going to get ready at your place, I’ll need your number so you can text me the address. I don’t have my license yet so I’ll have to ask daddy to take me.” Minnie explained, leaving her Disney lunch box on the table so she could pull out her phone from her jacket. Once the face recognition unlocked her phone, which was decorated with a Marie from the Aristocats case and a Disney donut charm, she slid it across the table to Hercules so he could put his number in it. “Since this is super last minute, I’ll need to improvise but I was thinking we’d wear your favorite color? Do you have one?” Big doe eyes observed Hercules innocently. Minnie tried her best to stay as calm as possible to show him that she was confident, she was fun, and she was flirty. In normal cases, she wouldn’t be afraid to socialize. This wasn’t a normal case though. She was talking to GODS basically.

As she patiently waited for his response, Minnie gasped at the sudden realization of forgetting her manners. Glancing at one sister to the other, Minnie bursted out, “Oh!” Her expression animated in shock. Easing her face into a genuine, playful smile, she emphasized her gratitude with heartfelt words, “Thanks for letting me sit here, I didn’t mean to intrude. I just kind of… took a little gamble and hoped for the best. I never asked someone out before like this… but Hercules!” Her attention was that of a squirrel and back on the boy she found handsome. “I’ve seen you hanging around my friend, he makes clothes for you. And I couldn’t help but think you’re nice to look at and I’m going to be honest, if it wasn’t for my bestie daring me to find a date, I would’ve definitely gone dateless but now I’m not and here we are!”

Hercules liked this girl. She talked a lot, but that was okay because he liked her voice - maybe if she was further on the screechy side of things rather than the squishy side of things, he wouldn’t like it as much… but her voice was cute. Hercules didn’t say it, but he couldn’t help but think about how her voice was basically like an anime character’s. A Disney princess! It was sugary sweet, and it was cute.

Minnie talked fast, but she was nothing compared to their mother. Other people might have reacted more negatively to her energy, but BHHS’s demi-gods had been raised by a woman who never fully outgrew her manic pixie dream girl phase. The best way to have a conversation with someone who talked this fast was to just let them work it out. Eventually, the stream of thoughts would come to an end…

“You can bite me if you want! Just not too hard, okay? Blood scares me.” Hercules beamed across the way at the girl who had just made her way across the battlefield of the BHHS lunch room to ask him out on a date - anxiety damned. Was there a single other person in the school who was this dedicated to the pursuit of love in their entire school? No way! Hercules would know if there were. He picked up her phone, having been careful to make sure she knew she had his full attention while rambling. “Thank you! You’re nice to look at too. No one’s ever called me pretty before.” It became apparent that Herc was going to be riding that high for a while yet.

“You wouldn’t have gone dateless. You’re too cute, you’re like…” For a brief moment, Hercules considered saying ‘cuter than Hello Kitty,’ but he ultimately decided it was better to hide his power level for now. “...so cute.” He held up her phone in the sky and looked up at the front facing camera with a sly half-smile to snap a quick picture for his contact photo, before he continued to talk. “You should sit on this side of the table. It looks like we’re the Godfather, and you’re here to ask us a favor. I already said yes, silly! You can sit next to me.” He gestured to his right, between himself and Athena.

“Not on Calli’s side. Sometimes I shoulder surf her YouTube videos.”

As if on cue, Athena slid over, creating a space between her and her brother. She couldn’t help but grin at this wholesome interaction- well, if you could consider biting wholesome - it felt subtly reminiscent of her own parents’ dynamic.

Was this love? Hopefully. Hercules was so single it was almost painful to watch.

The blonde patted the open seat and motioned for Minnie to join, moving some things around on the table to make room for the girl’s lunchbox. She stacked her papers she had been reading and slipped them back into her backpack. “Minnie Mouse for Minnie, that’s cute.” She stated, minding her tone to ensure it came off as genuine. Oftentimes, she found herself mimicking Celeste unintentionally, as they spent way too much time together. “You know, Hercules is named after a Disney character. Not the Greek myth, like most people think.” She smirked, using this opportunity to embarrass her brother playfully. “Ask him what his middle name is.”

“We’re all named after Disney characters, his is just the only one with a movie,” Calli said, shrugging, and taking a bite from an apple she produced from a blue, canvas lunch box.. “It’s kind of our whole thing,” she said, through a mouthful of Granny Smith. “Well, that, and being super hot.” Calli had never had a problem hyping herself up. In fact, she probably did it a little too often.

“Super hot.”

There was a lot to process and Minnie was severely delayed in any reaction; from Hercules allowing her to bite him, softly, to him calling her cute, so cute, and the fact that he was looking at her when he said super hot. Minnie’s heart felt like it would beat right out of her chest. Even if she wanted to divert her gaze and focus on her lunch box, she couldn’t turn away from him. He was genuine, honest and… incredibly nice to look at. The pink on her cheeks suddenly reddened like a rose at full bloom. He wanted her to sit next to him too. He wanted her close.

Speechless, Minnie found herself unable to respond right away. Hercules might not think she would have gone alone to homecoming but no one ever asked her out. The only experience she had was with her best friend and that was a mutual agreement with both parties. She didn’t know why she was never approached. Jade, Hana, and Amy all got approached. What made her different? Or maybe they were never approached, like her, because they were beautiful and sometimes it was hard to approach beauty? Maybe they did the approaching, just like she did? She shouldn’t assume, she knew better, but she couldn’t help but wonder. Why hadn’t anyone asked her out? Was it because she overwhelmed them with talk of her parents and the obstacles to come? Did she scare them by bringing up how serious of a lover she would be and if they dated it wouldn’t be a casual fuck buddy situationship? Was she actually intimidating? There were so many unanswered questions in her mind. She knew one thing for certain though and that was she was nothing like her sister. Minnie wanted to date for love, a romantic match, in hopes it would one day lead to a happy marriage. Minnie wanted romance. Minnie wanted love.

All of that didn’t matter right now. What mattered now was Hercules and his sisters seemed to like her, really like her. “Okey dokey… I’ll sit closer,” The bashful Candy whispered, getting up and grabbing her lunch box. If she wasn’t so nervous she’d skip to him but right now she was extremely self aware of their stares. They were watching her and she didn’t know what they were thinking. Finding her way to the other side of the table, standing between Athena and Hercules but having not sat down yet, Minnie announced, “Sitting now. Right there.” A cute, anxious giggle escaped her lips. “Here I goooooo.”

Joining the bench and nestling herself in the bench spot between them, Minnie placed her lunch box on the table, avoiding eye contact with the Olympians. “So… what’s your middle name, Herc?” She unzipped the Minnie box and licked her bottom lip, catching a whiff of Herc’s natural scent. “And I know the feeling. I wished my name came from Disney. Mine and my sister’s came from Greek roots. Still cool but Disney is cooler.” When her lunch box was opened it revealed a Hello Kitty bento box. While bentos were traditionally Japanese, other eastern countries used them too. In Minnie’s case however, she and her sister learned how to make it look authentically Japanese like the anime they watched together. Focusing intensely on the object before her, so the wired butterflies that flew around in her tummy like they were at a rave could calm down, Minnie opened her bento box and swallowed intensely.

Why couldn’t she turn to look at him? Sitting next to him only made things worse. Now she was even more distracted and whelmed. Feelings aside, Minnie knew not looking others in the eye was rude but she couldn’t help it. This boy made her feel things. She barely understood these things. But still! He made her feel things. Even just sitting next to him and touching him a little with her arm clouded her senses, where she was only thinking about one thing and that was him. She needed to act normal. Be normal. Live normal. The normalist Minnie there ever was. She could do that, right?

“I…” she began. Her deep, brown eyes glinted with bravery and admiration. “like Disney, and cute things,” she continued, as if it weren’t already obvious by her items and how she carried herself (like a Disney princess). The risk of looking at him only meant she could see him clearly and he could see that she didn’t know how to act, especially not around him. Internally, she was being her own hype woman knowing these were seas she never set sail on. A situation she never experienced. Internally she believed she could handle this and not act like a fool for love. Internally she was doomed. Her eager eyes fixated on him and displayed her blossoming infatuation. What an intense feeling it was to realize love could be for you too. This was becoming less of a dare, and a random gamble, and more of a tangible possibility for her to hold and grasp. If she really wanted to, in this instant, she could reach for him and touch him. If she really wanted to, they could do what lovers do. If she really wanted to, she wouldn’t be frozen in place and nervous. Did this mean she didn’t want to or was there something more to what she was feeling? It wasn’t like they were boyfriend and girlfriend. It wasn’t like he liked her that much. It was too early for those kinds of feelings. Minnie knew better.

“I like Disney and cute things too! John is my middle name. You know, like John Darling? From Peter Pan,” Hercules explained as he watched the girl. She was cute (possibly cuter than cute, but Hercules didn’t allow himself to throw words like ‘adorable’ in such a wanton way)... and she was almost ignoring him. Was he hard to look at? Maybe his expression was too harsh? Herc found himself briefly trying to soften his expression before deciding he probably looked like an idiot doing so. “You’re pretty nervous, huh? Have you ever had a boyfriend before? That’s okay. I’m a good teacher, watch.” Hercules said, before flashing her a smile — only to follow it up with the briefest of apologetic looks at both of his sisters.

He just knew they were going to cringe.

“Here, first you can do this.” He took one of her hands and guided it toward his knee, letting her palm rest there. “Then I do this…” He reached out and took the chopsticks that rested on her, watching as she followed his hands with her eyes. “Hey,” he tutted. “Eyes on me.” Hercules said, taking his free hand to gently grab her chin and turn her eyes back where they belonged: on him.

The chopsticks moved down to the bento box, and Hercules carefully picked up one of the pieces of katsu as he commented. “Is that Cinnamoroll made of rice? That’s adorable.” Cinnamoroll deserved adorable, he thought. He brought the food up to her lips, reuniting their gaze. “Go like this. Ahhhhh,” Hercules felt like a dentist as he mimed opening his mouth, but once Minnie did it, Hercules fed her the bite of food he’d picked up.

“There. Now the whole lunchroom knows.”

_{“Looklooklook!} Cael chattered excitedly, his feet bouncing under the table, as if his Candy companion’s eyes weren’t equally as locked on the scene unfolding. _{“He just fed her oh my god that's so cuuute.”} He gushed.

_{”Stix, please,”} The smaller boy sighed, ever the wrangler of the pixies but never actually upset about it, dropping a hand to the other’s knee to still it when he saw it bouncing a mile a minute in his periphery. <sub>”Observe but don’t draw attention, what if we break whatever spell has come over that table?”

“Sorry!”</sub> Mo was right, Cael could absolutely not mess this up for them. He focused on stilling his body and instead snatched up a fork. Cael gripped the utensil until his knuckles turned white, eagerly anticipating what storybook romance trope would come next.

Hercules kept surprising her. She couldn’t even process his middle name because now she was chewing her katsu and gawking at him, stunlocked. If she were an anime girl, sadly she wasn’t, this would be one of those moments where she would yell in surprise. Shock. Pure embarrassment! Minnie however was left speechless, which was a feat in itself. First he sniped her when he asked if she ever had a boyfriend before. Was she that obvious?! Then he gently grabbed her hand and rested it on his thigh, giving her permission to breach his space. His initiative wasn’t something she expected. She was naturally an intimate person, especially with her friends, but to have a boy direct her and show her where his boundaries were without her having to ask was… different. It was nice to not get in trouble for hugging someone you weren’t supposed to. This wasn’t a friendship hug, though. This was THIGH touching. This is what lovers did! This led to naughty things! On top of that, the last thing that caused her to get lost in his tender eyes was the fact that he fed her with her chopsticks. He. Fed. Her. Like a princess! Not only was he good at using chopsticks but he was impossible to look away from. And he was a gentleman. A prince!

Keeping one hand on his leg, Minnie brought the other one over her mouth, to cover it as she chewed and spoke, trying to get out of this state of astonishment and function like a normal teenage girl, “The lunchroom knows what? That you’re a good teacher?” She wasn’t the best at context clues. Minnie was a pretty color in the crayon box but she definitely wasn’t the brightest color. She just saw him as a bold date and dance partner. Clearly, her thoughts were delayed on the obvious. She swallowed her food. “You’re okay with me touching you?” The hand on his leg fidgeted. Part of her wanted to pull back and the other part didn’t want to let go of him. “I’m sorry but I think I should save this stuff for m-my boyfriend. I don’t want to lead you on… and to answer your question, I never dated before. That doesn’t mean I’m inexperienced. That isn’t table talk though… I just think I should do this with someone I’m dating and right now I have no one.” Decidedly, she did end up pulling her hand back, clearly misunderstanding his motives completely. “Maybe if you teach me, someone will like me!”

Athena tried her best to control the bile that rose up in the back of her throat as she watched her brother make “moves” on Minnie. She didn’t want to watch this, she’d rather be anywhere else on the planet than be subjected to this torment. The blonde slowly leaned backwards, not making any sudden movements, and threw one of the blueberries that she had been eating at Calli’s face on the other end of the table. As soon as she had her attention, the brains of the trio gave her a look that screamed discomfort.

Calli cringed back at her sister, and mouthed a silent, “What the fuck?” She had grown accustomed to her brother’s quirks, but they would still never cease to amaze her. Now there was another version of him, with more boobs and possibly less awareness. Shaking her head, she popped back into her place as though she’d hadn’t moved a muscle, raising an eyebrow at Minnie. “Babes, I hate to be the first to break this to ya, but I think he likes you,” she said in her best stage whisper.

“Wait really?” Minnie muttered in disbelief. In her little mind, she had already created a narrative that the only person that would ever like her was her best friend. With how strict her mother could be and how aloof her father could be, she didn’t really consider her own love story. Certainly not before thirty. Her parents told her she couldn’t date until she got married. Maybe she took that too literally and needed to revisit that conversation. “Really funny, guys.” Minnie brought her attention back to her lunch and found herself losing her appetite real quick. Her nerves shifted to insecurity right before the triplet’s eyes. “You don’t have to pretend, I’m just happy I have a date for tomorrow.” She wondered if she was overstaying her welcome at the table. She didn’t want to burden them anymore than she already had. Part of her wanted to leave and go back to her Candy friends. The other part of her was lost and confused with all this information swirling around her head, unable to translate it. If this was a joke, she didn’t think it was funny. She closed her bento box, preparing to make her exit and run away from the situation.

Cael noticed the exact moment that Philomena’s demeanor changed. One moment, she had her hand on Hercules’ thigh under the table and the next it looked like she was folding in on herself and ready to bolt. What Cael would give to be able to hear what was being said, but he couldn’t. All that he knew was that his friend could get hurt if he didn’t do something right this very moment. The Prince of Candyland dropped the fork he nearly mangled with his grip and pushed his chair back to make room to stand up to go be her knight in pastel armor.

_“No,” the Candy King hissed quickly to his fellow pixie, hand dashing out to encircle his wrist while also hooking his foot behind Cael’s chair leg to pull the other back against the table. He’d been watching just as intently as Cael, but he was reading the three Helmsleys much more than he was reading their dear Minty. Keeping the other boy’s hand in his grip, he intertwined their fingers and patted the back of the pastel boy’s hand. He knew the boy could have a bruising grip when anxious, but it was the best way to keep him tied down at the moment. _{“No no. We are not doing that. You dared her, not your place to interfere now. Watch.”}

Mismatched eyes glared back at the Candy King. A wave of emotions crashed over Cael’s expression — shock, betrayal, anger. His brows stitched together as his whole body bristled against Mo’s commanding grip, despite the fluttering it stirred in his stomach. _{“If they hurt her, I’ll kill you for this.”} He didn’t mean it, of course, but it looked like he did in the moments just before his gaze flicked back to the table of Olympians.

Ramón, well used to the boy’s ever changing moods and impulses, simply maintained his hold on the other’s hand whispered back, _{“If they hurt her, let me kill them before you kill me,”} just before Calli’s mouth started moving at the other table.

“Herc, please tell the cute girl that we’re not pretending.” Calli had a lot of things, but time or patience to watch these two baby deer beat around the bush was simply not it. They would thank her for it later.

Yeah, that’s fair. Hercules thought to himself as he stood up alongside Minnie and put his hand over hers as she closed her bento box. He took her dainty hand in his own and lifted it up to his lips, kissing the top of it as he looked at her with a slightly tilted head and a dashing smile. He was hopeful the act would stun lock Minnie long enough for Hercules to do what really needed to be done.

He closed the distance between their faces rather quickly, and pushed their lips together in what he hoped was a romantic kiss. At least, as romantic as a kiss in front of the entire lunchroom of Beverly Hills High could be. Hercules held it long enough to dip Minnie back, and then he broke the kiss and looked down at her.

“Will you be my girlfriend?” He smiled, adding. “Please?”

Hercules Helmsley was going to be so, so, so bad for her. Shattering all the doubt she had with a single kiss that felt like she was Cinderella at the ball where she met her Prince for the first time, Minnie could only focus on one thing and that was him. She was lost but no longer confused. This felt like something she’d watch in the movies. His intention was laid bare for her and the tiny dancer found herself disoriented, yet intently captivated by the boy’s eyes. They were the softest of browns imbued with the most soothing of greens. They reminded her of gentle flowers within a steep forest.

Once Upon a Dream…

The kiss itself was shy, cautious and sweet like nectar. She could taste how nervous he was. A million thoughts condensed into one single grand gesture. She could only imagine the courage it took him to kiss her not only in front of his sisters but in front of the whole cafeteria. If she didn’t understand now, then she truly was an idiot. Her eyes watered, blurring her vision. To understand how she got here was pointless. Fate decided that her dare would lead to love. She was so happy.

“Yes,” Minnie breathlessly answered. The dip shifted to her grabbing his face, as he still held her at an angle and her giving him a thousand excitable pecks all over his face, his lips and his neck. “Yes! I’ll be your girlfriend!” Her nerves quickly turned into energy and she jumped up, wrapping her legs around him like a koala as he held her close. The kiss that started it all wasn’t anything she felt before. There was electricity in his touch and she wanted more. Steeped in passion, heat on her cheeks, Minnie showcased to the world her pure and vulnerable self, this time giving him the kiss he deserved. A long one that lingered and allowed him to explore her lips. A kiss with a volume of feverish adoration, a fear of the unknown, and pure, unadulterated spirit. Minnie embraced Hercules and hoped in this moment, he wouldn’t regret this decision.

Having spent the past few minutes with his jaw clenched tight in anxiety, Cael’s lips parted with a sigh at the sudden release of tension. Mo had been right to hold the pastel pixie back, not that Cael would ever give him the satisfaction of admitting it. He could not believe his eyes — his bestie in the whole state of California was lip locked with Hercules Helmsley while nearly a quarter of their school looked on. Cael didn’t even bother to hide his gawking.

The faculty and staff in the lunchroom were speechless. They were lucky the principal wasn’t here or they’d get in trouble for PDA. When they pulled away, Minnie giggled and beamed at Hercules, her boyfriend. It was then that she realized she not only did the dare but she outdid the dare! Turning her head, in search for her friend, she caught sight of the Candy table and yelled, “I HAVE A BOYFRIEND, CAEL!”

“YASS, BABYGIRL! AND YOU’RE WELCOME!” Cael shouted back, matching her energy as they always had. As they always would. Despite the proud smile on his face, his gaze fell upon the empty seat beside him and lingered for a moment. At least… he hoped they always would. Minty had a handsome rich boyfriend now… something like that had never happened before. Would it change things? Would her chair remain empty? Cael did his best to shove the shameful, selfish distress deep into his core. He finally popped that grape into his mouth and instead focused on the burst of sugary sweetness now coating his tongue.

_{“Honestly, Stix,”} Mo whispered out of the corner of his mouth while giving Minnie an acknowledging wave and smile. He could see exactly what false fantasy had wormed its way into his head and it took everything in him not to roll his eyes. As if their little Minty would disappear on them any more than Cael himself would. He squeezed the other boy’s hand once more as the paler ate his grape, _{”If anything, that poor fool is about to be stuck here with us.”} Not that Mo actually thought it would be a punishment for the other, Candyland was just a scary place to be if you couldn’t handle the energy. Judging by his and Minnie’s interactions, though? Mo was interested to see Herc’s inevitable integration.

For most of his life, Hercules Helmsley had felt like he lived in some kind of novel. It was hard not to; he lived in a castle, his parents were practically King & Queen of the realm, and his siblings were treated like royalty even when they very specifically asked not to be. He was a prince, and did — at times — feel like a demigod. In his eyes, his sisters were the same. Athena was barely seventeen years old, but it was easy to see she was in some kind of thriller story, detailing the backroom deals that most people didn’t even know happened. Calliope was in some kind of action-adventure novel, a tale about a girl who had to try everything before she found the one thing she truly loved. Calli’s story, Hercules thought, had coming-of-age vibes.

But, he’d never really been sure what kind of story his own was. He had his own hopes and dreams, of course, but no one ever really knew until they knew. The very moment that Minnie leaped from the ground and up into his arms, Hercules could have sworn everything around them froze. Were there other people in the room? In the building? In the world? Hercules forgot about them all as he tasted Minnie and the taste of her bubblegum flavored lip gloss rushed over him as quickly as the realization that he was exactly what he wanted to be: the protagonist of his very own romance novel.

The kiss broke. She shouted at someone, but with her staying attached to him, Hercules didn’t even break from the spell she’d spun on him until Cael yelled at his friend. Snapping back to reality, Hercules carefully (and regretfully) put his girlfriend on the ground and asked a question.

“Do you want to go see the inside of a janitor’s closet together?”

The janitor’s closet? What a strange place to take someone. Unless! Unless Hercules had something special to show her. Or something special waiting for them both. “Is there a little treat in the closet?” Minnie questioned, quickly grabbing her things and clingily holding onto his arm. “Even if there wasn’t a little treat for me, I’d still go.” She explained matter-of-factly before giving him a warning of how… high maintenance she could be. The prerequisites that one must have to date Philomena Ramsey. “I go where you go, that’s number one rule. Unless we have to go home or go to class, then I guess I don’t go where you go.” She pouted, realizing her special ed schedule would never collide with her scholarly new boyfriend.

“But I expect all the texts!” Minnie pleaded with desperate need in her innocent gaze. “If you don’t text me within a minute I might cry. So please tell me when you’re busy. I want good mornings and good nights. And I love LOVE so never hold back when you want to give me kisses and hugs. I might have days when I get really sad and insecure but I hope that doesn’t mean you’d stop liking me. If I’m a lot, I’m sorry in advance.” Minnie was losing track of the little treat and now focused on how their relationship would pan out. She never thought she’d have a boyfriend. A hot one at that!

Nice. As Minnie was talking, Hercules felt the relieving realization that Minnie was going to match his freak right down to double and triple texting if there wasn’t a response in three minutes. He held her hand and led the most beautiful yapper he had ever seen out of the cafeteria and through the halls. As he walked, he spoke.

“There is a little treat waiting for you, and that little treat is little ol’ me.”

Multiple times since the beginning of their interaction Hercules shot her in the heart with cupid’s arrows. Her eyes widened with her mouth agape. The heat rushed to her cheeks, neck and… elsewhere when she understood what he meant. He knew how to turn up the dial of her doki doki thermostat to the maximum because instead of replying right away she buried her face into his arm.

The warm glow on her face was hard to hide, she was fair skin and vibrantly expressive. Nuzzling his arm, she muffled, anxious and embarrassed, _{“I’m sure you’re yummy.”}

“Something tells me I’m not as tasty as your lipgloss, so let’s hurry and find out.”

As the minutes ticked by and the bleachers grew crammed with bodies, all chattering over eachother, an energized feeling fell over the field. There was a palpable excitement in the air, stirred on by the cheer team’s routines and the efforts of the student section. Inside the boys’ locker room however, a quiet tension had settled over the Pirates. They were coming off of some bad losses, and while nobody wanted to say it, and risk jinxing the whole thing, they were all thinking it. We need to win this fucking thing.

Some of the players were stretching, others were abiding by their pre-game superstitions, and another group was trying to distract themselves by ranking the hottest girls in the senior class. Benji Mayhew was standing against his locker, eyes closed, doing his very best to not lose his mind. He had ridden the high of the Great Bullhorn Heist into the evening, but the momentum had run its course as the cheers outside grew louder. He felt like all their eyes were watching him through the walls, waiting for him to fuck up. The pads on his shoulders felt tight, restrictive, and it was making him nervous. The potential for failure was staring him down, and he was losing the contest.

You are going to fuck it up. In front of the boys, in front of Aunt Gina, in front of Athena. You should bench yourself. Go home. Do everybody a favor.

His thoughts spiraled and he dug the nail of his index finger into the skin of his thumb, a desperate attempt to stem the sudden deluge of doom and gloom. He pressed harder, until he couldn’t even feel it anymore, and then he pressed some more. His nerves screamed when he finally released the pressure, but his mind was on that now, and that he could deal with.

Whose house?

The Franchise’ house.

The stadium, the crowd, those beautiful Friday night lights that shone brighter than the pearly gates of heaven which he knew he would never see. This was Theo’s house, this was where he thrived. Between the manic stomping of feet from the unwashed masses clamoring to get to their seats, which they would never use anyway because they’d be giving the pirates a standing ovation constantly and the cheesy eighties rock that all football stadiums favoured on game day, he was fucking ready to go.

Pressure created diamonds and Theo Van Cise was at his absolute best when he was under the lights and in the watchful eyes of the entire pirate coast. He didn’t need to worry about scouts, he was already recruited by multiple D1 schools. He was the top ranked middle linebacker in the country, with a record amount of sacks to boot. Alumni? They didn’t mean shit to him. Fossils of bygone days, dead as the dinosaurs and only half as interesting. There were only three faces amongst the sea of onlookers that he needed to impress, that he needed to be a diamond for; his parents and his sister.

Bronwyn was his lifeblood, his humanity. He would protect her with his life and he needed to show her that no matter what happened, they would always rise above where they came from; they deserved better. Showing out on the field meant that they could be safe, at least for a short time. He rarely got to see his Mom, Bobbie, since the divorce and the custody agreement meant that he had to stay with his old man but she was there watching tonight and he was elated to see her. All he ever heard was how much he looked like her. He couldn’t wait for the game to finish so he could say hi. The third face was that of his father, a man who Theo really didn’t need to see any more of. Kip Van Cise was at every game, every practice, nearly every session Theo had at their home gym, his father was there. Glory, that’s all that mattered in the Van Cise house and Kip was desperate to control and share in his son’s.

Sitting on the locker room bench, holding his helmet in hand, Theo surveyed the room at his Pirate brethren; a means to an end, the lot of them. As long as they did their jobs, he could block anyone. They just had to carry a ball across the line, how hard was that?

“Game faces boys, it’s nearly time.”

“You’re absolutely right, Theo, it’s time for us to put our game faces on,” Coach Boone responded, his voice echoing in the locker room chamber, as he entered through the side door that led to the gym. With his arrival, the football team grew silent, waiting on his word to be released into the battlefield where pirates would protect their turf from knights. Wearing a black tracksuit with red stripes, Coach strolled to the white board and crossed his arms. He looked at each of his boys, seeing nothing but potential in front of him. His lips quirked up, his own way of breaking the tension and nerves. This had been a rough season, anybody that’s anybody knew that but they weren’t done yet. They still had a season to finish.

Even if they did lose tonight, he wanted them to understand that losing was essential to success. The secret to life was not winning but learning how to lose and while he didn’t think they would, he knew they were just kids and this was a game they thought would define the rest of their lives. Truly, Boone believed they could go out there and do something great. The game was all about the moments anyways. The journey. Sure, winning was nice and if you really wanted it, you could achieve it, but what people would remember was who rose, even after they fell. As long as they remember that football was an honest game, where the team at its core needed to share, they would be able to fulfill exactly what they wanted to tonight. If their common goal was winning? They’d win. In return, with a hard fought battle, they’d gain the ultimate reward of a lifelong lesson to carry throughout their lives. They’d grow stronger and find out a bit more about themselves. If they left the field tonight understanding who they were a little bit more, as growing teens, Boone would've done his job. Boone would be content.

However, that wasn’t why he was here. He was here to motivate not give a lesson in philosophy. Motivate, he will. “Team first. A battlefield. A neverending feud. I want you to think back on this season. The ups and the downs. The wins and the losses. The quiet before the storm. You’ve all worked hard to get to this place. I’ve seen some of you grow from lost boys Freshman year to the most dangerous, ambitious Pirates this school has ever bare witnessed to.” Nodding to himself, proud of what his team had become, Coach continued to encourage, “Don’t forget how much you had to work through to get to this game. The weight room. The drills. The constant pain. That is all you. You got us here. Nobody else.” Coach paused briefly, to let his words settle in the room. He wasn’t here to be the humorous, goofy coach they knew well. He was here to be the coach they needed and that was someone that spoke firmly and told them to leave the bullshit at home. To go on the field as the hard working athletes he knew they all were and kick some warrior ass.

He glanced between Theo and Benji, and the space between them, before looking back at the rest of the team. “If you don’t want to be here, I suggest you leave right now. What was the point of all the hard work if you didn’t want to be in this locker room to play ball? I say that not personally but as a man who tore his ACL and MCL in his right knee, my college days, preventing me from pursuing a sport that runs in my veins. I’m not here stopping you from walking out of this room and calling it quits. The storm is here, boys, and if you can’t handle it, there’s the door.” He gestured toward the side door he came from, emphasizing his point.

When none of the football players got up, all eyes on him, showing him how deadly serious they were, he nodded, glad they received the message, “I know I’m a meme at this school because of my use of the word ‘believe’, but that isn’t a joke to me. Belief whether you care for it or not is part of the process to win a game. It’s in you, here,” Boone gestured to his mind, “Here,” Boone gestured to his chest, “And here,” Boone gestured to his gut. “All that junk floating in you, your doubt, your fears, and your problems — whatever it is that is your junk — a lot of times we let that stuff get in our way. This isn’t the place for that shit and personally, I don’t want to mess with it, do you?”

“No coach,” one of the players muttered in response. He was leaned up against a locker, observing his teammates quietly. A boy with eyeliner, a nose piercing and tattoos covered with bandages on his arm, marking his age. A boy who looked more suited for music than sports. A boy that was a raging rebel, or simply misunderstood because of how he expressed himself. Coach Boone found potential in him, even if he stood back a year. Even if he was almost at risk for expulsion. Even if he didn’t believe in himself. Coach was able to give this kid an outlet in football. First it was mandatory but then it became something he found comfort in and Coach made sure to set him on the right path. The path of success. He was a hidden strength on the team, an OT that many opponents underestimated. An emo kid that had more strength in him than he knew how to handle sometimes. Jeremiah Clark. A good boy that Boone believed in, just as much as he believed in the rest of his team.

“That’s right, Jem. We’re done messing with those bad vibes that bring us down. Regardless of what you achieve or not, I want you to believe that you matter. That you deserve more than a win, you deserve love. Whether you've been hurt or you hurt somebody else, you deserve to believe in yourself. Belief is just hope and you know what? That’s what I want to mess with. I believe things can get better, they always can, and if you want to win this game, we need to believe we will get better. As a team, as people, as men. To believe in yourself and to believe in one another? That’s just important to life.” Boone took a step forward. “Now what's it going to be, team?” He asked, putting his hand out, waiting for his students to follow suit, “Are you going out there into the storm or are you going to stay here and not set sail? Who’s going to believe with me? Who’s ready to fight?”

Benji listened to Coach’s speech with a stoney expression, but still, the words helped. He was young and impressionable, and despite appearances, desperately wanted to reclaim his lost confidence. Even if the words weren’t necessarily true, even if the sharp and prickly part of his mind told him they were spilling from the mouth of a washed up has-been, he could pretend, for at least the next two and a half hours, that Coach was right. All he had to do was believe. The rest would come easy.

“We’re with you, Coach,” Benji said as he stepped forward and placed his hand in the steadily growing pile.

“Believe in me.” Theo got to his feet and bashed his helmet against his locker. “I’ll get us where we need to go.” He struck the locker again. “Put them in my eye line, I’ll break them in half, you boys run up that scoreboard. That’s all there is to it.” With his blood boiling hotter than hell's swimming pool, TVC violently bounced his headgear off of the steel locker door several more times, each strike with an increasingly more visceral growl. “Believe in the Franchise and the Pirates will sail the seven seas as fucking kings.” Theo’s deep dark eyes shot over to Benji, it was not a positive look that he was giving his Elite brother. “Let’s fucking go.”

Benji didn’t know if Theo was trying to light a fire under his ass with his shitty little glare, but it worked. He’d been seeing a lot more of that look, ever since he’d started missing passes and fucking up plays. He hated that look, and he didn’t want to see it again. He met Theo’s gaze, and echoed his words. “Let’s fucking go.”

Andre sat there, listening to Coach’s speech as he applied the eye black on his face. He’d heard it all before, but yet, he felt like running through a wall for his coach.

He knew what he had to do.

As the coach put his hand in the middle, Andre got up, helmet dangling from his other hand as the team gathered for one last pre-game rally.

“Let’s fucking go!”

“Woo,” Jem finalized, putting his hand in, on top of the rest of the team. Coach Boone nudged him, giving him permission to give the last hoorah, as he stood beside the kid that needed him the most. Perhaps it wasn’t that Jem needed him but over the years he grew a fondness over the kid. So many of his students needed hope to climb themselves out of the gutter and he felt like he was doing just that with his team. The James Dean of the class of 2025 rolled his eyes. Instead of saying ‘believe’, he grumbled, his baritone, singsong voice echoing in the silence of the locker room, “Let’s get ‘em.”

The locker room roared.

Three hours later, amidst the cheers from either side of the field, the game felt closer than anyone would’ve liked. The Pirates were down by three: not preferable, but not a death sentence either. They could still win this, if they kept their cool. Truth be told, for the first time all season, it felt like they might actually have a shot at doing just that. Andre had made some incredible catches, Benji had made some ridiculous runs, and Theo had skillfully managed to keep their opposition’s offense at bay.

As Benji looked up to the scoreboard, he allowed himself a moment of premature celebration. I think we might actually fucking win this. There were seven seconds on the clock, and thirty yards to go. He could do this. He had to do this. He had a moment to take a breath, feel his heart pounding in his chest as the teams stared off with eachother, a churning mass of adrenaline and heaving breaths. A moment of calm. Then, with a single shout, it shatters, and the seconds began to fall.

One.

The offensive line begins to fall back at the quarterback's signal, as though to protect his pass. He fakes a pass to the right, before handing it off to Benji.

Two.

Benji cuts left, as his o-line returns to position opening up some space. His cleats dig into the turf as his legs push him forward.

Three.

His heartbeat is thudding in his ears while he cuts across the line of scrimmage and the Warriors’ defence. His breaths come quick as he begins closing the daunting gap between himself and the end zone.

Four.

Jem and another member of the o-line are in front of him, pushing back against the linebackers hellbent on putting him on the ground. The scuffle threatens to send him out of bounds, and suddenly it is do or die and he is doing. He twists and maneuvers himself around the mass of bodies. Fuck yes he thinks to himself.

Five.

He can hear the thudding of cleats behind him, but the way before him is clear. He pumps his arms and says a silent prayer. He has just enough time for his gaze to fall on the bleachers, for his mind to register a familiar face. Mom?

Six.

He refocuses on the endzone he’s barrelling down on, so close he can already hear his peers going wild. He is almost there when he hears a grunt, and suddenly something is crashing into his side, knocking the air from his lungs and sending him hurtling into the ground. Shit.

Seven.

Benji hits the ground with a groan, as the buzzer echoes across the stadium. His head throbs, as he slams it back into the ground, slapping away the hand of the boy who’d just ruined his night, and potentially, his entire life. All he can think is, Yeah, that seems about fucking right.

And just like that, the game was over. Go home everybody, the Pirates lost.

”Are you fucking kidding me?”

The vile and venom spat out of Theo’s mouth like the poison slides from the gullet of a snake. He launched his helmet across the field with great force, his roasted chestnut eyes burning with rage as he watched the face guard break off in the mud. He was playing the game of his life, he had blocked every motherfucker that had gotten in his way. He had damn near broken the opposing quarterback in half and yet here they were, an L in their column and why? Because the offensive line couldn’t do their jobs properly. Because Benji couldn’t do his fucking job properly.

Theodore turned his attention away from the field, the chorus of cheers for his opponents felt like an acid rain on his skin, burning him up from the outside in. In the stands, he could see his mother and sister waving, timidly albeit, disappointment and pity throwing daggers from their eyes. A few seats away, as per the sealed restraining order that only those in the family knew about, was his father. Kip’s arms were crossed, his face statue-like in its stern perfection. He glared silently and rage full towards his son. He stood and simply began to make his way through the crowd; leaving Theo to further wrap himself in the arms of his own furious temper.

This wasn’t just any other game.

This was the homecoming game.

This wasn’t just a loss.

This was a death.

Theo scoured the masses on the field that were crashing between each other in waves of ecstasy and depression until he found what he was looking for; Benji. With clenched fists, the Franchise marched through the crowd, throwing several players out of his way until he reached a small circle of his fellow pirates. He made his way through the players until he reached the center and threw his head forward, straight into Benji’s nose.

“What the fuck did you fucking do?!” Theo spat onto his “friend”. “Useless. Pathetic piece of shit! You fucking choked!” The crowd sounds and audible gasps began to disappear into a high pitched white noise that rang out in the linebackers head. Rabid, he jumped atop his friend and began throwing haymakers. The mask of sanity had slipped.

Andre ran over from his side of the field, coming toward the scuffling of his teammates who were about to devolve into a flurry of blows and punches.

Watching his teammate run directly into his offensive line and bounce away from the endzone was about the last thing he wanted to happen. As he had his hands on his opposing man, he could only watch as Benji got wrapped up and taken down. It was the last chance they had to win the game, and they’d fumbled it.
Still, it didn’t mean that Theo was justified in doing that to Benji. He tried to get in between the scuffle, his helmet still on as the two were basically trying to kill each other.

“Hey! Knock that shit off!”

The first hit caught him by surprise. The second, less so. By the fourth, he’d decided that honor and dignity, and all the other bullshit he thought he cared about was complete and utter trash, because he desperately wanted to hit Theo back. If only he could catch a fucking break. The bridge of his nose burned where Theo’s forehead had crashed into it, and the fire radiated out across his face, stinging his eyes. He could feel blood trickling from his nose, and then Andre was above them and he was trying to halt Theo’s attack, and it was enough.

Enough of an opening for Benji to shove Theo off of him and scramble to his feet. “Fuck you,” he shouted, spitting blood onto the sideline, staining the white paint red. He launched himself forward, throwing a furious right hook that sent shockwaves up his fist as it connected with Theo’s jaw. He knew his mother and his friends and the entire fucking school was watching him, and he didn’t care. He knew that, beneath the shitty delivery, Theo was right, and still, he didn’t care. All of it only made him want to hit harder. He threw another punch, and took one in return. He shoved Theo backwards, creating a space between them, and they stood, glaring at eachother. Two Pirates, out for blood. Benji smirked, unusually cruel and far too callous. “I think I finally get why Trixie broke up with you. You’re a fucking psychopath.”

Psychopath.

That word hung around Theo’s neck like a noose, waiting to hang him for his crimes. It was a word that had been battered around him his entire life in some way, shape or form. He was always told he was a little different, a little off. There’s just something not quite right with Theodore. There had been too many times to count where someone had to step in because of one of his rages. Usually it was one of his boys in Elite, there was always some excuse and when calm, Theo always had a way of talking his way out of a problem. If not the crew, his parents and family could always be counted on to bury the bodies for the prince of the clan. The self proclaimed Franchise was born under a bad sign, with fire in his eyes and acid in his veins, he was born dangerous.

“Get the fuck off me!” Theo managed to free himself from Andre’s grasp before leveling a punch at his friend. He clenched his jaw, trying to shake off the ache caused by Benji’s solid fists and he stared down at a fallen Dre. “Put your filthy hands on me again and I’ll put you in the dirt in chains like the rest of your fucking people.”

He turned his rabid eye to Benji once again and wiped some blood from his mouth. “Don’t you fucking dare bring my Bea into this.” Every word uttered from Theo’s lips were absolutely soaked in furious anger. “You wanna drag up the skeletons, Mayhew? Here’s one. Daddy goes to jail. Mommy is an addict and the son is a pathetic loser with no future but being locked up next to the old man just in time to see him get shanked in the showers.”
Hearing the vile words come out of Theo’s mouth struck an incredibly large sized nerve in him. Never before had he heard something come out of his own teammate’s mouth, and he wasn’t about to roll over and take it like that.

Benji was right, Theo was a psychopath after all.

“The fuck you say to me?” Andre got up in Theo’s face, shoving him back, “BITCH, IMMA FUCKIN’ KILL YOU!”

Andre immediately threw a punch at Theo’s face, as hard as his 6’4 frame could muster. It didn’t matter if it was his own teammate, nobody who said shit like that deserved any ounce of decency.

Okay. This was enough. Jem did not sign up for this and if they kept it up, they’d all get expelled. The last thing he needed was another reason for his father to take out his disappointment on him and his younger siblings. This was supposed to help Jem’s anger, not make it worse. Smoldering with resentment as his teammates threw quips at one another and acted like they were raised like he was, with a survival mentality, the eldest in the group felt the rage quicken his blood. All Jeremiah could see was stupid teenagers that couldn’t take a loss. They were all fucking dumbasses for not seeing the recruiters in the bleachers.

“You, him,” Jem gestured for Eli, the other offensive tackle, to take care of Andre, doing whatever was necessary to de-escalate/sedate one member in the situation. It wasn’t worth letting a racist get under your skin, especially not Theo. Andre knew better than to stoop to his level. “Hayes.” Grabbing the attention of the middle guard, the son of the principal, Jem led his eyes to Mayhew and growled, with a clenched jaw, “Grab him.”

Glaring at the rest of the team, veins bulging out of his neck, Jem cursed, “Let’s all just fucking watch and not do shit! Van. Cise.” The nineteen year old who was known for having surging adrenaline, bloody rage and many horror stories following him of sending people to the hospital because he hurt people more than a rich boy ever could, stomped toward his victim. Everyone knew that Jem stood back not only because he failed all his classes but because a student was handicapped, nearly brought to death, and ended up transferring, out of fear of seeing Jem again. This wouldn’t be the first body on Jem’s record.

Since then he was forced to take anger management classes, strongly advised to join a sport, and was diagnosed with a few things that were no one’s business but his own. There were many people who wanted to play monsters but none of them truly knew what a monster looked like. The only ones that he could respect, that could hold their own, who understood where he came from were the kids from Gravette but even then he kept his distance. He wasn’t going to ruin anyone’s chances to succeed in life and Jem knew he was a curse and destined to fail. The Gravette kids had a chance, a chance that was hard for him to believe that he could have too. He had too much to protect and no help.

Both Eli and Hayes grabbed their assigned peer from behind, bringing them into a bear-hug, over their opponent’s arms, and lifted them off their feet. They could handle getting kicked in the shins if Benji and Andre decided to oppose. There was a reason Jem sent the big boys to them. Cracking his neck, oozing with fierce, violent wrath, Jem was quick to enter the chaos, leering at the rabid animal that was Theo. There were no words left for Jem to say. His focus was on one thing and one thing only: the problem.

Theo had found himself back on the floor, after Andre decided to fight back, which put him in a good position for Jem to put his arm around his neck, adjusting himself so that his teammate’s chin was in the crook of his elbow. He wasn’t trying to crush his windpipes. Not yet at least. The older boy pulled the volatile player by the neck back up, bringing him to his feet. Keeping him in a neck hold, he turned him to face the crowd, showing the boy exactly who he was disappointing. His family.

It was then the principal and security came rushing out and Coach Boone had made his way through the crowd to his team.

“Well boys, you really fucked things up.”

Most of the team shuttered at the fact that Boone was cursing. He never cursed. He was a ray of sunshine. That is until now. When security came in, running ahead of the principal to the boys involved, Mrs. Hayes looked at each of them, one by one, with a cold and calculative stare. There were videos already trending online and from a distance, the team could see teachers talking to the recruiters and the local news.

They really did fuck up and it was only a matter of time they’d suffer the consequences of their actions. One storm ruined their ship and now it was sinking. They were sinking. They’d be lucky to finish the season. Any chance of big leagues were ruined for the class of 2025.

Happy Homecoming.

Andrew Green was finding it easier and easier to relax. First with the help of his brother before breakfast, and now with the help of his father, Andy was as high as a kite. Of course, he had to dismiss himself from the group of boys in the basement, but he didn’t even know it was possible to be this chilled out. Laid up on his bed, he scrolled through YouTube shorts on his phone… he was halfway through a particularly good one about how to make a fancy garlic bread grilled cheese, and grabbing the link to send it to the chef to see if he could get something like that for a snack, when he saw the notification icon in the corner of the screen.

Those were texts from Amy… The extremely attractive femme fatale who had cornered him in the music room that morning. Andy had been intimidated, scared, and felt an overwhelming attraction he’d never experienced in his entire life. Infatuation, it was called. Andy had genuinely liked that feeling, and he wanted to see her more, but…

He hadn’t opened the texts since he’d gotten them earlier that day. He’d first seen them pop up during their breakfast at the Sunshine Diner. And it made him so anxious! He hadn’t even opened it yet. He was scared to see what she said, and even more scared to leave her on read. But right then and there, in that moment? Maybe… no, no maybe. It was definitely the weed, but Andy found it in him to open the texts… and see what the devil had in store for him.

To: My Little Rockstar
I know you’ve been thinking about me. Ditch your orbiter of a brother and keep me company.

The second text was sent shortly after lunch, before the pep rally, and it hadn’t been sent with a knowing smirk and a licking of the lips like the first one had; this one was sent with the upward turned lips of someone who was annoyed and considering moving on to the next hapless victim.

To: My Little Rockstar
Don’t ever make me tell you again. Keep. Me. Company.

When Andy Green finally read the text messages, it felt like he was reading his own death sentence. It was so much later than when she’d sent them, if he replied now was she even going to message him back? Would anyone blame him if she didn’t? Andy was so new to this, he wasn’t sure what to do - truth be told, he wasn’t even sure how much Amy liked him. So, he sat up and locked in. Maybe honesty could help him out here.

To: Your Addiction
Uh, sorry. I know I’m late.
We went to breakfast and Ethan made me get high for the first time and I’ve just been zoning out in my bedroom

Everything with this kid was going to be a first, wasn’t it? From the other side of the screen, Andy could likely imagine the eyeroll that Amy Kwon was giving as she read his late response. As far as excuses went, ‘my brother made me get high’ was up there with the dog and the homework. Amy didn’t appreciate being ignored in favor of Ethan Green of all people; it was Ethan who interrupted them in the music room, it was Ethan who needed to mind his own business, and it was Ethan who still backed down and invited Amy to the party anyway. She could handle Ethan Green, but she didn’t want to bother. A guy like that would be his own undoing eventually - all fuckboys wound up in the garbage out back before long, but this was twice now he got in the way of Amy’s satisfaction.

There would not be a third.

To: My Little Rockstar
Don’t tell me you’re sorry. Show me. Prove it.

For most of his life, Andrew Green had never really had anyone talk back to him. His parents loved and spoiled him, his grandmother told him what to do, but he had never experienced someone denying an apology, let alone demanding his attention like this. Is this what it was like for Ethan? Were his girlfriends this demanding? Amy wasn’t even Andy’s girlfriend - he was pretty sure anyway - but she was still acting like he should be waiting on her every whim.

As Andy typed on the phone, he wondered if Amy was staring at the screen and watching as he started and stopped over again. He decided there was almost no way she was, as someone like Amy Kwon was probably texting several boys.

He thought about it.

Probably several girls too.

To: Your Addiction
Uh, okay. How?

That didn’t seem strong enough. He deleted it and tried again.

To: Your Addiction
How do you want me to do that?

He thought about it harder this time. This was better! But it made him feel like he was just going to end up being bossed around by Amy too. Did he want that? He deleted it again. Andy needed to be careful, this was the first time in a long time that he was being thrown into the deep end on his own, and it was his time to see if he could sink or swim.

To: Your Addiction
Is it going to be worth it?

Satisfied, he hit send.

There was only a brief moment between Andy sending the message and getting a response. Amy could have made him wait an agonizingly long time, but letting the food cook too long was a good way to have it burnt and inedible. She had seen the three dots appear and disappear and reappear three times before getting the response, which curled those devilish lips into a smirk; had she a spaded tail it would be coiled and swaying in giddy delight. How easy it was to have this little toy at her beck and call with just words typed on a screen. Amy wondered if she told him to buy her some flowers if he would go through with it. But she wasn’t interested in flowers. Flowers wilted and died around her and she was more like a cactus anyway: Prickly, but oh so sweet on the inside. The question is knowing what was inside the pricklethorns, would you take a bite?

To: My Little Rockstar
Nothing in your life is worth more than me. But my statement wasn’t something that demanded a question. I’m starting to think you’re not really sorry, Andrew. I’m starting to think my time would be better spent elsewhere. You wouldn’t want that, would you?

Send. Stay. Smirk.

Andy was out of his element. Why did Amy even want to talk to him so much? He hadn’t done anything interesting or notable throughout his entire high school career, other than have his last name. He wasn’t particularly handsome, at least not compared to some of the guys around school, and he certainly wasn’t very interesting. Did he deserve all the attention he was receiving from Amy? How had she even turned her gaze onto him? He stared at the phone, reading the response she’d sent over and over again. What did Amy want him to say?

To: Your Addiction
No, of course I wouldn’t.

Andy’s thumb hovered over the ‘send’ button before he ultimately held backspace instead. Amy probably didn’t want him to just say what she wanted to hear, whoever wanted that? People wanted you to say what you wanted to say, what you felt. Andy knew that from music.

To: Your Addiction
Would you?

He nodded to himself as he grinned at the response. Simple, and to the point. Flirting was easy. He tapped the send button.

The little Green was making this considerably less enjoyable. Had he never talked to a woman before? Amy’s smile promptly gave way to a scowl as the wait was about as worth it as a colonic irrigation. She hadn’t asked him a rhetorical question or something that warranted such an inquisitive response and for the grand crime of annoying her, Amy made Andy wait for her response. Seconds. Minutes. Let him stew. Let him learn from this.

To: My Little Rockstar
You are boring me, Little Green. I asked you a question.

Yikes.

Andy stared at the phone for a few seconds. He didn’t have a lot of experience flirting, and he immediately felt like he’d made the wrong move. What was he supposed to do? Just say whatever she wanted? What about what he wanted? The path of least resistance was clear though, and Andy had to decide if he wanted to get in Amy’s good graces, or if he wanted to keep throwing himself at this whole flirting thing.

To: Your Addiction
Can we meet at the game? I do better face-to-face.

That was pretty much, essentially, a boldfaced lie, but Andy wasn’t sure what else to do. Maybe if they were in person, she’d at least be in a better mood, or at least not ‘bored.’ Was there anything sadder to hear a girl say? Andy stared at his phone, and could actively feel whatever remnants of a high he had actively dissipating. If his father or brother could see this conversation, they’d both be massively disappointed in him.. he sighed as he realized he was disappointed with himself.

Even so, Andy pressed send.

Amy had no desire to watch a football game, especially not a homecoming game where all the alumni and old sorts who care way too much about high school sports but she had even less desire to simply spend the evening idle and bored out of her mind. Perhaps there was entertainment to be had tonight though if the text chain was any indication the only thing waiting for her at the game was disappointment. Though with a face-to-face meeting in a public setting it was likely that Ethan wouldn’t be around to interrupt, which meant Amy’s claws could sink further into Andy’s supple, malleable flesh. And that was certainly an enticing thought.

To: My Little Rockstar
Fine. You can buy me a funnel cake.

---

Andy was cooked.

Even before he’d gotten a driver to take him to the game (he was way too high to be driving himself around), Andy knew he was cooked. He’d realized it right around when he’d gotten another message from Amy. At first hesitant to open it (Andy wasn’t sure he enjoyed her attitude when she double texted), he only opened it when he was in the car and had realized it was an image.

And looking at it had just made him feel even more fucked! Who sent a boy a picture of their thighs!? It didn’t help that the stupid messages app had an indicator saying that he had in fact opened the message and tapped it. What was he even supposed to say? To do?! A picture of his thighs in return? He’d look like a moron, especially since he was still in the car.

To: Your Addiction
You’re way too hot for me

Andy sent the message, though he didn’t expect a response back from Amy. Absently, Andy tapped her contact information and changed the name.

Your Addiction → Amy

He couldn’t believe he’d left it that long! She’d added it into his phone herself earlier that day. He stared at the phone and thought about it for a little while. Did he like it? Did she like it? Did it even matter? This was way too hard, how did Ethan do this with so many girls!? He tapped the name again.

Amy → My Addiction (Amy)

He’d just have to make sure he had a cute name in her phone as well. He looked up, and realized the car had arrived at the game. He got out and when the driver asked how long he’d be, Andy shrugged. “It’s my first date? I don’t know how long these things take. Like, ever.”

When the driver nodded in recognition, Andy slipped out of the car and made his way over to the Snack Shack, purchased a funnel cake (with powdered sugar), and then triumphantly pulled out his phone. As far as he was concerned, this was going better than well!

To: My Addiction (Amy)
I just got your funnel cake from the snack shack. Where do you want to meet?

The thigh pic had one purpose: motivation. Amy wanted to remind Andy the kind of game he was playing now; this wasn’t chutes and ladders anymore and he wasn’t ordering from the kids menu. When Amy Kwon blessed your inbox with a picture of any kind, it meant you were at her beck and call. A thigh pic there, a collarbone pic here, sometimes an arm or, for the women, a pic of her jawline - her body was an arsenal and she knew how to use each weapon to the fullest potential. She didn’t need to send nudes or even full body bikini or risque photos; those were the tools of the amateur, the people who didn’t truly know how to handle their toys. If you just gave the tits for free, why would they bother working so hard for your benefit? When even the simplest picture of an arm got an unwanted dick pic in return, what was the point of going full on R rating?

Not that Andy had sent her something as crude as that. He was a good boy. At least until Amy was finished with him.

Amy was annoyed that she was at the football game of all places. As she looked at the cheerleaders on the sideline and the annoying pirate mascot currently dancing to raucous applause, Amy spit onto the grass. There was once a time where she was on the sidelines, smiling, doing a memorized routine, shouting cheesy rhymes while holding a pom pom; that was a lifetime ago, but the wound still felt fresh; still felt in danger of opening and drowning her in the loss of blood. She needed a distraction. She needed to be anywhere but here. She needed…the goddamn funnel cake. Bitter fingers tapped out a response to the series of messages sent to her as she turned her back on the game like she was avoiding the gaze from a gorgon.

To: My Little Rockstar
Behind the bleachers. Hurry up.

As Andy headed toward the bleachers with the funnel cake in hand, he wondered if he was going to get any of it. Was that something people did? Shared funnel cake? He thought about it as he walked, and by the time he was nearing the bleachers, he realized that Amy Kwon was not going to share anything. The chances of him getting a single bite of the sweet treat he’d purchased were basically slim to none… at least he got a thigh pic in his phone for his troubles. Was it okay to save it? He’d have to ask.

No, wait. He shouldn’t ask something like that, she’d probably laugh at him. He’d just have to leave it be and open their conversation if he wanted to look at it (or prove to his brother that it existed). He hadn’t thought about it, but as he approached their meeting spot, he realized that maybe it wasn’t the best idea to invite Amy here. She used to be a cheerleader, right?

Andy just kept that thought to himself, and instead approached the back turned Amy Kwon, and tapped her on the shoulder. “I didn’t know if you wanted strawberries or not… so I told them no.” Andy had no idea what he was doing.

Before the voice disarmed her, when the hand touched her shoulder, Amy coiled back like a snake ready to strike out at the threat walking past its territory. She was wound tight and if it hadn’t been Andy that spoke then it was possible she would have swung without consideration. It was this place. The fucking memories. Some of the bitches doing the routine still existed in her phone, in the group chats that she stubbornly refused to leave so they just moved to another one without her. She recognized some of her own moves in the routine. She saw herself in their place. Last homecoming she was there, smiling, screaming her lungs out, going for a post-game celebration and sleepover so they could collectively prepare for the dance. And here she was now, behind the bleachers, avoiding the dirt and crumbs falling through the cracks from stomped feet as attendees climbed up and down the steps.

But that resentment was shoved to the back of her mind, like a dirty room being shoved into a closet, when Andy revealed himself. The spotlight was on her and Amy couldn’t be the miserable ball of anger and hatred; she couldn’t let them see her sweat. And so Amy didn’t miss a beat in her devilish grin when she turned around, her fingers snaking along Andy’s arm in one swift motion, her lips stringing together the exact thing to get the desired reaction. “You should’ve said yes.” Her words gentle but laced with toxic whispers. Her breath hot as she leaned close to his ears, like she was speaking only for him and his funnel cake. “Strawberries are an aphrodisiac.” She could’ve made contact with him in that moment, could’ve sealed the deal with a bristling touch of skin on skin that would’ve made him wonder if he had just gotten kissed while also probably soiling his pants. But instead she just let him sit with her words and the way they slithered off her tongue, rolled through her lips, and tickled the centers of his brain that imagined what they could do with an aphrodisiac.

And then she pulled back. No longer whispering to his ear, but taking in the whole image of Andy like an artist observing their latest work. “This is the part where you feed me your…cake.”

Whoa.

Andy went through a rush of emotions, rapid firing through his brain faster than anyone should have ever been subject to. First? Fear. He was a little taken aback by the way it seemed like Amy might hit him (Andy had never been hit, and preferred to keep that streak going), and even recoiled slightly. He drew in breath without even noticing, but as Amy relaxed almost immediately to the sound of his voice, Andy felt the assault of the second emotion... Infatuation. Had it been his presence that had relaxed her so quickly? Maybe he helped her calm down, helped her relax and feel safe. The thought didn’t last long as Andy let out the breath he’d drawn in as Amy leaned into him.

The third emotion rushed through his mind as quickly as the blush rose in his face. The third emotion was lust, and it reverberated through him with every word she said. Her voice was so… velvety. Was velvety the right word? Jesus, he’d never had a woman this close to him before, and it made his breath hitch and his eyes go wide. He should have smoked more weed before coming here! He listened to her words carefully, and wondered if they could stay in that moment forever. It was good for both of them, wasn’t it? Deep down, Andy might have known that Amy was playing with her food. But at the surface? At the surface, he believed in that moment that he was special to her. He might have cried if he knew the truth.

When she pulled away, it almost pained him to watch her straighten up. In that moment, Andy very suddenly understood very clearly why his auntie and grandmother both loved strawberries so much. Amy wanted strawberries? Andy would grow them himself. When she was gazing at him, Andy was feeling more on display than he had in his entire life, and he’d performed in packed concert halls for his grandmother’s galas before.

“Can I kiss you?”

The final emotion, nervousness, poured over his body.

If Amy had any doubts about her effect on Andy, they were immediately dispelled from his question. It was cute how he asked, cute enough that Amy laughed. It wasn’t the demure laugh of a girl who heard something cute nor was it the painful laugh of a girl mocking someone for daring to speak to them; this was a laugh that, while sounding sweet, was actually quite sinister. Like the rattle of a snake in the grass. Perhaps if his brother were here, Andy would have proper defenses for such a laugh…but here behind the bleachers it was just the two of them. And a funnel cake. “One taste and you’ll want more, Little Green. Do you think you can handle that addiction.” Somehow, she didn’t phrase it like a question. It was a warning. A warning that no doubt fell on ears more inclined to listen for the word of approval and nothing else.

Amy traced a finger along Andy’s jaw, a gentle, deliberate touch that carved its path to his lips, where she pressed her finger against his lips like she was telling him to keep a secret before the finger traveled across the gap back in front of her own lips. Red. Her lips were red. The kind of lips that brought to mind the image of blood. Of a vampire just before their fangs broke skin. The kind of lips that were now pressed against Andy’s. A tight embrace. Warm. She was kissing him, that much was clear; she was in control of the force, the pressure, the fact that tongue was not involved. This was a heavy kiss but not a deep one; from his end it was an act of lust, on hers it was simply…economical. The kiss ended with Amy pushing Andy away in a playful shove while that damned, devilish grin lingered. There was a slight smearing of her lipstick on Andy’s upper lip and Amy drew the same finger that had touched both their lips around the corner of his mouth, wiping away the blemish of makeup. She wondered if that had been Andy’s first kiss.

She knew it wouldn’t be his last.

“Feed me.”

It was most certainly Andy’s first kiss, and his nerves were shot almost immediately as her lips pressed against his. Once she pulled away, Andy felt like he was shaking. Was it visible? Had he ever been this nervous? Even when he fell (jumped) into a tiger pit, he wasn’t this nervous. This girl was the exact kind of girl his mother had warned him about, but Alicia Green was nowhere to be found when he needed her most. Andy was almost willingly going to be Amy’s prey - he’d never had attention like this before, and he found himself liking it.

When she asked him to feed her, there was such a ringing in his ears that he almost had to ask her to repeat herself. Andy knew from experience with this woman though, that was a dangerous move to make. He knew what she wanted, he just needed a moment to breathe and remember what air tasted like. He didn’t know for sure yet, but he suspected the air tasted worse than Amy did. He looked at the funnel cake and at the woman who had asked — no, commanded. did she know it was rude? — him to feed her the funnel cake and he nodded. “Can we sit down somewhere?” He looked around. There was nowhere to sit. Was there a reason they were standing in what seemed to be… the bowels high school hell?

“I guess not. I wouldn’t ask you to sit on the dirt.” He was speaking aloud as he looked down at the funnel cake in his hands. “It doesn’t seem very romantic to feed you while we’re just standing here though…” Andy trailed off and found himself looking down at the plate of funnel cake. He’d never been on a date, and he hardly knew what to expect. But he did know that this? Wasn’t what he’d expected.

Why did boys always have to make things so complicated? She had given him the briefest taste of heaven and yet here he was so willing to cast himself out of the pearly gates all because of some silly idea about ‘romance’. Romance was nowhere on Amy’s mind; this wasn’t a date, this was seasoning up her meal before devouring it. “The cake is getting cold, Little Green.” It was clear in the way she practically spat out the nickname: Amy’s thin patience was holding on by sinews.

Andy wasn’t sure about Amy. How could anyone be sure of someone who talked to them like that? One second, she was going out of her way to make sure that he felt good, and then the next she was speaking to him like he was trash. Like the self-respectless boy he was, Andy obediently cut some of the funnel cake with a fork and then held it up to her lips. Internally, his feelings debated. Was she really good for him? Was Ethan right? Andy had said he was prepared to figure out the answer to those questions on his own, but he was starting to think he might have accidentally dove into the deep end without learning how to swim.

He felt like a moron.

Things were so much easier when they did as they were told, when they were driven by their smaller head - the one they always claimed to be so much bigger than it was - and nowhere was this more proven than with how Amy’s grin turned into a put-upon smile as the piece of sugar-coated fried batter slid its way down her throat. “Well, that’s the second sweetest thing I’ve tasted all day.” The annoyance in her tone was gone. Amy sounded genuine, as sincere and sweet as the powdered sugar from the funnel cake; if the goal was to deceive Andy, to assuage his concerns, then she hoped she was doing an adequate job. But then, she was a little too good at slipping between states.

As if she wasn’t clear enough in her subtle flirtations, she tossed the kid a wink.

He may have felt like a moron, but it seemed she ultimately liked what he did. Andy wasn’t sure about this so far, this was a lot scarier than he thought it would be. Amy could hit him, yell at him, run away from him, kiss him, or take him then and there behind the bleachers seemingly at will. The only safe option to take was doing exactly what she said at any given moment. It was less than ideal, but there was something about the way she acted when he made her happy that made Andy keep coming back for more. When she winked at him, Andy felt confident he felt his heart skip a beat. He fed her another bite, but he was quiet, even for Andrew Green. Questions burned on the tip of his tongue, but he knew they were questions that would go unanswered, and questions that were likely to end the ‘good’ moment they were having.

He fed her another bite in silence, and then looked back out at the game, his ears drawn to the distant sound of music and cheers. This wasn’t the first time Andy had been present for a football game, but it was the first time he’d been present for one without Amy leading the cheer squad. Andrew thought about it, and then he decided to address the problem head on, even as a part of his brain screamed about the consequences.

“I liked watching you cheer. You’re good at it. Do you miss it?”

Andy carefully chose the words he used when he asked, and made sure he was holding a bite of funnel cake in front of Amy’s red lips to ease the pain. There were two scenarios he could think of: Amy could yell at him. Or, Amy could run away. Somehow, Andy knew already that he wouldn’t get an answer. And yet, that didn’t change the fact that he felt like he needed to know more about her. Anything more than ‘is hot’ and ‘can be mean.’ Andy wanted, so badly, to be able to defend Amy to everyone who told him she was evil, but if he was honest with himself… she wasn’t making it easy.

Leave it to a boy to ruin a perfectly good funnel cake feeding mood. Amy recoiled at the question, like she was offended to even hear the words leave his mouth, lip twisted upwards in disgust, eyebrows narrowed downwards as blinking eyes glared towards Andy. “Do I miss it?” The question repeated itself but from lips it sounded like the foulest sentence uttered by humans. Of course she didn’t miss it. What was there to miss? The long hours of practice, having to memorize routine after routine, going home with aches and pains and knowing that if a tumble went wrong then the next trip would be to the hospital? The way people treated her like a princess and showered her with praise and adoration just because she was a head cheerleader? How she could’ve won Prom Queen? How she thought she had friends, sisters and brothers bonded in the sorority of cheer? Laughing together? Sharing memories and comforting one another, gossiping about crushes and doing group projects together? Being able to walk down the halls and have waves and smiles and laughter instead of averted eyes, foul whispers, and hurried steps of avoidance? Going to bed early but staying up late because the group chat was so active and so full of laughter? Of course not. Cheerleading, popularity, it didn’t bring her anything but negativity. Fuck ‘em.

Fuck ‘em.

Fuck ‘em.

Fuck.

“No.”

At least he was getting a handle on the way she reacted. Andy had been prepared for the glare and the tone. He was starting to get a handle on Amy, maybe even more than she knew. He couldn’t control her reactions, but he could control his own. And this time, Andy didn’t immediately shrink away from her when she turned the evil eye onto him. There was a small ember of pride burning in his chest as he stood his ground, even minutes ago he had frozen like a deer in the metaphorical headlights of Amy’s glare. He let her glare at him, but he seemed to be refusing to give her the satisfaction of fear. When she finally gave him a straight answer, Andy nodded. “I think I would.” He commented, though he wasn’t even sure if he cared. “I don’t think it’s fair. How everyone treats you, I mean.” He was playing with fire and he could feel it beginning to burn already. There was no way Amy would have a positive reaction to this conversation, Andy knew that. But Andy couldn’t help himself.

“I want to help you find out who did it. Is that okay?” Almost as a peace offering, Andy held out another bite of the funnel cake to Amy’s lips.

“What?” Amy snapped her question at Andy, as if the words he was saying were gibberish. This was a new thing for her, being caught off guard, on the backfoot; she had to take control back, had to steer the car back onto the road before this stupid naive boy stopped making it fun. Who cares who did it? She didn’t. She didn’t at all wonder who would do something or why and she definitely didn’t spend weeks after the nuke went off pouring through her message histories to see if she ever said something to someone that would warrant such a response. Of course, even if she had been a little rude or mean to someone, the response was like taking out an ant with plastic explosives. Amy Kwon certainly, definitely didn’t care about who fucked her life up. Someone doused the bridge with gas and Amy was playing with matches, what did it matter who gave her the fuel?

“Who gives a shit who did it? It’s done. You’re cuter when you’re not talking, Little Green.” Amy was trying to regain footing, to regain control, but her words lacked the edge that they had moments ago. Andy Green, loathe as she was to admit it, had gotten into her head.

“Well… I give a shit.” Andy said, as he realized Amy wasn’t going to eat the funnel cake he was holding out. He flipped the fork and bit the chunk off himself. He chewed thoughtfully, but at first didn’t reply. Andy could tell that the vibes were… different, he wasn’t sure if that was as bad of a thing as he originally thought. Maybe, if he kept it up, she’d be more willing to talk about it. Did she really want him to shut up? He couldn’t tell. “Sorry.” He apologized, it seemed like the right thing to do. Then, Andy kept talking. “I just think it’s messed up that happened to you. It’s weird more people aren’t on your side. I won’t try and look into it if you don’t want me to.” Andy offered her another bite of the funnel cake, hopeful the combination of the olive branch of telling her he wouldn’t try and figure it out (that was a lie) and the fried dessert would be enough to cool her jets before she barked at him again.

“You give a shit? Don’t make me laugh, Little Green, before this morning, you didn’t know anything about me. You still don’t.” Amy scoffed as she gave her rebuttal, words spilling out before she could think to catch them and contain them. Control was slipping out of her hands and the tempest that had been swirling inside, in the back of her mind, was close to spilling out. No one had given a shit. Why would they? The striking red of her lipstick might as well have been her own Scarlet Letter with the way people treated her. Innocent until proven guilty wasn’t a thing that existed in the social dystopia that was high school. If tomorrow someone whispered the right lie into the ears of best friends, they would start a civil war. It was only going to get worse and Amy…Amy was a victim that everyone blamed. For what? They didn’t even give her a chance to tell her side, to defend herself, as if they were waiting for any opportunity to cut her down because she dared to get too popular without having to tear others down to do it.

So why, then, should she care about them and their system? Them and their hierarchy? Why should she care what they think of her now when they were so easily able to toss her to the side so someone else could use her broken body as a stepping stool?

And why would anyone care to hear her side of the story now?

“Whatever. This…this was a mistake. Tell your fucker of a brother that I’ll stay away from you.” She needed an out. Andy Green was probing and that wasn’t what this was about. She was in control. She wasn’t broken. She didn’t need to be fixed. “Do whatever the fuck you want, Andy.”

“I’d be… willing to learn a few things about you?” Andy threw a final hail mary, but he felt like the damage was already done. Andy was trying, but Andy had already torpedoed whatever chances he’d had with Amy. Was his father going to be disappointed? Probably. Would Ethan be disappointed? Relieved was probably a more accurate word, but Andy hadn’t been able to help himself. He wanted to be helpful, and Amy’s fall had always felt… wrong to him, especially with how quickly everyone seemed to flip on her. If he had this courage back then, maybe he could have tried to stand up for her before it was too little and far too late.

It felt almost ironic to him that Amy was the one who gave him the courage. A pretty girl being interested did wonders for a boy’s confidence. Andy was rapidly realizing he’d made the interested pretty girl disinterested in him with the greatest of ease. The only good sign was that she hadn’t left yet, but Andy wasn’t sure how to take her telling him to do whatever he wanted. There were so many options, so many different things he could do at that moment. A thousand different scenarios rushed through his head, and they all shared a problem: he wasn’t used to Amy being this… not scary.

In a million years, Andy never would have predicted Amy backing down so… decisively. It was Andy’s turn to try and right the ship, to do something so drastically daring that he was almost sure he was going to get it. As he dropped the funnel cake to the ground, Andy’s mind was made up. He stepped forward, and found old nerves creeping up in the back of his mind. It was easier to squash them this time than it had ever been, as Andy leaned forward to press his lips against hers. Andy’s kiss ended faster than Amy’s had, but if the first had been an act of lust on his end, this one was an attempt to comfort her.

He pulled away and looked at her, a hand having found its way to her chin (Andy didn’t even notice that until he broke the kiss!), and spoke. “I’ve wanted to do that all night.”

The kiss ended before Amy could properly register what had happened, which worked out well for Andy as it saved him from being shoved and possibly slapped in retaliation for a rather bold approach. Instead Amy said nothing for an uncomfortably long time which, when following a kiss, could have been as long as three seconds. What Amy did do was take a step back, causing Andy’s hand to be holding only air. For a brief moment there was a different look in Amy’s eyes. A slight glimmer, a sparkle, a flash of the girl she used to be; it vanished with a blink as Amy’s awareness caught up with her and the lips that Andy had kissed for the second time that night descended into the scowling grin that was so familiar to Andy.

“Clearly your brother got all the talent when it comes to kissing, Little Green.” The snide remark, the venomous tone, the devilish sneer; whatever fragment of the past Amy that almost came bubbling to the surface had once again been drowned. “And look what you did to my cake.” There was now grass and dirt joining the ingredients of dough and sugar. “Tuttut.” Amy clicked the roof of her mouth and shook her head, displeasure writ large in her eyes. “Get me another one and maybe I’ll give you one more chance to impress me.”

The star crossed lovers — if you can call them that — were soon interrupted by a loud squeal. “Who told you already?... wait, waitttttt. THERE’S A VIDEO?! SEVERAL!?????” Minnie in her cheer outfit with sparkly makeup on and her hair in a high ponytail walked to the side of the bleachers where both Amy and Andy could see her, unaware of her surroundings. “Of course it was Cael. I’mma need to spank that booty of his. How dare. I wanted to tell you myselfffff,” Minnie whined, turning as she talked only to freeze when she saw Amy. Growing silent for a moment that felt a little too long, the tiny dancer apologized to the person on the other line, “Sorry sissy, I got to go but I’ll video chat you tomorrow. Promise. See you. Love you. Byezzzzz.”

Hanging up, Minnie’s gaze focused on one person and one person only. Amy. While she was aware of Ethan’s brother, she was drilled since Freshman year to look at Amy. Amy taught her everything she knew. when it came to cheer and helped her relate it to dance, which was the main language she understood. Minnie took two steps closer but made sure she stayed out of their bubble, knowing this wasn’t a bubble she should pop. “I… I don’t get to see you anymore Amy and I don’t know when I’ll see you next but I wanted to tell you that I finally landed rewind reload to full up full down… over the summer actually! I wouldn’t have been able to master some of the harder stunts without you and I really really really wanted to tell you that one.”

There may not be much in Minnie’s head, and she might not understand the politics of the school, or why some of the cheermates exiled her cheer captain, but there was one thing for certain, Amy was someone she, to this day, still looked up to. She wasn’t completely oblivious. She knew Amy’s nudes and texts were leaked but that to Minnie didn’t speak on Amy’s character. It spoke on whodunnit. The contents didn’t really matter. That was nobody’s business. It wasn’t until Amy started hanging out with Toury and Helen that Minnie got scared to approach her. The Tantalizing Trio were intimidating and Minnie didn’t want to cry because they were mean to her.

Soft eyes, a genuine smile, and hope vibrating from her soul, Minnie looked at her former cheer captain with only respect before the sudden thought came to mind. “Oh, oh! I got my first boyfriend too. And I think you’d be proud of me! WHICH REMINDS ME.” Minnie swiftly turned on her heels toward the field, playfully glaring at her best friend.“CAELLLLLLL! You’re NO FUNNN! I wanted to tell sissy myself!” She protested, not really upset but still trying to act the part. With her squirrel brain, she looked back at Amy and eagerly suggested, “If you wanna’ catch up, I still have your number! I miss you… but it looks like I interrupted something.” Minnie scanned Andy up and down before giggling, “Candy approved. You’re wayyyyy better than your brother.” As fast as she came at him, just like a wrecking ball, she was running off to pounce on her friend and bite him. “Bye bye now!”

Of all the possible interruptions it had to be Minnie. If ever there was a way for Amy to return to the world of cheer - though at this point that was as likely as a flying pig - it would certainly have been through Minnie. Sure, they didn’t talk much, or at all, since Amy’s Icarus-like fall, but Amy could see it in Minnie’s eyes the day Amy was excised from cheer: a look of apology, like Minnie was sorry this was happening even if she didn’t exactly know why. It was so easy for Amy to assume that the cheer squad would fall apart without her guidance, without her rhythm and teaching methods, without her warming and welcoming personality and how she had a habit of getting angry and strict when it came to perfecting routines but she always made sure to take the squad for ice cream or shopping as a way of apology.

But they weren’t. They were doing fine without her. Better, even. Thriving. Minnie had perfected a move that Amy had been trying to help her with…and Minnie had a boyfriend. What had Amy ever done for Minnie, then? What had she done for any of them that they didn’t need her? No, that they didn’t want her? Maybe Helen and Toury were right, they were right about so many other things lately. But then why was Amy digging her nails into the palm of her hand and trying to hold back the tears as Minnie bounded away? Why did she want to tell Minnie to wait but couldn’t even open her mouth? Why the fuck did she even come to this stupid game? She could’ve, should’ve, had Andy pick anywhere else. Amy hadn’t been to a home game since the fall…she wasn’t ready after all. The wounds were too fresh.

“I’m leaving. Don’t.” Amy turned her head away from Andy. She refused to show him anything as vulnerable as how she felt in this moment.

As she walked away from him, Andy felt a chill wash over him in spite of the warm Los Angeles air. He was surprised by both the sudden urge he felt to reach out and grab her hand and the very fact that he possessed the will to stop himself from doing so. Every step she took away from him seemed to sting individually and Andy found himself wondering if it was even worth all of this to try and make Amy like him. By the time she was long gone from his sight, Andy was still standing there, frozen by pain he hadn’t known he shared with her. Was it his fault? Had he pushed too hard? Had Minnie’s appearance been too much?

Was Amy mad at him? He didn’t know, and he wanted to ask the question, but she was gone and the idea of texting her seemed… wrong. Andy needed guidance. He wasn’t used to navigating delicate situations like this, and as he walked back to the car he pulled out his phone. Looking down at his family’s names, he first considered calling his father, but wondered if Henry had ever dealt with an emotional woman before. Seconds past, and he decided to skip past both his brother and his father’s name, and tapped on the last one in the ‘Family’ contacts group.

It rang. He wondered what time it was in Japan. It rang a second time. He felt his heart drop for the umpteenth time that night, wondering if his own mother was going to ignore his call. Then, finally, she answered. Before she even had a chance to say hi to him, Andy was speaking — the familiar anxiety had washed back over him.

“Mom? I think I screwed up.”

Henry Green found himself couch locked.

This didn’t happen often, but he had known Decky needed to get stoned from the moment he saw the kid. The guy looked like he was about five seconds away from genuinely tweaking just playing the drums to Enter Sandman, and anyone who didn’t get into it when playing the drums to Enter Sandman needed some fucking THC in them, stat. After they’d ripped a few bowls through the ol’ Stündenglass, Henry had suggested they chill out and watch TV until the twins returned.

Andy returned only briefly to tell Henry he was going to meet Amy at the game that evening, and after he’d walked away Henry took every ounce of self control and will power he had to not mention to Sully and Decky how happy he was that Andy was probably not going to die a virgin. Ethan? Ethan had either fallen in while taking a dump, or he was fucking one of the maids again. Henry couldn’t be sure, but with Ethan he found himself barely concerned. He liked that Andy had checked in.

For the past… amount of time, he and Sully and Decky had been watching YouTube videos. Specifically? They were watching kitchen gadget review videos, with Henry absently adding whichever ones got good reviews to an Amazon cart. Henry lifted a hand and pointed at the screen, “check this shit out. Salad Chopper. Dude, definitely five stars. How could they fuck this up?” He asked the question, turning his head to look at the other two. It chopped salad. How hard could it be?

“...Shit ain’t even…it ain’t even a blade,” Decky argued stiltedly with the man, glaring at the flat triangle of plastic attached to a handle. He was getting the hang of Henry’s guessing game, the man shouting out the rating he expected for each item that has come up so far. His estimations were almost hilariously incorrect, and as the man on screen smashed the vegetables into the bottom of the bowl, it seemed the trend would continue. “It’s gotta be like…not even a star at all, right?”

“He’s just usin’ a knife now and it’s more effective, it’s gotta be- oh wait he’s breakin’ it down,” Sully loved the parts when the design expert in the video doodled out his own ideas for improvement, and aside from little comments here and there, had been more locked into the videos than both Decky and Henry combined. He hadn’t even realized Andy had left left until the pause between auto-plays.

“Don’t put that it your cart, man,” Decky continued after realizing Sully had left the conversation as quickly as joining it. He waved his hand and dropped his head to the back of the couch. “This shit is just meant ta bleed impulse buyers and trend chaser dry for the sake’a havin’ the newest commodity,” He glanced at the man’s phone to make sure he hadn’t added the shitty little item and his faded gaze landed on the number at the bottom of the open digital cart. “Fuckin’ christ, ya…are ya just gettin’ everythin’ we’ve been watchin’? Whaddya even need that shit for?”

“Dude have you seen the size of this place? Why not if he can?”

“That ain’t no valid fuckin’ argument,” Decky shot back, letting his head fall back once more and staring at the ceiling, still in complete awe of just how easily some people could throw their money away. “I could actually get approved for my house loan if I could casually rock up with the amount in that fuckin’ cart.”

“You wouldn’t need a loan if you had that amount on hand,” Sully argued, eyes still glued to the screen and empty coffee cup in hand as it has been for who knows how long, fingers almost completely still in a manner uncharacteristic of him. He hadn’t had to hit the insane gravity bong device nearly as much as Decky had, hadn’t inhaled nearly as deeply, and still he was higher than Decky. He did not begrudge the drug-addled boy his tolerance levels, he could only imagine how excessive the other’s habits were to need as much as he did to even feel anything anymore. Or how expensive. He looked back for a brief moment when the other gearhead scoffed at him. “It got a two outta five, by the way.”

“For fuckin’ what?” Decky moaned in confusion, throwing his hands up in the air and already forgetting the conversation about money in favor of hate reacting. “It couldn’t cut fuckin’ anythin’, dude!” His arms fell back to his side in childish dismay.

“Don’t shoot the messenger, I ain’t the one that rated it,” Sully defended, finally giving into the now distant impulse from his body and standing up to go get more coffee from the likely now cold pot Ethan had brought down. When he reached for the metal kettle and pour the liquid into his cup, he was surprised to see steam coming out of it before realizing it was one of those fancy electric ones that kept the beverage warm until turned off, and you didn’t have to keep it on the coffee machine’s hotplate. He had to admit, he was a bit jealous of that little gadget more than anything else in the basement, including the whole ass fucking bowling lane in the back corner. Turning to thank the Green boy again for the coffee, Sully blinked as he took in the empty space on the couch he’d assumed the other boy had taken upon returning from the bathroom and been this whole time. “Dude, where’s Ethan?”

Ethan had journeyed back to Dom’s Garage to retrieve Danny Boaz and some clothes for both Decky and Sully. He proceeded to stop at Sunshine Diner to once again annoy Sully’s mother, but this time to let her know that her son would be sleeping over his place. Before he left, she gave him food to take with him which had the usual orders of all those that were at his crib. Sully’s mother was a goddess of greasy diner food and it was crazy how much she remembered. His dad’s order had its own brown bag with many containers. His old man could eat and it was clear Miss Darcie knew that. With one more block to go before he’d finally return to his family’s guest house, Ethan tapped his thumbs on the wheel to the music quietly coming out of his car speaker (C’est La Vie by Yung Gravy, bbno$, Rich Brian). Glancing over at the boy sitting beside him, Ethan noted the similarities Danny shared with his older brother like the naturally nice, healthy hair, even with limited grooming, and the soft facial structure. The main difference he saw was the acute sharpness in the younger boy’s eyes. Reminded him of his aunt, Hailey, but if she was kind. “Danny boy, real talk. Is your brother always a grumpy fuck?”

Danny blinked from where he’d been staring blankly out the window with his head bobbing to the beat and turned to his brother’s new- almost certainly reluctant on Decky’s side- friend. He seemed cool enough, and uncle Hirsch had said it was fine to go with him since he’d finished all his homework. Not without several whispered threats on his youngest nephew’s safety to the tall teen, from what Danny had seen when he came back with their duffle bag and Hershey was standing just a little too close to the rich boy with too neutral of an expression. It had probably started as simple as ‘make sure he’s wearing his seatbelt’ and devolved from there. But still, he was trusted enough that Danny was allowed alone with him and Decky and Sully were sleeping over his house! He must be okay to talk to.

“Decky’s only grumpy ‘cause he’s sad too,” Danny revealed honestly, unable to look the older boy in the eyes as he spoke. He didn’t really like people’s eyes, especially new people. “Most’a the people we love are still back home and he only left for me.” Danny thought of his own best friends, Ana and Conan, who he chatted with constantly but rarely got to actually see. Deck had so many more friends his age than Danny ever did, because all of Decky's friends had happily dragged Danny along with them as well. “Wouldn’t ya be sad if ya were always missin’ people?”

Silence was the initial response. Ethan was taken aback by the honesty and genuinity from the younger Boaz boy. He thought of the question asked to him and the people that Ethan could immediately think of was his family and the Elite. This sudden thought made him realize that the three girls he was playing like the devil plays his fiddle with didn’t have his heart. Not in the way they deserved. Damn, those were thoughts he didn’t want to think about right now. Such an unexpected, sentimental question that forced Ethan to think more inward for once was not on his calendar for the day. He’d have to smoke more weed with his dad when he got back to bury it, like he always did. “Are you two going to move back after graduation?” Asking that question outloud made Ethan realize he had no idea where Decky was from. Damn, making new friends was not something he did in a while (aside from Sully, but Sully was different). “Where are you from again? Sorry, I really don’t know shit about you or your brother, so I’m just warning you if I say anything insensitive I’m just trying my best here.”

“Are we-? No,” Danny shook his head harshly, curls flying with the motion and a pinched look on his face. He went to bite his lip anxiously, but they were talking about Decky and Decky told him to chew gum instead, so he reached into his pocket and unwrapped one of the pieces from within, shoving it into his mouth as he thought of how to respond to the Senior. He didn’t realize that Ethan knew nothing about Decky. No wonder his big brother just came off as an asshole to him. “I-it ain’t that we never go back- uh, Gravette, Oregon by the way- but I don’t think either’a us could move back there,” He frowned, doing what uncle Jonah had taught him and shifting his thoughts from the bad memories slowly over to the better ones. Like the ones with everyone in the Trip-S when the brothers used to hide away in the gang’s dorms for weeks at a time with Sonny. “It’s a really bad place, and really bad stuff happened there. It’s why when our friend Poppy found our Uncles we moved out here to ‘em. We have friends back home send us a message when our parents disappear from town and that’s when we risk visitin’. Um, can we…” Decky always said to just ask if you were uncomfortable. “Sorry, it’s okay ya asked, but can we stop? I don’t wanna talk about it more.”

“Yeah, sure thing, kid,” Ethan answered, respectfully. There was a brief moment of silence as the Green golden boy continued to drive. His home was at a distance and his mind was stuck. Stuck on his brother and how things turned out for them. “Completely random, and feel free to tell me to shut up,” Ethan permitted, continuing to tap the wheel with his thumbs. “Do you ever want something out of your older brother? Like how do you wish he lived life? I don’t know if I’m making sense… I’m just curious how you two support each other, I guess.”

“Do I ever…you’re definitely a new friend.” After that, he was silent again as his mouth opened and closed several times while he thought about the question. Having been very close to zoning out before Ethan spoke up again, the question caught him just as off guard as the others had. The Freshman boy stared at Ethan’s profile, trying to figure out the angle. His calculative gaze followed every twitch down to the thumbs tapping against the wheel as he made his assumptions and reads. What he got was that that question wasn’t necessarily meant to be about his and Decky’s relationship. This was one younger brother reaching out to another. But, since he didn’t know anything about Ethan’s relationship with his sibling, it was still a guessing game on his part so all he had was his own truth for his replies.

“Decky raised me,” Danny finally answered, deciding that he could deal with Decky being upset with him for sharing things if it meant he got more good friends willing to understand him. To look past the attitude that was just as much protection as it was persona. It’s his fault for being so tight lipped while never setting the same restrictions on Danny. “Since I was born, since he was three, he raised me. It’s hard ta want somethin’ from someone who gave up his whole life ta give ya yours, y’know?” Danny let that sit for a second, grinding down on his gum and resisting the urge to blow a bubble as he watched the road rushing past them. “Want somethin’ for him, though? Absolutely. I want for ‘im ta realize it’s okay ta have a life’a his own, I want him ta realize he can have his own goals, not just exist ta help me achieve mine. I want for ‘im ta actually be happy. But he doesn’t know how and I can’t make him change the way he’s acted my whole life. I think a lotta his anger came from makin’ sure I could be a kid even if it meant he never was. He don’t know how ta interact with people his own age since he never really acted his own age. Doesn’t let himself enjoy the little things that kids do. Even with all he gave up for me, it’s rough for me too. It’s actually really frustratin’ and it’s hard ta make friends. But really, mostly I-”

Was this what therapy was like? He was feeling a little better after bringing his thoughts into the light. Danny had only ever told his best friends back home this. Danny had also never been alone with one of Decky’s friends that didn’t already know their history, at least some of it. He had wondered about that when Ethan came to pick him up, and decided that Decky did what he always does and made an offhand, sarcastic comment that got mistaken for an actual agreement. The dummy. That’s always gotten him into shit. Regardless, this was a new situation all around for the younger Boaz, and unlike his brother, he could be quite the talker if he got started.

“I want him ta stop thinkin’ he’s some burden on everyone that takes us in somehow.” Their parents had really done a number on him with that word. “Our relationship is fucked up though, or so we’ve been told, and shouldn’t be compared ta normal siblin’ relationships. We have ah…a pretty unhealthy codependency, case ya couldn’t tell by the fact that ya had ta come pick me up ta get him ta stay at your house tonight, yeah? Happens when ya spend your whole life locked up in the same room,” If he were his cousin Zion, he would have ended with a pair of jazzhands and a sing-song exclamation of ‘trauma~’, but he was not much for dramatics when on his own. Danny had a habit of minimizing his presence, not shouting it from the rooftops. Danny just stated things as fact and moved on, especially if he didnt want to dwell on it. “Ya know how aggravatin’ it can be ta see all the paths someone could be takin’ if they just looked up from helpin’ ya down your own? Ya can’t be your own person if you’re constantly lookin’ out for your brother, and while I love Decky and everythin’ he’s done, I want him ta be his own person and grow in ta himself.”

Giving the boy a quick glance over, Ethan smiled, “I can see that Decky, and you, have a unique upbringing just based on your brother’s reactions to everything that surrounds me and my family. I’m sure my background can be unique too, from your perspective. Not all rich people are under one big umbrella of stereotypes and not all low income families, from different ethnicities and neighborhoods, have the same way of thinking. My father, especially for a Green, runs his ship a bit differently than my aunts. I get it though. We brothers just want our bros to be happy. Self assured. On their own path. Their own person… away from us. I get it, for real,” Ethan sighed at the thought. As much as he was worried about Andy’s romance with Amy Kwon, at least she would help him grow and find himself, finally walking out of Ethan’s shadow to be his own man.

Finding himself even more intrigued and curious, Ethan inquired, “How about you?” Contemplative and attuned to the conversation, the senior put the focus on the younger boy, wanting to give Danny a safe space to freely talk as much or as little as he wanted to. “Apart from your brother, who is Danny Boaz and where does he see himself going?”

“I know, but It’s a really small town,” Danny emphasized, completely understanding the rich boy’s point while also having had little experience with it before moving to California. Gravette had a very stereotypical class division, and the line between rich and poor wasn’t just drawn, it was developed and maintained by the abandoned railroad tracks that physically split the North from the South. Wrong side of the tracks wasn’t just some saying in his hometown. Some people, like Sonny, never even crossed to the other side of the tracks unless absolutely required. However, Danny found himself liking Decky’s new friend who wanted to know more about not only his brother, but him as well. And okay, maybe talking about his brother was easier than talking about himself, maybe the simple question directed toward himself brought a blush to his face as he worked through the random shock of embarrassment that hit him as he thought of his answer.

“Oh! I, uh, I like books!” He admitted, quietly but trying. He couldn’t talk about anything he did with uncle Jonah, but he could talk about pretty much anything else he enjoyed, and books were a big one. “Our friends back home always send me some or recommend some,” Decky, Charlie, Poppy, they all used to read to him when he was younger and let him read to them as he aged. Sin was more for comics and manga, but that didn’t stop her from being a part of it even if she preferred watching anime and baking together with him. “I like ta bake, too, but only with one person, that’s our thing. Um…Oh! The school people thought I should skip a year, but I wanted to try to be a freshman, but all the work is borin’ so if they still think I can skip by the end’a this year then I’ll be a Junior next year instead. Decky was real proud’a that,” Danny’s blush was gone in favor of a grin when he remembered the way his brother had smiled at him and ruffled his hair when he’d heard the academic praise. “I like ta look at Sully’s homework more than my own when we’re studyin’ together, it looks more fun. Sometimes Monarch slips me little puzzles or ciphers ta play with ta keep my mind goin’. Everyone says I should be goin’ ta some nice college when I graduate.”

This was nice. Ethan found himself adoring Danny’s enthusiasm to express himself. In adversity, Decky’s little brother found little things he enjoyed and built a mentality that was resilient, adaptable and full of hope. Instead of looking back, he was looking ahead. Instead of looking in the mirror and seeing flaws, he saw his strengths and areas where he could improve. Instead of having an immense guard up, he was sizing Ethan up and allowing him a chance to build a bridge to him and his brother. That was nice to see. When Ethan was that age he was caught up with movies and AWE. Decky did good with raising this boy. It seemed he had the right tools and resources to live a fulfilled and happy life. Danny was a good kid.

“It’s a thing you can bake because you’re about to see your brother so baked.” Ethan joked (even though it was based on a truth). “He’s with a pro right now, my dad, and you’re gonna’ love him. He’s such a vibe. I strive to have all chill and no stress. Just like him. Somehow my dad has cracked the code.” Nodding to himself, not really elaborating on the many stresses of Ethan Green, the senior jock pulled into the driveway and grinned, “As my old man would say, mi casa is su casa.” Putting his car in park, he slapped his wheel excitedly and embraced his inner child, “Your brother is going to be so hyped you’re here.”

What pulled a laugh out of the younger Boaz was not the baking joke, but Ethan's comment about Decky being excited to see him. He had no doubt his brother would be happy to have him around. After, of course, he was calmed down from realizing Danny had been 'kidnapped' in a similar capacity to him and Sully, and that it was his fault for being a smart-ass instead of just telling someone no straight out like he’d so dutifully taught Danny to. He had his own words for Decky that would likely shut him down just as quickly as he got riled up, but Danny figured Ethan needed a bit of a reality check himself if he genuinely thought Decky would be happy that a near-stranger was entrusted with his baby brother’s safety and transport. He also hadn’t missed the way Ethan had worded his praise of his father. It was already pretty obvious that Ethan acted more chill than he was. Not that he wasn’t, but his questions to Danny alone indicated he had a lot going on in the background of his mind, if not at the forefront, which also seemed intentional. He’d seen Decky shove back plenty of things he didn’t want to think about at the time, he knew the look well.

“Your dad is tryin’a get Decky super high on just weed?” Danny asked incredulously as he hopped out of the car and looked at Ethan’s forehead instead of his eyes, having not seen his brother react to the vice in any capacity more than the relaxing of his muscles in years. Then, he noticed the area around him and spun on his heel in amazement, conversation forgotten. “Whoa, it’s so pretty out here! Look at all these plants,” His gaze fell on the gardening at the front of the house. “That’s so many colors!”

“Isn’t it dope?!” Ethan said enthusiastically, incredibly pleased at Danny’s reaction. Very unlike his brother and Sully. It was positive! “My parents had a vision… which basically was a getaway in Spain or just somewhere not here.” His father did what he wanted and that included decorating the guest house in a way where he would be at most peace (which included all of Ethan’s mama’s anime figurines). A place that was like a great escape where the Green company didn’t weigh on him and his family. A place very much his own. A place they called home.

A smirk appeared on Ethan’s face when he registered the weed comment. He led the way to the basement and confidently assured his little buddy, “Not just any weed…”

It was his dad’s weed.



“Dude, where’s Ethan?”

“Where’s the quality?” Danny heard his older brother reply to Sully’s question from where he was hidden behind Ethan’s frame in the doorway at the bottom of the stairs. They had just arrived when Sully’s voice hit them and Ethan stopped as if to announce himself, only to get cut off by Decky’s complaint. Danny had no idea what he was complaining about, but his brother had a downright childish whine to his voice that Danny only heard when he was relaxed enough to act as such, which was extremely rare. He snuck a peek past Ethan’s side and saw the top of his brother’s head tilted back on a comfy looking couch, his hair flopping over the backing and swaying as he shook his head defiantly. Next to him was the back of the head of who must be Ethan’s father, almost shoulder to shoulder with his brother with no sign of discomfort on Decky’s part. Damn. Maybe Mr. Green really did succeed in getting him super high. Color Danny impressed with these people. “Two outta five stars for something called a fuckin’ chopper that don’t do no fuckin’ choppin’. Market that shit as a goddamn play-doh knife and maybe two fuckin’ stars would be worth it-”

“Honestly the amount of times you fit the word fuck into a sentence should be studied.”

“Don’t snark me, Harper, the next product’s comin’ up.”

Danny stifled a giggle and stopped peeking, returning behind Ethan as he put together what he could from what he’d heard from his brother’s rant and seen on the tv screen beyond the couch. They were watching someone rate kitchen objects and appliances, and obviously his brother had some strong opinions on the decisions. Sonny wasn’t going to believe this, and Poppy and Charlie were going to love it. He couldn’t wait for the next video call home.

Sully looked up from his spot at the bar where he’d finished getting his coffee when he heard a faint noise at the doorway, only to raise an eyebrow at the taller boy standing in the doorway.

“Oh, there you are dude. Where have you been? It’s been like,” Sully blanked as he tried to think about the recent passage of time, features going slack as he attempted to sift through his already poor memory, now even more clouded by the herb he’d inhaled. A few seconds ticked by before he blinked and shook his head, giving up. “It’s been a long time…I think.”

“I brought a special delivery and before I’m given shit,” Ethan stepped to the side, revealing Danny, and spoke loud enough for Decky to hear. “It was me or my mom’s butler from the main house,” the jock explained, offering to take Danny’s bags from him to set it down somewhere safe before showing them to their bedrooms for the night. He had spent the carride thinking this through and realizing that Mordechai wouldn’t appreciate a stranger driving his brother around, so he HAD to explain himself. It was the right thing to do. “It would’ve NOT been worth the energy to stop my dad from getting you both high as fuck and I’m pretty sure all the jews in your garage would kill me if something happened to this boy. I thought this out the moment you said you wanted your brother here.”

“What the fuck?” Decky’s head had turned as Ethan spoke, but it had almost snapped completely backwards at the sight of his baby brother bashfully blinking at him as Ethan took their dufflebag from him, Danny’s fingers curling in a little wave to his older brother.. Any chill thoughts immediately left his mind as he registered why Ethan was pleading for his life. Or at least why he should be. With little thought to how it looked, Decky took the quickest path and scrambled directly over the back of the couch, only stumbling slightly as his stoned legs almost crumbled beneath him. He was in Danny’s bubble in seconds after that, checking him over while the boy himself rolled his eyes at the hovering but didn’t push him away, even when Decky was moving his face every which way and pushing his curls away from his forehead as if he would be hiding a wound there. “Boychik what the fuck, no- wait,” He rounded on Ethan, protective rage in his eyes. “Green what the fuck?”

Decky never claimed eloquence.

Danny’s hands grabbed his wrist and returned his focus to him, drawing it from Ethan. His brother was frowning at him in that pouty way that told him to stop and think about his actions. “He was tellin’ ya if ya would’a actually listened, Decky,” Danny admonished, sticking his tongue out when Decky scowled at him. Then, he blinked owlishly at Decky and stuck his bottom lip out. “Are ya sayin’ that he’s lyin’? Ya didn’t want me here?”

Manipulative brat.

Decky sighed, fist unclenching along with his jaw. “I didn’t say that, but I also didn’t say I wanted ya here I was just-”

“I mean you did say to call the garage and have him pack bags for us.”

“What, now your fuckin’ memory works?” Decky snapped as he turned to Sully, glaring at the other boy as Danny gripped his wrist tighter in reprimand. Sully stared Decky dead in the eye and then threw back the rest of his coffee. When he was finished, he continued to give Decky a blank look.

“Ouch.”

“Get fucked, Harper.”

“Decky!”

“I was bein’ fuckin’ sarcastic!” Decky exclaimed, getting back to the matter at hand. “It was sarcasm! Jesus what the fu-”

“Ya know better than ta use that type’a sarcasm around people with the means and whims,” Danny once again betrayed him. The bitchface he threw his younger brother was especially reserved for the boy, and it quickly morphed into a glare when he saw that his little brother’s eyes were shining with amusement. “We’ve talked about that. Encouragin' impulsive action.”

“You shut up.”

“Sounds like ya should have shut up yourself earlier.”

Henry could put up with a lot of distractions. Decky and Sully’s chatter was white noise that barely competed with the video he had playing on the TV. But, once Ethan showed back up, things went to shit. Sadly, that was something that happened a lot. Henry got it though. When he was Ethan’s age? He was the Green who made things go to sleep. After Decky’s younger brother told him to shut up, Henry jumped in.

“Decky, shut up. You’re harshing the vibes, dude. Think about how chill we just were! You keep yappin’ and you already missed damn near the whole herb chopper review! What if we need to chop herb?” Henry gestured toward the TV with a wave he knew would be ineffective. He turned away from the boys and back toward the TV. He sank back into it and grumbled, “I’m finishin’ my fuckin’ video. Kid’s already here. Stop being a baby. Hey, kid. What do you want to eat?”

He waved a hand toward the bar, “somebody get Decky another bowl.”

Decky stared at the back of the head of the man who just told him to shut up, mouth slightly agape. His brother was now laughing at him audibly instead of just with his eyes, swinging his arm back and forth from where he was still holding Decky’s wrist in a grounding manner. Was this whole fucking room against him? Jesus. When Henry asked Danny what he wanted to eat, his baby brother went quiet, prompting Decky to look back to him. Danny was now looking at the ground and making himself small, and Decky sighed at the display. Trusting adults was still a problem for both of them, but the second Danny was addressed by a new one he tried to disappear into the floor. He saw Sully moving out of the corner of his eye to fulfill Henry’s demand of another bowl, and forced himself to relax as much as he could, to stifle his trigger reactions and focus on his brother.

“Danny, it’s okay, he means it. Have ya eaten dinner?”

^”No…”

Decky was going to scream at his uncle for letting him leave without eating.

“So? What do ya want?” When Danny continued to fidget with his eyes on the ground, Decky looked to the ceiling for strength and pulled his little brother into a tight hug while addressing Henry. “He likes olive pizza.”

Henry could hear it in the air. The way the laughter snipped away the second he said something and the way Danny never actually (or just barely had) answered his question. He hopped to his feet and walked around the couch to the group of boys as he spoke. “Cool, pizza’s cool. One with olive. What about ice cream? Can’t have dinner without dessert. Chef can make a killer brownie, and he doesn’t go home for another two hours. We got time boys.” He looked down at Danny - the younger boy may not have seen it, but Henry hoped he could at least feel that he was talking directly to him. “Do you fuck with video games, Danny?” He paused, and cleared his throat.

“Do you like video games, Dan the man?” This little dude needed to relax just as badly as his brother did. Well… maybe almost that bad.

Decky didn’t even try to withhold the warning glare he sent the taller man as he neared, but turned just slightly so that Danny could peek out from his spot with his face pressed into his older brother’s chest. His little brother was tense but not shaking, so that was at least a sign that Danny had already done a bit of his own mental work on the ride in when it came to accepting the Green patriarch as safe. Danny did end up peeking up at the man, his grip around Decky’s middle tightening a bit. Decky took this as a cue to do his part in bringing Danny around by making Henry’s part easier for the suddenly frazzled boy, including completely ignoring the whole private chef thing.

“Ice cream.”

“I-” Danny shifted his face so his mouth wasn’t muffled. By the time his gaze had trailed up to Henry’s chin, it dropped back to his shoulder, never really reaching his face. He squeezed Decky tighter still, but his big brother did little more than grunt and adjust his own hold, dropping one hand onto Danny’s head and ruffling his soft curls encouragingly. “I like ice cream.”

“Video games.”

^{“No, not really. Sorry sir…”} Danny whispered, looking away from the man completely.

“Don’t apologize, tell ‘im what ya do like.” Danny nearly whined in complaint, his face red as he hid it against his brother’s chest once more. “Danny.”

“Ugh! Card games and brain teasers and riddles and puzzles!” Danny spit out in one anxious breath, barely pulling away from Decky to speak before trying to hide again. “Now stop!”

“Good job boychik,” Decky praised, leaving it at that as his brother had asked. He looked at Henry with a raised eyebrow, doing his best not to sound too protective or defensive when he said, “Well? That’s all you’re gettin’ at the moment.”

“Well, well, Danny Dan the mystery man, we do have something in common.” Henry’s words flowed with a rhythm, the rhyming way he’d said Danny’s name rolling off of his tongue in a sing-song voice. Henry beamed, and he could not help but make grand gestures with his hands — that was just how he talked, really — as he continued to speak, “I, too, am a card game enjoyer! I like Pokémon, Magic, Yu-Gi-Oh!, and I do like poker, but Ethan don’t got hands in it, so he wouldn’t wanna play. Puzzles? Riddles? Brain teasers? … I got some Lego you can play with, but you’re in the wrong house for brain teasers. Sorry to say, but me and the lads smoke too much weed and Alicia takes too good care of us to let us feel dumb all the time.”

“Real,” Ethan responded, with his phone out and texting the chef, glad his dad jumped in to calm Decky’s storm. “What other toppings? I’m a meat lovers kind of boy.” He walked around everyone, giving the Boaz brothers room to breathe. He hoped ultimately they’d all decide to watch a movie. He had a long day.

Decky was the only one to notice Danny’s flinch at Henry’s sudden hand movement, but that was because he was literally holding the boy. Danny was much better at containing his physical reactions to things like that than Decky was, the older Boaz boy typically halfway to a defensive stance when he was caught by surprise. Had he not been focusing on Danny, he likely would have embarrassed himself. When Henry began to list off his interests, Decky quickly found himself tuning out while Danny stared at the man with wide eyes. When Ethan asked about other toppings, Decky shook his head at the other boy.

“I’ll just share with Danny, I don’t mind olives.” Danny frowned, distracted from Henry for a moment as he pulled away from Decky with a disagreeable frown while Decky glanced down at him in warning. Defiantly, Danny opened his mouth anyways.

“Ya hate olives ya liar.”

Decky’s glance became a glare. Before he had a chance to respond though, Henry was off on another one. Facepalming, he groaned out. “Jesus christ, Decky, are you lying? To your friends and your little brother? Bro, that’s just fucked up. If you hate olives why would you want pizza with olives?!” Henry demanded. From the over exaggeration of his words and motions, it was (hopefully) clear enough that Henry was being playful.

“Yeah Decky, why’re ya lyin’?” Danny caught on to Henry’s energy immediately. His voice was still quiet, but it was gaining confidence as he teased his older brother. This was exactly what he’d been talking to Ethan about in the car, his brother unwilling to do something as simple as ask for his own pizza topping and instead just willing to have whatever Danny wanted even if it made him sick was only a small glimpse of the bigger problem. “Sully’s gonna give a toppin’, why won’t you?”

“Why are ya bein’ such a gremlin all’a the sudden?” Decky sighed tiredly, decidedly not responding to Henry and keeping his head down to lock eyes with and glare at his baby brother, who grinned up at the embarrassed tint to his cheeks. He couldn’t believe his little brother just threw him to the fucking wolves like that. “Sully, what do ya want?”

“Pepperoni’s fine. What do you want?” Sully replied simply while motioning that the device was ready to deliver another hit for the gearhead. Decky glared at his friend who very easily volleyed back what was meant to be diversion.

“He likes bacon ‘cause he’s a bad jew,” Danny giggled as he was gently but deliberately shoved away from his brother as Decky beelined for the bowl, exchanging places with Sully who walked up in confusion.

“What was that about?” He looked down slightly, blinking as Danny latched onto his arm. “Hey little dude.”

“Oh, nothing. Decky’s just being a baby, that’s all. Seems like it’s kind of par for the course, huh, Danny?” He tossed a grin and a wink down to the youngest boy. “Oh, dude. Don’t forget dessert, what are you in the mood for? Brownies ala mode? We could get that and watch cartoons. Everybody likes cartoons.”

“Cartoons?” Danny asked shyly, only half hiding behind Sully. This time, when he looked to the elder Green, his gaze flickered briefly over the man’s entire face before flitting away again. Shifting from foot to foot, Danny hummed as he thought of Henry’s question. “What’s alamode?”

“Oh, man. It’s just warm fresh brownies with ice cream on top, it’s only the most delicious thing ever. We’re gonna get you some pizza. We’re gonna get you some brownies ala mode. And then? We’re watching We Bare Bears. A most excellent evening if I do say so myself. What do you think, brother man dude?” Henry beamed, and it was an undeniably welcoming smile.

“We what?” Danny asked askance, his features unknowingly morphing into a look very similar to the one Decky had given the older man when he’d first recommended the kitchen appliance videos. That was also a lot of designations thrown at him at the end there, and he had no idea how to respond to it. “It’s a show about naked bears?” Danny startled when Decky started cough-laughing from his seat at the bar, the smoke from his latest hit puffing out with each exhale. Danny stared at his older brother in surprise.

“Now that I gotta see.”

“You’re so weird.”

“But first? A movie with dinner. Decky, you go ahead and hit another one if you want. E? Did you put the order in? Your brother’s off at the game with his girl… not friend. Not girlfriend yet, for sure. But god I hope he pulls it off. Finally! My point is, pick out a movie, text the chef, and then we go to the couch. It is time, boys… to chill. You guys fuckin’ need it!” Henry said, pointing toward the couch.

“Andy’s what?!” Ethan called out in surprise. Falling to the couch in pure disbelief, yes having sent the order of pizzas and brownies and ice cream to the chef, Ethan was brought to the sudden realization that his older brother was becoming a man, probably at this very moment. Exbitionist style. Lawd, the Devil stole his brother’s soul and he couldn’t be prouder. “Damn, never thought he’d move that fast. First time under the bleachers? Wild. Oh a movie! We have two options. Risky Business, if you bitches haven’t seen it, it would be nice if you did before my…” Ethan stopped himself. He almost revealed to his dad that he was having a big bash tomorrow at the family vineyard with Risky Business as the theme. “It’s just a good movie, okay? Or Clerks. That’s just a must. So which is it going to be?”

Sully tilted his head when Ethan trailed off of one sentence that seemed to lead to him talking about his party, but he supposed the taller boy was still trying to be subtle despite Henry already calling out the whole situation earlier during the whole music game. “My uncle likes Clerks,” He offered, both for Ethan to know and for little Danny to help make a decision. He looked down at the little dude. “All I really know about Risky Business is that scene everyone knows with Tom Cruise in his underwear dancin’ to Bob Seger.”

“Well that’s…” Danny tilted his head right back at Sully’s description while his brother looked over and once again laughed at them from the counter. He could not believe Decky was acting like that from weed alone. Decky couldn’t help it though, he looked up just in time for Sully to do his little head tilt and to watch Danny follow soon after, and the sudden realization that he’d missed earlier, that Danny was clinging to Sully’s arm like a koala while Sully just let it happen, was cracking him up. Danny liked to study with him because he got to spend time with someone who just accepted his presence and didn’t dote or hover. Decky knew that, he just didn’t expect the comfort to extend outside the office so much that Danny would use Sully as a secondary anchor when Decky left him to float for a moment. It was hilarious how Sully literally didn’t do anything to ask for it and people just flocked to him. Sully may never really realize it since his relationship with most of the gearheads began through AJ’s interest and investment in him, but the streamer was definitely a social floater with his strongest ties being held down in four different groups.

The Thespians favored him despite him not being one mostly because of his job building their sets. The Media kids knew him as one of the three hosts of the Morning Show alongside Rye and DJ, while the Gamers got the more enthusiastic version of him from his streams, aside from Oli who likely knew Sully best. Lastly, the Gearheads got him for everything else that made him Sully. The dude’s obsession with flipping old junkers for fun more than for his videos, his trade knowledge, his faded moments, and his heart that would get ripped apart in their school if he let it. And he would let it, the dumbass.

Now, looking at Ethan, Decky realized this poor fuck was about to be added to another clique, and god help his fuckin’ soul because it was the Elite.

It was nice knowin’ ya, Sulls.

Deciding to move it all along, Decky rolled his eyes after finishing the last of the hit and blew out the smoke before deciding to give Ethan a hand.

“Let’s do Risky Business, Danny and I have seen Clerks a shitton,” He got up and deliberately made his way to the couch, Danny detaching from Sully to follow him. Taking a spot at the corner of the L shaped section, Danny settled in next to him while Sully settled at the foot of the longer cushion near Decky’s feet. He rolled his eyes at the obvious intent to go back for another coffee soon in the other boy’s positioning. How he still just slept whenever he needed to was a mystery. With his brother at his side and his nerves settled once more, Decky felt the high washing over him again as safety blanketed his senses for a moment. He almost called Ethan by his last name again when he spoke up to the boy, but saved it at the last minute before the sentence got to his lips. “Oh, Ethan,” Decky stared the rich boy dead in the eye. “If ya ever pick my baby brother up without my express permission again, I'll beat you're ass.” He held the gaze even as Danny poked him in the side and he finally let Ethan see the smile he'd been hiding.

“But thanks.”

For a first day of school, Owen thought he did pretty good. He’d made a friend, he’d got invited to a party (he thought?), and Jamie had even told him he had a cute friend to introduce him to. That was why he was in such a good mood while he was painting the interior wall of the gym. He was pleased with the gray his mother had chosen, but a bit annoyed she hadn’t trusted him with the dark orange color she’d painted the ‘accent wall.’ What the fuck is an accent wall? Owen thought to himself as he bobbed his head along to the music that blared into his ears, completely locked in on painting the wall. Painting was therapeutic. He hadn’t believed his mother when she’d said that initially, but now Owen saw the vision.

He was glad there was so much wall to paint; they’d been working on this particular project since Owen had gotten off from school. The implication, at least the way he saw it, was that this was to be his life outside of schoolwork until his father decided otherwise, and Owen was honestly okay with that. Restoring shit was cool, and Owen was watching the gym breathe life back into his father as much as the other way around. If he had to sacrifice his social life for a bit to help his dad out with this, that was perfectly fine with him.



Owen turned in confusion as he realized his father had pulled the earcup off of his ear and was yelling to get his attention. He reached up and pulled the headphones down and turned to face his dad, holding a still dripping paint brush as the now distant sounds of the guitar solo to Tornado of Souls emanated from his headphones. “What? I’m painting.” He asked and Troy shook his head as he gestured toward the door.

“Your mom says there’s a homeless kid on my porch.”

Owen stared.

“So get rid of him.”

“What!? Why me?! If there’s a homeless kid on the porch, call the cops! What if he bites me!?” Owen demanded and Troy shrugged his shoulders.

“Can’t help you. Your mom would feel unsafe if I left the building. If he bites you, we have excellent health insurance.”

Owen glared at his father for a few seconds, before shoving the paintbrush into his chest without care for the splatters that landed on both of them. “Fine.” He hissed, and then spun to leave the gym. He threw open the door and glared at the person who awaited him in front of the gym. Owen folded his arms over his chest and squinted down the way at the other boy, “hey, don’t I go to school with you? What the fuck are you doing? My mom is wigging out. I think she thinks you have rabies, dude.”

Unashamed and unafraid, Dash A. Day, with his headphones resting around his neck, had Call Me Maybe by Carly Rae Jepsen blasting. If his green Beats Pro, that his dad gifted him for Christmas, were on his ears he’d go deaf! That’s how loud his music was. He didn’t care. He’d been waiting across the street from the 365 Combat Club for like… four hours. Maybe. He wasn’t counting. And music helped kill time. Once he saw movement inside and a boy he recognized as the new transfer student, who arrived and entered the building, he skated across the street on his T-Rex board and went to the glass door to peer in. Dash couldn’t believe the gym was opening again. This was a BIG deal. His dad used to go when he was younger and he’d say that his mama would watch him punch bags and people, which got her to swoon. One day he’d be just like his dad and maybe one day, he’d find a girl to swoon over him. A girl like Piper Lyon.

That was beside the point. Dash had two dads. His blood dad and his step dad. He didn’t hate his step dad. Mr. Phoenix suited his mother more than his biological father did -- they both were nerds. He was happy for her because she finally found the person that made her happy. He could never hate Mr. Phoenix. Plus, it gave him a pretty cool sister who was named after a mineral. They had a happy family dynamic; he, his mom, his step dad and his step sister. He loved what they had but that didn’t change how much Dash idolized his father, Damon Day. How badly Dash wished he could be as popular as his father. How much Dash wanted to be seen and recognized by his father, who was cool. So cool. He wanted to be cool too. How bad Dash wanted his father to love him. Damon was a rap god, had charisma for days, and muscles to show how much of an Alpha he was. Damon was the shit. Dash was not. The small brunette teen, with clothes too big for him, and hardly any meat on his bones even though HE DID EAT, knew that but he’d continue to pretend he didn’t. It was better that way.

Over the course of time, Damon fell out of love with his family and in love with himself and his career. Why else do you think Dash’s parents were divorced? His mama was too good, too pure to have broken up with his dad. It was Damon who called the shots and it was Damon who chose to do his own thing, travel and send gifts, and sometimes invite his son over to enjoy the vibes. Damon was better than his family and if he had it his way, he would erase them completely from his history, starting anew with just him, his bitches, and his money. Dash didn’t want to believe that. When the door opened fast, and abruptly, the small boy found himself pushed back and losing stability on his skateboard. Yes, he never got off it.

With no time to react, he found himself falling ass backwards off his board and to the ground, his backside slamming into the asphalt. Momentarily, he scrunched his face, in visible pain, before looking up at the other boy, wide eyed and excited. “You remember me?!” His ribs hurt from the day before but he was too hyped to think of the sting. Dash scrambled quickly onto his feet and kicked his board up. “Me? Rabies? I wouldn’t even know it if I did! Don’t I need to foam from the mouth?” Dash, focus. This was your opportunity to get DEETZ. Rather clumsily, he offered his hand and gave a toothy grin, “The names Dash and we totally do go to school! ... Together! Are you… wait, you said mom? DO YOU OWN THIS PLACE? OH-MY-GOD-THAT’S-SO-COOL. Tell me you own this place. Do you own this place?” Dash’s grip tightened on Owen’s and he began to jump in place, with his board under his arm.

Owen couldn’t help but frown. Owen Lyon didn’t vibe very well with people he considered bouncy, and it only took all of five seconds for him to realize that he was face-to-face with the bounciest person in the Beverly Hills High student body. Owen thought about telling him to fuck off after he was bombarded with… energy, but he was trying to be a better person. “I don’t own this place. My dad does.” He explained, letting the door swing closed behind him as he stood in front of Dash with his arms folded over his chest. Owen wasn’t trying to glare, but he unfortunately had a case of resting bitch face that he’d inherited from his father. Not his mother. Owen’s mother couldn’t do anything other than smile.

“It looked like you ate shit pretty hard, dude. Are you all good? What are you even doing here, dude? How long have you been here?” Owen was asking the questions he figured his dad would have been asking if he were in the same position. Owen wasn’t sure if he was supposed to try and get the kid to leave, or what. For now, there was no harm in simply having a conversation. “You wanna come inside? If you do, they might put you to work. Just sayin’.”

“I can work! That’s fine. I’ve been waiting like forever for this place to re-open. Are you related to the previous owner?” Dash asked, unable to focus on anything but the hype of the gym opening up again. He was used to busting his ass and getting beat up so the fall was nothing and he was glad Owen noticed. That meant he cared. They were off to a wonderful start. Grumpy faces didn’t faze the smaller teen because he was used to Toury being a straight up bitch to most people. Also once you have an in with Malcolm, there is no point in reading into someone’s facial expressions. “So,” Dash started, as he trailed behind the other boy. “I remember passing by this place earlier today and I saw you hanging up a sign. And I was like oh-my-god-no-way. So right after school I decided to skate here, and chill, until I saw an in. This being my in right now.”

The two boys trailed in and mama Lyon glanced over only for her eyes to sparkle in excitement. Owen had a friend. This was already a wonderful start to his transfer. Putting the roller down, she rubbed the paint off her hands on and on overalls before waving at the two boys, “Hellooooo there! Owen, is this a friend of yours? He doesn’t look like a rabid dog, Troy!”

“No rabies here, ma’am! I don’t think!”

Owen looked at his mother and shook his head, “I mean, I saw him at school. But I’ve never heard him talk before now. I told you! I’m keeping my head down! I’m just gonna hang out with Jamie. He seems alright.” He explained to his mother, but he knew the damage was already done; his mother’s mind was made up. Owen was going to hang out with Dash for the early evening, whether he wanted to or not.

“WHAT? I’M PAINTING WITH THE STUPID FUCKIN’ ORANGE. BECAUSE YOU WON’T LET THE KID DO IT!” A voice called back, Troy having just registered that his wife had called for him. But, like an obedient (if gruff) dog, Troy showed up onto the scene seconds later. He looked at Kylie, exasperated, and asked. “What? I had the boy go take care of the kid on the porch.” He turned to look at Owen, almost as if he wanted confirmation that the task had been taken care of… and then his glare landed on Dash.

“You’re the kid who was standing out front of the gym. What are you doing? You work out here?” Troy frowned. The kid looked like he weighed one hundred pounds, soaking wet.

“I could! If you let me! My dad used to. He would talk about this place a lot and then it closed and I was like awwww man, just when I got old enough to join. But now it’s open again!” Dash speedily explained, only to turn his attention to the redhead woman who gestured for him to grab a brush.

“Multitasking, boys! These walls aren’t going to paint themselves. Talk and roll. Talk and roll,” Kylie instructed, clapping her hands to emphasize her gentle commands. “If we can finish this room, maybe we can treat ourselves to pizza later! And by that, I mean, baby, I already ordered pizza with your card. It’ll be here in forty.”

Dash found a home for his board and then sped walked to the woman’s side, not wanting to disobey the maternal figure. “Pizza sounds great, Mrs…”

Kylie immediately answered,“You can call me Mama Kylie.”

“Mama Kylie!”

Troy watched the situation unfold before him, and ultimately shrugged. Even if Owen didn’t know this kid before right now, free labor was free labor. Even if the free labor wasn’t exactly free - his fucking wife had already bought the pizza… and Troy didn’t even really like pizza. He folded his arms over his chest and looked between the two teenagers before him.

“Fine. You work out here now. Paint.” Troy said, and shoved out the paintbrush he was holding into Dash’s hands. He saw nothing else worth saying, and turned around from the group to head back into his domain. At least, it was his domain until Kylie pushed her way in and decided what colors were on the wall. Picking his battles was the most important lesson Troy ever learned.

Owen looked down at Dash and held out his hand to shake after Troy had made his decision. “I’m Owen. Owen Lyon. My dad says we’re best friends now. Let’s go paint the walls before he starts bitching.”

With a paintbrush in one hand, Dash gave a childish and genuine grin, grabbing ahold of Owen’s firm grip with his free hand, which was smaller by a lot. He was happy that he now had a best friend, even if they just met. He noticed the pure power in Owen’s hold and found himself even more impressed. As he shaked, he gritted his teeth, wincing a little from his own movements, before complimenting, “You’re hella’ strong, brother. Are you going to teach me how to backhand strike, double fist punch, tiger claw, leglock, powerbomb, sleeper hold, and SUPLEX?!” To have a strong best friend meant Dash was one step closer to being a muscle man, taking down all the baddies and being a superhero that saves the day. Looking up at Owen, he could totally see that this boy was superhero material. Kicking bad guys to the curb wasn’t the job he wanted but the job destined for him and Dash wanted to make sure he was there for the ride. Every hero needs a sidekick, after all, and he was perfect for the job. Owen & Dash like… Batman & Robin! Captain America & Bucky! Iron Man & War Machine! The Punisher & Microchip! The possibilities were endless and he was stoked that he found his duo.

Owen gave Dash a side glance. What did this kid think this was? Some kind of movie, like they were going to get into hijinks and wacky adventures? Like they’d get drafted into some kind of underground fighting ring and Owen would have to fight his way to the top to survive? He shook his head as he led the smaller boy inside the gym, and toward the half painted wall they’d be finishing up together. “Sure dude, I’ll teach you everything. Just call me Jedi Master Owen Wan Kenobi.” Owen looked down and grinned. “Yeah, man. You seem new, so you’ll be in the beginner’s class. That is with me. I’ll teach you the first rule now: We don’t want any trouble. Seriously, my dad’ll beat our asses if we’re swinging hands outside of the gym.” Owen explained, before he took the paintbrush and lifted it up, pressing it against the wall in a part that hadn’t yet been covered.

“We have to do another coat, and then we can have ice cream. My mom got this sea salt ice cream ice cream. It’s pretty good!”

Dash was excited but he shouldn’t get too excited or he’d forget to give his mother a status update. He had another hour or so before he needed to text her that he was okay. He had time. “We don’t want any trouble,” the shorter boy repeated, mimicking Owen’s paint strokes beside him but going much, much slower to avoid any sudden movements. His sides were still sore from his training session. He did like Owen’s motto though. It was good! Dash wasn’t one to look for trouble but somehow trouble always found him. He didn’t know why. Something about him was just a magnet for bad luck. Owen was right, though. If he could actively avoid trouble, he would.

From one topic to the next, Dash’s ADHD brain got the best of him (the only reason he could focus on this task was because he had a body double in Owen), he began rambling, leaving little room for silence, “So I see you’re cool with Jamie, that means soon enough you’ll get to meet Trixie. Wherever he is, she usually is with him. They’re kind of this feracious bestie duo that is really good at finding out things about people. They run the newspaper club! But I think they have a bigger fanbase on their podcast, Salt & Truth, you should give it a listen sometime.” Dash nodded to himself, bringing the roller up and down, up and down, up and down. He unfortunately couldn’t reach the top part so he crouched, regardless of the pain, and began to get the lower half of the wall. If he focused on the job at hand, the bruise practically didn’t exist. “You’d think those two are dating since they’re practically inseparable but Jamie has this on again, off again relationship with AJ, he’s a gearhead, and Trixie… iunno. She used to date this jock, his name is Theo, but that ended abruptly before sophomore year. Since then, it’s hard to tell what’s been going on in her love life. She keeps all that private. Some people think she has a side piece from another school but I think she just hasn’t found someone good enough for her. It’s wild how invested people get in other’s lives at this school. I’m only telling you because you should know! Since you said you’re not looking for trouble.” He looked up at the other boy and explained, “If you’re not looking for trouble… those two might bring in the trouble, by accident! They’re just part of the populars, the peps that care too much. It comes with the territory. The higher you are in the social ladder, the more trouble you get.”

“This school sounds like shit.” Owen said in observation as he and Dash worked on painting the wall. He didn’t sound upset about it, it was almost as casual an observation as an observation like that could be. Two things were obvious about BHHS that Owen could not deny. Firstly, everyone in the school seemed to be a drama king or queen. Secondly, everyone seemed to be up in everybody’s business. Owen looked down at Dash and raised an eyebrow. “I don’t even know what a gearhead is.” He said at the end of Dash’s ramblings. It was valuable information, Owen supposed, but he would have figured it out eventually. “I appreciate the lore dump, but it’ll be fine. If trouble finds me, I’ll figure it out.” Owen shrugged and went back to focusing on the painting.

“Besides, Trixie might like me. I’m pretty cool.” Owen was careful not to speak too highly of himself. He knew he had a short temper, and that before long it was likely to bite him in the ass. It was important to keep himself under control, and that meant focusing on what mattered: watching the paint dry. “Trouble’s not gonna find me, cuz I live here. In my sanctuary. My domain.” Owen explained his scheme to stay inside the gym until long after high school like it was the smartest plan anyone had ever come up with. “I’ll go to the school, and then I’ll come back here. I got everything I need here. See? Don’t want any trouble.”

“Too bad you’re a fuckin’ trouble magnet.”

“Shut UP, Dad!”

“This kid’s small. If he’s gonna get involved with Owen ‘Can’t Go Two Weeks Without Getting in a Fight’ Lyon, he should know ahead of time. And I hear you talkin’ too. Don’t bring no fuckin’ women here.”

“Owen can bring in any woman he wants!” Mama Kylie interjected, coming out of her husband’s office to give her son’s new friend Mountain Dew (assuming that was what the twink preferred). “We have healthier options, like water, but you look like you love the Dew. You know it took my husband years to get me on a healthy diet. Did you know I used to be a gamer girl?”

Graciously and excitedly, Dash grabbed the soda can and shook his head, “No, Mama Kylie, I did not know you gamed. We just met! But that’s really cool. I overheard in the halls that Michael O’Connor is bad at Fortnite.”

“O’Connor,” Kylie smiled to herself, knowing the surname well from her own time at BHHS. From one distraction to the next, she went back to the main topic at hand, “Troy, my baby is going to LIVE. We aren’t going to police him too much. If he finds a girl…” The maternal figure turned from her man to her son with a giddy grin on, “She is welcomed here. Mama is law.”

Troy frowned as he looked between his wife and the two boys, “fine. But we’re NOT ‘reconnecting’ with people we went to school with, Kylie. I don’t care how badly you want to or how many spawn of our classmates walk through that door. I hated high school.” With that, Troy turned and walked off toward the office. There was no denying it, he was clearly dejected and pouting.

“Thanks, mom. I really am staying here tonight. I figure I can work on shit late into the night so we can start really plucking away at dad’s list. Is that cool? He’ll stay with me.” He pointed at Dash.

“Of course that’s cool! Less work for me tomorrow and also,” Kylie took out her phone and waved it to all three of the boys in the room, “I might’ve already reconnected with one person. Did you know there’s a big party tomorrow?! You both must go! The Greens are so over the top, I’m sure it’ll be the party of the century. Right, Troy?” Mischievous and impish, Kylie put her husband on the spot and if he didn’t answer her the way she wanted him to, she’d tell the two boys embarrassing stories of him from highschool. This is what Kylie did. She was a petty girl. Troy knew her well.

“I guess I could ask my sister for a ride or maybe one of my friends is going and I can carpool with them. Oh snap! I need to call my mommy and tell her where I’m at. I totally forgot,” Dash gasped, putting the roller down in its tray before standing up, grimacing as he did so trying to hide the mild flinch. He walked to his own corner to make a call.

Tilting her head, she asked, “Owen, you know that kid has an injury right?” Not only did Kylie notice Dash avoiding running, but even as she watched him put the roller down, he saw him purse his lips and slow down.

“He fell, dude. He ain’t hurt that bad, but I’ll keep it in mind. DASH! You’re good right?!”

“How can I NOT be good?! I got a new best friend!” Dash roared, knowing this news would make his mom so happy. Dash never had a best friend! Friends sure but never a BEST friend.

“Okay, well you two don’t get into too much trouble,” Kylie worriedly pouted, still concerned but deciding it was best to bury it until she had more information. She trusted her son. He was a protector, just like his father.

“Don’t you worry, Mama Kylie, we’re not looking for trouble,” Dash nodded to himself as he focused on the task at hand. Painting. “No ma’am, no ma’am. No trouble at all.”

Wearing a charcoal mask and her plush bathrobe, Beatrix danced in her kitchen to her mother’s playlist. Naughty Girls (Need Love Too) pulsated out of the bluetooth speakers outside. Her back patio double doors, which were connected to her kitchen, were open, with only the retractable screen doors kept closed (separating her from the bugs). This allowed her to hear the crickets and see Jamie put a bucket of ice with his parents’ favorite champagne by the jacuzzi. Sushi had arrived and she was setting up a tray for both her and her best friend to share. Putting wasabi and ginger on a small plate, their sushi designed on the tray as if this were a charcuterie board, Trixie thought about her morning, trying her best to formulate in words what she experienced with her ex. Trying her best to think of ways to express her emotions to her best friend without sounding like an idiot.

She loved Jamie. No matter the highs and lows, they were always there for each other. No matter how many times AJ broke Jamie’s heart, and Jamie broke AJ’s, she was there at his side. If he was alone, she was a phone call away. When she had her quinceanera, he was her dance partner (even though they needed to practice a lot), since she had broken up with Theo already by then. When her parents were considering a divorce, he was with her every step of the way. Her parents decided to stay together and work through their problems. Or at least staying was the easiest route for them because it wouldn’t have ruined her father’s campaign when he was running for governor. Jamie helped her through her inferiority complex with her brothers and channel it with a positive outlet, the newspaper. Together they found their passion and together they decided they would make The Pirate’s Hook better. Worth reading. A project that only they could handle.

She loved Jamie. So why was it so hard to tell him what happened this morning? Evidently, she fucked up. All of her memories of Theo, with them living right next to each other, were wonderful until they broke up. Even after she decided to not be the power couple they were freshman year, after that god awful fight, she noticed him in the hallways and promised herself she would never fall weak to love ever again. She would never let an infatuation change who she was. She would never date someone she considered a friend.

Uncertain and confused for the next year or so, somehow, she found herself worried about him. She wondered how he was doing. What he was up to besides hanging out with the Elite and playing football. And if she was being completely honest, she thought about whether or not he still kept her in his mind and if he missed her. Not in the romantic kind of way but as a friend. If their break up didn’t go so south — she was to blame since she didn’t text him while she was away for an ice skating tournament — would he have been so upset? Should she have texted him constantly like a girlfriend even though she knew she wasn’t into him in the way he wanted her to be? How could she have made their break up… less painful for him?

The questions spun in her mind. Trixie felt absolutely guilty for hurting him and she wondered if this was normal. If doubt, shame, and pain were normal after something like this morning. Theodore was in the wrong for barging into the bathroom after her, right? Then again she did forget to lock the door. Wouldn’t that make it her fault? This incident and the distance that continued to grow between her and her ex best friend caused her very foundation to crack. She wasn’t even sexually abused. She was just made extremely uncomfortable. Was that right for her to think though? They used to cuddle together in the same bed. They made out before! Then why? Why was this all so hard for her to process?

Breaking out of a daze, Trixie could see the soy sauce overflowing from a small bowl. “Shit,” she said under her breath. Swiftly, she brought the bottle upright. Placing it on the counter, she cleaned her mess. Thankfully, she was pouring the soy sauce away from the tray. If she poured it over the tray, dinner would be sushi drowned and soggy. No thanks. Once she was all cleaned up, she grabbed the tray and shuffled to the back entrance, to her destination with her black slippers on. When she reached the side door, she held the tray with one hand and carefully opened the screen doors. Creeping out, not wanting to drop the tray, Trixie closed the doors behind her, to prevent the insects from coming in. Returning to her original position, holding the tray with both hands, Trixie tiredly smiled (today was a long day), “How are we feeling?” She surveyed her friend who was now in the jacuzzi. “Sushi’s here!” She proudly showcased her display before placing it on a table beside him.

“Better now,” Jamie said from the jacuzzi, uncorking a bottle of champagne and holding it off to the side, letting the bubbles fall onto the stone below. He took a swig from the bottle before holding it out for Trixie to take, shaking it ever so slightly. “Ooh, California roll. Who needs AJ when I have you?” he said, leaning out of the hot tub to pluck a piece of sushi from the plate. “How are you feeling?”

Once her bathrobe was off, revealing her bikini, Trixie reached for the champagne bottle and took a tiny sip. With the bottle in hand, she tested the water with her big toe. Steadily, without hurry, she joined her friend, face mask and all, and gave him back the bottle. As she got herself situated and her body used to the temperature of the water, she answered, “Yesterday I missed school because of a migraine and today I had a shitty day wishing I didn’t come in. I’m tired as heck, Jamie.” Exhaustion was all she could think about after the day she experienced.

Not having much of an appetite at this instant, Trixie leaned back, extending her arms out on the rim of the jacuzzi, and closed her eyes. Focusing on her breathing, the latina let the calm of the night, and the heat from the water, pacify and soothe the raging war inside her body, her heart, and her soul. Seconds passed where there were no words between the friends. Allowing her mind to slow down and her body ease, grounding herself to her conversation with Jamie, Trixie’s lips curved upward, ever so gingerly, into a gentle smile. She wasn’t ready to talk about Theo. Not yet. First, she wanted to ask a question to her friend. An icebreaker of sorts to get them going and set the tone.

“Introspection time,” she stated, breaking the silence. “Do you regret your relationship with AJ?” Never one to mince her words, Trixie wasted no time to get to the hard hitting topics. Out of the two friends, she was the serious one of the two. There weren’t many people who could make Trixie laugh and just the fact that she started their talk with regret showed she acknowledged him and would tell him what happened this morning. She just needed a little more time and a soft push. Prideful through and through.

“Ughhh,” Jamie groaned and snatched the bottle back, taking another gulp, and pursing his lips as he swallowed. No matter how much he pretended to like wine, his face gave him away. “Today? Yes. Tomorrow, probably. Three months from now?” He paused, sighed, and rolled his head back to look up at the decidedly starless sky. “I don’t know. Maybe I will, but I hope I won’t.” He paused for another sip. “He sucks, and I think if I saw him right now I’d try to drown him, but he was the first person who really cared about me. Loved me, I guess.” Jamie rolled his eyes at the end, as if the idea of AJ really loving him was nothing more than a juvenile fantasy. “Why?”

Trixie shrugged and scooted closer to her friend to join him in his starless gazing. “Just grappling with that myself, I suppose.” If she never dated Theo he could still be in her life and she could still help him through his issues with his father. Imagining how he would’ve turned out versus the monster she created, that is where her mind was. “The first person to ever love you and now he wants to move on.” Trixie spoke her thoughts out loud, wondering if she would be relieved if her ex stopped hyperfixate on and gave his attention to someone else. Would she be okay with that? She wished she would be but the idea of knowing Theo, and the way he is, ending up with a girl that would want to fix him only to get hurt in the end? That made it hard for her to be okay with it. He was going to hurt someone one day and if it wasn’t her, it would be a defenseless, naive girl who didn’t know any better. Turning to rest her head on her arm, which was now on the ledge, she observed her best friend and smiled, “It’s for the best, you know? There’s plenty of other boys out there, Jamie.”

“Yeah, but–,”Jamie stopped mid-sentence, and narrowed his eyes from across the hot tub, brushing off her words of encouragement. “Wait, what do you mean you’re grappling with that yourself?” As far as he knew, the days of Trixie and Theo were long gone, along with any angst that might’ve accompanied them. So why the hell was she pondering the intricacies of regret. Pieces began to click into place, and he began to suspect that he was staring down the barrell of a troubling relapse. “Please tell me you’re not talking about Theo,” he groaned, exasperated and concerned all at once. “I thought we were done with him. Like, ages ago.”

“I am done with him,” Trixie scoffed, sitting up and adjusting herself defensively. “What I mean is if I didn’t break him, if I didn’t leave him when I did, I could still have him in my life and maybe he would be less of an asshole.” Taking a moment to lean over the jacuzzi to grab a sushi and dip it in soy sauce, Trixie confessed, admittedly not proud of how she ended things with her ex, “I regret dating him because if we didn’t get that close, my words wouldn’t have weighed so heavily on him. I was so…” Stupid. Selfish. Self centered. Placing the sushi in her mouth, Trixie chewed in silence. Once she was done eating the piece of nigiri, she continued her explanation, “His father was so cruel to him and I hated that he didn’t do anything about it. The Theo we see now, wasn’t the Theo I grew up with. And it didn’t help that I felt useless. No matter what I said, it didn’t matter. That’s when I started distancing myself and all the butterflies we once had.. nothing we did really interested me anymore. I got bored and we grew apart. And that’s sad because in a sense that means I gave up on him, you know?” She gave up and he turned heel. Her biggest regret: dating her childhood best friend. Don’t do it.

This was what Gay Best Friends ™ called, “a hot fucking mess,” and Jamie wouldn’t be a good one if he didn’t fix it. That was the least he could do. “You didn’t give up on Theo, you broke up with him. It’s not your fault he got pissy about it.” Jamie was hardly a sympathetic person by nature, but he was even less so when it came to Theo. “You were looking out for you, as you should be,” Jamie said, gesturing with the champagne bottle to illustrate his point. “And like, again, babe, it’s Theo. He calls himself The Franchise. How great could he have been?”

“He didn’t always call himself that. Our break up just… did something to him. Like I was the only good thing he had. I know!” Trixie leisurely grabbed the bottle from her friend and grimaced, “I know that’s an unhealthy coping mechanism and makes him codependent as heck but he was my friend and I feel…” her words trailed off, allowing a brief moment for her to gingerly take a sip of champagne. She was too emotional right now so the last thing she needed was to get drunk and do something dumb. Offering the bottle back, she sighed, “I feel like I’m part to blame. I was so good at not thinking about any of this but I saw him this morning and it took a toll on me. That’s why I cried… I thought I was over him.” As soon as she started, she backtracked and apologized. “Sorry.” It wasn’t right for her to paint her ex in a bad image. He was only checking up on her. “I’m overthinking. It’s not like I have anyone to compare Theo to! He’s the only one I ever gave a chance.” And that would stay that way until she found someone who respected her in the way she deserved. “Silly me.”

Jamie pursed his lips, humming a sound of disapproval. He washed the bad taste in his mouth down with another gulp of champagne. “Well, only one of us can be mopey over their ex, and I called dibs.” He stretched out of the hot tub and grabbed his phone off the nearby table, determined to lift his friend’s spirits, and remind her that there were other, much more worthy options, than one Theo Van Cise. “Did I tell you about Scott’s cousin? Tall, mysterious, very hot? I gave him a tour today. He is very your type.” He didn’t know if Trixie had realized what her type was, with her limited sample size, but he was pretty certain he had. It was the least a friend could do. “He is a total ghost on social media, but trust me.”

Raising an eyebrow, Trixie listened albeit annoyed at this new information. If she hadn’t slept in the car most of her school day, she could’ve met the transfer student. Alas, she got too damn high. Reluctantly, she moved closer to her best friend to see if he could find a picture of this so-called hottie. “I don’t have a type,” she objected. With her small dating pool — it was just Theo — the most Jamie could gather when it came to ‘her type’ were comments she said when they walked past someone at the mall or the beach, or even as they watched trashy shows together.

Sure, she had a lean toward boys with pent up aggression, discipline, and a heart of gold underneath all of the muscle, but that didn’t mean she had a type. And yeah, it would be nice to have a boy that could pick her up and throw her over his shoulder (or the bed) with ease and who found enjoyment in the little things like nature, exploring or dancing, but that didn’t mean she had a type. She would die on this hill. Trixie did not have a type and if Scott Lyon was who she had to compare this mystery person to then Jamie was so off, like did he even know her? “I could never date someone like Scott, like ew? Nothing against Scott but I don’t know how Katie can handle him. HELL, I don’t know how you could handle AJ. They’re so LOUD and flashy and gah!” She didn’t want a man that did too much to show she was his. His very being should suffice that they were together. Subtle and intimate things like him texting her in the middle of the night saying he missed her or him putting his hand on her waist and pulling her close while they were at a party. Jamie might’ve been into AJ’s flash mob promposal but Trixie would rather die. For her, she prefers the private moments, when it was just her and her man… whatever that may look like. That still didn’t mean she had a type.

“You’re hilarious,” Jamie replied, wholly and thoroughly unconvinced. “Babe, you like a project. It’s the workaholic in you,” Jamie leveled a teasing grin her way, before returning his eyes to his phone. He had scrolled through what seemed like miles of posts with low engagement and little relevance to his ultimate goal of proving he was right. “God, I know Twitter is fucking dead, but like, his is a fucking fossil. Oh wait–,” he turned the phone towards Trixie, proudly showing off a video of Owen Lyon, shirtless, sweaty, and going head to head with a sandbag. “It’s okay, you can say it. Scott’s cousin is hot.”

With another sushi in her mouth, Trixie slowly chewed and watched Jamie scroll through his phone. He was trying way too hard to get her mind off of her shitty morning. Or perhaps he was trying to redirect the conversation so that she didn’t keep pressing on AJ. The longer Trixie waited the more she began to believe he was talking right out of his ass. It wasn’t until he brought the phone to her face that she saw herself face to face with a blue eyed, stunning well kept brown hair, his body only achieved with a strict gym range, capable of enormous leverage, and— Beatrix choked on her food.

Breaking into a little coughing fit, Trixie tried to use the champagne to wash down her fish. Teary eyed, she tried her best to regain her composure. When she did so, she traded the bottle with phone (at this point she didn’t know how many times they passed the bottle). Jamie’s phone in hand, expression, stunned, Trixie couldn’t believe what she was seeing. “Shut up,” she commented. “This is NOT Scott’s cousin.” As much as she was protesting, she didn’t look away. Her gaze rested on his soft smile before she snapped back to reality.

Returning Jamie’s phone, Trixie gave the faintest of blushes or was it from the heat of the pool? Or the champagne? “If you’re not messing with me, okay, I’ll give it to you. He is hot. But why would you show me that after you said I like a project?!” Trixie passionately moved her hands as she spoke, just how her mother did. “Just because he’s hot doesn’t mean he’s a good guy!” She was not going to let some really hot guy with a chest she wanted to lick, hands she wanted around her neck and lips she wanted to bite distract her. “How are you going to prove that, huh?”

“Cause he’s Scott’s cousin, and Scott is an annoyingly good guy if we’re being completely honest. Gimme three minutes, and I’ll have your proof on the way.” Jamie said, reaching over and snatching his phone back. With one hand, he brought the bottle of champagne to his lips, and with the other, he opened up the lonely message he’d received from Owen earlier, and gave it a friend.







Jamie took a moment to reconsider this course of action, well aware of where it would lead: Owen and Trixie macking in a car while he distracted Dash Day. Oh, the things we do for love.













Jamie sighed.

“See, Dash this is how you paint a pinstripe, dude. Your line was squiggly... Dash?” Owen spoke confidently as he wheeled around on his heel to find that Dash was… nowhere to be found. That wasn’t a big deal, Owen had already lost Dash’s attention three or four times, and getting it back wasn’t that difficult. What did bother him though, was how when he looked at the chair where his phone had been sitting, there was a whole lot of nothing. “OI! DASH! WHERE THE FUCK’S MY PHONE?” Owen had gotten a text, requested that Dash respond to it… and now he didn’t know where anything was. Did he just get punked?

As he peered around the gym, Owen found himself to be not as angry as he would have been with anyone else. He and Dash had been hanging out and chatting for a while by the time they’d gotten this far in the painting. Anyone else, and Owen probably would have been having a bit too much fun envisioning all the ways he could pound their face in, but Dash Day? Owen had known him for almost a single entire evening, and they would already kill for each other.

His phone was fine. It was just… missing. “Dash! Seriously!”

“Why are we yelling?!” Kylie yelled back, opening the door to her husband’s office and there appeared a wild Dash by her. “We were just talking and he found my snack stash.” There was a quick instant where Ky turned to the smaller boy and gave him a wink.

Obediently, Dash did what he was instructed by Mama Lyon. Running to Owen he gave the boy one, his phone back and two, a box of condoms. “Your mom told me you’re going to need this!”

Owen frowned as he wondered what his mother and Dash could have been talking about in the office by themselves, but he felt an immediate wave of relief wash over him as his father followed them out. “I asked her to leave it alone.” Troy said with a shrug and Owen looked down at the box of condoms Dash thrust into his hands, and then at his phone where he read back through the texts Dash had sent. Owen frowned and Troy shrugged. “I’m going home. Your mother is coming with me. Your padawan stays. Your demon cat stays. She’s upstairs asleep, I think.”

Owen listened to Troy’s words, but he couldn’t stop the pink tint appearing on his ears as he realized what was happening. His mother, Dash, and Jamie (unknowingly) had teamed up to hook him up with a girl he’d never met, or even seen. “Man, what if I don’t like her. Did you think about that?” Owen asked the group, but he knew his words would fall on deaf ears. His father was nearly at the door already, and gesturing for his wife.

“Kylie, let’s fucking go. Kid’s gonna be fine. It’s called the 365 Combat Club. Someone’s gotta be here 24/7. We live like fifteen minutes away. Chop chop, I wanna get out of here before more teenagers show up.” He paused. Then, he continued.

“I fucking hate teenagers.”

“It’s The Lyon’s Den, you promised!” Kylie protested as she gave a little wave to her son’s duo. Rushing to her husband, who was now waiting for her by the door, she had a sudden realization. “Oh, lover of mine. I just remembered, Sunday I have a brunch planned with all my friends. From highschool. Meaning I’ve sent texts and we’re in discussion for obvious girl time.” Grabbing onto his muscular arm, she beamed up at her man, batting her eyes and being the dutiful, loving wife, always at his side, “Belle already said she’s down. She’s flying here tomorrow!”

Troy Lyon did not like this revelation and it was almost immediate even to Dash with the way his shoulders slumped, and he squinted down at his wife as she hung off of his arm. “Are their husbands going?”

Kylie thought about it for a second, looking around as if she was searching for an answer. “Obviously! When have we ever had a girls night without our men? You’re so funny, baby. Oh wait, I guess we aren’t all coming with our husbands… Izzy has been talking about some serious stuff. She hasn’t even told her children yet.”

“Yeah? Sounds dramatic. Izzy doesn’t even like me. I decline.”

“What if…” Kylie purred, turning her chest toward her husband and pressing it against him not so subtly. She let her fingers walk up him, leisurely and playfully, before she caressed his bottom lip and giggled, “What if I do the thing you really like… you know when we…”

Troy frowned as he looked down at his wife, considering it. She only really did that for anniversaries and his birthday… He wondered if his son or Dash would judge him… but that didn’t stop him from nodding and speaking with absolute reluctance. “Fine. Twice.”

“Please stop talking aloud.” Owen pleaded, tossing the box of condoms off to the side. He’d get those when he needed them. If he needed them.

“THRICE!” Kylie shouted, so her son heard clearly.

“Why not all night?!” Dash hollered after Mama Lyon, not knowing the context.

Troy looked back at his son and shrugged. “You’ll get it when you’re married. You two better be done painting by the time I get here in the morning.” With that, Troy spun on his heel toward the door, having been ready to leave long before Kylie appeared and begged him to let Owen’s ‘other friends’ come to the gym. That had gotten Troy at least one morning wood removal service. He felt pretty smug about that one - he would have let them come anyway.

He yanked the door open, and found himself face to face with a girl and a boy he’d never seen before. Neither of them looked like they worked out, and Troy frowned. “Wrong place. Go away.”

Owen was quick to get involved at that point, appearing behind Troy and shaking his head. “Dad, dude. Those are my friends. Fuck off and go do something else. You told me you’d kill to have the house alone with mom… wellllll.” Troy frowned and thought about it, before he nodded.

“Good point. Kylie, no talking. We’re leaving.” To make sure things happened the way he wanted them to, Troy lifted Kylie up into his arms bridal style and walked past both of the other two standing in the doorway, headed toward the minivan in the parking lot. Owen looked at Jamie first, but then his eyes found Trixie and he was unable to stop himself.

“Whoa.”

Neither Trixie or Jamie had time to react or respond because Dash was dashin’. “You made it! Welcome to the Lyon, rawr, den, where Owen is here to show you how to kick ass like a ninja.” Dash began to fight an imaginary sparring partner, showing them his sick skills. Chop. Slap. Kick. Hadouken. The show of how not to fight ended with Dash breathing heavily in front of them, proudly grinning, hands on his hips. “So are you going to help us paint?”

Jamie’s eyes bounced between Trixie and Owen and Dash, and he praised himself for the foresight to bring the second bottle of champagne. After catching a ride from Jim, the forty two year old Uber driver who was now spiriting away in his Honda Civic, Jamie was well and truly drunk, but he could still pick up a vibe. And here, there was most definitely a vibe.

“I guess we are. Owen Lyon, this is Trixie Kingsley,” he said, gesturing between the pair. He did not bother introducing Dash. Everybody knew Dash. “We brought wine,” he slapped his palm against a bag, hanging from his shoulder, “and I would like to add, I am really killing my role as Peer Mentor.” He pushed past the boys, into the gym, and took a look around. “It’s cute. Bit industrial, but it’s a consistent aesthetic at least.”

Trixie had a whole uber ride to sober up and gather her thoughts. She couldn’t believe Jamie convinced her to do this. All for what? To see a boy! Scott’s cousin at that. When they arrived, she did a double take when she saw the redhead clinging to the brawny man, feeling like she’d seen her before but unsure where and when. That, of course, wasn’t something of importance at this moment. What was important was for her to try her best to not embarrass herself in front of the new transfer student. Throughout Dash’s tangent, Trixie examined the boy who grabbed her attention by how he held himself, how he looked at her and how he behaved in her presence. Pushing her hair behind her ear when Jamie gave her introduction, she smiled at the boy, letting her friend take the lead on this one.

“I don’t think I should drink,” Dash answered, knowing that booze would not be good for him because his mind was wired differently and he didn’t want to risk forgetting or doing something stupid. “I can’t make my mama worry about me so no can doooooo, Jamie. Thank you for the offer though! Super nice. Super dope. Super awesome.” He made an X with his arms, as his formal decline of the champagne. “You know,” he slyly continued. “Owen hasn’t taken a break yet. Maybe we need an ice breaker! That way he can get to know Trixie better since he knows me and he knows you, Jamie!”

“That’s a very sweet suggestion, Dash,” Trixie acknowledged and validated the smaller boy, her pleasantly smooth and mellow tone voice finally out in the open air. While she was free from harshness, at least in this second, Beatrix was still raised with spice and vigor. She was feisty, feral and full of attitude given the circumstances. Don’t ever let a Latina fool you with their softness. Behind her calm demeanor, behind her beautiful brown eyes, there was a calculative she-wolf, protective of what was hers. The person she trusted the most in this gym was Jamie and as much as Owen Lyon was a looker, she wouldn’t let that distract her to the point that she let her guard down. She wasn’t raised to fall for some boy just because of his looks.

No, Trixie deserved more.

Not just someone that was handsome but someone that matched her energy and treated her with respect. Someone that loved her and didn’t blame her for their problems. Someone who wouldn’t get her to second guess herself and gaslight her until she barely knew what was true or not. Trixie deserved better and she would make sure if she gave into her impulses, it was because she wanted to and wasn’t pressured into it. “I’m sure Owen and I will have plenty of time to get to know one another tonight.” Trixie approached her new acquaintance, small yet mighty, and looked up at him, sizing him up as she did so. “Jamie talks highly of you.”

That almost threw Owen off. Jamie talked highly of him? Jamie had known him for less than an hour, but Owen supposed he wouldn’t look a gift horse in the mouth. He couldn’t deny the relief he felt when he realized that both he and Trixie were mutually eye-fucking one another, though he was still a bit embarrassed to admit he had audibly reacted to her appearance. Unsure of any other way to greet someone for the first time, Owen stuck out his hand for her to shake. “I’m Owen, it’s nice to meet you. I’m sure it isn’t as highly as he talks of you.” He beamed.

Dash suggested something about an ice breaker, but if Owen was honest, he was so focused on Trixie that he hardly heard a word anyone else said. That was for the best, because if he had heard Jamie’s comments about the aesthetics of the gym, he might not have taken it very well. He turned to look out at the gym, a sweeping gesture toward the ring at one end of the building, “Jamie asked me if I can teach him how to beat his ex up. Do you think you’ll sign up too? It might be nice to have you around more often.”

Trixie held a chuckle back, amused at how surprisingly adorable Owen was being. Her eyes rested briefly on his firm grip on her hand and the size of it in comparison to her’s. Her mind lingered, thinking about things she shouldn’t, until he gave her new information. She raised an eyebrow, finding it strange Jamie was going to do an MMA class. For self defense, against AJ. Anything physically taxing wasn’t really up Jamie’s speed but what made this even more surprising was that this desire to fight was ignited because of AJ. That told her that AJ did hurt him. Why else would he want to beat up his ex? She looked over her shoulder at her friend, slightly irritated he didn’t tell her the whole truth. Trixie did wonder though, if this was all a ploy for her to get close to the new kid, which would be rather excessive even for Jamie. If that was true, she didn’t know what to think. She would much rather be mad at Jamie telling her half truths.

Turning her attention back to Owen, crossing her arms, Trixie pointed out, almost defensively, “I’m not a beginner.” Yes, it was sweet that he wanted to see her more but there was no way she’d go to a class that didn’t challenge her. She had experience having learned some mma techniques from brothers. She built natural stamina, strength and endurance from a strict routine when she figure skated. She played hockey with her brothers from time to time, still to this day, and when she was angry or needed to clear her head, she boxed a punching bag. Trixie needed to release tension somehow and her home gym was made just for that.

“Who is the one that decides the level? Do I need to prove myself? Because I will.” She said matter-of-factly. Trixie might be tipsy but that didn’t mean she would hesitate in fighting if it meant she wasn’t going to the baby class. Beatrix Kingsley was no baby fighter but she supposed, against someone like Theo, who could easily overpower her, she wasn’t nearly as good as she wanted to be. “If I take a class I want to learn how to defend myself against someone twice my size. My brothers taught me a few things but I don’t think it’s enough for… certain scenarios.” Trixie looked away when she said that last part, thinking of Theo once more and hating every minute of it. Walking to the ring, taking the lead, Dash immediately followed behind, energetic as always, she continued to give Owen her undivided attention and admitted, “I don’t like being underestimated.”

“I don’t underestimate you Trixie! You’re actually kind of scary at school but not in the punchy sense,” Dash invaded the conversation.

Owen frowned. He wasn’t sure why she felt the need to mention she wasn’t a beginner when he hadn’t called her one, but then… girls could be difficult. He followed her through the gym, but Owen would have been lying if he said he heard a single word Dash said as she approached the ring. It was like she was an angel sent from the heavens to make sure she was singly and holistically the only thing in his world that mattered. And who could blame him? Owen didn’t even know it was possible for hips to sashay from side to side like that. Was this just how she walked?

Owen made a mental note to give Jamie a thousand thank yous, though he knew not even that would be enough. Trixie was going to change his life - hopefully for the better. Owen snapped himself out of his trance as she stopped in front of the ring and turned around to look at him. “Me. I teach the beginner class, so it’s up to me who goes up. You wanna do it right now? Here, hold up.” Owen stepped up onto the ring apron, and sat down on the middle ring, grabbing the upper one and holding it up, using his body to create an opening for Trixie to slip through. “You’re already dressed. We can spar. Dash, go get us gear. Gloves and two hea—” Owen paused to think about it. “One headpiece. I don’t need one.”

“Aye aye Captain!” Dash saluted and just when he was about to run off, Trixie whispered for Dash to retrieve more water. Although she was distracted by Owen, and everything that he was, she did keep in the back of her mind how much Jamie was drinking. “Aye aye other captain!”

While Jamie’s master plan had been executing itself, he had been busy finding a seat, watching the pair with a knowing, drunken smirk as he uncorked his champagne, the pop piercing the silence that Dash had left behind. He made a mental note to clean up the wine that had overflowed onto the floor. It was a note he would forget. “So, uh,” Jamie took a sip from his bottle. “why the hell did you guys move here? Are your parents models? They kinda looked like models,” Jamie shouted across the gym, unconcerned by this point with things like decorum, or decency.

“I guess the guy who owned this gym passed away, and left it to my pops. He wants to make it popular like it was when he was younger.” Owen said with a shrug as he rested on the ropes, looking over at Jamie. When he said his parents looked like models, Owen laughed and shook his head. “My dad’s a UFC fighter, he’s out of the game though. My mom? My mom is a professional housewife and trust fund baby. She spends her days drinking wine, gossipping with her friends all day, and watching unhinged amounts of The Great British Baking Show and Real Housewives.”

“You should tell her you think that, though. You’ll make her whole week.”

When Owen offered to spar her to gauge her level, Trixie nodded, thinking that was a good idea. As the boys talked, she walked ahead and slipped into the ring. Scanning the area, staying silent as ever, she went to one end of the ring and began to warm up to get her blood moving (a set of jumping jacks, a set of sit ups and a set of push ups). She didn’t mind if the boys were watching her, she wasn’t going to be an idiot before sparring. Owen was a boy clearly twice her size and if she wasn’t smart she could get hurt. Raising her leg and resting it on the highest rope, she stretched and hummed to herself. The tiny girl with meat in all the right places and clearly flexible was serious. He made the offer and she was going to take it. Trixie wanted to see where she needed to improve to take down someone like… someone like Theo. She worried if things were to escalate she wouldn’t be able to protect herself. That was a scary thought.

Jamie nodded. He was pretty sure that he’d be far too drunk by the end of the night to really retain much of this information, but hey, it was the thought that counted. “Very cool. Explains a lot about your general vibe,” he said, matter of fact. He didn’t bother explaining who his parents were or what they did. He’d gotten tired of that exchange years ago. “How did the first day treat you? Better than…wherever the hell you’re from?” Jamie was a California native to his core. If it wasn’t on a coast, he didn’t care much about it.

“It’s different. It’s definitely different.” He gestured toward the bottle of champagne, “where I was going to school before, kids didn’t really do that. I’m supposed to go to that party? It sounds to me like it’s about to be like nothin’ I’ve done before.” Owen explained, shaking his head. When he was living in a party town, he’d been too young to really get crazy. But the tiny town he’d grown up in on the east coast? People were quiet, and they definitely didn’t throw parties his mother described as ‘legendary.’ “Day was alright though. I told you, dude. I’m not looking for any trouble, head down. School, home. I don’t wanna my dad complain again.” As Owen talked, he took a seat on the stool in the corner, a spot where he could both keep Jamie in his peripheral for their conversation, and keep an eye on Trixie as well. Watching her stretch, Owen couldn’t help but let out a sigh.

He could feel himself folding as she lifted her leg onto the top rope.

“Yeah, yeah, very serious, I remember. Trix, he was made for you,” he shouted. “And you do have to come to the party, because yeah, knowing Ethan, you’re probably right. Plus, it’s a very serious insult to turn down an invitation on your first day. I’m sorry, I don’t make the rules,” he said, only half joking.

“What?” Trixie turned her attention back to the boys. “Yeah right, no one was made for me.” The small latina scoffed, still fighting her attraction toward the transfer student. Finishing her stretches, she approached the rope closest to the others and watched as Dash sprinted back with gear and water in hand.

Having taken off the label, just as Trixie told him, Dash yelled out, “Jamie I got VODKA!” Trixie knew Jamie wouldn’t drink it if it was clearly water so Trixie told the boy to make it look believable. Dash didn’t know how to do that so he grabbed a marker and wrote VODKA big on it. “I got it out of that room riiiight there.” He pointed to a room that appeared to have a little kitchenette in it. “It’s strongggggggg stuff. It’ll hit the spot, trust me.” Dash did his best at lying, he wasn’t very good at it, giving the other boy the bottle that was clearly water and then bounced to his newly achieved best friend. “I got the gloves and headpiece, boss.”

Owen took the offered gloves and headpiece away and handed the headpiece and a pair of the gloves over to Trixie. “Okay, Dash. You wanna watch me and Trixie spar? Sit down.” Owen paused, thinking about it before he quickly added. “Still. Sit still.” He clarified before he glanced over his shoulder at Jamie and nodded. “Don’t worry. I’m gonna go, but you can’t get fuckin’ upset when I follow you around because I don’t know nobody.” He cracked his neck, rolling his head from side to side as he looked back at Trixie.

He pulled the gloves down onto his hands and pulled the velcro straps tight, “you think I’d complain if I was made for you?” Owen asked, pulling his shirt off as he did so and tossing it over his shoulder to the gym floor below. “Jamie can ring the bell.”

“Dash this is, quite obviously, water,” Jamie shouted, though he still unscrewed the cap and took a gulp. He stood and walked over to the bell, footsteps far from straight. “You do that now?” Before he got a response, he gingerly pulled a lever, and sent a loud clang ringing through the gym. “Gooooo, or whatever they say. Fight? I don’t know,” he waved his questions away and leaned up against one of the bench presses, watching the ring.

Fuck, does he plan to get wasted the whole weekend?

Trixie worriedly thought to herself but was immediately pulled away from her mind and Jamie when she was brought face to face with Owen’s… bare chest. His abs. His firm… snap out of it girl! Trixie avoided eye contact when she realized how distracting this boy without a shirt was. He needed to focus and show him that she could fight. That she wasn’t a beginner. She walked toward him, burying the butterflies, to grab her gloves from him and put them on. “So you like what you see?” She commented on his flirtatious quip.

“I won’t move! I promise. I can be completely still. So still you won’t even know I’m here!” Dash yelled, going exactly where Owen told him to go to watch a fight ensue. He failed one mission. Jamie knew he was given water. He wouldn’t fail this one! He was a statue. One with the floor. There was nothing distracting… there was him and the fight. The fight and him. Focus. Concentration. Locked in. He was ready. Born ready. This fight would be dope. So dope. The dopest. His squirrel brain went from Owen to Trixie, Trixie to Owen, before he looked at Jamie and saw the bell. Heard the bell. THE BELL IS SO COOL! Could he ring the bell?!

Owen gave a side eyed glance to Dash as he rambled about… whatever. It was hard for Owen to hear, or even see anything in the room other than Trixie. Had he ever seen a woman this attractive in person before? He definitely didn’t have any memory of it if he had. Trixie was… hot. He took the headpiece from her and carefully situated it on her head as he explained, “it’s pretty simple. If you can take me down, we roll around and I’ll put you in a few basic holds.” He secured the clasp under her chin, “if you can get out of at least one of them, and make me tap out… then you’re good to go. Otherwise?” And he couldn’t stop the devilish smirk that curled across his lips as he challenged her with a teasing tone to his follow up taunt.

“You’ll just have to accept you’re a beginner.” He winked and took a step back as he finished putting the headpiece onto her.

His wink was rewarded with a faux glare. As much as she wanted to be mad at the prospect of her being put in a beginner’s class, his words were smooth as silk and made her melt. She never felt like this before. Everything this boy said and did caused her to ache and it was extremely hard to concentrate. Trixie was completely and utterly out of her element. She wanted him. She wanted him bad. Shut up! Show him you can fight. She scolded herself internally. As she backed away, putting distance between them, she rolled her eyes, “Ya lo veremos.”

”Ven a descubrirlo.”

… okay. Yeah. That was unexpected and forced her brain to picture those shorts off, him running his fingers through her hair, and them… STOP! They were about to fight. Those gorgeous blue eyes were not going to bring her down to her knees. If she could fight her brothers, she could fight this boy. Taking a deep breath in, she scanned him, trying to think of anything else that wasn’t his body. The way he was looking at her, practically undressing her, making her feel… so very vulnerable… was not helping. Breathing out, she met his gaze once more and ran toward him, quickly raining blow after blow and seeing how he reacted to each hit. A hook, an uppercut, another hook… she was searching for an angle to bring him to the floor but being this close to him and catching a whiff of how sweaty he was, which she found… really hot, Trixie realized she was folding. Quick. He smelled so… fucking manly. It was fucking up her game.

Owen weaved backwards and put up his hands to block and dodge most of her attacks. Trixie had either underestimated Owen or overestimated herself, and there was a smirk on his face as he held her hand after her last punch. “You almost had me on the last one… Geeze, just a little faster next time, okay?” Owen was having fun, messing with her and smiling all the while. He stepped forward and went onto the offense himself, taking her hand he held from catching her punch and rolling her over his shoulder.

They crashed to the ground together and Owen rolled her into a rear headlock. “You have a look in your eye that I don’t like, so I’m just gonna remind you: Biting’s against the rules, missy.”

What was that supposed to mean?! And missy???? Trixie could not believe what she was hearing! Was she that easy to read? God, now she was to her side, with him wrapped around her, and their size difference meant she’d have a hard time escaping. No matter, she was a fighter. Even if she could feel him, pressed against her ass, she was going to FIGHT. Trying her best to not be flat, staying on her side, she squirmed hoping she could free one of her legs to use in a kickstance, to reverse the hold. She could already tell he wasn’t using all his power on her and yet it was still extremely hard to escape.

Intentionally, she pressed herself against him, to make him aware of his position and the fact that she could feel him. He began adjusting himself and that’s when she decided to escape his heavy side control and give herself power in this fight. Driving her elbow to his ribcage, which opened her window even more, she turned herself, escaping his headlock so their angle was more facing one another. She was lucky he loosened her grip (intentional or not, she was free). Making a bridge quick, she shrimped her leg and shot it around him; her legs were now wrapped around his waist, as she gable gripped his arm that she had freed herself from. “I like to take things slow,” she purred into his ear.

Owen had never been in a situation like this before. He’d never been this… frustrated when he was in the ring before, but he supposed he’d never had to wrestle the walking, talking girl of his dreams. It was hard not to have the reaction he was having, and his cheeks flared up in a blush as she spoke to him. Why did Dash and Jamie have to be here? Why did he want to kiss her so bad? Trixe was able to maneuver him however she wanted, but then in that moment Owen probably would have barked if she asked him to.

He chose not to immediately respond to her whispering in her ear, figuring whatever he said without thinking would be dripping with so much thirst that Dash would never respect him again. He let her hang onto his arm as he thought about what to say, “I kind of like to take it fast.” Owen had seen enough. She rolled around and knew a couple of holds well enough that he knew she could cut it in the intermediate class.

Which meant their sparring session could be over. Owen reached up with a hand to Trixie’s cheek, and gently tapped her. “I give up. Dash, ring the bell.” He looked at Trixie, “do you wanna go check out the upstairs bedroom? There’s… some paperwork you need to fill out.”

He lifted her up with so much ease. Letting go of him, she proceeded to take off her gear and helmet, trying her best to hide her burning red face. She had teased him just as much as he teased her and now he likely thought she was experienced. The fire in her eyes turned into nervousness. Tightening her legs together, her confidence shifting to bashfulness, Trixie whispered, “I never… I…” She was a virgin and she didn’t know how to express that without making herself look like a fool. Focusing on her rapid breathing, she slowly explained, “You’ll need to show me… what to fill out.” And bit her bottom lip.

He was a little surprised to find out that she was a virgin, but it wasn’t like that made him think less of her. Owen just nodded and gave her what he hoped was a calming and even reassuring smile. “Yeah of course. I’m a good teacher, and I can be gentle.” Owen promised in a quiet voice. He was trying to make their private conversation as private as possible, in spite of the other two in the room.

With desire and need in her anxious gaze, Trixie breathed, unable to hold back what he was doing to her, “I want to. With you.”

The bell rang.

“That was so sick, bossman. You two were like, really good. Some of the moves I didn’t even understand!” Dash complimented, still replaying the match in his head. Trixie did her best but Owen, his best friend? He was so strong! Dash couldn’t wait to be just like him. Muscles and all. “Is it okay if I play some music on the speakers? I think me and my boy needs to get some energy out,” Dash gestured to the zoned out Jamie, immediately catching the vibe that he needed a distraction. “And Dash knows how to busta’ move.” The energetic gremlin crouched down and did a weird wobble and wave. Trixie giggled at that, nerves easing thanks to both Owen and Dash. Quickly, she placed the gear on the ring floor, eager and ready to be taken upstairs. When she returned to a standing position, she instinctively grabbed onto Owen’s hand.

Owen let his fingers interlace with Trixie’s and he gave her hand a squeeze. Tugging her in his direction, he walked toward the stairs to get down from the ring. Owen could have used his words, but he hoped Trixie would get the message - his words were too busy telling Dash what the fuck was up this time. “Dash, bro, you can do whatever you want as long as it doesn’t interrupt me and Trixie working on our paperwork. Okay?”

“HELL YEAH! I mean helllll yeah. We won’t bother you, and you can trust us. There won’t be any trouble. Just a dance party, right Jamie?” Dash turned to the melancholy boy and nudged him out of his stupor.

This had all started out as a much better idea. The champagne and the forcible matchmaking, that is. Yet, as Jamie watched Trixie and Owen weave themselves around each other, the thoughts he’d been doing such a good job of drowning suddenly broke free and came up for air. Visions of himself and AJ, in the backseat of his car, or pressed up against the walls of the garage. AJ’s lips on his, or pressed against his neck, or trailing down his chest, or…The breath he was holding slipped out, a low hiss, as the memories pierced him. They felt all too real, yet just out of reach. What had he done to fuck that up? What had he done to earn the pain in his chest, and how the hell could he make it stop?

One hand clenched around the neck of the champagne bottle, the other beating out an unsteady rhythm against his leg, Jamie stirred at the sound of his name. His eyes, which only moments ago had been staring through Owen and Trixie as if they were ghosts, refocused, at least partially. His mind felt torn between his memories, the only place he could reliably find the version of AJ he’d fallen into so helplessly, and the here and now. He forced a smile. “Yeah, yeah, we will be fine. Go ‘fill out paperwork,’” Jamie said, spinning on his heel and taking another gulp of champagne. “Show me your playlist Dash, let’s see how much of it holds up.”

The almost lovers disappeared, leaving Jamie with the special-kind-of-special Dash Day. “Okay I have three modes. But I think the mode you need is my mom’s playlist.” Connecting his phone to the Bluetooth speaker, Dash explained, far more in tune to what the editor-in-chief was going through than he’d probably like, “When my mom found out my dad was cheating on her, this really helped her relax and vibe. There’s something about Cher that really makes you want to belt and completely lose yourself in the moment. That and just 90s-80s vibes in general.”

“I’m not your mom, and I do not need to go on a heartfelt, musical journey to rediscover myself, if that is what you’re implying,” Jamie said, as he slowly walked over to Dash and his phone, leaning over the shorter boy’s shoulder so he could watch as he scrolled. “I do like Cher though.”

His first playlist had songs like Unwritten by Natasha Bedingfield and The Man by Taylor Swift. His second playlist, which was the one he was going to, had music from These Dreams by Heart and Heaven is A Place on Earth by Belinda Carlisle. The last playlist, however, was unlike the other two. It was rap focused and masculine, with many songs from his dad Damon Day, and songs his dad suggested every week, like the set from the Drake-Kendrick Lamar Feud. Dash scrolled down his mom’s playlist and chose a classic. “Do you always not have chill?” Dash tossed his tank of a phone, with an otter box, on one of the mats and turned on his heel, shimmying, to face a kid he surprisingly rarely interacted with in their four years. “Okay, Jamie. Show me how much a Callaghan can let loose. I’ve seen your sister belt, can you?” The Limit Breaker backed up, placing his hands on his heart, and swayed to Cher’s voice.

“My entire thing is a distinct lack of chill,” Jamie said, gently swaying to the music, despite his armor of cold, nonchalance. He rolled his eyes. First JJ, now Dash. Was he truly such a hot mess that he was becoming a magnet to the misfits of BHHS? He exhaled quickly, laughing to himself, because if he didn’t he might cry, and he’d really had enough of that for today. “I got dumped less than twenty four hours ago, I am truly not in the mood for karaoke.” He began to pace, hands animating his speech. “Do I look like someone who gets dumped? Apparently I do.” He sighed. “Love is just a chemical reaction, Dash, remember that.”

“Aw come on man, that’s the best time to karaoke. I wouldn’t know because I’ve never, but it looked soooo cathartic for my mom.” Dash hopped and hopped and hopped close to Jamie like a bunny on crack then playfully bumped the other boy’s hip. He began singing. Poorly. Dash was no singer like his dad. He could rap though! But that's besides the point. Where was he? Oh yes, the song was at mid chorus.



“Oh! To answer your question, IDK MAN! I think you’re cool. You deserve a happy ending…” His voice trailed off when he heard a thump from upstairs, laughter and…

“Jesus they did not waste time, did they? I don’t know why the Candies act like this matchmaking thing is so hard.”

Monarch rode her skateboard down the school corridor on her way to her meeting point with Jonah, having been picked up and dropped back off by her brother Pharaoh, who brought her to his IT firm where she also worked for him so that she could retrieve the files kept safe and secure there. Luckily, as Dash is a friend of Rye’s, Monarch already had her eye on him and by extension, Toury and her Tantalizers. The files in her book bag right now were less files on Dash and more on his antagonist, but she wouldn’t have had as thick of files on them if not for the involvement of the boy with a fighter’s heart and a professional billiards player’s skill set. Takeout food in one hand for Jonah and Toury’s later meeting, she kicked her board into her other hand and took her keys out as she came up to the ceramic’s classroom, the club member abusing her privileges and entering the darkened room to wait for Jonah. The kilns were humming with all the pieces that had been set into it after club had ended earlier, and Monarch would be back in the morning to unload the pieces once they’d completed their cooling period. For now, the noises and secluded area were the prime choice for clandestine meetings between people that are only supposed to know each other through Jonah’s cousin Decky.

When the door opened near silently, Monarch didn’t bother to turn around from where she was checking on one of her vases drying on the rack, knowing Jonah’s entrance and gait by heart.

“Five minutes late ain’t like you,” She spoke up more as an observation than a judgment. “Did the game run long?”

“Let’s go with that,” Jonah answered, not wanting to give her the details of the conflict that transpired as a result of the game. Monarch would find out soon enough. She always did. Out of his cheer uniform and wearing black jeans and a gray shirt, he approached her; his steps as faint as ever. For those like Monarch, who have been near Jonah enough to be able to pierce the veil and hear beyond the cloak, they could catch his presence. It wasn’t hard if you were paying attention. Jonah wasn’t trying to hide himself. While his movements were nimble and graceful, there was still noise. It was quieter than other noises in the room but it was still there.

Another noteworthy thing about Jonah, for those that pay attention, was he wore a chain pocket watch. The chain hung from his pant’s pocket while the antique watch itself was hidden inside. There weren’t many students who wore pocket watches. He was one of the few people that did. For one reason or another, Jonah was attached to it. There was likely a story behind it. He hadn’t told anyone the story though, not even his brothers. One day he came home with a watch, he was in fifth grade at the time, and for months he annoyed Eiran to get it repaired. It took Eiran a year to finally get the watch to someone that specializes in older makes and since then, Jonah continues to carry it on his person, like a token of luck. “Thanks for meeting me,” Jonah hummed, bringing his gaze to the vase that had her attention. The vase that had her craftsmanship written all over it. “I know how busy you are.”

“‘One always has time enough, if one will apply it well.’ Johann Wolfgang von Goethe,” Monarch responded blankly with her head tilted as she took note of and filed away him sidestepping her question about the game. The chameleon girl had been busy her whole life, so having the flexibility to carve thirty minutes to an hour of freetime into her schedule was something she learned long before she became one of the most effective information brokers at BH. Finally turning away from her art piece and towards the other person in the room, Monarch hopped up onto the nearest table after resting her board against it and sat atop the surface with her legs crossed beneath her, swinging her bag around to rest in her lap. “You are lucky my brother was willin’a play chauffeur and even take me to a drive through, though, especially since I still gotta get that program finished for him by midnight. That’s for y’all later, by the way,” She nodded her head at the bag of food she had set down earlier. “You say I’m busy, but at least you're my last stop for the night.”

“You shouldn’t have,” Jonah teased, acknowledging the greasy food she got for him and Toury. If there was one thing that he knew: Tourmaline Phoenix could eat. Many times where they’d idly chatter, she found in her possession his snacks he packed for the day. Coming with food as an offering was never a bad start to a deal when it came to the blonde bombshell Tantalizer. Poised and refined, Jonah casually leaned up against the table across from her and started their conversation with a question, as per their usual protocol when they met up. He was a charming boy even if he humbly never focused on his looks. Monarch knew though that Jonah trained himself to be a gentleman to counter the stereotypes and assumptions against his family. Being mysterious and cool was part of who he was at this point. As the saying goes, fake it till you make it. He wasn’t faking it anymore. “Were my theories right?”

While Jonah didn’t know who Dash's bully was, he had an idea of a handful of people who would use the frail boy for their amusement, pleasure and gain. Using the process of elimination, there were three people in particular that Dash had a weird fascination with and those three had a reputation of being the most outdated kids of their year. Typical bullies because they weren’t taught healthier ways to manage and cope, blaming others instead of their parents and themselves for their shortcomings. “I have no doubt Toury will make use of this with murder on her mind.” Kidding. A smile creeped up on his face. He couldn’t wait to see what Toury would do with this information. He was sure with anger and time she would break something. If not the bully’s bones then his spirit and heart. The Tantalizing Trio were not girls you wanted to get on the wrong side with. Even worse so than the Hive and the Triple Crowns. They didn’t have as many limitations as the other cliques and weren’t afraid of the consequences, which means if they wanted to raise hell, they would, getting everyone in the crossfire with little to no fucks to give. “She’s protective over her brother.”

Monarch’s head tilted once more, falling in the other direction as she nodded to the clever boy’s words and took in the smile that he hadn’t tried to restrain. “Your theories usually are correct, so I doubt you’re surprised,” She finally offered while unzipping her backpack and pulling out a hardcopy of her files to hand over to him. “Toury’s rage on this may even be helpful to us in the long run, given Dash’s antagonist.” She stared silently at the mastermind as he scanned quickly over the first of many pages of information. There was everything from the boy’s class schedule to his relationship insecurities in that file, it wasn’t really something you could go over thoroughly in such a short time. When she figured he’d absorbed enough in his glance that she could give him the rundown, she spoke up again.

“Malcolm Richardson the Third,” She rolled her eyes, amazed that the boy didn’t even have a name unique to himself within his family and was still so arrogant. “Rich boy, son of a prestigious litigator, member'a the football and baseball teams, hobby boxer. Not very good, but quite violent,” She looked over her frames up at Jonah from where she was still sitting on the desk. “It’s the boxin’ that’s doin’ it, he’s got Dash convinced it’s trainin’,” Monarch’s words were colored just so with distaste, the martial artist upset that any fighting form was being abused to harm the innocent or unknowing. She watched Jonah as she always did, eyes keenly aware of every movement he made and reading just as much from his body language and facial features as she did from his words. “Friends with Theo Van Cise and Ronnell Ashby.”

She didn’t bother covering the irate look that flashed across her face for the briefest moment at the mention of Ronnell before it returned to her stoic expression as she gave more information. She’d been there at the bash when Decky had received a text and shot off towards the bedrooms like a bat out of hell, had been there alongside Sin ushering Rye from the room and into AJ’s arms while the two of them stood guard at the door. Had been there to hear Ronnell reveal his mother’s maiden name, and she knew the danger that followed it. She supposed that she should be grateful that like minded people find each other and stick together. Like fish in a barrel, and she was already an amazing shot as it was. Still…

“Girlfriend is Anna-Marie Stokes, cheerleader, former friends with Toury’s bestie Helen before a mostly-unknown fallin’ out,” Monarch had a few ideas based on the crumbs of information she managed to find, but she wasn’t one to speak fiction as fact. All she knew was that the girl could go right into the barrel with the other three. “This is likely Toury’s angle. They’ve been fightin’ a lot lately. I heard her tellin’ one'a the other cheerleaders in the hall yesterday that she thinks he might be cheatin’ on her since ‘He’s just been so distant! What, like I’m not enough?! It’s me!’” Monarch was no master at voice modulation and mimicry like Jonah was, but she could easily adapt the spoiled rotten tone and pitch of a privileged brat that wasn’t happy the world wasn’t licking her boots for once. She dealt with enough of them on a daily basis. Her facial expressions and body movements changed as well, the chameleon girl embodying the role in its entirety all the way to the pouting lip and angry scrunching around her eyes. Just as quickly as she’d become another person, Monarch was back in the spot, hands resting lightly on her backpack and expression once more smooth as treated stone.

“It’s likely that if it’s made out to be her idea, Stokes can be pushed towards Toury and encouraged to request her services. Hell, she’s desperate and angry enough right now that Toury could probably be bold and just offer to test him and she’d take it. I’d say eighty six percent success rate on that, though. He’s equally as likely to fail that test, give or take a few percent.”

Pensively, Jonah listened to his friend go off. To have a human computer on his side heightened his own percentage of success, seeing how she was destined to become an information broker. For as long as Jonah knew Monarch, and that was since his nephews moved from Gravette to LA, he could see how smart and gifted she was. A little Einstein, a conniving weasel, and an arsenal of power because of her skill set. If she truly wanted to, she could nuke this whole school and change the entire hierarchy with a snap of her fingers, and perhaps with Joey’s hacking skills. This was the digital age so while blackmail could get you far, spreading it like wildfire through social media or holding your computer hostage could guarantee you past the finish line. Jonah was lucky to have both Monarch and Joey on his side.

With all these talented individuals that could be easily weaponized to cause mass destruction at BHHS, Jonah wasn’t trying to rule anything. He could care less about the politics, the gossip and the drama. What he cared most about was his network and making sure once he moved his tassel from the right to the left, he knew exactly where he was going and how he would provide for his family. He also cared about spending time with his friends, while he was still young, like watching wrestling with Joey, who marked out over the immersive story, or teasing Athena and her blooming crush on a certain football player that cost the game. “You’re scary, you know that?” Jonah half-joked. There was a lot of truth behind his words. Monarch shouldn’t be this good at knowing things, having a vast web of intelligence sources, like a spider, but here she was with documents that told him the whole life story of Dash’s bully and those associated with him. “People are lucky you’re not here for your own personal gain or they’d be, plainly put, fucked.” All Monarch wanted to do was protect those that couldn’t protect themselves and if that meant going out of her way to dig deep, stalk, catch the details and use discretion with a strong code of ethics, then Monarch would do just that.

The responding grin, sharp as the one she'd given Sin earlier and twice as dark, could certainly have you thinking otherwise. You didn't grow up as a Trip-S Legacy and join the gang before your double digits without learning how to hide your predatory aura. But acting like a little rabbit never once meant she actually became the prey. It did mean she had a soft spot for those unfortunate enough to actually be prey, and that most often she preferred to keep her meddling behind the scenes. It was why she stayed out of student council outside of taking photos for them. Monarch had no thirst for power outside of information, had been content in her position in the Trip-S and found her specialties transferred rather easily when she got to LA, if only with less violence. It was fine, she had several outlets for when her darker impulses decided to crash against her ironclad restraint and stalwart will.

"Why do you think I like to keep busy?"

Jonah returned the smile. That was response enough to her question. Well trained and tight-lipped, Monarch was remarkably tenacious, efficient and organized. A proper businesswoman. Jonah respected that. Respected her. His respect wasn’t easily earned. The girl that stood beside him as an equal found her place as one his close confidants and he’d make sure their friendship wasn’t one sided. It was a give and take transactional relationship and if the girl ever needed advice or assistance, she knew who to call. “How are you?” Jonah asked, breaking the brief silence between them by reminding her that she was human underneath all that sound knowledge, logical reasoning and result-based motivation.

“I’m fine,” Monarch responded instantly with a blink, not surprised by Jonah’s change in topic but unsure how to answer it even with it not being the first time he’s asked her such a thing. Monarch was always fine, especially in comparison to the people she most closely surrounded herself with. She had her fun when she wanted to, stellar grades, plenty of options and avenues ahead of her for her life, a loving and supportive family unit that all still lived in the same area, and great friends. Sure, she didn’t know which of the multiple paths available to her she wanted to take and she occasionally spirals over the thought of taking a gap year to keep working at Pharaoh’s company, or if she wants to go to any college at all despite all her Early Action. Sure, she’s occasionally contemplated getting a GED and just ditching highschool entirely and starting something like a P.I. business that could put Jessica Jones to shame, but when those silly thoughts pop up she manages. She skates, she hangs out with Sin and Katie, she finds Addie and they have some fun, or occasionally she finds Levi to watch him squirm and struggle to maintain a power balance that he never had a chance with in the first place. She decompresses the ways she knows.

So yeah, she appreciated Jonah reaching out, but there weren't any pressing matters of hers that she felt needed to be brought to attention. In fact, aside from the fact that it was mostly to help Trixie through whatever happened to her, Monarch even got to be tactile with someone outside her flings and close friends. As someone who loved touch but often restrained herself once her inner circle wasn’t involved, it was nice. She wasn’t about to mention that she was gathering information on whatever had made the other petite girl open to that casual comfort in the first place. There was no reason to, this catch would be hers if she had anything to say about it. He was her friend, though, regardless of if others were aware of that fact, so she could give him something. “I even got to have a little harmless fun this mornin’.”

“Oh?” Jonah looked at his friend intrigued. “Monarch getting up to no good? Now that I need to hear more about.” There was a quick second where he glanced at the clock on the wall, above the door, making sure he wasn’t getting lost in this interaction and that he had time to spare to go from one meeting to the next. Like his friend said, he was a busy boy but that didn’t mean she didn’t deserve his attention and he would give it to her fully. Worst case, he’d text Toury he was running late. He was sure the girl would understand, even if question him that it wasn’t like him to be late. Just how Monarch did moments ago. “Let me guess, you had more than a cup of coffee to wake you up. Someone catch your eye, dear?”

“I wouldn’t go that far,” The skater waved her hand with a small smile. “But I may’ve introduced a newbie to shotgunnin’ to help her accept the smoke better and get her nerves to relax a bit. She’s a friend, but I don’t think she’d be able to handle my busy schedule any more than anyone else, y’know?” That was always the crux of it too, even if she did have any interest in someone and it was reciprocated back, being able to squeeze up to an hour of free time out of her schedule would never be enough. Sin’s relationships failed because she never changed who she was, and Monarch’s failed in different ways for the same reason. It didn’t mean Monarch didn’t have her fun, just that it never lasted unless it was people like Addie or Levi who understood and didn’t want to change the dynamics of their agreements. And at least with Levi, well, romance had nothing to do with it. She really liked Trixie, but she had a feeling it was more protective than picturesque. “She got high as fuck though, Sin and I got her to her car and I left her snacks an’ drinks between periods. Sin said I was gonna break someone someday, so you ain’t alone in your earlier scary sentiment.”

She looked at the clock on the wall by the door and decided she would stay in the classroom to finish the program for Pharaoh so she didn’t risk missing her deadline. She didn’t mind, the hum of the kilns was soothing in a way. They reminded her of the simpler times learning ceramics with her other brother King, who she admired deeply and owed much to. All her siblings were great, but they didn’t all go to prison because they got caught after having made sure she got away safe and unseen. She was glad he finally came home last month, the vase drying on the shelf that she’d been checking on earlier was to be a present for him, one of her best works yet.

“You know, just because you’re busy doesn’t mean you can’t have committed partners,” Jonah leaned off the table and joined Monarch’s side, lifting himself up to sit next to her. “You’d be surprised what you’d do when you find those you’re really into. Eiran and Zo are prime examples of men that have and will still move mountains, if it meant they’d get more time with their ladies. Hershey, well, he’s a special kind of special. I don’t know anything about his love life and you know what? I’m okay with that.” Jonah humored, giving a soft smile, if you can even call it that. He looked happy but his insomnia encircled his eyes like the rays of the sun and his lips could only curve high enough to make him look less dead, with some kind of buried emotion radiating from his soul. An emotion that showed this was a topic he thought about a lot, and perhaps wanted for himself.

He gave the girl his undivided attention. He behaved well older than his age, just like her, but for someone as perceptive as Monarch, there definitely was melancholy behind his fatigue. Being an uncle did wonders to the boy. “You’re too young to assume that there’s no one out there that would either match your energy or understand your priorities. You're a busy girl, I get it,” Jonah stated, understanding where she was coming from but also seeing where she needed to improve on. “But like I tell my nephews, you are a kid. You’re not in Kansas anymore,” he joked rather flatly, comparing Oregon to The Wizard of Oz. “Leave some space in your busy schedule to enjoy your senior year and make memories, just like you did this morning by getting your friend stoned out of her goddamn mind.”

When Jonah sat next to Monarch, her whole body tilted on a little sibling’s reflex and she dropped her head onto her friend’s shoulder as he spoke, letting herself close her eyes for a second as well while she listened to him. It also gave the tired boy a chance to tilt his own head onto hers if he wished to close his own eyes for a moment. His speech wasn’t anything she hadn’t heard before from her own siblings, aside of course from the personal references to Jonah’s two brothers and brother-in-law, but it was nice to know he cared enough to not only tell her to be a child, but to even know she would have partners instead of the singular. While she can’t recall with her impressive memory ever talking to Jonah himself about her being polyamorous, it seemed- by no surprise at all- that he was already well aware. It wasn’t often that you got any real information about Monarch if it wasn’t out of her own mouth, so she was proud of him for knowing regardless of how he came across the information. Probably little Danny running his little mouth, honestly, and she could never be upset with that kid, especially for something that likely came about from a normal talk with his favorite uncle.

“I don’t think anyone would be prepared for Hirsch’s partner, whoever they are and however they’d identify. I have a feelin’ he’d get with someone real similar to him,” Were she anyone else, the thought would have had a shiver of fear running down her spine. Hirsch was an information gatherer and broker very similar to the way Monarch was, with no need or care to have the same rapidly fluctuating system of personas that she employed. He was extremely straightforward and, much like his little brother, constantly overtired as well. He stalked through the garage like a contemplating poltergeist looking for his next target, and only when he’d zeroed in did you even realize he was standing right next to you with his hands in his pockets and that blank look on his face. Kudos to Eiran, Zo, and their wives for raising the two young geniuses as well as they did while raising Zion as well with equal love and attention. She actually saw many parallels in the Boaz-Goldstein unit to her own two Boaz boys, including the prodigal younger raised by the disenfranchised and heavily determined older.

If she believed in fate, she would say that Decky, Danny, and Sin finding the boys’ uncles living just a few streets away from her in her new home would have definitely been it. It brought to her people from her past that knew who she was underneath the final mask, and brought the boys to safety. It introduced her to Jonah, who she now had both a strong business relationship with and a more surprising shadow friendship with, which later made her a trusted member of The House. Before the other Gravettites came to Cali, Monarch had been floating through the school system and clubs with zero real connections outside of informant and target for a whole year already, and was quickly becoming just a cocoon with no gracefully painted wings to show for it. They hadn’t even been very close back in Gravette aside from Decky and Monarch being siblings by bond in the Trip-S, but all three new arrivals had latched onto her and reminded her of who she was and that that part of her didn’t need to disappear just because she was somewhere where most people wouldn’t understand it. She’d thought she had found a dear friend group in them alone, but then she’d started working with Jonah, and she found friends that weren’t just accepting of her but like her in their minds. Maybe Jonah and she would have crossed paths and figured it all out themselves, but Monarch liked to think there was something special about the way Danny had first pulled her into the office space of the Garage and sat her down in front of his uncle, a game of chess already set up to begin between them. Jonah hadn’t even said anything, eyes already on the board, so Monarch simply blinked silently and made the first move with her white piece while Danny bounced excitedly at her back and watched.

“You’re right,” Monarch finally admitted in a quiet breath, letting her eyelids flutter back open after the moment of comfort. She glanced at the clock. They had a little more time. “But that begs the question, Jonah, what about you?”

“Depends if I come across someone that intrigues me enough to invest,” Jonah, closed eyes, answered in a way that only he would, as if he saw relationships like a business transaction. It was unintentional but due to his inability to have romantic and sexual feelings in a predictable manner, it was how he best understood the connection between people. The bonds he shared. He did have crushes from time to time but they were few and far in between. His crushes when they did suddenly appear out of the blue weren’t enough to inspire him to go feral like some of his peers. That didn’t mean he couldn’t go feral, it just took him a long time to get there. At present he had a casual relationship with Cael and the more he got to know the bouncy boy, the more in tune Jonah found himself with what they had. They didn’t have sex often, it was strongly dependent if Jonah was in the mood or not, but when they did, it was when Jonah’s desires were heightened and when he was willing to show a repressed side of his. What made Cael a nice choice as a lover was he was a chatterbox which allowed Jonah a glimpse into his soul. Learning the body was easy, learning the heart was an entirely different beast.

Early on Jonah knew he was gay. A kiss with a girl in fifth grade was more than enough for him to understand that he just wasn’t that into girls. As he approached highschool, he realized he wasn’t as horny as everyone else. To most middle schoolers they’d see that as being defected. For him, it was something for him to research and understand. Sophomore year he got with a boy his senior and he understood that it wasn’t that he couldn’t feel, because when he did, it came rather sporadically and intensely, he just needed to be interested in the person, what they had to offer, and more importantly, their soul. As well as he did know himself, there was a small chance he hadn’t found the one to keep his attention. If that person existed he couldn’t wait to find them.

Opening his eyes, looking ahead, he explained, “While I don’t need someone to commit to, I have thought about it and do entertain the possibility of having someone obligated to love me not because they have to but because they choose to. There’s nights I have a lot on my mind but no one I’m willing to reach out to. That part of me I’m saving for whoever has the key to my boredom.” Jonah smiled to himself, thinking about the probability of him finding someone sooner rather than later. The odds weren’t in his favor. “So I don’t need a relationship. I’m not actively looking. But if it comes along, wanting to play games with me? How can I refuse?” Jonah smirked, showing his not so wholesome desire to have someone he could toy with. Someone that deserved to be played with and brought to their knees. Someone he’d best and get them to never look away. Someone that belonged to him.

“Actually, talk’a games reminds me,” Monarch spoke up, a similar smirk on her face as she thought of one such person. She sat up from Jonah and turned on the desk to face him with a calculating glint in her eyes. “I have a bit’a free information for you, since I have quite a bit on my plate right now and you might be more invested.”

Monarch knew Sully fairly well, and she was as fond of him as the rest of those that hung around Dom’s were, but Jonah had more stake in the upcoming game being played. The poor streamer was in for a very chaotic senior year at the rate he was going at, having caught the eye and interest of two Greens for two very different reasons in such a short span of time. Sully wasn’t like Monarch or Jonah, he wasn’t going to understand or care enough to learn the games Levi was playing with him, and thus didn’t understand that the rich boy was toying with his obsession and idea of Sully and not actually seeing the boy himself. He’d let himself be played like a fiddle for lack of deeper interest or focus alone. That’s where friends like Monarch, and more importantly Jonah, came in.

“I got this from one’a my little Flutters this mornin’,” She pulled a picture up from the message on her phone, the contact simply a butterfly emoji. She had several contacts like that. Flutters were what she called her little flies on the wall, her information network of wallflowers and forgettable faces. Those that have fallen through the cracks of the social hierarchy were always overlooked and ignored, and the people that walked these halls like ghosts until someone actually locked eyes with them were her greatest strength for the rapid information gathering required for this highschool. The picture was a little zoomed and obviously taken from around a corner, but anyone that knew the figures in the screen would have no problem seeing what was happening. Sully’s back was facing the camera, but the dingey hat he wore was unmistakable. Simultaneously leaned against the locker and looming over the shorter boy was Levi Green-Locke, a cheshire grin on his face as he spoke to Sully.

Levi was such a dumbass. She’d already warned him during their past few hookups that fucking with Sully was a bad idea, but she supposed she had been right in calling the privileged blonde a masochist. And Jonah didn’t need to know about her dalliances with the boy she saw as little more than a brat in the bedroom, it wasn’t just Levi that didn’t want to hear it from anyone if news of their little power play got out. Regardless, she’d done her part and he’d ignored her very generous warning and guidance, not that she personally cared in the end. So she could step back and let Jonah play. She had no doubt Sully would come out of it fine, especially if Jonah chose to insert himself into the game Levi was playing with him.

“It seems Levi’s made a move and decided to start a game with your little puzzle buddy. Apparently Sully was unintentionally givin’ Levi a run for his money for a minute,” She smirked, wishing her little informant had given her more on the actual conversation, wishing more to have been a fly on the wall herself for it. Sully’s dense reception and straightforward attitude could be both incredibly refreshing and amusing. “But Green-Locke finally reeled it in. They couldn’t follow the boys once they started movin’ ‘cause’a Levi’s Butler, but it looks like Sully thinks he’s makin’ a friend.”

“Instead he’s getting involved with someone that gets off to… poors, for lack of a better term,” Jonah speculated based on his observations and the little things he already knew about Naomi’s right hand bitch. “Thanks for that information. The last thing we need is for Sully to cause his mother emotional stress, to the point she’d want to pull him out.” Jonah sighed, hoping Darcie didn’t go from zero to one hundred solely because a rich boy wanted to toy with her son.

“Between you and me,” Jonah stated, gazing to the side toward his friend. Disclosing one of his more wholesome deals, he explained, “Miss Harper had a heart to heart with me awhile back. She trusts my character and enjoys how her son is with me, I guess.” While wholesome, this still weighed on the boy daily because Jonah, even if he was wiser than most of his peers, was still a kid and now had a charge. Out of the kindness of his heart, he made a promise to the mother. He couldn’t say no, not to someone that was actually good at her job. Darcie was a good mother and even gave some of her warmth to him when he needed a motherly touch that wasn’t from his sister-in-laws. “Something she told me in private was that our school puts her on edge. It isn’t built for people that Levi takes interest in. The poors. One thing led to another and now I watch my puzzle buddy, moving strings when necessary. Our school is fantastic for education purposes, social-wise though? That’s what she worries about. How can you blame her? Her son struggles on reading into obvious situations you and I would pick up as red flags immediately.”

“Oh, and speaking of red flags. Aren’t you friends with Trixie?” Jonah asked, decidedly redirecting the conversation, seeing how time was running out and he had a feeling Monarch would want to hear this. He could be basing this on a hunch but if he wasn’t mistaken Monarch and Trixie were friends, or they had a business relation going, and Monarch liked to protect her assets, especially the ones she cared about.

Monarch barely had a moment to process the little secret Jonah had divulged before suddenly Trixie’s name was falling from his lips. Her eyes narrowed and her head tilted to the side, teetering somewhere between inquisitive and friendly warning. She doubted he’d brought her up because of Monarch’s earlier name-redacted anecdote.

“I am, what do you have for me?”

“We lost the game,” Jonah started, pulling out his phone to show Monarch a recording. “A fight broke loose between Theo and Benji.” The video began with Theo head butting Benji and cursing, like a boy giving a tantrum. “It didn’t take long before Andre and Jem jumped in and thennnnn security came out.” Videos of this fight were trending on X. Andre rushed to break it up and instead of Benji backing down, he shoved Theo off him who had been beating the crap out of him from top and threw a nasty right hook to Van Cise’s jaw. “I was late to our meeting because I wanted to get the full story and boy is it a doozy. Baby Theo couldn’t handle an L and I mean this was a big L because it was the homecoming game.” The prying boy shrugged, indifferent of sports and if their school was leading the charts or not. “Classic, childish boy puts the blame entirely on someone else instead of holding accountability to how he fucked things up. Benji may have literally dropped the ball but Theo has shifted the team’s mindset, in the worst possible way, since he took over after Tyler left the team last year.”

Finally, he was at the part that would interest Monarch the most. Bringing up the volume, he played a small segment of the chaotic fight where Benji mentions Trixie. The person recording did get closer but their voices, even at their loud volume, were extremely faint. Monarch would have to listen closely to hear it apart from the crowd. He replayed that part once more before speaking again, “We already talked about Mayhew’s decline since his family’s scandal at our last meeting but in my opinion, he played well tonight up until the last play. Now I bring up Trixie because words were said that really got under her ex’s skin. I quote. I think I finally get why Trixie broke up with you. You’re a fucking psychopath. Unquote.” Jonah couldn’t help but be amused at the low blow. Truth be told, he was happy to see Benji sticking up for himself even if that jab was saucy. “You know what Theo said? Don’t you fucking dare bring my Bea into this. Kind of gross unless they’re dating again.”

“They’re not,” Monarch said coldly, face completely blank as she tracked the movement on the screen. Any sign of the relaxed friend was gone, in its place was the human computer that set people on edge with her gaze as she calculated several scenarios at once. There were very few people that knew enough about Trixie to put her in the state she was in this morning. And Jonah wasn’t one to make assumptions, so… “Why would you think that over some possessive wording?”

“They left the bathroom together this morning,” Jonah said flatly. Her reaction and shift in demeanor alone was enough for Jonah to tell that he hit a chord. It wasn’t an easy thing to do with Monarch nor did he do it intentionally. But similar to her, he understood knowledge was power. This may not have been gossip he expected to get a reaction but now that he did, Jonah knew it would only benefit him in the long run. He directed one of the more dangerous students at this school toward his competitor. Theodore Van Cise. A boy that was monetizing on the local underground fighting market. If Monarch allowed her emotion to take the wheel, that was one less thing for her friend to worry about. “I talked to one of the younger kids in the Morning Show. Jenna, the strawberry blonde. She accidentally spilled her coffee on Trixie. I was checking on Sully before I went to my locker. My locker so happens to be right by the bathroom she went to. I didn’t know she was there until both she and Theo came out of it. So yeah. That’s why I think that.”

“Hm,” Monarch intoned as she finally looked away from the ended video, idly putting to mind that she needed to have a conversation with her little Flutter about informing her about the whole day’s events and not just Sully. She spilled coffee on Trixie and witnessed what triggered the state Monarch had found the girl in? Jenna was supposed to be her Media mole, not just Sully support, so she absolutely should have told Monarch everything about Trixie and Theo. “They ain’t datin’,” She reiterated but did not expand upon, well used to withholding information as she saw fit.

Fucking Theo, the racist every-phobic peacock with a puppetmaster complex. Monarch did her best to avoid any shit from the Stratton twins and here life goes putting their cousin directly in her sights instead. But now, with this final piece in place, Monarch saw a much clearer picture of what happened with Trixie this morning. Not that everything other than Theo’s involvement wasn’t already formed, but Monarch was a creature of information and more was always better. She had her own file on the boy, but much like his friends Malcom and Ronnell it got bigger the moment her friends were involved. Like how Decky was one of the fighters on Theo’s roster. Not the champion of it like he had been as a pre-teen in their own back home since he was more of a street fighter type than MMA, and he used this one mostly to vent the last of his misplaced aggression that he couldn’t get out with his equally as poor daily coping mechanisms. She’d have to do something special for him to make up for his future loss of income once Theo was done for. Humming thoughtfully, Monarch’s head tilted to the left as she looked fixedly at the boy who had given her information that would likely lead to some of her best work yet. It might take a while, but certainly not all the way until graduation. Yeah. She could take the lead on this one for him.

“I smell blood in the water, Jonah.”

Toury sat at her father’s desk in room 210 with her feet up on the wooden surface an her head tilted back and staring upside down at the wall clock, arms crossed over her chest. Jonah wasn’t even late, but Toury had gotten there early after her time spent with her girlfriend at the convenience store parking lot the past few hours, and she was already getting bored in the dark and silent room. He better have food on him or she would riot. Nevaeh’s black lipstick was still imprinted on her cheek, untouched as it had been since the goth girl put it on the Tantalizer’s skin, and if Toury closed her eyes and breathed deeply, she could still smell the subtle cucumber scented soap of her lover from when the blonde had been wrapped around the brunette.

When the door opened silently and changed the airflow on her cascading locks and exposed skin with ten seconds to spare before he’d have been late- shame as she’d wanted to tease him- and Jonah strolled through almost as quiet as the door, Toury lifted her head up and raised an eyebrow at the boy that hopefully be a fruitful investment of her time. The aroma of greasy fast food that trailed on the newer air currents and into her nostrils had her smirking expectedly at him.

“Welcome to my domain, Cheerio, you got food for me?”

Jonah didn’t answer the obvious question. Instead he placed the bag on Mr. Phoenix’s desk. “Do you know why I asked you here?” He asked, placing his backpack alongside the food. As he waited for her response, he went to the chalkboard and began idly setting up a game of hangman. Why not? It would keep them busy during their back and forth. He drew four lines for his chosen word.



He turned to Toury and continued, “You must have an idea of why I asked you here.” Since the beginning of Toury’s business relation with Jonah, not only has she observed him on the job but occasionally, he did ask about her brother, taking interest in the boy, curious if he had anything to offer. It wasn’t an obvious thing to notice, since Jonah was excellent at weaving his intention in his words without giving too much a way. He was a clever boy, Toury knew that. Still, Jonah had faith that Toury paid attention. At least in regards to topics that mattered to her, like her family, especially her step brother.

“Why do you think I asked for the information that I did?” Toury rolled her eyes and didn't yet get up to play Jonah's little game. He hadn't made it worth her time yet. She wasn’t stupid, of course she knew that the strategic minded boy had had an eye on her brother for a while, and that he was occasionally curious enough about Dot Dot that she would shut down the conversation rather decisively. Pulling a barely warm fry from the bag, she popped it in her mouth before taking her feet off the desk and leaning forward in the chair to look up at Jonah. “You seemed pretty confident that you'd be able to tell me who was bullying Dash. This meeting doesn't start until I have those answers.”

“Oh, I have more than enough information for you but aren’t you one for fun? Give me a letter and I’ll feed you with the food you want,” Jonah teased, holding out because he could. As he waited for her to start the Hangman game, he added more definition to the gallows. “Come on, don’t be a party pooper.”

Toury narrowed her eyes at the boy's challenge, well aware she was being played with. She stared him down for a long moment as he held his ground, and eventually Toury decided that if he was willing to test this whole meeting by adjusting the terms of the arrangement, then he better have had something good for her. Her lips, back to candle apple red after fixing it up post-Nevaeh, turned down slightly to show him her displeasure.

“D, for dicks who like to try and be cute.”

“Cute,” Jonah repeated after her, writing a D on the side and drawing a head where the noose should be. “You really think I’d do Dash? Oh silly Toury, I’m not that simple.” Twirling the chalk between his fingers, he glanced at her and decided he wasn’t done playing. “You care an awful lot about this. To the point that you are willing to meet up with me and trade information so I can hire your brother. You ever considered how he would feel if he found out the lengths you would go to protect him and micromanage him?”

“What is this, family therapy?” Toury rolled her eyes and finally stood up to stand next to Jonah at the board. If she were in flats, he would have had a good three inches on her, but she was wearing heels that put them eye level. Jonah has been a trip to deal with since the first time Toury stole a tater tot from his tray while perusing new targets at each lunch table. She'd realized by the look in his eye as she bit down into the crispy golden goodness that he would be better as an ally then a source of amusement, especially with her brand of manipulation being all but useless with him. You live, you learn, you form ties and alliances to bring down those who have wronged you.

“Dash can be upset as he wants, he can flip his shit on me and I'd probably cheer him on,” she grit her teeth as she thought of the sight of his side this morning. “Until he's not hiding bruises from me, I'll keep going behind his back on things too,” she glared at Jonah for his last comment. “Don't tell me that you don't do things for your family in the shadows, I wouldn't even believe you if you did. The second Dot Dot came up to me he was under my protection and he knew it, he should have expected it to be worse when our parents got married. Now, P, for you're starting to piss me off.”

Jonah smiled, “Now, now, Toury. You knew what you were getting into that fateful day you stole my food, which, by the way, I still haven’t forgiven you for.” He knew that what he had to offer was way more vital to her than his desire to have Dash in the House. Dash would bring in revenue, that was easy to see and the numbers didn’t lie. His success rate at pool would tip the tables in the House’s favor. He would be an investment that guaranteed success. But like most things, hiring a boy that was naive and still had their younger child directing their soul was a risk. A gamble. A danger to his small operation. Dash may not even agree to the terms so the one that had more to lose and less to win in this deal was Jonah and he would make sure Toury understood that the House ran on his terms. As long as she worked for him and wanted to keep their relationship amicable, he would assist wherever she needed. She just needed to play games with him, from time to time. “I’m surprised you answered me. You could’ve kept things going, for a little while longer. I suppose if therapy is what you seek, I’m free real estate.” He wrote a P to the side and drew a lanky body.

She wasn’t good at this game or perhaps he chose too hard of a word. Jonah went to the side of the board and painstakingly slowly began writing the name of Dash’s bully, just like he promised. Backwards. He deliberately kept out the third because that would be a dead give away.



“How are things? With you, your girls, your newfound lover? Just because we have a business thing going doesn’t mean you always have to act tough around me. We’re both seniors. At a pretentious highschool. You’re allowed to chill and get to know me beyond my business.”



Toury's crossed arms tensed as he read her, her eyes glaring at the letters he was providing as she tried to decipher the game he was playing. “More like re-found lover,” she provided a bit cagily before forcing herself to relax. “I've been dating Nevaeh since late sophomore year, she just understands my fun and I'm very open with her about who I'm playing around with,” he wants her to act a little softer? He wants her to play his games? Fine. “You notice how rarely anyone has actually been able to say they got to the final stage with me? It's because I don't need to to get what I want from them and I respect my girlfriend enough to talk to her about any drastic maneuvers beforehand,” She tapped the black lipstick kiss on her cheek, very obviously the girl’s in question. “As for my girls, we've all been extremely busy today, I'm sure the update texts will be rolling in from both of them soon.”

Tracing the word he was writing, Toury decided to stop trying to read it like he was giving her a direct answer and look at it like a word game much in the same sense of him starting their meeting with Hangman. She thought of the crossword and word search books she would blow through with her father on a lazy day and the thought immediately brought her to the backwards words that she used to struggle to find amidst the jumble of letters on the page.

“Ardson?” She vocalized with a thoughtful hum, trying to run through her mental list of classmates for what was now obviously a part of a last name. She cut out anyone that couldn't or wouldn't hurt Dash, and the already small target pool she'd been working with immediately shallowed out to a single prick. “Richardson? Malcolm fucking Richardson?”

He was dating Anna-Marie, one of the bitches on the cheer squad that used to be ‘friends’ with Helen and Amy when they were still impressionable. She's had her own interactions over the years, been aware of his wandering gaze and the look that it put on his girlfriend's face. And now he was using Toury's brother as a personal punching bag?

“Is there a four letter word for murder, Jonah?” She asked in a suddenly sickly sweet tone, her sharp nails looking like claws as she tensed and untensed her fingers. The falsely cute smile she wore was dangerous as she already began running scenarios in her mind on how to ruin this boy's life so bad that he trembled In fear the second he so much as thought about Dash. She wanted to completely take over his mind so he couldn't even focus on her little brother until it was too late and she'd sucked the rich boy dry of any cockiness or entitlement and left him a confused, listless husk of his former self. “Because this boy is about to be dead in everything but the most literal sense.”

“Kill,” Jonah answered without hesitation. That, however, was not his four letter word. “Would you like to use those four letters for our game?” Jonah’s energy did not match Toury’s at all. If anything, he was lethargic, tired and still. He allowed himself to relax in the presence of company. He brought the chalk in a new area of the board and started lazily making a swirly. That was not part of the game; he was killing time. “And yes, yes it is Malcolm. Good job.”

“I'm so pleased,” Toury drawled, not pleased in the slightest. His offer to use the letters from KILL in their game did have her pausing long enough to look him in the eyes again. He was still playing with her, but in which direction was this nudge he was offering going to send her? If there was anything she'd learned about Jonah Goldstein it was that he was similar enough to her that he enjoyed seeing friends and family succeed even in the smaller things just as much if not more than he enjoyed watching targets flounder and suffer under his games and tests. She looked at her little circle and stick figure with a guess left for each limb and decided that if she was wrong with all three letters and Jonah was prompting her to fail then that would be a miscalculation on her part. A learning lesson. And for him? A loss of access to one Dash A. Day.

“Go for it, Cheerio, lightning round that shit. K, I, L.”

Quietly, methodically, Jonah drew two limbs. An arm and a leg. But she did get one letter. Two more chances and then she would be out of luck.



“In my bag, feel free to open it — there’s nothing important in it to me — that’s everything you will need. I’d suggest you shred the information after use or sell it, I don't care. Malcolm can burn. I’m sure you’d be doing this school a service. Do with it as you please. Just don’t get caught with it,” Jonah glanced first at his bag then at his pocket watch, not because he cared about how long this would take, but because he was a creature of habit. Checking his watch was one of those habits. That or maybe there was another reason he stopped what he was doing to grab onto something he considered precious. A sentimental item that has always been on his person. At least for as long as Toury’s known him.

Locking eyes with his peer, he advised, “Anna-Marie would be the best route for you to go, if you want to get back at him. You might even be able to convince her to ruin him with you, since she thinks he’s being unfaithful. Just make sure she thinks it’s her idea.” Jonah finalized, deciding to offer the chalk to the other girl by placing it on her father’s desk, waiting for her when she was ready to finish the game. “Clue: This is something you can’t save. Something you can lose. Something that can’t be bought. Something you may even consider priceless. What am I?”

If Toury were a lesser woman she would have groaned in irritated realization the second Jonah pulled out his damn timepiece. As it was, she stayed silent and let him advise her on the newfound information and her future steps, taking his counsel seriously and already using it to form her future plan. Anna-Marie was a vapid bitch and Toury herself had had a bit of fun playing with her at the start of Freshman year before Helen caught her eye, and later Amy though they hadn't done anything together. Before Nevaeh caught her heart. Was the girl dating some nasty college boy at the time? Of course. But things like that didn't stop the at the time solitary Tantalizer.

When Jonah set the chalk down and gave her a riddle that she didn't even need anymore, she snatched the stick up and stalked up the board with a purpose, writing the other three letters out in her sharp but swirly script. Jonah really was cute, with his little games and riddles, and she felt a kindred spirit in him. She couldn't wait until he found a boy to play with for more than a fling, being privy to that would be a form of payment in and of itself.



She dropped the chalk, letting it crack in half from the shock of the fall to its holder, and walked past Jonah while running her fingers along his jaw gently and playfully, just grazing it with her acrylics with no actual intent behind the motion aside from it being one of her favorite moves. She knew nothing she did or said would interest Jonah in tha capacity, it was more just habit than anything. Then, she stood in front of the boy's bag on her father’s desk and opened it with reckless abandon, uncaring of anything else he may have stashed in there aside from the manilla folder staring her down from the largest pocket. He'd already stated he didn't care, so she wasn't about to pussyfoot around it. With her reason for agreeing to their late night meeting finally in hand, the blonde turned to look at the wavy haired boy with a happy smile instead of the frowns or smirks she'd been gracing him with the whole time, waving the folder like a kid showing off the goldfish they won at a fair game.

“Well, now I actually am pleased.”

Jonah didn’t react to her entering his personal space to caress his face. If this was his eldest nephew, he’d react poorly. If this was an Elite, they’d get horny. If this were another girl, they’d either be extremely into it or want to throw hands. For Jonah? He was indifferent. It was like wind against his cheek, that came and went and was forgotten the moment it stopped. He looked at the remnants of his bag and began cleaning up her mess, returning his school supplies back into its bag. “Glad to be of service to you. Do I get your blessing? See if your brother’s willing. It would be a temporary position. One night only. An experiment to see how many people underestimate him and who thinks they can get an easy win during my game nights.” That and because they both know that Dash’s attention span was limited. Any longer than that and Jonah would become an unpaid babysitter. He zipped up his bag and threw it over his shoulder. “Oh and you can have my food, I chose this place because I know you like it.” He wasn’t hungry anymore. Downside of focusing on business more than taking care of himself. He’d have some nosh when he was home.

“It’s cute that you think I wasn’t going to eat your food anyways, it’s kind of our main thing,” She winked at him, snatching the bag immediately and digging into it for it’s precious contents, coming back out with a handful of fries and popping a few in her mouth. She had a feeling that Jonah knew enough about her habits and personality by now that he was aware that if he were to ever tell her to leave his food alone she actually would. She oblivious to the fact that people had food insecurities and eating disorders, and she wasn’t here to bother or hurt her friends, but Jonah had a habit of letting his food get cold as he let his brain run at supersonic speeds, and that first tater tot had been the start of her keeping him aware of the bad habit. In her own way, of course. She wasn’t just the type to walk up to someone and say ‘that’s the third time this week you’ve let your fried potato side dish go cold, what are you thinking of so intently?’ with something as simple as words. She let Jonah sit in silence as she finished her handful of fries, downing them with her water bottle before giving him the answer he’d been waiting so patiently for.

“Permission granted, Jonah Goldstein,” She finally allowed, once again breaching his personal space with the confidence of someone who can handle themself far better than anyone actually realized. Jonah had the same confidence, it was a good quality for the type of relationship the two had. Because they weren’t just friends, there were far too many business transactions between them for it to be a simple taunting friendship developed through a mutual love of manipulation and games that sent people spinning like dreidels. She knew not to get in just anyone’s face, knew who had restraint and who had triggers, and she acted accordingly. “But I swear to all vengeful deities I can call upon, if anything happens and you fail to cover Dot Dot-” because it wouldn’t be that Jonah didn’t try, it wouldn’t even be that he didn’t do his best, she knew the boy was highly capable and something extremely disruptive would have to happen in order to cause Jonah to falter enough to fail Dash. Still, cover all bases and all that. “-I will be extremely displeased. You’ve seen what I can do when I’m annoyed or bored, but you’ve never seen me upset. Dash is fucking pure in the most vulnerable ways and if you even toe the line of putting him in any danger I don’t approve of I will sever all access to him and act accordingly.”

Her frown was harsh, the nail poking Jonah in the chest for emphasis was pointed, and just for Jonah- because this is all hypothetical future shit and they are on great terms right now- her eyes were scared. Toury loved her family and what it had become over the years. She loved working for her step-mom and the stupid family game and movie nights where Dash would never stay sitting in one spot for more than a few minutes, bouncing from her to their dad to their mom with a constant running commentary that never failed to anything but make the night even better. She protected Dash because he needed it. She made an offhand comment to him about learning self defense and he went and found Malcolm Richardson and fell for his bullshit and lies. She misstepped and now he was getting hurt while thinking he was getting help. Dash needed all the protection he could get. Hell, his whole little Limit Breakers lunch table of gaggling gremlins did. But Dash was hers to take care of, and she took the self-assigned job extremely seriously.

So seriously, in fact…

Just because we have a business thing going doesn’t mean you always have to act tough around me.

“Jonah, tell me this is the right choice. Tell me I’m not letting myself ruin Dot Dot and I’m actually a good sister.”

He wasn’t surprised. It wasn’t like he expected her to open up to him but he wasn’t surprised. Jonah had already thought of all the possible responses she could’ve said to him and for once, she decided to rewind, going back to when he allowed her a safe space to share, without the hardened shell. The games had ceased and it was now just her and him. Friends. Gently, Jonah grabbed her chin and brought it up, high. His eyes softened, which had more value than she likely realized. The way he looked at her was through a familial lens. “Right? Wrong?” Jonah returned his hand to his side and kept his focus on her. Subconsciously, he dug in his pocket and took a coin out. He rolled it between his fingers. “There isn’t a map on being a good sibling, a good child, a good friend, a good lover…” Jonah continued, the word lover having more emphasis due to his own buried thoughts.

“You do what you think is best, based on what you believe, and if it happens to not have the best results, you pick yourself up, adjust how you see things, and you keep going,” Jonah advised, hoping it would help her in more situations than just with her brother. “You are protective, to the extreme, but I get it. Dash is a child at heart.” As he looked at her, he thought of his nephews and asked, in a rhetorical manner, “Wouldn’t you want him to find out these unsavory, dark things through someone he can trust rather than him finding out on his own? Or through people like Malcolm? I’m sure you know this world leaves very little room for magic and fairy tales.”

Flipping his coin in the air, he grew silent, watching it turn slowly in the air until it landed on the back of his hand. “I can’t take back the lost time I have with my nephews, and what they’ve been through. I can’t relate to my older brother who had to uproot my and Hirsch’s lives for protection. I was only a baby when my sister convinced my mom to drown me. That obviously didn’t happen… I know out of all my family, I’m the most fortunate and that’s because I was protected and prepared. To see the dark. To see the demons Eiran had battled most of his life. To see how hard it had been for my family to free themselves. It was because I was given the choice to look into their world, that I formed a self that quite frankly, I’m proud of. Eiran knew he wouldn’t always be there to be my shield so he guided me in other ways. It was AJ’s father that gave me my toolkit. That’s a story for another day, though.”

Tourmaline listened intently to Jonah as he gave her perspective and personal insight, each sentence daring to send her on an emotional journey she was not ready for. Moreso did the look he pinned her with. There was something about it that made her feel incredibly warm in a way she hadn’t since her Tantalizing Trio had been solidified, or Nevaeh, or her dad having Dash and his mom over for dinner the first time. He was looking at her the way that she looked at the people she deemed close enough to her heart to garner her protection and vulnerability. And what he was saying was right. She knew more than most just how empty of magic and fantasy the world was, both in and outside of their little highschool ecosystem, he was right about that. All the Tantalizers did. Then he shifted to a personal anecdote that threatened to break her tainted little heart. His sister convinced his mom? And this is the woman Decky Boaz lived under with his brother until they blew into Beverly Hills halfway through freshman year? The small glimpse Jonah gave her into his life had her reeling, but she refused to show it, instead keeping steady eye contact with the over-tired boy and absorbing every word. When he’d finished, she let the silence sit heavy for a moment out of respect for his openness and honesty. It had helped immensely, and the impact was more potent with his experience being used as the example.

Finally, she smiled at him warmly and cupped his cheek, kissing the other lightly before stepping back from him and turning to reach for the tissue on her father’s desk so he could wipe off the mark she left behind, talking to him as she did so. “You’re a good man, Jonah, and a good uncle. I’ve seen the way Decky looks at you when you’re not the one watching him, you know,” She handed him the tissue and leaned against her father’s desk. “The kiddo with the curls too. Whatever you’ve done for them since they showed up here, it’s been right. It’s really cute seeing Decky’s grumbly standoff-ish scowl fight to stay on his face as he admires your routine or catches sight of you at lunch or the quad. It’s like a pitbull turning into a frenchie. And I’ve seen the kid run face first into you in a hug any time you’re in the same hall, you’ve obviously helped the both of them a lot,” She tilted her head at him and let her lips quirk up just the slightest bit more, knowing he would likely ignore the next part but saying it anyway. “I know you don’t sleep well, but you work hard for yourself and others. You should sit down some time and just rest your eyes,” She nodded to her dad’s comfortable desk chair. “I can always sneak you in here for a rest when I know dad won’t be here, I know his habits and schedule by heart.”

“Rest,” Jonah repeated after her, barely processing the word. It was as if the concept of sleep was a foreign language to him. “If only,” He chuckled to himself, feeling warmth in the pit of his stomach at the mere fact that his nephews looked up to him. “We have one year left, Tourmaline.” Jonah switched his coin with his pocket watch and grasped it. “I don’t want to waste it.” He looked down and opened the watch. Staring at the moving hands, he faintly disclosed, “I lost someone dear to me, many years ago. He loved time, space and dreams. Life, he made me realize, is such a fragile thing... I don’t want to run out of time and not have anything to leave behind. My family deserves more than that. They deserve to be happy.” Sleep would come when it had to. While he was still awake, he would do what he could to build. That was his duty to carry. His promise to himself.

Toury didn’t really know what it was like to lose a person on such a formative level. Her birth mom was still alive and unfortunately Toury had to spend every other weekend with her while she berated all of Toury’s dangerous and promiscuous life choices. Her mother didn’t like the way the highschool girls doted on her and taught her how to do her make up so young, or how they were teaching her how to flirt by watching them with the boys. She was worried that they were ruining her good little girl that she’d worked so hard to mold. Toury never fit that mold in the first place, but that didn’t stop her mother from judging every story she tried to excitedly tell, shooting down her grin with admonishments like an all knowing god sending meteors at its creations. By the time Toury realized her mother had been worried about something else, it had already happened, but they’d been fighting so hard at the time that Toury couldn’t bear to tell her. There was a very brief, very unmemorable month back in middle school where Tourmaline all but disappeared into herself, muting her clothes and fading into the background, unnoticed due to the fact that she’d never made friends her own age. It was that little twerp Dash Day bounding up to her and talking a mile a minute that had reminded Toury how wonderful life was with constant splashes of color.

Then, highschool came, dad married Dash’s mom, her mom, and Toury finally started forming bonds. Helen, Amy, Nevaeh. Jonah. Dash was always the first one that saw Toury first instead of her seeing him, and without him making her believe again none of the other bonds would have been possible. Without momma Mads’ steady and warm love Toury wouldn’t have grown into the woman she was today. Her family even before it formed properly was her saving grace, and it was all thanks to one bubbly stumbling ball of eager excitement. She knew she was almost pathologically protective of her brother, but there was so much more behind it than anyone realized.

Still, she never lost someone, so she could not quite empathize with the pain and emotion that must overtake Jonah every time he looked at his pocket watch, but she could sympathize with the empty look in his eyes. She’s never lost someone, but she’s lost a piece of herself before, and the look in his eyes was very similar.

Regardless, while she understood his sentiment, it was now a mission of hers to get this man to close his eyes for at least five minutes sometime in the near future. Her bones ached just looking at him.

“You better not drop out of exhaustion on me, I would break my heels catching you,” It was backhanded wording to tell him that she’d be there for him, to catch him if he falls both physically and metaphorically, but Jonah did love his word games and Toury was the daughter of an English teacher. It was another thing that allowed them to bond. Her phone buzzed in her pocket, and she stood up from her lean against her dad’s desk and fished it out of her pocket, glancing at her mom’s contact over the text message. “Sorry, one sec.” Opening it, she frowned.

From: Momma Mads👓🎻:
Hey Sweetie
Dasher is at Lyon’s Den Gym and the whole thing turned into a sleep over
Could you drive his go bag to him? Love you

Toury blinked at the message. Looks like Dash made new friends again. And of course she kept a bag of spare clothes and toiletries in her car for him, have you seen the way that kid runs around? He’d look like a wilderness survivor by the end of the day if she didn’t. She texted back an affirmative to her mom and put her phone away, returning her attention to Jonah and wondering just how many people he fielded these sorts of texts for.

She was tired too.

“You take care of a lot of people Jonah, are you letting them take care of you too?”

“Are you getting a soft spot for me?” Jonah slyly grinned, burying his melancholy to go back to what he preferred, playful banter. “It’s almost as if you care,” he teased, pocketing his watch and backpedaling to the door. “It’s almost as if you like me enough to consider me a friend. So sweet.” It was reassuring to know that he wasn’t just a business contact for her. Seeing Toury break down her walls and let little ol’ him in was heartwarming to say the least. He didn’t know if he deserved her kindness but he was glad she trusted him enough to give him it. “You know, dear, it’s late. I imagine you’ll be seeing your Dot Dot around midnight at this rate.” Jonah, whether it was intentional or not, was directing the conversation away from him and making a swift exit. She saw enough of him for one night. “I’ve kept you long enough, a bed awaits me,” he half joked. Was he actually going to go to sleep? Probably not. He was certain though Hirsch was waiting on him and wouldn’t go to sleep himself until he knew the whereabouts of all his family. That they were safe. “We both could use some sleep.”

“You are not about to go to sleep, don’t lie to me!” The Tantalizer called after- and yes, he was right- her friend, who she did indeed care about. It was his fault for opening that door for her. She also wasn’t oblivious to the fact that he completely side-stepped her question on whether or not he let others take care of him back. That was a no, then. That would have to change, and soon. He also wasn’t wrong, they could both use some sleep, but it seems it would elude them both for some time to come. Huffing at his teasing now that he was gone and the door once more closed behind him, Tourmaline smiled a bit. “So sweet,” She mocked to herself as she turned back to her father’s blackboard and began cleaning everything up. “We could both use some sleep, he know’s I’m not sleeping either. Always acting so damn-” She swiped through Malcolm's half done backwards name with vigor before taking out the hangman too. Finally, she took out the little whimsy spiral he’d drawn while waiting for her to choose another letter. Jonah may not really realize it, but especially when he was playful and teasing like that it really changed the air around him. Others might not receive or recognize it the same way she does, but to her? The snarky smile and playful banter on her friend’s lips only ever made her think one thing. One of her favorite words that could be a complement, a flirt, an insult, anything she wanted it to be with the right tone of voice. A word that to her was as versatile as the boy who just left. “Cute.”

Grabbing the thick file and stuffing it in the back of her waistband, covering it with her shirt and jacket, Tourmaline looked at her father’s room and made sure she left no traces as always before strolling out- forward, like a normal person Jonah- the classroom and towards her beloved car, Stupid Cupid. When she was finally behind the wheel and headed out of the darkened parking lot with the file hidden from view, she let out a sigh and pulled up the directions to the Lyon’s Den, heading out to her brother and whatever he threw himself into head first this time.

A dance is not just a dance. Certainly not at this school. When the populace consists of the children of Hollywood celebrities, business moguls, and sport legends, the standard exceeds the expectation. If you expect your classmates to go above and beyond, wearing what's in season, what's trending, and what's ridiculously overpriced, go bigger or go straight to fashion jail. Be better and set the trend. Don't follow it. Try to separate yourself apart from all the girls that may choose to wear a sexy tiny black dress, just like you, for the red carpet. How will you stand out in the crowd? How will you be remarkable and glam when you're surrounded by people that have spent their entire childhood mastering how to perfect their look? How can you surpass those you know are better than you? These are some of the questions you should ask yourself before showing up with hammy downs and becoming a laughing stock and the next viral joke for the beautiful, dirty, rich kids of Beverly Hills.

Their existence alone shows where you stand in the hierarchy and to try to change the way things are, this late in the game, would take more than a bunch of rowdy rough boys that call themselves the Elite (who are just as rich, just as privileged, and just as fortunate, as all the shallow, mean girls they compete with). Speaking of the Elite, there seems to be plenty of inner conflict. Theo and Benji's public spat caused quite the stir. Curiosity roams the halls. Tragically, they lost the game but perhaps a loss can be someone else's gain? What will happen to the boys, brothers-in-arms, that balance the political field with their general jackassery? And how will the Hive seize this opportunity to ruin the Elite further? With the arena set, weaknesses revealed, and the elections just around the corner, there's plenty to anticipate in the upcoming months.

All the drama aside, we return to what matters: the Homecoming dance. This dance is the first official one of the year to truly set your name in stone, to get your peers to remember who you are, and to look at them with purpose: this year will be your year. The theme is rather cliché. Hollywood. The Red Carpet. Fame. Stardom. Legends who never die. When you have Ethan Green interrupting the dance committee meetings, constantly trying to tip the scales of this year’s aesthetic, because let’s be real, homecoming sets the tone for the rest of the year, and even offering to do them favors, to spice up the pot… Well, no fight was worth the agonizing back and forth. Especially not with someone as persistent, charming and full of himself as Ethan. When a boy wants something, he will get it. Whatever it takes. The leader of the Elite pack would say.

The dance, where people show off and judge each other, is where the kids can pre-game and talk about the main event: the after party. School shenanigans are one thing but relaxing and forgetting about your worries, the hakuna matata way? Now that’s worth getting excited about. Who cares if you’ve just gone through a bad break up or you’re too involved in someone else’s drama! Forget about that because tonight you’re going to be free. You’re going to let loose. Cowabunga and shit! And remember what Miles Dalby (played by Curtis Armstrong) said in Risky Business: “Sometimes you gotta’ say ‘what the fuck’, make your move. Joel, every now and then, saying ‘what the fuck’, brings freedom. Freedom brings opportunity, opportunity makes your future.”

You are Joel.

Say what the fuck and just go have fun. Take a chance and live a little. Don’t worry about the consequences, that’s tomorrow’s problem. It’ll only be a little messy, right? Say yes and live the dream and remember team:

“What the fuck,” Celeste Green grimaced, having arrived early to the dance to put fliers up, wearing pink obvi. She was staring at the bulletin board by the gym, where the homecoming dance would be held. The school only really got a venue for prom. The rest of the mixers and dances were held in the gym. Cost effective - even if money wasn’t an issue for BHHS. The school would much rather use their funds to improve the learning programs and facilities, as well as pay faculty and staff far better than the average American school, than spend unnecessary money on a dance venue. The Green princess, far more regal than her cousin Diana, glared at the fliers that displayed Naomi Davis and Levi Green-Locke running for student council president and vp. Of course Levi would try to be something he was not and that was someone worth power and influence, who actually cared about the people.

Hilarious.

“Butler, isn’t this funny? This is so funny. Levi really thinks people will listen to him. What do you think he will do for the school? I have my theories. You know what I think? He will do nothing. Because that’s what he does best. Nothing. The king of nothing! Well dear, this won’t do.” Celeste put her own advertisement over Levi’s and harshly stapled over it. Like the petty queen she was, she made sure to cover the whole board.

The Green Foundation Auction was far more important than some stupid student election. November 1st, Friday Evening. Proceedings would go to the Green-Minded scholarship which her grandma Alyssa would present and give to a few lucky students during the senior honors and awards ceremony. Think of it like the golden ticket from Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory where the Greens help kickstart a couple of students’ futures. There were requirements and it was up to teachers to nominate students based on their grades, performance and general enthusiasm to go above and beyond. Exceed expectation, with a promising future ahead of them. Students they believed won’t be a wasted investment for Alyssa Green.

Her grandchildren would not be given the chance to get this scholarship - they had other expectations to meet and a trust fund to earn. It wasn’t like the money mattered to any of them. The Green children were set for life. They didn’t need the scholarship (though the idea of having their own money, apart from their family, was a nice thought). Celeste was doing her part and making sure people knew how giving her grandma could be. How rich, powerful and influential her grandma was. How wonderful a woman she is. The almighty Alyssa Green. This was far more important than some stupid election and would certainly make her grandma happy. “Silly, silly Levi. He really is in over his head.”

When Levi stood to benefit, he was very much capable of getting his hands a bit dirty, eager to, even. He’d foregone getting ready with the girls in favor of hitting the campaign trail running. He wanted this, and he was going to get it.

The rhythmic clicking of his staple gun was interrupted by a tap on his shoulder from Butler, and when he turned, the stonefaced bodyguard silently tilted his head to the left. Levi’s eyes followed the motion, and landed on his cousin, doing what she did best. Fucking with his life.

“Celeste!” His voice echoed through the empty gymnasium, startling the serfs who were putting the finishing touches on the dance. He marched over to her, Butler (Butler Prime, if you would) not far behind him. “So glad you could take a break from lighting puppies on fire to come dance.” He stood across from her, straight-backed and stoic. If you didn’t know any better, you might’ve thought Butler was his father. “I’m guessing you’ve been starving yourself to fit inside that clown costume and your brain isn’t at it’s full, unimpressive capacity, so I will say this slowly. You. Stapled. Over. My posters.” He forced a smile and cocked his head. “Would you like to take them down, or is Butler Number Four feeling particularly helpful today?”

“Over my rich, dead body,” Celeste retorted, stapling loudly in front of her cousin. Her Butler, who was a giant in comparison to her, held the fliers and simply used this opportunity to leave the two to their own devices. He held the fliers with one hand and played candy crush with the other. Celeste turned to look up at her cousin, who was 10 inches taller than her, and scoffed, “First of all, Levi, I’m a fucking American. I don’t need to know anything. Second of all, nutbag, you’re going to get bored of your little experiment as you once again ride the coattails of your best friend, who lets be real has more personality than you. If you want to put in the work of taking down the advertisements for grammy’s auction, be my guest. I’m sure she’ll be so pleased to hear about that.”

Levi crossed his arms, and relished in the fact that he was able to look down on his cousin. “Choosing the right coattails is PR 101. Don’t be pissy that I picked a Paris Hilton and you picked two prettier, less enjoyable, Richards siblings.” Boiling his and Naomi’s relationship down to numbers and favorability was hardly an accurate representation, but Celeste could get fucked. She wasn’t entitled to the inner workings of his heart and mind. “Also, fuck you, don’t bring Grammy into this.” With oneslender hand, he reached over, and tore the poster off the wall. “She likes me better anyways.”

Instead of getting angry, like Levi wanted, Celeste snickered. “This is why we’re not in the same league, Slenderman. Look at you, doing exactly as I say! The work of a servant boy. I’m not surprised, obvi. It’s clear as day you're not a Green. No matter how many times you tell yourself you are. The DNA speaks for itself,” She beamed up at her cousin, unburdened and unbothered. Glancing at the torn paper, which ripped his own flier, because of the sheer amount of staples she used, she jested, “One down, plenty more to go. This was my last stop. Have fun backtracking to all the boards.” She lifted the staple gun up and made a gesture as if she was going to shoot him with it.

“Just kidding!” She teased, pulling back her arm. “I could never. Violence is not my cup of tea. Now, Levi. Please put on some deodorant, you smell like war and that’s just gross. Oh and make sure you eat a mint too. It's impressive you manage to stay so confident when your breath is like gag. I feel bad for whoever decides to kiss you. Assuming you’re that lucky. Consider this a gift from me to you, saving your ass from your own sweat and bad breath.”

Levi dug his perfectly manicured nails into his perfectly smooth palms, and glared. She always had to take it there. “I’m pretty sure I smell like Versace, but, God willing, you’re just having a stroke,” he said with a sigh and a roll of his ocean eyes. “Go play at being relevant, Celeste. After all, this is your last shot at it before you have to sell your soul to Andy Cohen. Bravo always needs an almost pretty, bitter, hag.”

“... hey guys, Cesca told me to ask you: are you going to help us blow up balloons or are you just gonna’ keep beefing?” Stanley Rogers, apprentice to Jamie Callaghan and next editor-in-chief of the Pirate Hook (hopefully), interjected, knowing he was walking right into the thunderdome. The youngest Rogers showcased geek fashion with a comic book boutonniere and a tie to match. His suit was navy blue and his shoes were red converse. While not high fashion, he thought he looked pretty cool and his siblings, Tristan and Tyler Rogers, gave him the seal of approval. That was more than enough validation to stunt on his peers.

“Tell Francesca I’m not even on the dance committee and it’s hilarious she thinks I’ll ruin my manicure by doing manual labor. You idiots should’ve just hired people to decorate for you.” Celeste glared at the little dweeb that interrupted her and her cousin’s sass off. “I’ll tell you what, munchkin—”

“It’s Stan…”

“Don’t interrupt me. Now, Levi here loves helping the people. He’s actually running for VP with Naomi, can you believe it? Anyways, he’s totally ready to do whatever you guys need. As for me, I’m going to powder my nose and wait for my besties to get here.”

Stanley tried to get another word in but Celeste was already strutting off to the bathroom, like a pink tornado, with her Butler in tow. He turned to Levi to see if he actually was willing to help the dance committee only for his attention to be brought back to the blonde diva down the hall.

“Have fun sucking your own dick, Slendy! Ta-ta for now!” She turned the corner.

Levi ground his teeth before forcing a smile. He was a politician now, after all. “Butler, go clean up her mess. I have to help Sean,” Levi said, so confident you might not even realize he was boiling over with rage. He turned back to the underclassman, Levi-suit snugly tailored once again. “Okay, I don’t do paint, I don’t blow up balloons, and I’m definitely not going to be breaking a sweat in this tux. So, where do you want me?”

Pacing around in the living room, having already covered her coffee table with two large snack boards, glasses of water and virgin pina coladas, Kim could feel the somersaults in her stomach, the sweat in her palms and the nerves coursing through her veins. It was almost time for the arrival of her boyfriend, her best friend and her best friend’s boyfriend and she was so nervous. Incredibly nervous. Her pacing gradually shifted to a halt. Standing still, Kim gave the table a once-over, re-evaluating the snack boards, as if she hadn’t done so a million times already. One of her boards was intricately decorated with healthier options of snackage, such as veggies, fruit, cheese and meat, while the other was adorned with the not so healthy options like girl scout cookies, candy fit for a movie theater, chips and obviously, popcorn.

She was over prepared. Kim usually was. The wait game forced her mind into an endless montage loop of horrible scenarios of the night going wrong. Terribly wrong. Kim was a worrywart. Anyone that was close to her knew that even while she acted composed, she was worrying about something. In her worry though, a sudden and abrupt thought appeared, which was par for the course of her being creative. Rushing to the kitchen, she opened her laptop where a word doc was opened, with notes for her working title: Happily Never Ever (a highschool musical). She scrolled to the lyrics of one of her songs she was writing and typed:

How would I feel?
Given the spotlight.
Instead of a star
I’m a tiny firefly

Was this out of character? In her play, it was a collection of stories, molded in one big story. Simple enough, right? The protagonist within her notes on the page she was on had gotten lost in the background. Her name was Emma. There was one person who noticed her in a sea of many others. A crowd of thousands. He was different from what she knew. A boy who embodied anarchy. If she were honest to herself, being different was good. For her, different was great. He went by the name Fitz.

The invisible girl of this short story wished she could fly far away from the tumultuous climate that was her school. Her life had reached a point of lonely, cold isolation and since she was an observer, not an actor, all she could do was watch. Watch her best friends get distracted with their own affairs. One never wanting to leave her boyfriend’s side. A girl named Marnie who loved to hear herself talk and forget her friends existed. The other, a boy, distracted by his growing responsibilities and an unexpected infatuation. His gaze betrayed him when a boy passed him by. If only Milo shared with her the madness in his mind, just as much as she shared with him her stories and ideas. If only she wasn’t a supporting character. If only she was a star rather than a tiny firefly.

Childlike wonder, evening delight
A girl with bright ideas
Unable to journey to the sky
Counting moments, not months
Time is never enough
Where would I be
If I wasn't stuck in a dream?

Ding-dong.

When the doorbell rang, Kim hopped up, locked her laptop and closed it shut. Ritualistic and protective over her thoughts, not willing to share them until she was ready, Kim double checked to make sure she did indeed lock her laptop. When she was done securing her trove of ideas, she scurried to the door and patted her skirt down. Turning her head toward the mirror in the entryway, she checked the mirror not once but twice and made sure her lipstick wasn’t smeared and her make up wasn’t flaky. Only when she thought she looked presentable, as pretty as she could possibly be for an average canvas, Kim opened the door, already knowing who was waiting on the other side because of the tall silhouette with the large, curly mane.

“Hi, Meatball,” Kim greeted, thumb twiddling and trying her best to hide how anxious she was.

The house was a hurricane of chaos when he had left it. Vincent and Capri were busy in their kitchen, a safe haven for the aging lovers as their five children bustled around them, experiencing life to the fullest in their own specific ways. Despite this, the patriarch and matriarch of the Osso clan would still prepare a large feast for their offspring, even if they never actually sat down to enjoy it. They’d give the leftovers to Nduja the dog.

Bobby had to work because of course he did. All those McMansions and stores weren’t going to watch themselves whilst all of the Beverly Hills elite were at the big game. Clari had the babies to fuss over, ever the doting mom. Sissy was compiling a case against a big Colombian narco and Ricky was trying to style his hair in the mirror for the fourteenth time to impress Sofi. Oz himself was also busy preening but that’s because the night wasn’t just another night and he wasn’t thinking about homecoming.

Kim was going to properly tell those she loved about him. This was a big deal. Not so much for Anthony, as nice as it would be to be acknowledged, this was all about his girl. She needed this. She needed to step out from the opaque she had embraced and into the spotlight she deserved and what better way to do that than to announce to the world that you are dating the most metal motherfucker that had ever walked the pristine white halls of BHHS?

Kimber Benson was fucking metal, man.

Ozzy had washed his wild mane with his sister's hot girlfriend's shampoo, now it smelled like coconut and he had stolen a simple black button down from Bobby because he wanted to at least look somewhat presentable. He loved his all black wardrobe but if Kim needed him to be human for a night, then he would do it. The metal lord would walk barefoot through the fires of hell and drag his dick through broken glass if it pleased his good lady. Call him down bad, call him a simp. It didn’t matter because he was the one that got to close his eyes and dream of Kim Benson.

After walking Nduja, apparently it was Oz’s turn but he was pretty confident that the little shitstick Ricky switched the names on the fridge which had the schedule on it, he shot off on his Harley towards Kimi’s cul-de-sac. With Motörhead’s “Eat the Rich” turned up to eleven, the heavy metal hero rode through the streets like a modern day outlaw, unforgiven and unforeseen towards his waiting princess. Though he had to make sure to stop and not forget the pistachio cannoli’s that mama made. Arriving outside Kim’s, the neighbors peered out of their windows as they always did when Oz’s bike slid into their slice of white picket heaven; he flashed them the bird before grabbing the box and heading to the door and ringing the bell.

“My dearest lady.” Ozzy leaned and kissed his beauty’s rosie red lips. “I brought treats, as requested.”

Breathing in the tender kiss, her eyes half closed, Kim took in the notes of coconut layered on top of her boyfriend’s natural earthy scent. A scent that reminded her of the woods after a summer rain. When he pulled away, she grabbed the dessert from him and urged, “Make yourself at home.” Leading the way to the living room, she reasoned with herself, already having her doubts. “Katie might not show up! She hasn’t texted me yet so I am a little worried.” Finding a home for the cannolis, on the nearly fully covered coffee table, she explained, “I wouldn’t blame her. I’m sure she has better things to do than watch movies with me.”

“If she doesn’t turn up, that’s her loss.” Oz followed his girlfriend into the big empty house and specifically the living room which she had obviously spent the time and effort into crafting into a comfy den for a magical movie extravaganza for those she cared about. “And it’s my gain because it means that I get you all to myself.” He was aware that it just being the two of them wasn’t the point. The night was meant for Kim to finally be the self she always knew she could be and show her friend Katie that she was more than just a background player in her CW teen drama. He sincerely hoped that her friend would actually do the right thing and turn up so that Kim got her chance at center stage. “So what’s the plan babe?”

“We sit, we wait, and we scroll through movies until they show up, I guess?” Kim sat down on the couch and patted the spot next to her. Her timid gaze followed him as he joined her. Leaning forward, she brushed a strand of curl behind his ear and smiled, “You had a good day?” she asked, redirecting her nerves and focusing on the moment shared with her boyfriend. It was all she could do as they were in limbo waiting for Katie Callaghan and Scott Lyon.

Grabbing her Metalhead’s hands, she held them delicately and wondered to herself when she’d get to meet his family and friends. Was it too soon to think about those prospects? If things fell through with Katie, she could always properly introduce Oz to Niles. It was too bad that Niles didn’t have a partner like her because then they could go on a double date to Glitter City. To see Niles roller skate would be adorable especially if he had a certain… boy… at his side.

“Can’t complain.” Oz had spent his day going through his usual motions. After leaving Kim that morning, the dungeon master got together with his menagerie of misfits to discuss their own personal issues. Ozzy had elected himself as the problem solver for the downtrodden and down beaten. This began with the innocuous enough, posting love letters into lockers for the innocent freshmen who were desperately devoted to someone who didn’t even know they existed.

Second was something a bit more up Oz’s street. messing with some jocks for being pieces of shit to the non-conformists. Anthony Osso was no fighter in a physical sense but he was brave, some might say foolhardy and just a little bit stupid. With the honor of the geeks on the table, Ozzy Tp’d several cars, squirted stale whipped cream into some of the football players cleats and he superglued lockers closed. Harmless hijinks for the most part but nobody messed with Oz’s weirdos; the silly stuff was just a warning.

Adjusting himself next to his girlfriend, the thrash king placed his arm around her. Anxiety was radiating off of Kim and all he wanted to do was make it better for her, to give her everything that her beautiful heart desired. Was that not his job as a boyfriend? To make her happy? Gently caressing her soft brown hair, Oz kissed the top of her head. “And you? How many hearts did you break today?”

“You’re funny,” Kim rolled her eyes. Even as a joke, she couldn’t believe she had it in her to break hearts. “My day has been alright. Just been thinking about tonight.” Kim leaned her head against her companion and traced her fingers on his chest. “I want this to go perfect but I really don’t know how Katie is going to feel about you. And the fact that I didn’t tell her immediately, she might take that personally.” There were many possible avenues this could go and Kim hoped that the one that happened was a positive one, for all parties involved. One could never predict when it came to a Callaghan. “I haven’t even told her that I’m writing an original musical for spring… I feel like there’s so much I haven’t told her and I feel really bad.”

“It’s not like you haven’t tried to tell her babe,” Anthony caressed his girlfriend's soft locks. “Katie has always had her own shit on the go, for as long as I can remember anyway. I know you love the girl but she’s never prioritized you over herself.” He didn’t want to speak ill of Kim’s best friend, he knew how devoted she was to Katie but the fact that Kim was feeling the way she did, to Oz, that wasn’t comparable to a true friendship. “When she finally gets her head out of the clouds; she’ll see everything you’ve been doing, every step you’ve been taking and she’ll be so proud. I know I am.” The metal lord knew that it wasn’t the same to hear the words coming from his mouth but he also knew that Kimber needed to hear those words often, she needed to know that she was worth the world. To Oz those weren’t just words, they were gospel.

“That’s true, I guess…” Kim muttered in response, trying to ease her nerves with the calm that her boyfriend exuded. She wanted this to go perfect, without a hitch, and be the best night she and her best friend had in a long while. Sure, she was being optimistic but there was a time where it was them two versus the world. No boys to put a rift in their friendship. For the past couple of years now it’s been Katie and Scott, where Kim and Niles waited, patiently, for Katie to make time for them. The moment the blonde of the trio met Scott the rose colored glasses went on, which made her forget anything else existed. Especially her friends. Now that Kim had Anthony things could change and be a little less lonely. She’d hopefully understand what it means to love someone in a more romantic sense. It was time to stop thinking about things like her and Katie growing apart and focus on the memories to be made of their senior year. They were still best friends. They’d always be best friends. No matter what. Right?

Speak of the devil, and she shall appear. Katie and Scott announced their joint arrival with a press of the doorbell, both holding a Chick-Fil-A cup in one hand. When Kim opened the door, Katie let out an excited squeal, wrapping one arm around her friend as she stepped across the threshold. “Sorry we’re late babe, we had to–” a glance at Scott reminded her of the agreement they’d made on the way over, and she adjusted, “Actually, I’ll tell you later. What are we watc–” Katie stopped abruptly as she noticed a long haired, vaguely familiar boy. She squinted at him, equal parts suspicious and intrigued.“Who the hell are you?” It wasn’t quite aggressive enough to be rude, but it certainly wasn’t welcoming.

“Antonio Tiziano Osso, at your service ma’am.” Oz bowed his head and body like he’d just stepped out of Bridgerton. He didn’t much care for Katie or Scott. It had nothing to do with them as people, he didn’t know them and didn’t have a negative opinion of the pair. He just didn’t know them. The circles they ran in were different, he hypothesized that their views on the world were different. The only true bond that they could share was their love for Kimber Benson. He had no doubt that Katie loved her best friend but she hadn't been showing it lately. To him, Kim deserved to be worshiped every day. “Most people call me Oz. We’ve only had class together for a few years but who's counting right?” Ozzy realized that him making some sarcastic comment was not what Kim needed from him at that time. It was his default setting. “You must be Katie and Scott, Kim’s told me all about you both! All good things, obviously.”

“Obviously,” Katie said, bemused. She left hardly any opening for a conversation that she didn’t control. She looked between her shy, but determined, best friend, and the boy called Oz. It only took her another second to piece the puzzle together. The interloper wouldn’t be here if Kim hadn’t invited him, and if Kim had invited him, that meant he was important to her. The only questions remaining were how the hell Antonio Osso had gotten so close to Kimber, and what the hell were his intentions? “How’d you meet Kim?” she asked, after a sip of her frozen lemonade.

Oz looked to Kim for some kind of reassurance. He was usually so open and honest about every thought that crossed his mind, most had considered and settled on the fact that he probably was lacking the normal vocal filter that nearly everyone on the planet possessed. Though he didn’t want to say anything that would upset Kimmy, this night was for her after all. For her to step under the spotlight she so rightly deserved. “We actually met at the Drive In. You know how it is, someone under stress meets someone looking pretty and I was definitely looking pretty that day. Covered in grease, smelling like old socks and sucking on a lollipop.” He wondered if his humour would even reflect at all or if in the eyes of Miss Katie, he was already unworthy? He didn’t care regardless. The only opinion that mattered was Kim. “But yeah, I was doing some maintenance there and I saw Kim by herself, asked her if she wanted some company. No one should be alone at the movies.”

“It was the night you canceled on me, mid June and Niles was visiting his Chicago family… so I decided to go alone,” Kim meekly admitted, freeing herself from Katie’s embrace and gesturing for the group to follow her. She wasn’t intentionally trying to give her friend grief but many times Katie blew her off for other people and while Kim hid it behind a small smile, that did leave her a little bit disheartened about where their friendship stood. That didn’t matter right now though. She had a movie night to host! “Yepp, and since then he’s been insistent we spend more and more time together. And now we’re… ^{boyfriend and girlfriend}.” Kim’s voice turned into a whisper, hoping Katie didn’t focus too hard on that last bit. “Scott! How are you?” She asked swiftly, grabbing a Tagalong cookie and looking at Katie’s boyfriend worriedly. Unsure and on edge, Kim nibbled on the cookie and waited for the dynamite blonde to explode.

Up until the point that he was called upon by the hostess, Scott was kind of genuinely enjoying not being expected to participate in the conversation. He liked listening, especially when Katie was talking. Katie was a good talker. He thought she was the best talker in any room, and he was happy to just let her talk for him. Kimmy was cool, but Kimmy was her friend. Scott talking out of turn here would be like if Katie tried to talk about his car to his bros.

As Kimmy said his name to draw attention from what she’d said, Scott found himself feeling like a prop. This feeling, he thought, was only okay when Katie used the tie he wore to their debate team events to tie his hands together. When he turned his gaze onto Kimmy, he first wore ire in his gaze but it softened when he saw how worried she was. At first, he’d wanted to repeat the bit about boyfriend and girlfriend, but now he felt like he needed to help out. He would take a few boxes of girl scout cookies when they left, as payment.

“It’s been a long night. What movie are we watching tonight? I don’t remember if Katie told me.” She probably had, and as likely as admitting he didn’t remember was to get him in trouble, it was probably better than letting her go into Sherlock mode on the poor guy. He slurped at his cup. Frozen lemonade. The only beverage that he knew could ease the lingering emotions of an argument. His dad thought a Jack & coke did the trick, but Scott would argue that was not the case.

He did not give Kimberly enough time to answer before he turned his attention to Oz. “Nice to meet you dude. I’ve seen your bike,” he held out his free hand for Oz to shake. “A heritage right? It’s cool how they gave them a vintage look - but I prefer street bikes anyway. I wanna do the Isle of Man someday.”

Shaking hands with Scott Lyon; Ozzy didn’t expect that to be how he was spending his evening but it’s what Kim wanted and she deserved everything that she wished for; it was his job to make sure she got it all. “I love me a classic but having a modern bike with all the vintage props just speaks to me.” In some ways; his bike was a representation of Anthony himself, a modern take on an old classic. He was a 21st century boy with a 1980’s mentality. The rocker reached out and shook the racer's hand. “Your Honda is an absolute beast. Bet she drives like a dream.” Oz was a bike guy but he knew how to appreciate the finer points, curves and moments of a sexy automobile. He took a step back, his eyes falling on an obviously nervous and terrified Kim. He placed his hand on the small of her back for reassurance and smiled at the other couple. “Kim went all out tonight, let’s get this movie night a rocking!”

Katie was nothing if not a gifted actress. Questions like, ‘Why didn’t she tell me?’ and ‘Am I the worst friend ever?’ weren’t helpful at the moment. Right now, she needed to be the supportive best friend, not…whoever she was starting to see in the mirror. After a moment's surprise, she assessed the role she was meant to play, and played it well.“Awww,” she cooed, nudging Kim, “Our boys both like things that go vroom. Cute.” As Oz began to rally them, Katie leaned into Scott. “I don’t think you told me that either,” she said, wearing a grin that would win Oscars one day. “What are we watching?”

Relieved, Kim relaxed, not only because Oz was soothing her but because Katie’s reaction was better than she expected. She couldn’t help but feel grateful for Scott’s presence and assistance. Separating herself from her boyfriend, she scurried to the remote, which was left on the three person sofa and turned her TV on.

“Great question. I was thinking ‘Mamma Mia!’ Since it’s your favorite and it’s around that time we should watch it, since we watch it at least once every year. AND. I doubt either of our boys have watched it. I want to see their reactions. What do you think?”

“Good choice.” Katie wondered for a moment if she was being placated, and why she suddenly cared. Overthinking was Jamie’s schtick, and she was not enjoying trying it on. “I hope you like ABBA, Oz. We take ‘Mamma Mia!’ night very seriously.”

“Deadly serious,” the meek girl beamed at her boyfriend, excited that he was here with her and could enjoy one of her favorite things. Watching musicals with her best friend. All her worries, now buried.

For now.