Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Chapter One

"Hey," I called, drawing the word out lazily. I looked into my camcorder screen and whistled. "Looking good, Rocket Girl!"

The girl on the camcorder screen, Regina Rocket, glanced over in my direction and raised a neat eyebrow at me. She smiled a luminous white smile. "Twist, quit kidding around." She reached a hand towards the water and splashed me playfully. "I thought you said you weren't bringing your camera this time."

I laughed outright, slowly shaking my head. "And you believed me? I would never leave my baby behind. Especially today, one of the best surf days of the season."

My best friend and also Reggie's brother, Otto, snorted in reply. I turned my camera lens to him, kicking my feet in the warm seawater. "Bull. That's just what that crappy weatherman said," he argued, folding his defined arms. I'd always been jealous of his muscle definition, something I couldn't achieve even when I did push ups and sit ups every day. He continued, "If you ask me, it's the worst ever."

As he spoke, I turned my head around, following my gaze with the camera lens. I watched the quiet, still waters. Most of the other surfers we'd seen earlier had already bailed, and the place was nearly deserted, except for the tourists on the beach. I raised my eyebrows. The new weatherman of Ocean Shores Channel 15 hadn't been very popular with the locals. The surfers and boarders, especially. There were rumors that he had failed meteorologist school. It was to be expected that he would get the weekend forecast wrong again. "Damn," I shook my head slowly, turning to face Otto again. "This is a sad, tragic sight."

"You're telling me, bro." The tone of his voice was sullen. Then, he turned an accusatory glance my way. "But who was it that said we should believe the weatherman today? Hmm?"

I shrunk back defensively. "Hey, hey! I'm sorry, all right?" I couldn't help but be one of the few that still had faith in the poor weatherman. I paused for a second. "I think we should wait it out just a little longer." I looked up at the overcast sky hopefully.

Otto huffed. "Whatever, man. I hope for your sake that the weatherman's right this time."

"Actually," our less-than-adventurous-but-book-smart friend from Kansas, Sam Dullard, piped in. "It's usually not a matter of whether the weatherman is correct on predicting the forecast. Most of the time, it has to do with the pressure in the atmosphere changing, causing the weather patterns to-"

"Can it, Squid." Otto interrupted, throwing an open palm in front of Sam's face.

I laughed when Sam flinched at the closeness of Otto's hand. "Yeah, dude." I said. "You're making my head hurt."

"Everything makes your head hurt, Twist." Otto lifted his eyebrows at me smugly.

I glared at him. "Shut up. I'm not stupid." I paused, considering my words for a moment. "I'm just average." Sam chortled at either the fact that I was average, or at some inside joke. Either way, I narrowed my eyes at him.

"Holy crap!" Reggie's shout interrupted my almost-whomping on Sam.

We all turned our eyes to her, startled at her sudden outburst. She stared in one direction, eyes wide, and her jaw was dropped. We followed her gaze, and there it was.

Currently, rapidly appearing on the line of the horizon, was the mother of all giant waves. Seriously, this thing was magnificent. Enormous. Muy grande. In my whole seventeen year old life, I had never seen a wave so...intimidating.

God bless that weatherman.

For a few silent moments, we gaped in amazement.

"Good Lord," Sam nervously said, trembling slightly on his afloat surf board.

Otto leaned downward towards the surface of his surfboard until he was in a bowing position, then cried in a loud dramatic voice, "All hail the wave most radical!"

"Holy mother of God," I murmured.

"Holy crap," Reggie repeated.

We were silent for a few more seconds. The waters around us were already shifting, rushing toward the wave at a scary speed.

"So...I'm definitely not going for that one." Sam broke the silence with his murmur, his voice wavering. His shaking hand reached up to steady his black rectangle-rimmed glasses, his brown eyes wide.

Otto snapped out of his daze and turned to Sam with a smirk on his face. He splashed him playfully, drenching his already wet, platinum blonde hair. Sam flinched as the water hit him. "Aw, come on," Otto taunted, wiggling his dark eyebrows above his reflective cop-like aviator sunglasses. When he did this, his small silver eyebrow ring bobbled up and down. "Is widdle Sammy-wammy afraid of a widdle wavy-wavy?" He flashed a brilliant, white, million-dollar smile when Sam glared at him with one open eye.

"You should know by now, Otto," Sam paused, grimacing. "Of course I am."

Otto tossed back his head and let out a hoot of a laugh, and his brown elbow-length dreadlocks flew wildly.

"Otto." Reggie, moving her floating surfboard to rest next to mine, scolded her brother, and we all turned our attention to her. Her eyebrows furrowed in a concerned matter. "You shouldn't do that just to get a laugh out of it." She shook her head, the ponytail on top of her head swaying back and forth. "It's mean. And it's seriously getting old."

"Aw, Reg. Lighten up!" Otto replied, flicking some salty sea water at her. She didn't even flinch, her intense eyes staring at him unwaveringly.

"Um," I started, glancing back at the still-approaching wave that everyone had seemed to forget about already. I looked over at Sam, and he was too busy watching Reggie and Otto arguing to notice either. I gulped. Uh oh.

"Aw, Otto," Reggie replied in the same tone he had used. She flicked water back. "Grow up."

"Yeah, why don't you, Reg?" He flicked more water.

"Um," I said again.

"How about you, Otto?" She splashed him.

"No, you!" He splashed her.

"Hello?" I said.

"You!" She splashed even harder.

Just when I thought we all couldn't get much wetter, I gasped. "GUYS!"

Mother wave arrived with a monsterous crash.

Before I knew it, I was being pushed underwater with an incredible and powerful force. The entire world was water and darkness. I was spinning uncontrollably, sprawling around with my eyes squeezed shut, and I was praying I wouldn't be thrown into any coral or the sea floor. Disorientated and overwhelmed, I forced myself not to scream like I wanted to. Thankfully, I still felt my camcorder in my hand, still in its' handy waterproof case.

When I finally stopped cartwheeling and the water stopped swirling around me, I braced myself to open my eyes. I squinted against the sting of the salt water, glancing around me. My friends floated aimlessly around me. Except... Reggie? Wait. I saw Otto spinning around with his cheeks puffed out, trying to get his long hair out of his eyes. Sam was doing somersaults involuntarily, waving his arms around like a madman, grasping onto his glasses with one hand for dear life. But...

Oh my God.

Reggie...where was Reggie? I immediately started to panic. I spun around in the water to look behind me, but she was nowhere to be seen.

I spun around again, my eyes wide open and searching for her. My head spun.

Oh God. Oh God, oh God.

Not Reg. Dear God, not Reg.

The pressure on my lungs was getting to me, and my vision was spotting, so I quickly swam up for air. As soon as I was above the surface, I took a few big, deep breaths, put my camera on my afloat surfboard, then quickly dove back in. So quickly, I barely noticed that Otto and Sam were already on their surfboards again, and barely even had time to wonder how mine had gotten back on the surface.

Not her. Anyone but her. Please, not her.

When underwater again, I wildly searched around me once more. I had to find her. I had to find her.

My thoughts were suddenly interrupted when I felt a tug on my ankle. I had to think twice not to scream, but I jerked considerably.

I looked down at my foot and I saw a delicate, tan, manicured hand around it. My heart lurched, realizing immediately who that hand belonged to. I glanced at the owner's face and found myself gazing into wide, panicked deep brown eyes much like mine, framed by long dark eyelashes. Beautiful. Terrified.

For a moment, an immense sense of relief swept over me, but knowing we didn't have much time, I quickly went to work. I saw her surfboard tightly wedged between coral at the bottom of the reef, and she couldn't reach her ankle strap. I promptly reached down to grab her wrist and pulled as hard as I could bring myself to muster, and the strap connecting her to her surf board snapped in half. Her hands grabbed at me hastily, her grasp more limp than it was before. I gathered her in my arms.

Her hair-tie had been lost in the chaos of the powerful wave, and her long violet hair floated behind her like a halo, shining in the underwater sunlight. I resisted the urge to marvel at it, my lungs screaming, and began to kick my tired legs.

About halfway to the surface, I glanced down at her. Her eyes were now squinted and unfocused, and it looked like she was fading away fast. Air bubbles were leaving her lips at a scary pace. She needed air. Bad. I began to swim faster, my muscles aching and my own lungs felt like they were collapsing.

After what seemed like forever, we surfaced.

Leaning on my floating surfboard, we both gasped for air as soon as we rose out of the water. We inhaled greedily and desperately. Reggie was gasping almost too eagerly, and she coughed heavily and violently a few times, some water spewing out of her mouth. My heart lurched again. I wanted to say something to her, ask if she was okay, but truthfully breathing was my number one priority at the moment. Our friends were both staring at us.

"Shit, man!" Otto exclaimed, his voice loud and booming. "What happened?"

"Oh my God! Are you guys okay?" Sam's face was pure worry, his heavy eyebrows furrowed.

We continued to gasp and wheeze for a few more drawn out moments, both of us obviously in no shape to reply.

"I..." I breathed in deep a few times more, my lungs screaming. "I-"

I was interrupted by a couple of more whooping coughs from Reggie, and I stared at her again. Then her gaze met mine, a pained smile on her lips. Her voice was faint and brittle, and it was the first time I had ever heard her sound so vulnerable. "Twister saved my life."

#

We all walked on shore, our surfboards in tow, except for Reggie. Unfortunately, after trying over and over, we couldn't get hers free.

"So, let me get this straight," Sam was somehow still trying to process everything that had happened. "Reggie almost drowned...and Twister was the one to save her?"

I shook my head, my long, red and sun-bleached hair tickling my jaw. "Is it really that hard to believe, Squid?"

We came to a stop where our bags rested on the soft sand. They all glanced at me, eyebrows raised. I paused, looking at their skeptical faces. "What?" I demanded, my arms folding across my chest.

"Don't take it personally, Twist." Reggie's voice traveled from behind me, and I turned to see her dip her head upside down and pat her hair dry with her light blue towel. "You have done things in the past that...made us question your IQ." Her careful pause had obviously been to spare my feelings.

I scowled at the ground, seeing the meaning past her polite words. "Shut up, guys. It's not like I can't swim or anything. I'm not impaired, or something."

"Well, it was you that Reggie saved from drowning five or six years ago, wasn't it? At the channel?" Sam changed the subject smoothly, probably hoping I wouldn't notice. He sat down on the sand to put his flip-flops on.

Reggie stood upright again and flipped her towel dried hair back, smiling at the subject change. Her hair was already beginning to curl up again, as it always did after getting wet. "Oh, yeah. I'd almost forgotten about that." She looked over at me, saw that I was already looking at her, and held my gaze warmly. I stiffened.

"Ha, yeah," Otto piped in, laughing once. "Come to think of it, she did save you that one time. How funny is that? Guess you're even now, huh?" He nudged me with his elbow.

I broke my gaze with Reggie and looked down at my bare feet, wiggling my toes through the hot sand. I smiled wistfully, fingering the shark tooth necklace around my neck. "I guess so."

'No,' I thought to myself. 'It was exactly six years ago.' I knew the exact day because that was, to date, one of the scariest days of my life. It was also the day something even more important happened. Something that changed my entire life.

It was the day I'd fallen in love with Reggie Rocket.

That day, we had been bored by the lack of waves at our beach, so when we saw a boat passing by, along with the awesome waves that followed it, Sam had gotten the idea of going down to the channel where we could find more boat waves. As soon as we'd gotten there and tried out the water, we'd realized that it had been a bad idea—except for Otto, of course. He ended up convincing me to go paddle back out, get drenched several times in the oily, garbage infested waters, and then after chasing a few unsuccessful misses, we rode one giant, perfect boat wave—and ended up wiping out big time. Otto had washed up on the rocks, his surfboard getting snapped in half, but I'd gotten stuck underwater from my surfboard strap getting trapped underneath a hook on the sea floor. I struggled to get myself free and failed over and over, and just as I began to lose consciousness, there she was. She freed my strap from the hook, wrapped an arm around my shoulders tightly and hauled me up to the surface again.

The strongest, clearest memory I have from that day is how she was looking at me as I gasped for air, the way she placed her hand on my back—the way her voice was high pitched as she asked if I was okay, full of panic and fear.

Actually, now that I thought about it, that day and this day were very similar to each other. But from that day on, I saw her differently. I didn't fully understand how I felt, being so young—all I knew was that she was special to me. As we got older, the feelings grew stronger, more mature. By the time Reggie was a freshman and Otto and I had graduated middle school, and puberty had fully falcon-kicked me in the ass, I was so far gone over her that I didn't know what to do with myself. Thus began years of pining and misery.

"Aw, Reg. Come on! Do you have to do that here?" Mention of her name snapped me out of my thoughts, and I glanced over at Otto. His expression was one of aggravation and embarrassment. He was looking in Reggie's direction, so I turned to see what he was talking about.

Reggie was in the process of un-zipping her body suit, just her black bikini underneath. Her expression was innocent enough, and her response to Otto was defensive. "What?" My breath hitched and my stomach dropped, and I yanked my eyes away. I felt my face start to turn red as my pulse increased. I tried to calm my breathing.

Otto's scowl deepened behind his sunglasses, and he folded his arms. "You're stripping in plain sight, Reg! There are people watching!"

Reggie snorted. "Get your panties out of a twist. I'm not stripping, Otto. I have a bathing suit on. And nobody's watching!" She paused to glance around her, probably to prove her point, but her expression became one of annoyance when she saw a large group of boys our age standing about 10 feet away, all ogling her. She sneered in their direction.

I looked at them just in time to see them smirk at her in return. I felt a glower on my face, but nobody in the group seemed to notice. I felt like waving a towel at them and shooing them all away like a pod of pigeons. Or a pack of hyenas. Reggie always had her fair share of admirers no matter where she went, only, she rarely noticed them. I was glad for that, and even when she did notice them, she rarely ever flirted back. By now, I was at the point of either wanting her even more because of that or hating her for being so unreachable.

But no, I didn't hate her. I could never hate her. I just wanted her to be happy.

"Reggie, stop showing off," Otto whined, and I couldn't put my finger on why, but it annoyed me. She wasn't showing off, she was being herself. It wasn't her fault she was so damn attractive and guys couldn't help but notice it. Even if it made me a little jealous.

"Shut your freaking trap, Otto. God, you're such an ass sometimes." Reggie growled, and I let myself fully look at her again as she yanked on a pair of short cutoff white shorts over her bikini bottoms. "Almost dying made me hungry, so let's just go." She grabbed her beach bag and began walking towards the Pier, knowing that we would all follow.

Sam and I exchanged a glance at the word 'dying'. Then, we glanced at Otto, angry and standing his ground for a few moments. His jaw was locked and his expression was menacing as he stared at the large group of guys again. They seemed to pick up the hostility radiating from behind his sunglasses, because they immediately dispersed and went to do whatever they were doing before. How did he do that? I'd glared at them too, and they'd ignored me. Guess that's part of being a Rocket, their auras always commanded attention and respect. And I was just Twister.

Otto trudged after Reggie wordlessly, picking his surfboard up again. After getting our bags, Sam and I followed warily, just in case his blistering anger was suddenly turned on us.

#

"Drowning? What?!" Raymundo, Otto and Reggie's dad, thundered, dropping Sam's milkshake to the ground. Even tourists walking by on the sidewalk outside stopped and stared at him for a moment.

"Almost, dad. Almost drowned." Reggie corrected, picking up another fry from her basket in a casual manner, examining it, and nibbling on it. "Please calm down."

Sam seemed to be the only one not watching the exchange, and instead, he watched his slaughtered chocolate milkshake melt against the linoleum floor. "My milkshake," he muttered.

Ray clutched at his signature green bucket hat, shaking his head. "Calm down? No, no, no, no, no. I can't calm down. I can't believe this. What happened? I should have been there!" He rushed from behind the counter and walked quickly towards her.

"I'm fine, Dad. I'm okay." Her voice was calm, even as Ray wrapped his arms around her much too tightly. She grinned. "Still here, remember?"

"Right, right." Ray seemed to compose himself for a moment, though he didn't loosen his hold. The composure was gone within seconds. "Oh, I'm so glad my Princess is okay!"

"Dad," Reggie groaned, her eyebrows furrowing in humiliation. "Come on."

Otto snickered, chewing with his mouth open. I jabbed my elbow into his ribs. I felt him throw a quick glare at me for interrupting his enjoyment at Reggie's expense. I just shrugged.

Ray let go of his daughter. "All right, sorry, sorry." He held his hands up defensively. "I'll tone it down. Anyway, I'm glad you're unharmed." He paused. "You're unharmed, right?"

Reggie nodded, smiling at him again. "Yeah, no worries, I'm fine. My lungs kind of hurt, though."

"It's normal to feel that after a near-drowning experience." Sam jumped in before Ray could panic again. "Her lungs are just getting used to the exertion of breathing air again. By the way, can I have another milkshake?"

Ray glanced down at his hand, and realizing that he no longer held Sam's milkshake, his eyebrows raised. "Sorry, Sam. I'll get you another one."

As Ray walked behind the counter again, Tito, his best friend and business partner, came out of the kitchen with a big, loud greeting for all of us. "'Ey, little cuzzes." He waved both hands at us, his warm brown eyes bright. "How goes it?"

"Reggie almost died." Otto commented without missing a beat. We all turned our eyes to glare at him.

Tito stopped cold, the beam on his face gone. He stared at Otto, his eyes wide. "Whoa, whoa. Come again?"

"Otto! Would you stop?" Reggie scolded, swatting her brother's shoulder with her hand. She looked at Tito. "Don't worry, Tito, it wasn't that big of a deal. I just...almost drowned. While we were surfing earlier. But Twister saved me." She leaned over the counter to meet my gaze, a pretty, grateful smile on her lips. My stomach flipped over as I smiled back. She broke our gaze too soon.

"Really?" Tito looked at me too, shocked.

I scowled. "Yes. Why is everyone so surprised?" When I saw Otto open his mouth, I added, "Don't answer that."

Tito laughed. "No, no, I'm not surprised. I'm just impressed. Very impressed." He held his fist out for me to bump. "Way to go, little brudda."

I smiled, satisfied and humbled by his answer, and hit his fist with mine. "Thanks, Tito."

At that moment, Ray was came back over with Sam's milkshake. Sam took the paper cup eagerly, his smile wide, and immediately began drinking it. Things lulled into a calm quiet for a few minutes, with just the small talk of the few other customers and the humming of the TV. I stole some of Otto's fries when he had his head turned. Then, to my great dismay, the peace was interrupted.

"Reg!" A deep voice called from outside the Shack, a voice that I immediately and grudgingly recognized. We all turned toward the source. It was Trent, our friend from New Zealand. Well, not really my friend. We hadn't really been on friendly terms for the past year. He was their friend. "I came as soon as I could, I'm sorry."

"Aw, babe, it's okay!" Reggie got up from her bar stool and rushed to meet him, and as soon as she reached him, they embraced intimately.

He was also Reggie's boyfriend.

The rest of us turned away, slightly uncomfortable, and Ray muttered something about 'getting a room'. Otto made gagging noises. I frowned to myself, and that sting came back. That sting that had become has familiar to me as an old friend. Reggie and Trent had been going out for a year now, because after years of liking each other, he finally asked her out. It had been a huge relief for Reggie, and she'd been so excited. I grimaced silently.

It wasn't like I hadn't tried to be happy for her. I really had. But after they had been going out for a month or two, I realized how wrong he was for her. I hated the way he treated her.

He was always telling her to improve this way, or wear this, or style her hair like that. Like she was some puppet that he could manipulate. It bothered me. A lot. Reggie had always been independent, and I could tell that it bothered her too. But she did what he said because she didn't want to lose him.

I had always liked Trent as one of the guys, but after he started dating Reggie, I just kept finding reasons to dislike him. Maybe it was just my jealousy. But maybe he really wasn't right for her. I glanced back over, and even though I couldn't hear them clearly, it looked like he was asking if she was okay. She nodded, and then she turned to point at me. I turned back around, my face heating from getting caught watching them.

As much as I hated them together, and wished that things were different, there was nothing I could do. And if Reggie truly wanted to be with him, then I wouldn't mess that up for her. It wasn't my place.

A few minutes later, they came over to our group. Trent sat on the stool Reggie sat on before, and she sat on his lap. Everyone groaned.

"Oh, shut up, guys. Grow up." Reggie narrowed her eyes at all us, but she wasn't quite glaring. She seemed to be enjoying herself very much, actually.

Otto made another fake gagging noise. "But I'm trying to eat." He whined.

"Deal with it." Reggie pushed away the last of her fries, and Trent helped himself to her basket. "Besides, I don't complain when you're all love-y with Clio."

At the mention of his girlfriends' name, Otto's face visibly reddened. Everyone laughed at him, even Ray and Tito from behind the counter. He muttered a string of words under his breath, and among them I understood, "Whatever."

At first, when Otto started dating my cousin Clio when we were fourteen and she was fifteen, I didn't really like it. It just felt weird and totally awkward to have my best bro dating my cousin. And it was especially awkward for me having him come over to my house whenever she visited and seeing them all flirty and mushy together. But, after a year or so, I began to get used to it. They started getting more and more serious, and about a year and a half ago, Clio moved to Ocean Shores permanently because her parents were tired of always going back and forth for her visits.

I had to give the Ottoman props. Before Clio, he had been somewhat of a player. He went through girls almost weekly. His relationship with Clio had been, hands down, the longest relationship he had been in. I figured there must have been something about her that kept him, so I left them alone. I really was happy for them.

As for Sam, he didn't have a girlfriend, but he had had a crush on Trish, Reggie's best friend, for years. Everyone wondered when he would ask her out, but he could hardly have a conversation with her without having a panic attack. It was pretty obvious that hell would freeze over before he would ever ask her out.

"Oh, crap!" Otto erupted, ripping me out of my thoughts again. Evidently, everyone else had been elsewhere too, because the majority of them jumped. Even the elderly couple at the table in the corner jumped in surprise.

"Geez, Otto. What?" Ray's tone was slightly annoyed, and he clutched a plate that he had nearly dropped.

Otto grasped the top of his head, pulling at his dreadlocks with a stressed look on his face. "I forgot to do that paper!"

Reggie rolled her eyes, snorted, and continued whatever conversation she was having with Trent. Ray and Tito sighed and shook their heads, getting back to work. I was indifferent. Sam seemed like he was the only one that was very concerned, staring at Otto with his jaw dropped. "That's due tomorrow!" He exclaimed.

"I know! Dammit!" His voice cracked on the curse word.

"Watch it," Ray's tone was sharp, glancing quickly at the poor startled old people in the corner. He didn't appreciate it when Otto cursed, which was all the time, but he cursed all the time himself, so I didn't really see his defense.

"Sorry," Otto rushed the word out carelessly, as he always did. "I need to get home and do it. School just started, I can't get another F in this class!" He jumped up from his stool, yanking his skateboard out of his backpack.

"I'll go with you, dude." I said, standing up also. "I need to uh...double check to see if mine is done." I pulled my skateboard from my bag. Actually, I knew that mine was done—not done well, but it was done. I just wanted to get the heck out of there. I didn't feel like watching the daily Reggie and Trent show anymore.

I didn't say that out loud, but somehow, I think Otto understood. He knew about my feelings towards Reggie, and even though he didn't completely like it, he at least accepted it.

As soon as Otto and I made it to his house, I crashed on the couch as he ran to get his laptop. I pulled my camcorder from my bag and watched the footage of the accident earlier. I rewound it over and over.

Chapter Text

Chapter Two

I drummed my fingers against the steering wheel of my stalled car impatiently.

Then I took a quick glance at myself in the rear-view mirror.

And then I flipped my phone open to look at the time again. 7:50 A.M.

Dammit, Otto. I thought, grinding my teeth together tightly. We're gonna be late to first hour again.

It wasn't like I was some straight-A, kiss-ass, teacher's pet and was perfectly on time all the time. But 15 tardies equaled a detention, and even though school had just started 3 weeks ago, Otto and I were already at ten tardies. I thought this year I'd want to spend at least a few Wednesday nights the way I wanted instead of spending an extra two hours at school. The school year before, I had practically lived at the school on Wednesdays.

And the being late thing wasn't my fault. I was always in his driveway, in my car, at the right time every morning. I didn't know what he did in the mornings, but if he was fixing his hair or something, he seriously needed to get rid of those damn dreadlocks.

This wouldn't have been such a problem if he'd had his own car. Unfortunately, though, Otto had repeatedly failed his driver's license test, six times to date in fact. Either he had been too lazy to study for it, or he bailed the test for a skate competition. I, myself, had failed it only once. I wasn't good with any other tests, but driving was something I'd wanted to do my whole life.I'd studied harder for the driver's test than anything else in my recent memory. Driving, besides boarding and surfing, is the only thing I can say I'm good at. I didn't get why Otto just didn't buckle down and get it done already, if he was so excited to drive.

And if he did, I wouldn't have to be late every freaking morning.

I glanced at myself in the mirror again, studying my reddish-sun bleached hair. I still wasn't sure about the whole flat-ironing thing, it felt weird. But I had noticed that Trent flat ironed his hair stick straight every day, and Reggie always raved about his hair. So I figured, why not? It was only the third time I'd done it, so I was still getting used to it. But I still kind of felt weird.

My impatience flared up again, and I hit my horn with two, quick jabs.

"Relax," Otto's voice came from the other side of the car, and I turned my head to see him opening the passenger door. His expression behind his shiny aviators was easygoing, and I scowled at him. He threw his backpack over the armrests and into the backseat. "I see you have your pretty hair again today."

I sniffed, my ego slightly wounded. "Shut it." I flicked my long hair out of my eyes, and the movement wasn't helping my defense at all. My best friend snickered as he sat down and shut the door.

"What's the point, man?" Otto muttered as I started the engine. "Reggie hasn't said anything about it. I don't even think she's noticed."

I was silent for a few moments, my forehead feeling heavy. I backed the car out of the driveway, and then I finally replied. "She will."

Otto didn't say anything, but somehow that was a reply in itself. I knew she probably wouldn't notice. But I had to try anyway. I let a few more seconds of quiet pass, and then I spoke again.

"Dude, if you make me late one more time this week, I will beat the shit out of you."

His returning smirk was sheepish. "Sorry, sorry! I overslept again. I stayed up way too late."

I shook my head at the offhandedness of his response. "Finishing that paper?"

"See, that's the thing," Otto paused, scratching his head. "Clio called me late last night, and I kinda got distracted…" His voice trailed off, leaving implications that I didn't want to think about.

I squeezed my eyes shut against the mental picture, and then remembering that I was driving, I opened them again. "You didn't finish it? For a hookup with Clio?"

Otto sunk down in his seat further, his breath coming out in a long hiss. "I wasn't going to at first, and I was gonna get the paper done instead…but man, I just couldn't say no."

I groaned. "Please, Ottoman. Spare me those details."

He laughed his hooting laugh at my embarrassment. "Aw, come on, Twist. You know me and Clio have been doing that for a while."

"Yeah, I know. But I don't want to hear it repeatedly and in gross detail. She's my cousin, man." I tried to force the mental picture out of my head again.

He sighed in exaggerated exasperation. "Fine, fine. But Mrs. Robertson is gonna eat me for breakfast."

I let my breath out in relief of the subject change. "Yeah, dude. This is, what, the fifth time you've turned in something late in her class since school started?"

"Uh-huh. She'll be so pissed, this is gonna suck. I wonder if she'll put me in the dungeon or feed me to her ten cats?"

"Possibly. Or she'll make you wear one of her puffy-paint cat sweatshirts."

Otto shuddered. "Oh, God! That would be ten times worse than the dungeon. I would reek of cat pee the whole day."

As we talked of more possible punishments that Mrs. Robertson might have waiting for Otto, we turned into the quiet school parking lot. The parking lot was usually bustling up until the bell rang, so we were definitely late. We trudged up the school steps and into the building silently, and as we walked through the hallway, we were suddenly stopped by a voice behind us.

"Halt, in the name of the almighty hall monitor!"

Otto and I sighed in unison, because we knew that voice anywhere. We turned to face them. "It's us, Eddie." I muttered.

Yes, the Prince of the Netherworld himself. We weren't as good of friends as we had been, but every once in a while we would talk. He'd somehow gotten even weirder than he had been as a kid. He still wore the hooded cape, but sometimes the mask would vary. Today he had a Darth Vader mask.

"Oh!" Eddie pushed his mask up from his face and put his 'badge' away. He straightened wire rim glasses on his nose. "Sorry, guys. I didn't recognize you; you know how bad my vision is these days."

I recalled a few weeks ago when Eddie told us that his eye doctor said that his vision problems were coming from the masks he had worn practically his whole life. He also said he might have to get laser eye surgery if he kept wearing the masks, but he hadn't quit wearing them yet. Go figure.

I nodded and Otto held up a hand. "No problem, man, don't worry about it." He said.

Eddie nodded eagerly, as if he was immensely relieved that he hadn't made us mad. "So, you're late again? Having car problems, or what?"

I shook my head, then jabbed my best friend in the ribs. "Naw, it's because of this dumb bastard right here."

Otto smiled widely and shoved me back. "Yup. I'm the dumb bastard."

Eddie chuckled and slid his mask back down over his face. "Well, you guys'd better go before you get caught out here. This time is about the time when Mr. Kenny goes to get coffee from the teachers' lounge."

We nodded and left toward our lockers, which were conveniently only one locker away from each other. I guess if you needed any pros of having a best friend with a last name starting with the same letter as yours, that one would be it. As I got my books out, I tried to ignore the familiar, intoxicating perfume drifting from within the locker right next to mine.

But as I sat through my first period class, that scent was all I could think about.

I had fourth period Biology with a girl named Hannah, and I think she was basically the main reason I wasn't failing that class.

She was small and had short, choppy blonde hair. She was really smart, and supposedly she was supposed to be a Freshman, but she got moved up to Junior classes. She sat next to me, and we were also lab partners. In obvious thanks to her, we got A's on every lab assignment. I still remembered the looks of envy I got when Mr. Palmer assigned lab partners on the first day of school. Even though school had just started, I was pretty sure she already had a little crush on me. It was flattering, and she wasn't bad looking, but my sights were on someone else.

Right now, Mr. Palmer was going on about something having to do with environments and something called a niche. I wasn't really listening anyway; the wall I was staring at was much more interesting. Hannah would fill me in on the important stuff later.

After all, I hadn't seen Reggie at all that day, and I was going insane.

I usually always saw her at least once between classes, considering our lockers were right next to each other. But I hadn't seen her yet. I was beginning to worry, quite unreasonably, I might add. My sleep-deprived subconscious kept throwing me the disturbing images from the near-drowning of the day before, ones of Reggie losing consciousness and her pale lips clenching tight to hold onto the remaining air she had. They were the same images that kept me up for most of the night before. They would probably keep me up at night for another week or so. The thought in itself that I had almost lost Reggie for good had me terrified still.

And now she wasn't here. Had something happened? Was she not as fine as she had insisted yesterday? Had she developed some sort of post-almost-drowning disease?

I ground my teeth together. My worries were turning ridiculous again. I needed to relax, think about something else for a change. Someone else.

I sat there for another five minutes, and I could not for the life of me think of anyone else.

This always happened when I tried to forget about her. At times when I started to think rationally, when I started to think that the power she had on me was too strong, and I tried to force myself to let go of her, I couldn't. It was just impossible. And I hated that it was impossible.

I let myself think of her again, and under the desk, I checked the screen of my phone for the fourth time. No new messages. Not that I was expecting her to text message me or anything. But it didn't hurt to check.

I felt Hannah's elbow prod me in the ribs, and when I looked up at her, she had a concerned expression on her face as if to ask, 'Are you okay?' I just sighed, and she silently faced the front of the class again.

Soon, the bell rang, and I was probably the third person out the door. I wanted to catch Otto before his next class so I could ask him if he knew where she was, though lately he usually didn't. With Reggie's relationship and the seriousness of Otto and Clio's relationship growing, they were almost never home at the same time.

But as I neared my locker, a head of long, glossy violet locks met my gaze, and I stopped in my tracks. My heart jumped in my ribcage.

She was here. She was okay.

I made a quick attempt to calm myself, including trying to get my pulse in a normal state, and then continued to walk toward my locker coolly. I didn't want to make a big deal out of it, even though it was. Just being near her was enough to send my senses into a frenzy.

She was talking to two other girls, and I took advantage of her back being to me, quickly twisting the knob on locker door through its combination. Unfortunately, it couldn't be done quietly, and the noise alerted her of my presence. She looked over her shoulder at me, and I pretended not to notice.

"Oh, Twister! I was just telling them about you." She flashed a gleaming smile when I looked up, and I could feel the blood start to rush to my face. Her entire face was warm when she smiled, and her chocolate brown eyes melted into mine when she made eye contact. Her smile was only one of my favorite things about her.

"Were you, now?" I asked after clearing my throat.

She chuckled musically. "Of course." She grabbed my arm and patted it with her other hand as she turned to the other girls again. Her perfume, which I guessed was freshly sprayed, filled my nose. The soft scent reminded me of vanilla and honey. "This is my hero, in the flesh."

The girls, one short blonde one and the other with light brown hair, appraised me with skeptical expressions.

"No, really!" Reggie laughed again as she said this, and she curled the hand resting against my bicep into a fist. Electric shocks shot through my arm when her manicured nails brushed against my skin. "Tell them, Twist."

I glanced down at her, and for a short second, I marveled at how the top of her head only came up to my shoulder. "Um, yeah." I said awkwardly, looking at the girls again. "It was me."

The girl with the light brown hair spoke first. "Well, I'm glad. When I heard Reggie was close to drowning yesterday, I was so worried!" She grinned at me.

"Me too," the short blonde one agreed.

The girls exchanged a few more words, Reggie holding onto my arm the entire time, and then the two left. As soon as they turned around, I looked down at her again.

"So…how are you feeling?" I tried to make my voice sound casual.

She looked up at me and smiled again. "I'm fine, Twist. You can stop worrying."

My eyebrows rose. Had Otto told her how worried I was? I shook my head. "I never said I was worried."

She gave me a wary look. "I know. I can just tell that you are."

My stomach jumped a little, and I glanced away from her face. She knew me too well sometimes. I changed the subject. "So, did Ray let you sleep in this morning or something?"

She nodded, and before she could open her mouth, she was interrupted.

"Reg," Trent's deep voice came from about two feet behind us. We turned to face him, and he eyed Reggie's hands on my arm.

"Hey, baby!" She exclaimed, and her face lit up even lighter than before. To my dismay, she immediately left my side and walked to him with open arms. I inhaled as her scent left me.

They embraced tightly, but as Reggie gazed at his face, he stared daggers at me.

That was another thing I disliked about Trent. When in front of the whole group, he acted like he didn't have a problem with anybody. But when it was just him and I, he made it clear that he disliked me just as much as I disliked him. I was positive that he knew about my feelings for Reggie. Obviously, he had a problem with that.

And Trent was very jealous. Not just of Reggie hanging out with me, but other guys too.

He would glare at her if she was with him and she stopped to talk to another guy. He hated other guys touching Reggie. If Reggie texted or called any other guys on the phone, he would immediately accuse her of cheating. His possessive behavior hadn't really caught anyone else's attention but mine. I knew Otto would have noticed if he was around them more. But the PDA grossed him out, so he avoided them together whenever he could. I'd tried to tell him about it, but he just wrote me off and told me I was being jealous.

It bothered Reggie, I could tell. But she never told anyone. She loved Trent too much.

I broke from Trent's gaze and turned to my locker again, throwing my Biology book in and taking out my Geometry one. I briefly heard Trent whisper something to Reg, and she tsked.

"Stop it, babe. It's Twister."

Bitterness rose in my throat. Oh, it's just Twister. Don't worry about him. He means nothing to me. She might as well have said those things, because that was what I heard in her tone. I slammed my locker shut and walked away before their attention could be averted.

I didn't understand how one person could make me insane with worry, fill me with need and crush me with disappointment all in one hour. Sometimes I wondered if she knew how much damn power she had over me. It was like she held every one of my emotions on strings and she pulled them whenever she felt like it. Other times it was like I didn't even exist.

So why did I even bother trying?

During my next class, I tried to get her out of my head, to no avail. Her voice echoed in my mind.

'Oh, Twister! I was just telling them about you.'

'I'm fine, Twist. You can stop worrying.'

'I know. I can just tell you are.'

'Stop it, babe. It's Twister.'

Just when I thought I couldn't wallow any deeper in self-pity, my phone vibrated in my pants pocket. Keeping my eyes on the teacher, I carefully pulled the phone out of my pocket and opened the message under the desk. I lowered my eyes to the screen. In just a few moments, all bitterness disappeared.

'From: Reggie Rocket

Received: Mon, Sep 17 11:23 am

Btw, did I tell u I like ur new hair? U should keep it that way :)'

Despite being 'just Twister', something told me that I shouldn't give up on her just yet.

Chapter Text

Chapter Three

-Otto's POV-

I watched with a smirk as Squid tried to engage Twister in conversation.

Sam was doing the majority of talking, besides the occasional 'yeah' and 'uh-huh' from Twister. Every time Sam would look away from his tray of food, thinking he'd find Twister paying attention to his ramblings, he would scowl in disappointment. Twister was staring, unabashed and head leaned on one hand, at Reggie, who was standing in the long lunch line with Trent. For shame.

I ripped my pizza crust in half and crammed it in my mouth. "Twist," I mumbled between chews. "You're drooling."

He straightened up quickly, swiping his hands frantically at his chin. "Damn it!" He grabbed at Sam's napkins next to him to clean up.

Sam scowled at him again. "I was going to use those."

Twister ignored him and looked at me. "Did I get it all?" His eyebrows rose past the hair falling in his eyes. The stick-straight, flat-ironed hair. Still had to get used to that.

I nodded at him, choking back a laugh. "Yeah. Chill, pretty boy."

He ground his teeth. "Shut up. I just don't wanna be all drool-y." He paused, as if something more important occurred to him. The annoyance in his tone was gone. "Is Reggie coming?"

I sighed. "I don't know."

"Well, look!"

"You have eyes," Now, how old were we? Last time I checked, we weren't in the fifth grade. "You look."

Twister started to flush, his freckled cheeks brightening. "I can't look! That would be too obvious. What if she saw me?"

I huffed a loud, annoyed sigh. He was such a freak. "God." I twisted around in my chair to see Reggie and Trent looking for our table, trays in hand. "Yes, she's coming."

I watched with half shame and half wonderment as Twister straightened himself again, adjusting his shirt and running his fingers through his hair. I shook my head.

Twister had had a thing for my sister for quite a few years now, and right now, I couldn't help but feel sorry for him. Yeah, at first it had bothered me that he was panting after my sister, but above all, he was my best bro. I wanted to see him happy, even if it did mean going after Reggie. Besides, I was dating his cousin, so this kind of made us even. God knows that I wouldn't know what to do without Clio, and if what Twister felt for Reggie was a quarter of how I felt for Clio, I wouldn't stand in his way.

And now that Reggie was dating Trent, I felt even worse for Twister. Reggie's obliviousness was hard enough, and now in addition to that, she was in a relationship. I could see the pained look on his face whenever she talked about Trent, or whenever they decided to kiss and hug in front of us.

At that moment, Reggie pulled up a chair next to Sam, and Trent next to her.

"Hey," Trent said to us. Despite living in Ocean Shores for a good long time now, most of his New Zealand accent was still there. And I still found it pretty badass.

"Hey guys," Reggie greeted cheerfully, setting her lightweight tray down. I looked at it and noticed how there was only a salad and an apple there. My lips twitched. My sister had never cared about being weight conscious before she and Trent started going out, so I didn't understand why it mattered so much to her now. Whatever.

We all nodded back at them in greeting and went back to our food; though looking back up at Twister, I noticed that his eyes lingered on her just a bit longer.

Funny how even though Twister hardly bothered hiding his attraction to Reggie, she didn't seem to notice. At all. Everyone else noticed, in fact, except for her. Sometimes I wondered how she could possibly be so oblivious. Reggie wasn't stupid. Didn't she get it?

But whenever she looked at Trent, it was like he was the only guy in the entire universe. It was no wonder she'd never noticed.

But Trent had noticed. Hoo boy, did he notice.

"So like I was saying, Twister," Sam started, trying again to engage Twister in something. "If you need any help in Biology this year, just tell me. I know how you have that habit of cheating and copying other people's work, and Biology isn't that simple."

"Uh huh," Twist said, staring at Reggie. Again.

"And if you continue to get behind this early on in the course, it'll be even harder for you later on. I mean, you should at least read over the material for each unit. That's the least you can do."

"Yeah," Twist said in the same absent tone. Trent, who apparently has guys-staring-at-his-girlfriend-senses, turned away from Reggie, who was prattling on about her drama class, and sent Twist a cold look.

Sam, somehow still not noticing how much Twister wasn't paying attention, kept going. "I mean really, Twister. It's not that hard a class. I know you're not very good at Science, or Math, or other things of that nature, but it's really not that difficult if you try. I think you have it in you."

"Sam," I said. Twister and Trent were still staring daggers at one another.

"And so I think that maybe I should help you a few days after school every week. I think I could give you the push you need."

"Sam," I repeated.

"I know that it's easier to cheat off of that smart freshmen-transfer in your class, but wouldn't it be better just to have the satisfaction of passing a class through your own hard work and perseverance?"

"SQUID," I said, pointing to the preoccupied Twister. "He's not listening."

Sam stared blankly at the back of Twister's head for a few seconds, and then he picked up his fork again and stabbed it repeatedly into his styrofoam plate, muttering to himself.

"So Reggie," I started to avoid the impending awkward silence, "You feeling better?"

The subject change seemed to distract Twister and Trent, and they both turned their attention back to Reggie. She looked at me and nodded. "Yeah, I do. My lungs don't hurt anymore, but my throat still kind of hurts."

I risked a quick glance at Twister, and I was just quick enough to see his eyebrows furrow in a worried way. I quickly changed my glance to my sister. "I heard you got to sleep in this morning," I said, frowning in jealousy at the thought. "Maybe I should almost drown too."

Reggie snorted, jabbing her fork into her Caesar salad. "Be my guest."

"Hell no," Twister said, glaring at me. "Besides, I would still have to be the one to drive you around. And then I'd be late, too."

"Well, yeah." I replied. "But then you could sleep in, too!"

He gave me a dry look. "And what would my excuse be? My best friend's stupidity?"

"They'd probably actually believe that," Sam piped in, earning a glare from me.

Twister shrugged and then paused, turning that over in his head. "On second thought—"

"No," Reg said, staring darts at me and using her stern, don't-even-think-about-it voice. "Nobody's going to try to drown on purpose, Otto. And no skipping school on purpose." I scowled in defeat.

"Don't nag, darling. It doesn't suit you." Trent said to Reggie, stroking her hand on top of the table despite a slight edge to his voice. Twister leaned around Sam again and stared death at Reggie's boyfriend, but thankfully Trent didn't notice it this time.

"Sorry, babe." Reggie said with a tight smile, the smile she has when something's bothering her, but she doesn't want to tell you. It surprised me to see it, because I hadn't seen it in a long time.

Before I could say anything to her, the bell rang. I looked down at my empty food tray in relief and stood with everyone else.

"Yes. Only three more hours left of this hellhole," I announced as I dumped my trash into the trashcan at the end of the table.

"Amen to that," Twister said next to me, dumping his trash too. He gave me the dry sidelong look I'd begun to get used to, the one that said, 'oh my god, I want to strangle that guy and watch the life leave his eyes'. Sam came over and dumped his empty soda can and assaulted styrofoam plate, seemingly unaware of everything.

Reggie and Trent came over and dumped their trash too. They were in their own conversation, and as they turned away, Trent rested his hand on her butt. I gagged.

"See you guys later," she called behind her shoulder as they left. And after she left, I couldn't help but look into the trash and see Reg's salad mostly uneaten and her apple completely untouched.

-Twister's POV-

After school, I went straight home.

Today had been a particularly Reggie-and-Trent filled day, and it had me drained in every sense of the word. I was looking forward to just crashing on the couch and not getting up until dinner time. I could just lay there and recover from all this unrequited love shit. And all of it would start when I stepped through my front door.

Except not, because there was a big, loud, obnoxious something to keep me from doing all that.

"HEY, would you look at that?" was the first thing I heard, loud and shouting and echoing off of the walls. "The little dork is home from school!"

My mom, dad, and my brother were all standing in the living room. All loud and laughing and Rodriguez-family-y.

"Oh, Maurice!" My mom squealed in delight. "Welcome home, mijo. Guess who came home from college to visit his parents and his favorite little brother?"

Lars was leaning on the arm of the couch with his arms folded. He nodded at me, that same ear-to-ear, crack-head smile on his face. "What's cracking, Maurice?"

I looked at him flatly, then turned to my dad and pointed to Lars. "What's that doing here?"

My mom's face contorted into a disapproving frown, and my dad glared. Lars burst out laughing, and took long strides toward me. "Aw, come on, lil' bro. Don't be like that. You know you missed my whompings." He came closer to give me a 'playful' punch in the abs, and as if on cue, seemed to notice my new hair. He suddenly held his hands up. "Whoa."

I'd known he'd notice it eventually. I rolled my eyes. "Yeah, yeah. Laugh it up now."

He shook his head, his mouth halfway between a smirk and a gape. "Dude. Holy shit. Are you using one of those hair straighteners?" He kept shaking his head. "What the hell? I don't even...what the fuck is that, man?"

I heard Mom clear her throat, but Lars ignored it.

I ground my teeth, feeling a migraine coming on. I wish I'd had time to prepare for this. "Okay, okay. Say all you want, but I like it."

Lars held his hands up again. "Oh, I don't have any more to say. Trust me. The hair speaks for itself."

Mom and Dad looked like they were leaving. "We'll let you two catch up," Dad said, and even though I gestured wildly at him to stay, he disregarded it. I scowled.

"So, besides your disgustingly unmanly hair, what's been happening in ol' Ocean Shores, huh? Any new hotties here?" Lars continued, not seeming to care that Mom and Dad were still in hearing distance.

I sighed, folding my arms and looking at him wearily. "I don't know, Lars. Why don't you go look?"

He seemed to think about this, and then he shrugged. "Yeah, I'd probably be better off. You got bad taste in women, anyway." He pretended to pause and think. "Who was that that you've stalked since you were a tyke? Hmm?"

I rolled my eyes. "I don't stalk her, Lars."

Lars raised his eyebrows, like he thought there was little difference between a crush and stalking. "You might as well. She wouldn't date you either way." He puffed his breath out into his cheeks and blew it out loudly. "Regina Rocket. She's pretty hot, I'll give you that, but she's like a freaking nun. Too goody-good. I bet she washes the dishes and flosses her teeth like, twice a day."

Actually, she did. But Lars was just bitter because he'd tried multiple times to get her to sleep with him, and she declined easily every time. One time she told me that she thought cuddling with Lars might feel like and smell like cuddling a full trash bag. "You do know she's dating Trent now, right?" I told him, though I don't know why I did. Maybe just to scorn him.

"What? Trent? That dude from New Zealand?" His eyes bugged out, and then for a few moments he looked pretty impressed. "Damn. Maybe she's not so goody-good after all. Shoulda banged that when I had the chance."

"So, how's Sacramento?" I asked to change the subject, because any further in that direction and I would've gone straight to the kitchen and pulled a steak knife on him.

Lars seemed unfazed by the subject change. "Aw, you know. It's pretty cool. It's big. And college is tight." He caught himself and waved a hand. "Not the school part, the parties. And the chicks. You haven't seen nothing 'till you've seen college chicks, little brother."

"I'm sure, Lars." I said, wondering if this was the only thing he was capable of talking about.

He nodded. "I mean, for real. Hot as hell. And at the parties, all the booze and grass you can handle." He leaned forward. "Have you ever been drunk at an amusement park?"

I stared at him flatly, wondering if he was high. "No, Lars, I can't say that I have." I grasped at the chance to change the subject again. "So, what about your classes? They hard?"

Now he looked bored. "Oh yeah, that. They're really hard."

I never quite understood how Lars made it into a university. With all his skipping, slacking off, and fooling around in middle school and high school(and, let's not fool ourselves here, elementary school), it was a mystery to me. Even though it wasn't an Ivy League school or anything, the fact that he'd gotten into a university at all was nothing short of a miracle. But, if I ever got into a university, it would be pretty huge too.

I smirked. "I bet."

"Hey, wanna see my new tattoo?" He said, being the one to change the subject this time. Plus, I had a feeling it was because of his uncharacteristically good-natured mood that he decided to keep it light. He turned his back to me and lifted his black sleeveless shirt up to reveal a crisp new black dragon tattoo that curled and weaved all the way down his back.

"Damn," I said in spite of myself.

He grinned over his shoulder at me. "I know, right? Isn't she a beauty?" He put his shirt back down and turned around again. "Took three visits, five hours each. Didn't hurt as much as this one," he said, rubbing the black design that spread from the left side of his neck to behind his ear. He had about ten tattoos, and counting the new one, eleven. He also had an industrial piercing in each ear and one in his septum. When we were kids, he just looked like a kid that needed a haircut really badly, but now his natural aggressiveness paired with the piercings and tattoos made him look like he'd been in jail more than a few times. But I knew that despite his looks, he couldn't really be capable of something like that. He was too stupid.

And besides, I had beaten him in the height department, so he hardly looked even a little intimidating to me. I wasn't sure how, but I'd somehow out grown him over the past two years or so, and I stood at least half a foot taller.

"Hey, Twister." Lars said suddenly, his tone different. And it was a weird different. It was a tone I'd never heard him use before. Out of nowhere, he'd started to act…unsettled? I wasn't sure. I'd never seen that expression associated with Lars before, I wouldn't even recognize it on him. It would imply that he was actually capable of having normal human emotions.

I looked at him slowly, hesitant to ask. "Yeah?"

"Have you…" he trailed off, looking like he was trying to figure out how to word what he was going to ask. It shocked me.

"Out with it already, Lars. You're weirding me out." I told him. I leaned closer and scrutinized his face. He leaned away and turned his face. "Is something…wrong?"

He looked as uncomfortable as I was with having actual, real conversation. At least for him, it was one that didn't only revolve around girls or booze. He held his hands out. "Okay, okay. Just…hear me out for a second…okay?"

I wasn't sure I'd like what I was going to hear. "…all right." I said with hesitation.

"Have you…noticed anything weird about Mom and Dad lately?" he finally asked.

My forehead crumpled. "Weird?" I didn't get what he was asking. "Weird like how?"

He seemed frustrated that I didn't immediately get what he was saying. "You know. Like, weird. Not acting like they used to."

I stared at him for a few moments. I had no idea what he could possibly mean. I saw them every day, and they seemed perfectly fine. "You know, your limited vocabulary isn't helping me out a lot right now, so if you could just…?"

His face fell flat, and I knew I had pushed to the very end of his patience. "You know what? Forget it, dumbass. You're too stupid to figure it out." He unfolded his arms and started to walk toward the front door. "Screw this. I'm going to Madtown. Tell Mom I'll be home for dinner." He picked up his skate board by the front door, and with that, he left and shut the door behind him.

After finally having some time to myself to think, we all sat down to dinner. My mom had made Lars' favorite dinner, homemade caldo de res and tres leches cake for dessert, and we mostly talked about school and stuff, Lars leaving out his party stories and tales about college girls for Mom's sake. And remembering Lars's serious question, I watched my parents. Closely.

And for the first time, I realized with a sick, guilty feeling in my stomach that they didn't talk to each other during dinner.

Not once.

Chapter Text

Chapter Four

-Twister's POV-

A few days passed, and things had mostly gone back to normal.

By now, everyone had moved on from the almost-drowning incident, and people had stopped asking Reggie how she had survived, and who had saved her (always resulting in the looks of disbelief in my direction). Which meant Reggie and Trent had more time to be their clingy, mushy, couple-y selves all around the school. And the Shack. And the Rocket house.

Lars had gone back to college after the weekend finished, which was a relief for me, because it meant having a free couch and TV to come home to after a day of having to deal with the happy couple. After the first day of Lars being there, he and I had fallen back into our regular pattern of alternately insulting each other and ignoring each other as often as we could. It was our way. I actually preferred that more than being civil, being civil with him almost felt like he wasn't even my brother.

The only thing that hadn't gone back to normal, though, was my parents. After Lars had pointed out their behavior to me, and after he had left, the cold atmosphere in our house became glaringly obvious to me. Every night at dinner, they either both, or separately, talked to me, or they didn't talk at all, and at all other times of the day they were never seen together at all. If Dad was in the living room, Mom was upstairs. If Mom was in the kitchen, Dad was in the garage. The only other time they were together, it was in their room, and once when I walked past their open door, they were turned away from each other, on the very opposite sides of the bed.

I tried to tell myself not to worry about it—they were adults after all, and if they were going through something, they could deal with it on their own—but I couldn't help but start to feel uncomfortable about it. But I didn't say anything about it to anyone.

Friday, after school, I had come straight home to my refuge, i.e. the TV, but when I discovered there was nothing on that I wanted to watch, I turned to the Internet instead. It kept me entertained enough for a little over two hours, and then the quietness of my house was starting to get to me, I decided to go somewhere else for a while.

Grabbing one of my beanies and yanking it over my once again slightly wavy hair (I'd given up on straightening it for now. Reggie had noticed, but I had felt pathetic for doing it for her in the first place, and now my bathroom permanently smelt like burnt hair), I breezed down the stairs, grabbed my skateboard by the door, and left the house.

I boarded down the sidewalk, leaving Ozone Street, and down the giant hill leading to main Ocean Shores. I liked boarding like this sometimes, just on my own, without Otto's regular hamming of my camera, Squid's whining, and Reggie and Trent's chronic clinginess. Just me, my thoughts, and the salty smell of the ocean in the breeze. It was nice. I would've liked to take a short trip to the beach too, maybe would have surfed off some of my burdens, but going in the ocean at that moment in time would've just reminded me more of Reggie.

That's how it always was, wasn't it? Eat a certain kind of donut for breakfast, remember that Reg liked bagels better than donuts. Hear a song on the radio, remember that Reg either loved or hated that song. See the color purple, remember the bright shade of violet that Reg's hair was. I sighed aloud. I really needed psychological help.

Maybe I could hire Squid to be my therapist, I thought dryly. He seems like he'd be good at that type of thing. Science and all that.

I took a sharp turn, heading toward the Shore Shack, and then stopped in my tracks. Some guy who'd been jogging behind me nearly ran straight into me, and he ran past me with a disgruntled noise and an impolite gesture over his shoulder at me. I ignored him.

I'd been planning on going to the Shore Shack to get something to eat, but I realized with this mood of mine, it would be plain on my face, and Tito would ask me what was wrong and I would have to talk about my problems. I appreciated this personality trait of Tito's, I really did, I just wasn't in the mood to pour my guts out.

After considering dropping by Madtown instead, I decided that hanging out at Otto's house might be better. I trekked all the way back up the hill leading to our street, and after making it back to Ozone Street, sweaty and having trouble remembering why I had bothered coming all the way back in the first place, I opened the front door to the Rocket house and received the shock of my life.

Reggie, on top of Trent. On the couch. With his hands up the front of her shirt and her bra next to his discarded shirt, next to them on the couch. Making out. As if their lives depended on it. So busy that they didn't even hear the door open. When my skateboard dropped with a sharp clatter, however, they jumped apart, turning around to see who the intruder was.

"Oh my God, Twist," Reggie said, sighing as relief poured over her face. She pressed a hand to her chest. "It's just you. You scared us."

Trent, who had looked considerably rattled just seconds ago, now looked at me with a cold sort of smugness. "Yeah, Twist. You scared us." He leaned back on the couch cushions again, leisurely. "Close that door, will you?"

Gaining back some of my composure, I reached behind me and threw the front door shut. "You're lucky it's just me," I told them, my voice gruff. "If it were Ray, he'd throttle both of you. Especially you, Trent. He'd probably make you into a nice winter coat." I tried very hard not to smirk as I said that last part, but I'm pretty sure I did.

Reggie laughed, thinking I was joking. "Yeah, probably." She turned to Trent and rubbed his knee. "We should probably go up to my room, babe."

"Yeah, okay." Trent got up, stretching, and I had to turn my face away from his half-nakedness before I projectile vomited all over the carpet. "But first, babe, can you make me a sandwich?" He patted his stomach and grinned, but it reminded me of a rattlesnake's face. "Your man's hungry."

"Sure," Reggie said cheerfully, and immediately jumped up from the couch, and I was horrified by how unlike her she was around him. The Reggie I knew once would never be ordered to do something, much less ordered to cook. 'You've got two legs that work,' she would've said. 'Make it yourself.' I wanted to say that to him now myself, but that would just make her upset at me. That was probably the last thing that I wanted.

"Oh, and, Reg," Trent stopped her before she walked away to the kitchen with one hand, glanced at me snidely, and then picked up her bra from the couch and handed it to her. "Put this back on for now."

Reggie giggled, and my face had turned so red from embarrassment and anger that all I could do was spin around and stomp upstairs to Otto's room.

I reached his door, turned the doorknob and pushed my way into his room, already starting my tirade. "Dude, Otto, I feel obligated to tell you that Trent's down there practically boning your—JESUS, COME ON!"

Otto and Clio, who had been almost in the exact same position that I'd found Reggie and Trent in, jumped apart, Clio screaming and covering herself with a blanket even though she had on all of her clothes and Otto swiping some of Clio's red lipstick from his own lips and laughing.

"Freaking God, what is the matter with everyone in this house? I'm sorry, is it a house rule to make out with people all the time here? Because if I had gotten the memo, I would've brought over some chick from school!" My face was even redder than before, and I threw my hands up when Otto continued to laugh even harder. "Yeah, laugh. Laugh at me, Otto. It's funny, it's so funny."

"Sorry, bro. I didn't know you were coming over." Otto started another round of laughs, pointing at me. "You should see your face right now, though. It's hilarious."

Clio clucked her tongue. "Otto, stop laughing at my poor baby cousin. Look at him, we've scarred him." She held her arms open for a hug. "Come, Maurice."

Of course, her use of my real name just made Otto laugh even harder—he was shrieking in laughter now, falling over onto his side and holding his stomach. I grit my teeth together, groaning. "Clio, please," I said.

"Oh," she said, miming a smack to her forehead. "Sorry. Twister. I still forget sometimes." She finally dropped the blanket she'd been holding over herself and scooted over on the bed, patting the space next to her. "Come on, hang out with us."

I snorted and glanced over at Otto, who had abruptly stopped laughing to shoot a death glare at me. "No thanks," I said, starting to slowly back out of the room. "I'd rather go eat my weight in chili fries. In fact, I think I'll go do that."

Clio pouted at me, and from behind her, Otto nodded and gave me a thumbs up. I quickly left the room, shutting the door behind me and passing Reggie and Trent on the way down the stairs. Yes, I decided in my mind. 139 pounds of chili fries was exactly what I needed at the moment.

-Otto's POV-

"I wonder when he'll stop being so freaked out by us together," Clio said to me after Twister slammed the door shut behind him, half-jokingly. She turned her face half toward me; straight nose, full lips, sharp cheekbones. "At least enough to stop running away whenever we're in the same room as him."

I shrugged and leaned back against the pillows behind me. "Eventually, probably." I chuckled and nudged her butt with one of my socked feet. She had a cute butt. "Don't worry yourself about it. He just needs to get laid."

She turned to face me completely now, glaring at me. I knew the look was supposed to intimidate me, but the way she did it, under shiny bangs, through thick black eyelashes and a steady brown-eyed gaze, I was anything but intimidated. "Otto."

"I'm kidding," I said, sighing. "He's probably just pissed off because he saw Reggie and Trent at it. He was already in a pretty bad mood from seeing them together all day at school, so no wonder seeing that set him off. I would have warned him about them down there if I'd known he was coming."

Clio shook her head slowly, and then brought her knees up and rested her chin on them. Her long hair, straight, burgundy red, and down to her hips, swung forward with the movement. I swallowed hard. I had to get it together, concentrate on our conversation. But thinking about what Twist had interrupted was making it damn hard.

"When is he going to tell her?" She sighed too. "She must know. Doesn't she?"

I sat up, feeling my dreads brush against my arms when I shook my head at her. "No. She doesn't."

She groaned. It was a very, very attractive noise. I tried not to let my mind wander. "I'm worried about him, baby. You know how much I worry about him. He looks so lonely."

Real guilt stirred in my gut. I would never admit it to anyone, but I was worried too. I hated seeing him so angry about her all the time. "He'll be okay. He'll be fine." I reached up and pushed some of her hair back behind her shoulder. Some of it spilled back over, cascading down again like water.

Clio looked up into my face, her eyes soft and sad and it gave me the overwhelming urge to kiss her. "I hope so," she said.

I couldn't stand to see that wounded expression on her face any longer, so I quickly changed the subject, turning on the charm. "So," I leaned back, folding my arms behind my head and flexing my biceps, a smile creeping onto my face. "Where were we?"

She smiled, as if she couldn't help it, and hit her fist lightly on my stomach. "Could you stop being horny for like, two seconds? I was having a moment, here."

I caught her hand in mine and sighed. "Sorry, it's just that you're really hot. Can't help myself." She was though. After three years, you'd think I'd be used to her illegal levels of sexiness by now. Apparently not. I twined my fingers with hers. "Plus, we were kinda interrupted by your dumbass cousin."

"We were, weren't we?" She pursed her lips and crawled back toward me, purring, "I wonder what we should do about that?"

Yeah. So hot. "I think you should get back over here."

She crawled back over to me and straddled my lap, and my hands found their way up her spine and tangled into her hair. The rest of it fell around our faces, curtained us, as she grabbed my face between her hands and crashed her lips down onto mine.

-Sam's POV-

"Twist?"

"Don't talk to me." He snapped, picking up a long, sloppy chili cheese fry from his basket and shoving it into his mouth.

I watched him chew angrily for about a minute, blinking, then tried again. "But Twister, you seem upse—"

"Shh."

"But do you—"

"No."

"If you want, we can talk abou—"

"I don't want to talk about it."

"But I'm here for yo—"

"Please," Twister said, finally turning and looking at me directly for the first time since he'd stormed into the Shore Shack five minutes ago. "Please, Sam. I just don't want to talk about it. I just want to eat in peace. Is that okay with you?"

My eyebrows raised. Wow, he was really riled up. Something must have happened with Reggie. I wouldn't ask, then. "Okay, Twist. I'll leave you alone then." I gave him a feeble smile. "Enjoy your fries, I guess."

Seeming satisfied with my reply, he grunted and turned back around on his stool, going back to glaring at nothing in particular and mechanically shoving chili cheese fries into his mouth. I nodded to myself, shrugging and taking a sip of my milkshake, turning my attention to the Surf Channel playing on the television in the corner.

After maybe ten minutes of watching The Greatest Wave: The History, there was a commotion when a group of about seven girls our age poured into the restaurant, hooting and giggling and their roller blades' wheels squeaking as they all came to a stop. I saw her almost immediately.

Long, straight black hair down her back, a fair complexion for living in a place so sunny all the time, dark eyes, and a calm, cool exterior—especially compared to the noisy girls she'd come in with. The redheaded girl next to her said something, and her lips curled upward in a subdued chuckle.

How long had it been since I'd first met her? Years. I'd lost track. It felt like I moved here from Kansas and then after I met her, there wasn't one moment when I forgot about her. I'd always seen Trish. Always.

She was super involved in surfing, becoming something of a local celebrity after she'd won the annual National Women's Surf Competition twice in a row, and it was amazing. And it had permanently sealed the fate that she would always be untouchable. To me, to anybody, unless she wanted them too. But she already belonged to the ocean.

Of course, before she'd become a local celebrity, guys had already wanted her. Guys pined after her, sent her gifts and showed up on her doorstep asking her out, but she turned down them all. She never directly told them why, but it was easy to see for those who knew her. She belonged to the ocean, and the ocean was hers. Anyone else would just get in the way of that. There was nothing, at least for now, that she would ever want more than surfing.

"SQUID," Twister said, and it jangled my nerves so badly that I had to scramble to catch my milkshake glass that I'd almost knocked over. "What were you doing? I've been talking to you for like thirty seconds. You were out of it, man."

I pushed my thick rimmed glasses back up the bridge of my nose, smoothing down my pale hair and glancing back quickly to see if Trish had seen. She hadn't. "Sorry," I said. "What were you saying?"

He sighed hugely. "I was asking if you could run to the kitchen and get me some more chili fries. I'm out, and Raymundo and Tito are talking to the chatty girl pow wow over there."

I drew in a shaky breath. "Sure, Twist." I took his fries basket and hopped off of my stool, going back to the kitchen to refill it. I had only been back there a handful of times, but I easily found fries frying in the deep fryer, and I cringed away from the heat as I put more fries in the basket, and I found the chili and put extra on top, dumping some cheese over it. It looked like it was an extra chili day for Twister.

I came back out of the kitchen, and when I did, I saw the group of girls that Trish came with huddled around her, and Trish, who sat in front of a birthday cake with birthday candles all lit up. I stopped walking. That's right. It was her birthday. There was a giant '18' candle in the middle of the cake.

They sang 'Happy Birthday' to her, her friends recording it on video on their phones as she blew out her candles, and they all clapped and cheered as she blushed, looking slightly embarrassed, but still happy. "Thanks guys," she said.

Realizing I was just standing there and watching them creepily, I hurried back over to Twister to give him his chili fries.

"Took you long enough," Twister muttered, snatching the basket out of my hand.

"You're welcome, Twist." I said under my breath.

He side glanced me, first in slight annoyance, and then his expression lightened up and he smiled slightly. "Thanks for the fries, Sam."

I smiled with some satisfaction then. "No problem."

Twister went back to digging in, and that exact moment, I felt a tap on my shoulder. I wasn't sure who I was expecting when I turned around, but when I saw who it was, I couldn't keep my jaw from dropping open momentarily.

"Hi, Sam?" Trish, hesitant looking and a slight blush still on her cheeks. And positively adorable. At this distance we were almost the same height, though I might've been taller by a couple of inches. "I'm sorry to bother you…I just wanted to ask if you could take a picture of me and my friends."

It took all of two seconds for me to unscramble my thoughts enough for a response. "Yeah…yeah! Sure. Of course!"

Seemingly surprised I agreed, a grin appeared on her face as she handed me her camera. It was a dark, sparkling blue. Like the ocean. I followed her over to her group of friends as they posed around her, and she smiled modestly in the middle, holding up her cake. I lifted the camera and snapped the picture, making sure I held my hands as still as I could manage with seven girls staring in my direction, so I wouldn't make the picture blurry. After I took it, I switched it to viewing mode and handed it back to her.

"Good?" I asked.

She looked at the camera's screen and then looked back up at me, smiling brightly. "Perfect. Thanks!"

"You're welcome," I said. I started to turn away as her friends began chatting up a storm again, and then I stopped, a wave of courage coming over me. Just do it, I thought. Just do it before you chicken out. I spun back around. "Trish?"

Trish's glance jerked up again, looking slightly surprised. "Yes?"

I breathed in slowly, and then smiled at her. "Happy Birthday."

She held my gaze for a moment, then returned my smile, genuinely. Her smile was always genuine. And sweet. "Thank you, Sam."

I nodded once, and then turned back around and headed back to where Twister was sitting, shoveling fries into his mouth.

Untouchable, yes. But maybe she wasn't ever meant to be touched. Mystical, beautiful, delicate. Like a maiden from the sea. We were worlds apart. Maybe I was only meant to watch.

But as long as she stayed happy, stayed with her ocean that was a part of her as much as her blood and her flesh, as long as she stayed Trish, I was okay with watching. I could watch forever.

Chapter Text

Chapter Five

-Reggie's POV-

It was Mid-October, and there was a particular bite to the Ocean Shores air that was slight enough so that it wasn't freezing, and yet slight enough to make it too cool to surf. Still, it was enough to make me want to wear long sleeves and long pants, even a light jacket. This time of year always reminded me of how my mom would bring out her heavy coats and scarves around this time—being from Hawaii, she would always get cold easily.

Dad had always poked fun at her for wearing such heavy clothing in the Autumn. 'Do you want me to freeze to death?' She'd always say in reply. 'Wear your shorts and short sleeves and freeze, then.' And then she would make me wear a jacket even though I whined about it being itchy and put little baby Otto in a tiny fleece coat so he wouldn't catch a cold. Even when it was cold, though, she would still take us to the ocean when the sun was out and shining. She loved surfing when it was hot, but when it was cool, she liked to go there and just be near the water and smell the salty air. I think it reminded her of home.

I missed her. I would always miss her.

"Dad, could we close the shutters? Just on the side the wind's coming from? It's freezing in here." I put my drink down on the tabletop, pulled my sleeve over my hand so it would be shielded from the cold cup, and picked it up again. I glanced across the table at Trent, who was busy ignoring me and typing away on his cell phone. One of his friends, probably.

Dad gave me a side glance and a grin. "Just like your mom. A teeny bit of cold and it's like the second ice age." His grin was a little stiff, the way it always was on days that he missed her, and I had the sudden thought that maybe this weather had reminded him of Mom too. He walked toward the front of the Shore Shack anyway, walking to the first archway to pull down the metal shutter. "I might as well, though. Since it's so chilly today, there are hardly any customers from the boardwalk. Plus, it's almost closing time, anyway."

I sighed with relief as the air inside the Shore Shack began to immediately warm up once all of the shutters were closed. "Thanks." The word echoed in the nearly empty restaurant. It was a slow day, and it was only me, Trent, and dad inside.

Dad had let Tito have the day off, who had also been complaining about the bite in the air; dad said he'd almost been wearing his full ski gear when he came in this morning. Also, he'd said something about the ancient Hawaiians and cursed cold fronts. Or something to that effect.

I glanced at Trent again, and seeing that he was still on his phone, I decided to take out that essay I'd been working on for World History. After about twenty minutes, and 15 new sentences that I'd added to my essay, Trent finally put his phone down and cleared his throat.

"Well, babe," he said, looking at me meaningfully, "I think we should go over to your house and watch that movie. Before I have to head home." Code for making out, something that we'd made up when we'd started dating. Code that was so obvious that Dad would know exactly what we were talking about, if Trent had said it louder so he could hear it back in the kitchen.

I sighed and closed my notebook. "Sure, hun. Let me just get my order from dad, he made it for me and Otto for dinner, since I don't feel like cooking tonight."

He raised his eyebrows. "Oh, yeah? What did he make you guys?"

"Just some burgers and fries. Nothing fancy."

"…Oh."

That made me glance up from zipping my backpack, even though I'd expected it. "…What?" I asked, but I already knew the answer.

He was giving me that look again. The scrutinizing, sweeping look from my face downwards, with one eyebrow arched. The look that made me anxious and self conscious and small, all at the same time. A feeling I'd gotten used to around him. "Well," he shrugged, in a way that suggested he didn't care, only I knew it mattered to him. A lot. "I just think that something like a burger isn't something that you should be eating." He gestured at me. "You know, for a girl your size. You just…probably wouldn't want to risk tarnishing your perfect shape. You know what I mean, sweetheart. I say that with as much love as I can."

There it was. The reaction to his words was immediate, like being hit with a Mack truck. Something like nausea roiled in my stomach, thick and powerful and almost debilitating. My throat stung, and I swallowed hard against it. Stop it, I thought to myself. He's only looking out for you. This is how he shows he cares. He loves you. He loves you. "Sure," I said, blankly at first, and then I forced a tight smile on my face. "Of course. You're right."

He hadn't always been this way. Before we had started dating a little over a year ago, he was nothing short of perfect. I'd thought he was the sweetest guy I'd ever met.

Then, after we started going out, it was little comments here and there. Your thighs are a little rounder lately. And making little, harmless jokes about my weight. Then, looking at other girls' weight and comparing them to me. Saying that with a little effort, I could look like them. That I could look as sexy. That if I straightened my hair, it made me look prettier than my naturally curly hair did. That girls shouldn't skateboard because it gives them ugly scars on their pretty skin, and it should be left to men. That he didn't want me to anymore.

Then, every time I ate something, the look. Every time I got near fast food, the look. A double sided comment—a complaint smoothed over with a sweet reminder of how much he loves me, or a cute pet name. Every time I countered his remarks, it escalated into a fight. The fights got so bad that I really, honestly thought that we would break up. So I stopped countering his remarks. Soon, I just began not eating when he was around. Just so I could avoid the look, and the cutting comments. Just to avoid them. But then it turned to something else entirely.

I stopped skating. I stopped wearing my hair curly. I stopped eating sometimes when Trent wasn't even there. Every time I looked at a plate of food, I found myself thinking, 'What would Trent think? What would Trent say if I ate this in front of him? What if I ate this, and he said something awful?' I didn't know where these thoughts came from. I had never been someone who cared much about what they ate. But I guess his opinion of me began to matter so much that other things mattered less. Like skating. Like my writing, which he had read once and said it was painfully boring. Like eating the things that I used to love, like Raymundo's double cheese burgers or chili dogs or his amazing chocolate ice cream sundaes.

It was worth it, I thought, to get rid of these things if it made Trent happy. I just wanted Trent to be happy. I just wanted to be happy with him. That's all I wanted. I'd wanted to be with him for so long, and I wasn't going to screw that up now.

It was fine. It was okay. It was okay. It was okay.

Everything was fine. Even though I was hungry all the time, sometimes to the point of dizziness and being weak all day. Even though I could see my ribs if I sat up straight. Even though sometimes when I did eat, I would feel so guilty that I would shake violently and cry to the point of almost making myself sick.

"Let's get out of here, then." Trent said suddenly, and it broke me out of my thoughts. He had already gotten up from the table and was looking at me expectantly. Tall, deep tan, a sharp jaw, tousled chocolate hair and dark eyes. He was intoxicating to look at. Not necessarily classically beautiful, but attractive in a different way. With a touch of poison.

I cleared my throat, which had developed a hard lump in it. "Yeah," I said as cheerfully as I could muster. I grabbed my backpack from the ground. "I'll just leave my order here, I'll get some veggies at home, or something." I rushed to his side and took his hand with mine, lacing our fingers together. He squeezed my hand back the way that I liked, and I called out a farewell to Dad as we left the Shore Shack and ventured into the crisp cool air.

It was fine. It was fine. Everything was fine.

-Twister's POV-

The past few weeks had fallen into the same pattern. Otto makes me late for school, school, general Reggie and Trent crappiness, mope about Reggie, eat throughout all of these events, sleep. Repeat for the next day, and the day after that, and so on and so forth.

Today I noticed how down Reggie seemed. There was always that underlying note of anxiousness to her demeanor that she'd never had before Trent, but today it was more than that. On cooler days, she did seem a little different. Maybe even a little sad. I wanted so badly to ask what was wrong, but every time I had tried, I'd gotten that predator-like glare from Trent. Since I hadn't felt like dealing with his dumb ass today, in the end I didn't ask.

I hated when the weather got cooler like this, because some outdoor places in town closed down during the cooler seasons, and surfing during this time was a big fat no. Which meant that besides skating, there were hardly any outdoor activities to blow off steam with, at least until ski season started. Which meant more time to stew indoors to think about things that I didn't want to think about, which meant more stress. Just no good all around. Plus, there was one thing that had been hanging in the back of my mind for a few weeks now, and no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't shake it off.

"Hey, Squid," I said, pausing my game and glancing over at Sam, whom was bent over his desktop computer's keyboard, probably doing homework for his AP classes. The geek.

But at least the geek didn't mind me coming over after school and playing his XBOX while he was doing homework. I did it at least once a week, and I had to admit it, I liked being at Sam's house. His house was always warm, his room didn't smell like stale pizza and sweaty socks like mine did, and his mom always made us brownies and Rice Krispies treats as 'study snacks', even though she probably knew by now that Sam was the only one that ever studied. Plus, I didn't have to be a third wheel, like I was 70% percent of the time I tried to hang out with Otto. Sometimes I didn't mind it, especially on the days that Clio and Otto kept their hands off of each other, but I just didn't feel like dealing with it today.

"Yeah, Twist?" Sam said after a few moments, looking up from his computer screen. "Have a question about the cheat I told you about earlier?" It was interesting how determined he was about studying and not cheating in school, and yet the guy had an entire encyclopedia of video game cheats in his brain.

"No, I got past that part already," I said, staring hard at the paused game. My character had been mid-jump, and he was levitating in the air. "I have a question about something else."

"Is it your Biology homework? The virus unit was pretty challenging, if I'm remembering correctly. Mr. Palmer did heavy rote memorization for that one."

"No, it's not that."

"Is it for Geometry? Fractions, maybe? Remember, the numbers on the bottom have to be the same in order for you to add them, but that doesn't apply with multiplication."

"No—"

"Government, then? Have you been taking notes like I said you should? Remember, the key to doing well in history classes is memorizing the right dates that go with each important event—"

I shouted, "For God's sake, Squid, no! It's not about school!" This was a bad idea. I should have just continued my game in peace.

"Oh," Sam stopped, and there was a heavy pause. Then, I heard him turn his computer chair away from his desk. "Is it serious?"

I didn't know how he could tell. Maybe because I never asked him about anything besides video games and homework and occasionally the questions about how things worked that received long-winded, complicated answers that made me wish that I'd never bothered asking him in the first place. "I don't know," I muttered. "Kind of."

This probably stunned him again, because he made another pause. "Oh, I see." He said. "Well then, go ahead."

I set the XBOX controller down on my lap for a moment, then picked it back up so I could have something to fiddle with and stare at.

"Do you think…" I stopped. "Do you think…that there are people out there that can be together…and be happy?" It sounded dumb to say it that way, so I corrected myself. "I mean, truly happy. Not just…happy for a little while. Or fake happy. But…actually happy." I paused again, and then turned to look at him, probing. "Do you believe in that?"

He didn't look at me like I'd expected, with a look of comical disbelief or even amusement. He just looked back at me, eyes more serious than usual behind his glasses. "I think I do, sometimes. And then sometimes I think of my parents, and then I wonder if it's possible." I think for a moment about Sam's parents, divorced when he was still a kid, and of his mother, who moved with Sam to an entirely different state just to start over again. I also think of the slight bitterness in his mother's voice whenever she mentions his father, which happens very rarely. Something that isn't so impossible for me to imagine.

I nodded, looking back down at the controller in my hands again. "I see," I said.

"What brought that question on? Are you all right?"

I could tell by the tone of his voice that he thinks it's about Reggie. It really only partly is, this time. I started the game again and the room filled with loud video game noises once again, drowning out my thoughts. "It's nothing," I shouted over the noise. I glanced over my shoulder quickly enough to see Sam shrug and turn back to his computer. I turned back to the TV screen. "It's nothing," I said again under my breath.

#

Later, when I got home, there was shouting from my parent's room. The sound was so jarring, and so unlike the silence that my house had been filled with for weeks now, that it almost made me jump out of my skin the moment I heard it when I stepped in the door.

"I KNEW it! I knew you'd go back to her again, Raoul! You son of a bitch!" The sound of my mother's raw anger immediately put me at a sharp unease. I suddenly found the need to sit down, but I didn't. I was frozen in my spot.

"Sandy, listen to me—"

"Why? Why should I listen? I knew this would happen. I knew it would. I saw the way you looked at her. I can't believe I believed you when you said you wouldn't sleep with her again. God dammit."

I heard a loud bang, and at the same time, my heart dropped into my feet. My dad had cheated on my mom. With who? When? How many times? I didn't close the front door behind me, because then they would hear that I was home and they would stop fighting, and for some strange reason, I wanted to keep listening.

"Sandy, please! I've told you how sorry I am! How many times do you want me to say it?"

"Shut your lying ass up. You told me nothing was going on between you two. Didn't you? Didn't you?"

A long silence. "…It was different then. I didn't…I didn't know I would develop feelings for her."

"Oh my God. Why do you keep saying that? Do you think I want to hear that?"

"You deserve to know the truth. I just wanted to tell you the truth."

"Do you think the truth is less painful? Do you think the truth makes me forget about how much you don't want me? Do you think the truth makes me forget about how disgusted I feel when I look at you now? Do you think it makes me forget that you're a lying, cheating bastard?"

"You know I won't leave you and Maurice. My feelings for her haven't changed anything. It won't change anything! We're still a family!"

"It's changed everything, Raoul. You're a foolish man."

My head was swimming, and I felt sick, and I couldn't hear anymore, so I finally slammed the front door closed behind me to alert them that I was home and to make the shouting stop. They immediately quieted, and after grabbing a large bag of chips from the kitchen, I walked as calmly to my room as I could—like absolutely nothing was wrong, like I had no idea—and I locked myself in there for the rest of the night.

At some time during the night, when I couldn't sleep, I decided to text Sam. I paused to read the screen after I'd typed the message.

'Hey, Squid. I disagree with you. I really don't think it's possible. At all.'

I sent it and then threw my phone to the floor.

Chapter Text

Chapter Six

-Otto's POV-

"Babe," Clio called to me from the bathroom across the hall from my bedroom. "Babe, come here."

I jumped off my bed and jogged out of my room, heading to the bathroom where the door was already open. I poked my head in. "Yeah?"

She was leaning over the countertop towards the mirror and currently making that hilarious face that girls make whenever they're putting makeup on—she was putting on some kind of eyelash concoction. Mascara. Right? That's what Reggie called it. Yeah. I stifled a laugh. How could she make something so funny look so cute? "Is Reggie all right?" She asked.

At this sudden mention of my sister, my eyebrows rose. "Reg? Uh," I paused for a moment, thinking. "Yeah, I think so. Why?"

She put away the mascara and pulled out something else from her makeup bag—small and cylindrical. She opened it up. Lipstick. Huh. Watching her put on makeup was always interesting to me. It was like some kind of magic. "I don't know," she said, pausing to swipe some lipstick on and then smacking her lips together. "I just noticed that she looked upset when she came home earlier. She barely even said a word to us. I thought maybe something might be wrong. Didn't you notice?"

Realizing I hadn't even noticed that, I suddenly felt terrible. She was right. Reg had practically gone up straight to her room after getting home, and I hadn't seen her since. It was past dinner time now and I still hadn't heard anything from her. She didn't even come down to eat. "No, I didn't." I folded my arms and frowned. "Should I go check on her before we leave?"

Clio and I had been getting ready to go to a double feature at the movies, since that was our weekly Friday night tradition. I had been so busy discussing which two movies to see with her that I hadn't even noticed my sister's different behavior. I wondered if it had anything to do with Trent. Damn. I could really be a bad brother sometimes.

"Yeah, you should." She reached over to squeeze my shoulder. "Go make sure she's doing okay while I finish up my makeup. I would hate if we left her here by herself if she's sad."

A small grin spread on my face. Things between Clio and Reggie hadn't always been smooth when they were kids, but the more they'd gotten older, and especially after me and Clio started dating, they had this easy respect and kindness between each other. Clio somewhat saw her as a sister now, and it was nice. "All right. I'll be right back."

I turned and walked to the end of the hallway, where the door to Reggie's room, which had her name in big bold purple letters on it, was closed. Rap music was blaring from the crack underneath.

I knocked. There was a pause, and then the music got louder. My eyebrows rose. I stepped closer, knocking again, louder this time. "Reg!" I called, leaning toward the vibrating door so I could be heard easier. "Hey, Reg. You okay?"

"Go away!" Reggie shouted from inside the noise.

Startled, I stepped back from the door. Whoa. She was definitely upset. I couldn't tell if she was mad, or sad, or both. I knocked again, shouting back, "Open up! What's wrong?"

"Leave me alone!"

I frowned, reaching for the doorknob. Locked. Reggie used to lock her door all the time in middle school and the beginning of high school, but she rarely did it anymore. This wasn't like her. "Reggie!" I yelled again, and I felt the worry in my voice. What was wrong? What had happened? "What is it? Is it Trent?"

The music suddenly stopped completely, cutting off, and the scream I got back was shrill and pained. "Just get out of here, Otto! Just GET OUT!"

I stared at her door, stunned. She hadn't yelled at me like that in ages.

I heard a noise to the left, and turning my head, I saw Clio standing out in the hallway by the bathroom doorway, looking alarmed. She sounded breathless as she said, "Oh my God. Is everything okay?" She asked the question the way that someone asks it when they know that things are definitely not okay.

Swallowing hard, I shook my head. "I don't know," I paused, looking at Reggie's door again. "But I think we should just leave her alone."

A crease formed between Clio's eyebrows. "But she sounds so…angry. Are you sure?"

I ran a hand over my dreadlocks. "She hasn't had an outburst like this in years, but yeah. The key is to just leave her alone until she cools off. Getting involved just makes it worse." I heaved a heavy sigh and then walked toward her, taking her hand and lacing my fingers through hers. "Let's just go. You ready?"

Eyeing me, she still looked concerned, but she nodded slowly, letting it go. "Just finished. Let me just get my shoes and cardigan." She leaned over and gave me a soft kiss on the mouth, a comforting one, and then went to my room to get her sweater.

Soon we left the house, getting into Clio's car. When I looked back at the house as we drove away, I watched Reggie's dark window with worry.

-Reggie's POV-

I stared at my ceiling.

I'd been crying since I'd gotten home, and by now I was basically all cried out. Now I just felt drained. Exhausted.

I turned my head to look at my alarm clock at my bedside. 8:12 PM. It'd been two hours since I'd screamed at Otto and he'd left with Clio. I felt horrible for that. I don't know why I'd yelled at him like that, he didn't do anything wrong. It's just...his name. Why did he have to say his name? That's the only reason I had that reaction. Why'd he have to say it and remind me of what happened on this terrible, horrible day?

It had started out normally.

I got up, ate an energy bar for breakfast, then went through my complicated process of getting ready for school. Wash face, brush teeth. Shower and wash, dry, then straighten gigantic mass of hair, find perfect outfit then get dressed, carefully put on natural looking but pretty makeup. Spray a cloud of perfume into the air and walk through it. Etcetera, etcetera.

Waited for Trent to pick me up, and then when he drove up in his car, jumped inside it and threw my arms around him and gave him a big kiss on the cheek. Things were immediately wrong.

"Ouch, ouch! Get off, Reggie. God." Trent said, nudging me away with his elbow and shooting me an icy glare that I hadn't expected at all. I couldn't remember a time that he'd ever looked at me like that.

Ice had filled my veins. "Oh," my voice felt small. "Sorry." I paused, and the silence in the car was heavy as he shifted out of park and swerved away from my house, driving faster than he needed to as usual. I found my voice again. "Are you all right?"

He sighed and I glanced at him fast enough to see him rub his temple and roll his eyes. He rolled his eyes. At me. "Yeah, babe. Fine. Just…" He took a deep breath and sighed again. "Not in the mood for that. Okay?"

I had to look away. The way he'd rolled his eyes had stung me so fiercely that I was still feeling it, throbbing sorely inside of me. "Yeah, okay. I get it."

"And what is that perfume? Skunk scent? That's god-awful. Jesus. It's making my eyes water."

A big lump grew in my throat. He was being merciless today. Completely and utterly cruel. Usually he bothered to mix in his insults with some compliments, some sweet talk. Not today. This was something else entirely. "It's new. Sorry you don't like it," I said. It was sandalwood mixed with vanilla and sea salt. It reminded me of the summer, and I loved it. It didn't smell anything like skunks. I stared hard at the road ahead, at the cars nearby, at the kids riding bikes to school outside. Anywhere but at him.

The rest of the car ride was a frosty quiet, and despite my hope that we'd have to go straight to first period after arriving, we'd actually gotten there pretty early. So he followed me as I went to my locker, and I followed him to his. The silence had become excruciating for me, and every few minutes I'd feel compelled to start a conversation of some sort. But every time I looked up at him, he was staring holes into his phone's screen and typing on it. It was like I wasn't even there.

Finally the school day started, and I went to my different classes in an unsettled daze.

At lunch, I waited for him at his locker as usual, and that was a grave mistake. He showed up there with a few of his buddies who I didn't spend time with often, and again, it was like I was invisible. He threw his books into his locker and they began walking to the Cafeteria without me. Trent threw a glance at me over his shoulder. "Come on, Reggie," he said.

No 'baby'. Just Reggie. Didn't even hold my hand. Just called me and gestured me to follow him, like a dog, or something. Stung and confused, I followed him anyway, following behind the group of guys awkwardly.

I sat with him and his friends at the lunch table, but his friend sat between us and he didn't even seem to care. A few times I looked over at the table where my brother and my friends sat, and every time I did, Twister was looking over at me with a steady gaze and a furrowed brow.

He looked at me like that a lot, admittedly, but he especially did today. It was like he could tell I was sad. There were times that it felt like he could see right through me. I tried to smile at him, but couldn't quite do it. I didn't eat anything. I couldn't.

The rest of my classes passed emptily, and the whole rest of the day, there was a sick feeling in my gut. Part of it was because I'd barely eaten anything all day, but I was so anxious and unnerved by Trent's sudden change in behavior. Was it something I'd done? Was it something I said the day before? Or did he really just hate my perfume that much?

Finally, on the drive home in his car again, I gathered up the courage to ask finally. "Why are you mad at me?" My voice sounded loud in the quiet car.

He didn't look at me, but he arched an eyebrow. "What makes you think I'm mad at you?"

I stared at the side of his face. He couldn't be serious. Was he serious? "Are you serious?" I asked out loud. "Only the way you've been acting all day. I thought maybe you were in a bad mood, or something, but you seemed fine with your friends. Did I do something?"

He rolled his eyes at me. Again. Oh my God. How many times had he done that today? "Stop being so paranoid, Reggie. Geez. Calm down."

Oh no. Oh no no no. He had not just told me to calm down. I hadn't wanted this to escalate into a fight, but it was sure heading that way. "Calm down? You've been treating me like dog shit on the bottom of your shoe all day, with no explanation whatsoever, and I've said nothing until now, and you want me to be calm?"

I was tired of being calm. I was tired of being complacent. Tired of being stepped on and accepting it. I was tired.

There it was again: he was suddenly on the defensive. Holding out a hand and shrugging and looking at me like I was crazy, like I was the wrong one instead of him. The way he did every time I tried to stand up for myself. "Whoa, Reggie! Listen, hey. There's no need to get so riled up. What's your issue, huh? Is it your womanly time already?"

My jaw dropped down to the floor. I froze. "Excuse me?"

Before I could even realize it, things escalated, and I was screaming at him and he was screaming back at me and his car screeched to a stop in front of my house in no time at all. "Get out," Trent snapped.

I threw open the door, flew out of the car and yanked the door to the backseat open to get my backpack out. And then, as I slid the strap onto my shoulder, I saw it.

A pair of pink, lacy underwear. On the floor of his backseat. And I hated pink. They weren't mine.

I was shaking. My heart was pounding fast and loud. My vision was red. I picked the underwear up and threw them at his face. "YOU BASTARD!" The sound of my scream echoed through the neighborhood.

The underwear flopped off of his face and Trent looked down at it in horror. He got out of the stalled car, his face pale and his dark eyes big. Was he afraid? "Reg…baby, no! Oh, God. Please! Let me explain!"

I kicked closed the car doors I'd opened. The whole car shook, and the bottom of my sneakers left scuff marks on his paint. "Explain what, you piece of shit?" Still violently shaking, I backed into the direction of my front door as he began to come toward me. My face felt red and wild. "Stay away from me. Rot in hell."

He was still coming toward me. For once, he actually looked rattled. Defensive still. Like I was overreacting again. I couldn't believe his audacity. "Baby," he actually looked like he might cry. He looked small. "You know I love you."

I backed into the front door, the doorknob digging into my back. "No, you don't. You don't love me." My voice had become almost a whisper.

Just like that, I was unsure. I was second guessing my anger. And I hated it. It was like he knew exactly what to say, exactly what strings to pull to make sure I still belonged to him no matter what. Behind the rage, something nagging and dark and sad was making its way to the forefront, and I knew I had to get away immediately. I twisted the doorknob, and paused. I forced myself to say it, no matter how hard it was. "Fuck you, Trent."

And then my tongue stung, and my eyes were starting to sting, and I quickly went inside the house without looking back at him.

Then I muttered a quick hi to Otto and Clio in the living room as I passed, ran upstairs to my room, and here I was.

I'd been lying down on my canopy bed for hours now. I hadn't cried this much in years. The last time I did, it was over my mom. When I was younger and watched all of my friends go through their boy troubles, I'd promised myself that I'd never ever let a boy make me cry myself to sleep. Now look at me.

Only, I couldn't sleep. Even though I was tired, I was somehow more awake than I'd ever been. My mind was buzzing.

Trent cheated on me. He cheated on me.

I spent every single day being afraid that I wasn't good enough for him, and being afraid that he would one day say that to my face. And today he basically did.

And what's worse was that I never would have known if I hadn't found those disgusting panties in his car. Unless he'd decided to tell me himself. But maybe he never would have. I thought about every time he'd been on his phone around me—what if he was talking to her? While he was with me? Who was she? How long had he been sleeping with her?

My hands flew up to my face, covering my eyes like I could make the thoughts go away by blocking out the light. I couldn't think anymore. I had to talk to somebody. Anybody.

I rolled over towards my bedside table, seeing my phone resting there. I picked it up and went straight to my contacts.

Who could I call? Trish? No, I couldn't call her right now. She'd said something about doing an interview tonight for a surfing magazine based in Los Angeles. Dammit.

Sammy? No, I couldn't talk to Sam about relationship stuff. He'd never had a girlfriend before, so he probably wouldn't know how to comfort me. Plus, he was too blindly in love with Trish to notice other people's love troubles.

I couldn't call Sherry. We hadn't spoken in close to a year. She'd moved to South Dakota with her parents, and she was working on an early scholarship opportunity for volleyball; she'd been offered an early spot on the team of her dream college. I was happy for her, I was. But we'd kind of grown apart.

I couldn't bother Clio either, she was with Otto. Probably watching their second movie of the night while making out in the back row of the theater.

Who did that leave? Nobody. Did I really have no one to depend on right now? I'd never felt so alone. For a moment, I had a horrible feeling: How long had my relationship with Trent made me blind to all my other relationships? Had I abandoned them all? For a guy that treated me terribly and cheated on me?

The further I scrolled down my phone contacts, the further into despair I tumbled, realizing that I couldn't talk to any of them. Except…wait. Twister. I stopped on his name, staring at it.

Could I talk to Twister? Would that be…weird?

I bit my lip, thinking of the way he'd looked at me at lunch. He'd noticed that I was sad. Maybe he was the only one who'd noticed.

I was vulnerable right now. Brittle. I felt like one wrong word could destroy me. Could I rely on him not to judge me? Of course he wouldn't judge me. Twister had always been such a great friend, always so sweet and good to me. And he'd saved my life, after all.

So I could rely on him. I wanted to call him. Would he answer? Before I could chicken out, I tapped his name and I was calling him. It was ringing. Ringing. Ringing again, ringing and—

The sound of his voice came. "Hello? Reggie?"

Overcome with relief, my eyes slid shut. I didn't think I would've been able to call again if he hadn't answered. The relief was enough to make me cry, and I almost did. But I held it in. "Twister? Hi." I tried as best as I could to keep my voice steady.

"Hey. I wasn't expecting you to call," he paused a beat, heavily. "Is everything all right?"

How had he known? How? Again, I fought the urge to cry. It was getting harder. "Yeah," I said, but my voice broke. I bit down on my lip again, hard. I took a deep breath and exhaled, deciding not to lie. "Actually, no. I'm not all right."

Another pause. I could hear his breathing. "What's wrong? What happened?"

I covered my eyes with my hand again. Could I make myself say it out loud? I couldn't. My voice felt stuck in my throat. I cleared my throat, and instead of answering his question, I said, "Are you at home? Can you come over?" For a moment, I was shocked at my own bluntness. Where had that come from? I continued, "I just…really need to talk to somebody." I couldn't be alone right now.

"Of course." He'd said it immediately, with no hesitation at all. Gratefulness rose inside of me. He added, "I'm coming right now."

I sat up quickly, making my head swim. Before he could hang up, I said, "Twister!"

"Yeah?"

"Do you uh," I paused awkwardly, wondering if it was wrong to ask. "Do you have any beer at your house?"

He paused too, then he laughed. "Hold on, let me check." There was some rummaging around for about a minute. "Yeah, we do. Why?"

"Bring it with you. Please." Normally I didn't drink, aside from the occasional party, or a beer now and then at Trent's house. But today was not the day to be responsible. If there was any time I needed a drink or three, it was now.

"I got you. See you in a minute." We hung up.

Having the sense to look at myself in the mirror before he got here, a mascara streaked, bed-headed reflection monster looked back at me. I quickly wiped the mascara stains off of my face with a tissue and blew my nose. I had just pulled my hair back into a messy ponytail when the doorbell rang, and I shuffled downstairs to let Twister in.

I opened the door to see him standing on the other side, lanky and spindly and clad in the black hoodie and jeans he'd worn to school today. He had a six pack of bottled beer in one hand. "Hey, sorry," I greeted him. "I thought Otto had left the door unlocked."

Pulling down his hood and revealing his freckled face, he smiled down at me—his goofy, wide, genuine grin that I'd always liked. "Don't sweat it." He held up the beer as he strolled into my house. "Hey, are you sure this is okay? What about Raymundo?"

I waved a hand. "Don't worry, him and Tito are at some overnight business meeting in NorCal. Something about opening a Shore Shack up there. You know how they've been talking about expanding the business lately." I shrugged. "Anyway, it's just me and Otto tonight. If he even comes home from his date."

Twister snorted. "Doubt he will."

I cracked a smile. "Me too," I said, shaking my head. "Anyway, I just…needed some company."

His face grew serious, eyeing me evenly with a dark gaze. "You always have me, Reg. No matter what. Whenever you need me, I'll be there." He stopped. "You know that, right?"

I looked back at him. His words had stirred something unexpected in me. I wasn't sure what it was, but nevertheless, it made me shift on my feet. "I do now."

A different smile this time, a slow, small one that made his dimples appear on his cheeks. I'd forgotten about his dimples. How had I forgotten? He held up the beer again. "Ready to talk?"

"Yeah," I turned toward the stairs. "Let's go up to my room." I'd started climbing up the stairs when I realized that he wasn't following me. I turned around and looked down at him, and he was watching me with a strangely nervous look on his face. "Is that okay?"

He swallowed. "Uh. Yeah. Yeah, that's okay." As he started to climb the stairs, I thought that I saw his knees shaking. Probably my imagination, I thought as I turned around and climbed the rest of the stairs.

#

"Easy there, Reg," Twister was laughing. "You're drinking that like your life depends on it."

I was sitting cross legged on the floor. Swallowing back the last of my second bottle of beer, savoring the warmth in my stomach, I put it down on the floor and smirked up at him. "It does, though."

He laughed again, loudly, and took a gulp from his bottle. He was sitting on my bed with his legs off of the edge of it, his sneakers on the ground. "If you say so. But I didn't leave my house tonight planning on mopping up your puke."

I rolled my eyes. "I'm not gonna puke. I can take my alcohol better than you can." I remembered something suddenly, and a giggle burst out of me. "Oh my God, remember Sherry's party last year when you got wasted and you puked in that random girl's hair?" I'd started laughing uncontrollably now, and I could barely talk. "That was hilarious."

Twister groaned. He put his bottle down on my bedside table. "God. I'd almost forgotten. You and Otto will never let me live that down."

I shook my head. "Nope. Never." I picked up my bottle again, tipping it back again for anything left over at the bottom. Nothing came out. Unsatisfied, I dropped it. "Just promise me you'll never puke in my hair. Okay?"

He smiled good naturedly, shaking his head. "Deal." He watched me closely for a second or two. "Okay, I think you've had enough for now. Take a break."

"Why?"

"You're drunk."

I scoffed in indignation. "I wish."

He cocked his head at me. "Reggie, come on. I'm serious. Have you even eaten much today? Two beers shouldn't affect you this much."

I frowned. How had he known that, too? Was he psychic? Could he read minds? "Twister. I'm not drunk. See?" I began to get up from the floor to prove him wrong—and then immediately crumpled into a heap, face first into the carpet. "Oh," I said to the floor.

"Whoa, Reg!" I felt his hands underneath my arms, pulling me up. "Are you okay?"

"My legs feel like jelly," I said.

"You're drunk." He pulled me onto my bed and set me there.

I was laughing again now. Why was I laughing? For some reason, my jelly legs were hilarious. Everything was hilarious. My head was swimming. "I'm just tipsy."

"Sure. Okay." Twister sat down next to me, and the movement of the mattress sent me sprawling back on the bed. I kept giggling, and Twister just looked down at me, shaking his head, but smiling. "Stay here, drunk girl. I'll be right back."

I called out to him, asking him where he was going, but he kept walking. For a moment I considered following him, but I was coherent enough to realize that walking was a bad idea right now, so I stayed there on my bed, lying there and laughing.

He returned maybe 10 minutes later, holding a glass of water and a plate with a sandwich on it. By then my buzz had mostly worn off, and I'd finally stopped laughing and was able to sit up. I looked at what he was carrying. "Is that for me?" I asked.

"Of course," he said, sitting back down on my bed, facing me. He handed me the water. "Drink this first. The whole thing."

He waited patiently as I drank the water, and the more I drank the clearer I could think. And the more I remembered the reason he was there at my house in the first place, and how I felt before he'd arrived. I sobered up fast. Eventually, after finishing the whole glass, I spoke, my voice soft. "Sorry. I didn't mean to get drunk. I just thought a drink would cheer me up."

Twister took the empty glass from me. "It's okay, Reg." He handed me the plate with the sandwich on it. "Eat your sandwich, or you'll be wicked hung over tomorrow."

I took the plate and picked up the sandwich. I lifted a corner of the bread. Peanut butter banana. My favorite sandwich. How did he remember that? Besides my dad, and Tito, nobody ever remembered that. I suddenly felt like crying again. I set my sandwich down. "I'm ready to talk now."

He nodded slowly. "Okay," he said. He pointed at my sandwich again. "Eat while you talk."

I picked it up, took a bite. Smiled a little. "Just like my dad makes it," I said. Then my smile faded as I swallowed. "Today was awful. Me and Trent had a huge fight." I felt strange talking about this with him, which was why it took me so long to finally come out with it. Trent and Twister had hated each other for a long time, and I never understood why.

His face was carefully composed. "You did?"

I took another bite. "Yeah. It was bad. He…" I paused for a few drawn out moments, chewing and swallowing and then mustering up the courage to say it. When I finally said it, it came out bleakly. "Trent cheated on me, Twister."

There was a long, drawn out, terrifying silence. Then Twister jumped off the bed, standing up, and shouted, "He what?"

His sudden, fiery anger startled me, and I looked up at him with wide eyes. But it took me a beat to realize that he wasn't mad at me, he was mad at what I'd said. I sighed. "He cheated on me," I said again. "Slept with some girl. Or, has been sleeping with her. I guess it doesn't really matter, awful either way."

He was still standing, enraged, holding his palms to his temples to calm himself down and breathing through his nose. His eyes were closed. "That son of a bitch," he said low under his breath.

"Yeah."

He looked at me again. "Tell me you hit him. Please."

"I didn't," I said with some regret. I shrugged. "I cursed at him, though. And kicked his car. Left scuff marks on his paint."

He nodded, although he didn't smile. He still looked angry. "Good," he said. He sat back down across from me on my bed. "I would have hit him if I were there. I want to hit him now." He quickly stood up again. "I should go find him. Where does he live?"

I reached out, grabbing his arm and pulling him back down. "Stop it."

He flopped back down onto the bed, staring at me severely. "I'm serious, Reg. I'll kick his ass."

This time I actually laughed. I knew he wasn't joking, and that he really would, and that's why it was funny. "Seriously, don't go. If you go, then who'll clean up my puke later?"

He sat back then, his face lightening up the slightest bit as he bit back a smile. "Ew," he said. Then he crossed his legs on top of my bedspread, seriousness washing over his expression again. "I'm sorry, Reg."

I took another bite of my sandwich, shaking my head. "Don't be. I should've seen it coming."

"No, I am sorry." He was raising his voice again. "I'm sorry that he's a dick and that you've wasted any of your precious time on someone so horrible."

"Me too."

He leaned toward me, his voice softening again. "Do you know how much it kills me to see how he treats you? I've tried to stay quiet about it, but I can't anymore. You know he's bad for you, Reg. Even before this whole cheating thing. He's been bad for you for a long, long time."

I quieted, staring down at my food. "I know."

"Do you?"

"Of course I do."

"Then why have you stayed with him?" His voice sounded strained. I felt his gaze, imploring me to look at him, but I couldn't. "Why have you stayed with him for so long when all he did was hurt you over and over again?"

I dropped my sandwich back onto my plate again. "It's not that simple. Okay? When we first met, Trent was…he was nice. And I liked him for a long, long time. And I had wanted to be with him for so long that when he finally asked me out, I didn't want to mess things up. But then he changed. And by then, I already loved him. It's hard. It's really, really hard." Tears had started to spill from my eyes, and I hadn't even realized it. I dabbed at them with the back of my hand, embarrassed.

Twister was still watching me. He'd grown quiet, too. "I guess I never thought of it that way," he said. "I'm sorry."

I'd wiped the last of the tears from my face just as more started to come. "I thought that he loved me."

He leaned toward me again and said, his voice gentle, "No man that loves you would ever treat you the way that he has." Twister reached a hand over towards me and swiped his thumb under my right eye, wiping away some tears. The way he did it was so natural, not forced or awkward at all. It made me pause, looking right at him. Seeing me freeze, he froze too.

"Twister."

He took his hand away from my face. "Yes?"

I caught his hand, holding it in mine. I stared down at it, because I couldn't look straight at him. "You're always there for me. Every time I need somebody, you're right there. You always care about me when no one else does." I traced the lines on the inside of his wide palm with my finger. The action was soothing. I didn't know why, but I couldn't stop. Even when I felt his hand trembling. "Why?" There was a long silence afterwards, and I thought maybe that he hadn't heard me, or that he wasn't gonna answer. I suddenly felt weird. Anxious. I dropped his hand. "I don't know why I asked that. Sorry, I guess the alcohol hasn't worn off ye—"

"Because I love you."

There was a jolt inside of me. My gaze shot up to his face. "What?"

His brown eyes were wide, as shocked as I felt. Part of me thought he also looked…terrified. His entire face was red, all the way back to his ears, and he'd covered his mouth with the hand that I'd been holding. Slowly, he lowered his hand again. He was shaking. "Reggie, I love you."

Chapter Text

Chapter Seven

-Twister's POV-

"Because I love you."

There. I'd said it.

After six entire years, after years of pining, after all those years of misery and beating myself up and scaring myself and trying to run away from my feelings, I'd finally said it. In a way I'd never imagined.

I'd always dreamed of saying those three words to her—and always during more extravagant scenarios. I'd dreamed that I could be the Peter Parker to her Mary Jane Watson, swooping in and catching her in my arms as she fell, and then saying it and kissing her before she watched me leave to go save the day. Or both of us watching the world fall apart and burn, a post-apocalyptic war raging around us, and I say it before we kiss, before one of us dies and we never have another chance. And then there was the one dream I'd had once that was more true to life: saving her from drowning, holding her in my arms on the beach, and whispering the words to her as she said them back.

I never knew for sure if I would ever tell her. Every time I had wanted to in the past, I'd found some excuse not to. I didn't want to risk throwing our years of friendship away. I didn't want to split up our group of friends. I didn't want things between Otto and I to never really be the same again. I didn't want to hurt her in any way. And after she began dating Trent, I knew that I was too late, and that I'd already had so few chances before, but maybe I would never have the chance to tell her ever again.

Years of hesitation, years of being so careful. And yet the words slipped out of me after having one beer.

On the night that Reggie called me for comfort after she had been cheated on.

I was horrified at myself. I slapped my hand, the hand that she'd held, over my mouth in horror. My entire body was flushed, and I was trembling like my very life was in danger. I was such an idiot.

Reggie was just staring at me, an unprecedented look of pure shock on her face. Her eyes were boring into me like two spotlights. "What?"

I was a moron. I was terrible. I was awful. Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck. Why the fuck was I such an idiot?

This wasn't how it was supposed to be. I was supposed to tell her when she was single, and not crying over another guy. This was wrong, this was all wrong.

But it was too late. It was out now. I'd said it. She'd heard it. I could never take it back. It was now or never. And now I had to do it properly, do it the right way instead of the coward's way, or I would regret it for the rest of my life.

I took my hand away from my face, and then I swallowed hard. And I repeated myself in a clear voice. "Reggie, I love you."

She was still staring at me, almost staring through me—like she was somewhere else. The quiet seconds felt like entire years, dragged on for eternity. She blinked, looking down for a second, and then she looked back up at me. She finally spoke. "You mean as a friend," she paused, an unsure look crossing her face. "Right?"

I was still shaking . Dammit, why couldn't I stop shaking? I needed to do this bravely. Strongly. "No, Reg." I said. I looked straight into her eyes. "You know that's not how I mean it. There was once a time, a very long time ago, when I loved you as a friend. But that's not how I feel anymore."

"It's not?" She didn't break our gaze. I saw my own fear reflected in her eyes.

I shook my head once. My heart was pounding so fast, it felt like it might explode inside of me. I was starting to feel dizzy. "It's not. Regina Rocket," her whole name felt so heavy and intense on my tongue. "I am in love with you. And I have been in love with you for a long time."

I didn't know if I was imagining things, but I thought that Reggie had started to tremble, too. I couldn't read her face. "A long time?"

"Yes."

Her voice was so quiet. Vulnerable. "How long?"

"Six years." I swallowed hard. "It started when you saved my life when I almost drowned, and it just…grew from there. Grew as we got older."

She had covered her mouth with her hand, just staring and staring at me in mystification, like she couldn't believe what she was hearing. She dropped her hand suddenly. "Why?"

I hadn't expected that. "What?"

The look of confusion on her face had grown. She was shaking her head. "Why do you love me?"

I cocked my head at her, furrowing my brow. "You're asking…you're asking me why I'm in love with you?" I sat up straighter. "You're asking why?"

"I just—" Reggie shook her head hard, like she was shaking herself out of a fog. "I just…don't understand why."

Why was she acting like it was so impossible that I would love her? Did she not believe me? "Reg," I said. I stood up, facing her as she remained sitting on her bed. I stared down at her incredulously. "Why wouldn't I love you?" My voice shook.

She just gazed up at me, silent, and for the tiniest moment, her lip quivered. And that was it. I was gone for good. All the strength and carefulness and control within me collapsed all at once. Very slowly, I lifted my hands to either side of her soft face, cradling it with care between them. The way I'd wanted to for years.

My voice was shaking again as I continued. "Why wouldn't I love you exactly the way you are? As the girl I knew as a boy and as the girl I know now?" I searched her eyes with mine. The familiar warm chocolate brown gaze of hers had become so wounded, so vulnerable over the past year. "The girl who kicks absolutely everyone's ass at every sport she tries, effortlessly. The girl that always speaks up for others and has the courage to do what's right, more than anyone else I've ever known. The girl who gives everyone chances, even if they don't deserve them. The girl who gives and gives until she can't anymore. The girl who always looks beautiful even when she wears sweatpants, or has scrapes from skateboarding, or when she's been crying. The girl who would give her life for her family. The girl who risked her life to save mine and acted like it was no big deal."

Reggie had begun crying. I hadn't seen her cry in a long time. "Twist." Her tears spilled onto my palms, ran down my wrists and all the way down to my elbows.

Seeing her own tears made the back of my throat sting, but I didn't care if she saw me cry. "Anyone who wouldn't love that girl is absolutely crazy, and I pity them. Because I love her. And I would love her again. I would love her a hundred times. A thousand times." My voice cracked. Tears started to blind my vision. "There's something that my dad always used to say to my mom, and she would always say it back. It wasn't around me or my brother; they only said it when they thought we weren't around. But sometimes I would walk past their bedroom door, and I'd hear it. It was something my dad had written to my mom, back when they were dating, and then when they got married they said it in their vows to each other. They used to say it to each other every day." I stopped, closing my eyes, trying to remember every word. I'd heard it so often when I was a kid that I had it memorized. I recited it in a soft voice. "Te amo. Te adoro. Eres espectacular. Eres hermosa. Eres divina. Eres la persona mas maravillosa del mundo. Eres mi todo. Te quiero con todo mi alma. Eres el amor de mi vida y cada dia te quiero mas." I opened my eyes again.

Reggie was gazing up at me in a way I'd only been able to dream about. "What does it mean?"

"It means, 'I love you. I adore you. You are spectacular. You are beautiful. You are divine. You are the most wonderful person in the world. You are my everything. I love you with all of my soul. You are the love of my life, and every day I love you more.'" I gazed back at her, my chest aching the way that only she could manage to do. "That's what you mean to me, Reg." I took another deep breath, almost gasping. "Things have been so crazy, and lately not even my home has felt like home anymore. My parents…my parents might be splitting up. They were the only people in this whole world that I thought had found true love. They've been together for almost 22 years, and their marriage is falling apart. And Lars is at college and he's starting his own life. And things at my house are uncomfortable and cold and I don't even recognize it anymore, and it scares me." I felt a tear trickle off of my chin. "But even though I'm scared and unsure of everything, it's made me realize even more that you've always been home to me."

Some silence passed. My words settled into the air, never to be taken back. The energy pulsing between us was unreal, almost unbearable.

After a few moments, she finally broke our locked gaze, closing her eyes and letting her head fall forward out of my hands, leaning her forehead onto my chest. Finally, she said, "Oh my God."

"Yeah," I said dumbly. Not knowing what else to do, I cradled my arms around her shoulders, hugging her to me. She melted into me. My heart throbbed. "I didn't mean to tell you now. Really, I didn't mean to. I'd always planned it differently. I should have waited, and this isn't fair of me to dump all of this on you today of all days. God damn it. I'm sorry."

She shook her head, her face still buried in my chest. The sensation of her against me was out of this fucking world. "Don't apologize."

"But I mean…this can't be easy to take in. Especially all at once." I cringed. "And I picked a terrible time to do this."

She chuckled silently, her shoulders bouncing. "Well, if not now, then when?" She glanced up at me. "Why didn't you ever tell me? All this time?"

"I have no idea." I shook my head. "I know I should have, but I was scared."

Reggie tilted her head back further, getting a better look at me. "Scared of what?"

My face reddened. "A lot of things. The aftermath, for one."

"Twister. If you were afraid of rejection, I get that, but…" she trailed off, burying her face in my chest again and letting out a big sigh. Then she turned her head to the side, continuing but still not looking at me. "You wouldn't have been rejected."

I froze. Then I let go of her, jumping backwards. "What? Wait…" Had I just heard that correctly? "What?"

Reggie was actually turning pink. She was blushing. Because of me. "I said you wouldn't have been rejected." She was looking at me helplessly. "I have to be honest, Twist. There have been times when I've seen you…that way. But I didn't think you would ever feel that way about me. I thought you just saw me as a sister, so I ignored it."

My heartbeat increased all over again as I listened to her. "You liked me?!"

In reply, she just chuckled once, nervously, and covered her face with both of her hands.

I made a noise of astonishment. "Reggie! Holy shit!" I flew back over to her and took her hands away from her face. She was bright red. "You're being serious? You're not lying?" Before she could answer, I added in a gravely serious tone, "Wait. Before you say anything, I have to say this. I didn't tell you how I felt to force you to say anything back. You don't have to lie to me. You don't have to say anything. I just wanted to tell you. So that you'd know. I don't expect anything from you. And if you do say something, don't say it to me unless you really mean it. Okay?"

Reggie nodded, and then took a deep breath before she started. "I just want to say that I did like you. I liked you a few times, actually. And if you had asked me out, I wouldn't have said no." She sighed again, taking hold of both of my hands and lacing her fingers through mine.

I was dazed. "I can't believe you liked me and I didn't know," I said, though it was mostly to myself. I laughed once. "Maybe I am stupid."

She smiled faintly, squeezing both of my hands. "Twist."

The way she said my name was amazing. Even the way she held my hands felt amazing. My head felt like it was floating above the clouds. "Yes?"

"You mean so much to me. I want you to know that right now." Her eyes had darkened.

Something about the way she'd looked as she said that made me tense up. I was suddenly terrified. Oh God. Oh no. "Okay," I said, wary.

"No, I mean it." She squeezed my hands again. "I've known you almost my entire life. You're very important to me, no matter what. You should know that."

I hadn't known that she had felt that way. I'd hoped, of course. But I didn't know. "Now I do," I said.

Reggie continued. "And that's why I'm taking this really seriously. It's why I need some time to give you a real answer."

I swallowed hard. "Okay."

"And this isn't a no," she added quickly. "I just think that I owe you a real answer after thinking over everything clearly. When I haven't been drinking. And when I haven't just been crying and upset over some other guy that isn't you. I owe you that." She looked at me softly, her eyes begging me to understand.

It wasn't a no. She wasn't rejecting me. I nodded. She needed that, and she deserved it. Especially after everything I'd just told her, and everything she'd been through. "Of course." I squeezed her hands back. Her hands felt so good in mine. So soft. I wondered how long it would be until I could hold them again. "Take some time. Take as much time as you need."

"I just need to sort some things out first. Take care of some things."

I ran my thumbs over her thumbs, smoothing over her skin. "I'll be here." My voice was almost a whisper. "I can wait. I promise."

When her phone started ringing suddenly, loudly, we startled apart. As we both laughed uneasily, Reggie reached for her phone and looked at its screen. She stopped cold, her face draining. I knew who it had to be immediately.

"Reg…you probably shouldn't answer that," I said, shaking my head. "Talking to him right now would be a really bad idea."

She paused only a moment. "Don't worry, I'm not going to." She sent the call straight to voicemail, then tossed her phone on the ground. "I will have to talk to him eventually, though."

My stomach dropped, but before I could say anything, the sound of the front door slamming shut made us both jump again. "Reggie!" It was Otto. "Hey, you awake?"

Even though we hadn't really done anything wrong, and Otto was no Raymundo, we looked at each other with wide eyes before scrambling to hide the evidence—hiding the empty beer bottles and the rest of the full ones under her bed. Then I stood in the middle of her room for a moment, puzzled. "Um," I jabbed a thumb towards her door. "I should go. It's getting late."

She nodded. "Yeah, sure. Don't want your parents to worry."

What neither of us was saying was that we didn't want Otto seeing the two of us in her room, alone and with beer, and blowing a gasket. Even though he was my best friend, something told me he wouldn't go easy on us. After saying a quick "bye" to Reggie, which felt unbelievably awkward and formal after what had just gone down between us, I power walked out of her room, nearly running straight into Otto as I went down the stairs.

"Whoa, hey! Twist?" Otto jumped, looking perplexed as soon as he saw me. "Where's the fire, bro?"

"Hey, man!" I managed to get out as I jogged the rest of the way down the stairs, making a beeline for the front door.

Before I flew outside and shut the door behind me, I heard him call after me, "Twist? What were you doing upstairs?"

#

I spent a few minutes outside in the chilly, dark, mid-November night, pacing across the concrete of the cul-de-sac. Then I jogged around in circles, trying to burn off all of the leftover nervous energy, and slapped myself in the face a few times for good measure, just to make sure I really was awake.

Yep. What had just happened was real, and it wasn't some fever or some intense beer induced dream.

It really happened.

When I walked up the walkway to my house, I already knew that my parents were still awake. All of the lights were on.

I walked through the front door grudgingly, seeing them sitting in the living room waiting for me, thinking they had seen that the bottles of beer were missing from the refrigerator and were about to give me an earful. Instead, they told me to sit down.

The still, frigid atmosphere was enough to convince me to obey, and I immediately sat. "What's going on?" I said. As soon as it left my mouth, I knew I'd regret asking.

And what my mom said didn't entirely surprise me, but devastated me all the same. "Your father and I are getting a divorce."

Chapter Text

Chapter Eight

-Twister's POV-

"And heading down 77th Street, here comes everyone's favorite Pokémon friend: Pikachu! He's two stories tall and always a crowd favorite at each year's parade. Listen to those cheers!"

Sitting back on the couch with my head leaned on my fist, I watched the Thanksgiving Day parade on television with glazed over eyes. It would be almost the only noise in the room, if it weren't for the sound of Mom making noise in the kitchen with her cooking and Lars, who was sitting three feet away on the couch with me and loudly cackling at videos on his phone.

If I didn't know any better, it would almost feel like any regular Thanksgiving. If it weren't for one thing—if my dad were even here. And if things weren't so crappy in general.

My dad was staying in a hotel for now, until he could find his own apartment. So he wasn't officially moved out yet. Some of his stuff was here, and occasionally he came by to get some things that he needed. But he wouldn't be here today. If anything, he'd just stop by for leftovers. Everything felt so wrong.

"Yo, pass the chips," my brother barked, still staring at his phone and reaching his hand blindly in my direction for the bag of cheese puffs. Mom had told him not to eat chips before dinner was ready, but he of course snuck them anyway. I handed the bag to him wordlessly.

This was the first Thanksgiving I'd ever had without my whole family there. Some years we would go to my Abuela's house, and all of my aunts and uncles and cousins would be there, and some years we would just stay at our house, just us four. This year, it didn't even feel like a holiday. Everything was wrong.

Even Lars almost hadn't come, he'd said it would be too uncomfortable and awkward with our parents' divorce going on. But I'd begged him and begged him over text messages to come, and eventually he'd grudgingly given in. It was probably the first time in my entire life that I actually needed my brother there with me. But it was either have Lars there to annoy me and distract me from how empty our house felt now, or have him not here and spend the holiday with just me and my mom, both of us awkward and sad and not really knowing what to say to each other.

The one thing about my brother that I could admit was useful was his ability to fill the room. When Lars went someplace, no matter where he went, he always could distract everyone from awkwardness or shyness and made them relax. Even if you were annoyed by him, or he made you angry, he could still grab your attention and hold it. It was partially his big ego, and partially his abrasive personality. In a weird way, it was what I needed right now. And I was glad he was there.

"Yo, Maurice! Look at this!" Lars shoved his phone's screen directly into my face. A video was playing of some guy trying to jump a whole car on his skateboard, smacking into the car, and then falling on his ass. "Look at this moron! What a jackass. Otto would totally try to do something like this! AHAHAHAHAHA!" He continued howling with laughter as he brought his phone back down in front of him as he watched it ten more times.

I blinked, stared at him, and then looked back at the TV. Well, I was mostly glad.

Besides, I was almost positive that if Lars weren't there, Mom wouldn't have bothered making most of the usual foods she makes on Thanksgiving: turkey, stuffing, roasted corn, homemade tamales, menudo,and pumpkin pie. I'd been having all that goodness every year of my life so far, and I was glad that for all of the different weirdness going on right now, I could at least have good familiar food that I was used to.

The other difference in my life at the moment was something I was trying so hard not to think about—which meant that I ended up thinking about it obsessively.

It had been a whole week since that night.

The night that Reggie had called me, and I came over, and we drank, and I told her I loved her.

An entire week.

This week had been the longest week in my recent memory. It had been a week full of sleepless nights, of being so nervous that everyone kept asking if I was all right, of trying not to pull my hair out of my head.

Reggie had asked for some time for her to give me a real answer and to sort some things out. And so now I was giving her that time.

I was trying my hardest to be patient. Really, I was. But it was so hard.

I couldn't really be around her. It wasn't that I was avoiding her because I was upset with her, because that wasn't it at all. It was just that every time I saw her, I could only see that night. The way she'd looked so vulnerable in her sweatpants and ponytail with tear streaks on her face, the way she'd gazed at me and held my hands and the way I'd held her face in my hands like I'd always wanted to. It kept replaying in my head on a permanent loop. And that made it so hard to be patient.

But I would be patient. I would. Even if it killed me, that was all she needed from me right now, so I would do it.

Part of me thought that maybe she was avoiding me too. Even at school, when the group all hung out together, she would stand the furthest from me and barely talked directly to me. But sometimes, when she thought I wasn't paying attention, I would feel her staring at me. One time I caught her, and it looked like she had a guilty glint in her eyes before she looked away.

Trent really hurt her. She just needed time. I just needed to give her time. More time than this.

Otto and Ray had even invited me over to the Rocket house for Thanksgiving dinner, since everyone knew about my parents' situation now, but I couldn't accept the invitation. Giving Reggie time meant giving her some space too, and the last thing I needed to do right now was sit right across the dinner table from her.

So I stayed here. On the couch. With Lars. And the parade.

I watched, dazed, as some country band was playing on a float with costumed mascots standing and waving next to them, singing some song I'd never heard.

Lars, for the first time, set down his phone and squinted at the band on the TV screen for a couple of moments. "This sucks," he said, scoffing, and then went back to his phone. I laughed.

Two hours later, Mom was finished with the food and all three of us sat down to eat. Lars and I eagerly stuffed ourselves as our mom looked on with a grin and ate much slower. We all talked and kept talking to fill the silence, to fill up the empty fourth chair. And then we all collapsed onto the couch with round, full guts and watched a movie that Lars had picked out. Some trashy college comedy movie. Mom didn't like it, but she watched it with us anyway.

Hours after that, my dad came by to pick up some leftovers, since he couldn't really cook and probably wouldn't have gotten any food otherwise. It was as awkward as it sounds, possibly more. As Lars and I sat there, watching their jilted, forced conversation, we exchanged a look, knowing Mom was probably restraining herself from screaming at him for our sake. Which was nice, I guess. And then he left.

Thanksgiving came and went like a stranger.

Lars stayed for another day, and then he left two days after the holiday, wanting to take advantage of his last two days of Thanksgiving break. And without his giant ego to fill up the space, our house became quiet and cold again.

I went back to spending more time at Sam's house than I even spent at my own, and neither Sam nor his mom seemed to mind. He even welcomed me warmly every time I came over, like the good friend he was. I hoped I wasn't hurting my mom by staying away so much, but she had started burying herself in her job again anyway. And some days the sadness became too much for me to bear.

I helped around the house as Sam's mom started putting up Christmas decorations before November was even over, like she did yearly. And before I knew it, December started with a whisper.

-Otto's POV-

I stared out the window as the scenery flashing by changed from flat land to hills, then eventually to mountains, just as the sun started to set. X-mas music came from the speakers and into the quiet car. Almost everyone was asleep—Sam, Tito, Twister and Reggie. Dad was driving, and I was stuck awake with my loud thoughts and Tito's loud snoring.

It had been ages since all of us had last piled into the Woodie and took a trip to the ski resort, and we'd all decided to take a weeklong trip over the holidays. I couldn't ever remember the last time I'd seen snow during Christmas. It'd been years at least, and I couldn't wait to shred down the mountain and leave all my worries behind.

It was enough that Clio wasn't there with us like we'd planned—we were kinda having a fight at the moment. It was one of those stupid fights where two people get a little sick of each other and pick at each other for no reason. We decided we needed a little time apart. Not a break up, not even a break. Just time apart. Clio decided she wanted to spend time with her family over the holiday—Twister's mom and Lars were both staying with her and her mom and dad at their house. We thought maybe some time apart was all we needed.

Next to me, my sister shifted in her sleep, her elbow jabbing into my side. I glanced over at her, watching her for a moment before looking away.

In addition to worrying about my relationship, there was the matter of Reggie. And Twister. And whatever had been going on between them.

Ever since about a month ago when Twister had been alone at our house with Reggie, they'd been really weird around each other. I hadn't asked either of them about it, especially since Reggie was feeling rough since that blowout she'd had with Trent. I didn't want to bother her when she looked so sad. But part of me had the feeling that Twister might have told her how he felt about her. I wasn't sure, but the way Twister had looked the past week told me that he might have. Poor dude looked terrified. It reminded me of that time when we were kids when he read that comic book Squid lent him and he thought that there was going to be an alien invasion.

But I didn't want to bother him about it either—the situation with his parents had put him on edge lately, too. I still couldn't believe they were splitting. As long as I'd known Twister, they'd always looked so happy together. Since I barely remembered my mom, and I didn't remember her and my dad together, Mr. and Mrs. Rodriguez were practically the only example I'd had in front of me of two people married together for a long time—besides our old neighbors, Violet and Merv, before they moved. But Twister's dad had cheated on his mom. I guess sometimes you don't really know people, even when you think you do.

There was just all sorts of weirdness going on right now with everyone. It made my stomach feel like it was tied in a knot. It was like the coolest season had turned everyone cold.

Sometimes winter could be cruel.

With all of these things on my mind, I just wanted to get out there and board down the mountain over and over until my brain was numb and I couldn't feel my face or my fingers.

It was dark outside now. I glanced up at the front seat and looked at my dad, his face straight with concentration as he drove. "Dad?" I spoke in a soft voice so that I wouldn't wake everybody. "When will we get to our cabin?"

He looked at me through the rearview mirror, and I saw him smile at me gently. "About 35 minutes," he said in a hushed voice. "Go to sleep, Otto. I'll wake you guys when we get there."

Sighing, I turned away, leaned my head back, and soon I drifted off.

Before I knew it, I was waking up again, and everyone was wide awake and rushing to get all of our luggage out of the car and into the cabin. I jumped out of the car and into the land of snow and ice. Snow crunched under my shoes.

The air was amazingly cold—so freezing that it hurt my lungs to breathe it in. Cursing myself for not having the foresight to put on my coat before I got out of the car, I rushed to get my bags out of the trunk and hurried into the dark, cold, mid-size cabin to set them down. My bare arms stung from the coldness. Why hadn't I worn a long sleeved shirt?

I threw my bags onto the hardwood floor, and it echoed loudly. I could barely see around me, and it was hard to tell what else was in the room. "Dude, it's so cold," I complained loudly to no one in particular, since no one else was inside.

"Yeah," my sister bit from behind me, walking through the front door and setting her bags down next to mine. She at least had a hoodie on. "We know."

I shivered hard, my teeth clenching together. I folded my arms. "I…forgot how cold…it is up here."

Reggie upraised my bare arms and then smirked at me, the first sort of smile she'd had on her face all day. "Why'd you wear short sleeves?"

I groaned, rolling my eyes. "I don't KNOW."

She laughed at me. "Dumbass." At that moment, Twister came in through the front door behind us. She turned around to look at him and her smile faded, falling silent and looking away. She almost looked…I don't know, nervous? Weird. Super weird.

"Hey, Twist. Where's my dad?" I asked to distract from the weird, awkward fog that had suddenly filled the air.

Twister put his giant suitcase on the floor and stood up straight, rubbing his gloved hands together. He'd noticed Reggie's weird reaction too, but he acted like he didn't. I could tell it had bothered him, though. "Him and Tito are coming," he said.

Sam walked in next, waddling in his heavy coat and thick pants through the door with a backpack and two heavy duffle bags dragging on the floor. They trailed in some snow behind them. He dropped them all in a huff, pausing to bend over and catch his breath. Then he stood up, taking a breath to say something, then stopped and looked at me, puzzled. "Why aren't you wearing a coat?"

I groaned loudly again. "I DON'T KNOW." Reggie and Twister snickered at me as Sam bit his lip and tried not to laugh.

"You could get pneumonia, you know." He pointed out.

I sighed, throwing my arms up, and then immediately folding them again for warmth. "Well, excuse me for not knowing our cabin would be like a freezer."

As if on cue, the door opened again, and my dad and Tito came through it, both lugging along their bags and the rest of the stuff we packed for the trip. "Hey gang, sorry!" Dad said. "We had to go to the main office to get the power and heating turned on. We forgot to call ahead of time." He set some bags in one hand down and went over to the nearest light switch, flipping it.

All the lights in the room came on to reveal that we were standing in a cozy-looking living room with plaid furniture, wooden walls and a large fire place with a flat screen TV above it. I had to admit, it was a nice place. We all applauded in approval.

"Nice find, Raymundo. Great digs," said Tito.

Miserably, I cut in before my dad could answer, "Can we turn on the heating now?"

My dad and Tito glanced over at me. Dad gasped while Tito let out a hoot of laughter. "Otto, are you crazy?" He said, looking at me like I was indeed crazy. "Do you know how cold it is right now? Where's your coat?"

I started jumping up and down in place to try and warm up. "I don't know where I packed it," I whined.

Sighing, my dad came over to me, unzipped his puffy coat, took it off and put it around my shoulders. I quickly put my arms through it and zipped it up greedily. Ahh. Sweet warmth. "I'll go find the thermostat," he said. "All you guys go figure out who gets which room, they're upstairs."

At first everyone froze, and then everyone except for Dad stampeded up the narrow stairs in a rush to find and secure the best room.

There were 4 rooms: a master suite with two queen size beds, which Tito claimed for himself and my Dad immediately, and then 3 regular sized rooms with two beds each. Twist and I claimed the room with just a sliding glass door that lead to the outdoor balcony—it had thick drapes over it; which made it optimal for sleeping in late without too much light coming in. Reg got the room with a window and the other sliding glass door to the balcony—she always got up early anyway and she liked the view and all that junk. Sam got the last room: only one window, but it had the most electrical outlets where he could charge his phone and laptop and whatever else he brought with him.

It was a great cabin, except there was one thing missing.

"Decorations," I said suddenly when we all gathered in the living room, as my dad was quickly making sandwiches for everyone in the small kitchen. It had suddenly dawned on me. "There's no X-mas decorations in here."

"That's right," Sam said, looking around and rubbing his chin where some five o'clock shadow was starting to grow. That happened to him sometimes, and he had to shave a lot. It made me jealous—once it took me a whole two weeks just to grow a soul patch. Clio had been unimpressed with it, anyway. "We have the snow but no decorations—no lights, no tree, no anything."

Tito sat back on the plaid loveseat, folding his arms and frowning. "Now, that won't do, will it?"

"Um," Reggie spoke up, slightly raising her hand. "I uh…brought some stuff."

Twister sat up straight suddenly, staring at her. "What stuff?"

She looked at him quickly and then looked away, embarrassed. Man, what was that about? "I had a feeling there wouldn't be any decorations here, so I decided to bring some of ours…you know, just in case." She got up from the reclining chair next to the coffee table, walked over to some of the remaining bags sitting over by the door, and picked up a large green, bulky duffle bag that I hadn't recognized. She unzipped it reached inside, pulling something out—a long string of colored lights with big bulbs. A unanimous noise of approval echoed in the room.

"Reg, you're a genius!" I said. I jogged over to her, fist bumped her, and looked inside of the duffle bag. There were more lights, a ton of garland to hang and wrap around things, two wreaths, and two clear containers of ornaments. I took out the boxes, examining them. "Where will we get a tree, though?"

"They have a tree lot downtown," Dad said, coming to look at us with a smile on his face. "We can go buy one tomorrow."

Excited for our plans for tomorrow, everyone ate sandwiches as a late dinner and then retired to our individual rooms, calling it a night. Before I went to sleep, though, I checked my cell. No messages from Clio. I stared at my phone in annoyance.

Before I could wimp out, I typed a quick text, saying simply 'I miss you', and sent it, stuffing my phone under my pillow afterwards and squeezing my eyes shut.

-Sam's POV-

I woke up to the sound of arguing.

"Reggie, you could have asked me before we got here. Why are you springing this on me out of the blue? I only brought enough food for six people."

"I'm sorry, Dad. I didn't ask because I thought you would say no. And besides, I…sort of invited her on impulse."

"Reg."

"Well, Dad, she's already on her way up here. What am I supposed to say when she gets here? 'Oh, sorry Trish, you came all the way up here for nothing, go home'? We can't just send her back!"

I shot up in bed, throwing the covers off and sprinting to the door to my room and throwing it open, surprising Reggie and Ray, who were standing directly on the other side of it. "Trish? Huh? What?" I went to adjust my glasses and then realized that they weren't there. I blinked hard and stared at them—or in their direction; both of them were just blobs of color.

"I invited Trish to stay with us on the trip. She's been busy lately, and she needs a break." Blob Reggie said, and I could hear the wariness in her voice. "Sorry we woke you up, Sammy. Where are your glasses?"

"Oh, you know," I gestured flippantly over my shoulder in the direction of the bedside table where I left them. I cleared my throat, trying to sound less obviously nervous. "So, she's coming then?"

"Yeah, she is," Blob Reggie turned her formless face towards Blob Ray. Her voice turned steely. "And she's staying here with us."

Blob Ray sighed. "Yes, yes, okay. Fine. She can stay until New Years. But I don't know if there will be enough room for her in the Woodie on the way back."

Blob Reggie squealed and hugged him, making them turn into one big indiscernible blob. I blinked hard and then squinted. It didn't help, as usual. "Thanks, Dad. Thank you so much! She should be here by this afternoon." She turned to me, at least it seemed like she did. "Sam, go put on your glasses before you run into something."

I nodded, dazed, turning to go back into my room to get them, and then smacked straight into the door jamb face first. Reggie gasped and I groaned, rubbing my sore nose. "Ow," I whined. For a moment I thought I heard Ray chuckling. Reggie put her hands on my shoulders, guiding me into my room and to my bedside table, handing my glasses to me. I put them on, the world coming into sharp focus again. I sighed in relief. "Thanks."

She smiled. "No problem," she said. Then she gave me a guilty look, her mouth forming a tight line. "So…is this okay?"

I sat on the edge of my bed, feigning cluelessness. "Is what okay?"

"You know," she looked down at me meaningfully. "Trish. Will you…be okay?" She sighed. "I probably should have asked you before I invited her."

I shook my head, and then shrugged. My stomach was already tying itself into a giant knot. "Yeah," I lied, shrugging again. "I'll be fine." Trish was coming. Trish was staying with us. In a cabin. The same cabin as me. For a week. An entire week. During Christmas. Oh my God. Holy Mother of God. I was gonna die.

She put a hand on my shoulder. "Promise?" She grinned at me slightly. "Don't freak out, okay?"

I tried to smile. "Okay." I lied again.

I was GONNA DIE.

#

After eating a late breakfast, all of us bundled up and packed into Raymundo's Woodie to head downtown for a tree. It was only two days until Christmas now, and we'd be lucky to be able to find a good one on such short notice.

It was a short drive, but fresh fluffy powder snow was beginning to fall from the sky, so Raymundo was extra careful. Otto and Twister sat together, watching snowboarding videos on Otto's phone, and Reggie and I sat together in the very back. Christmas music played on the radio, and we pulled up to the tree lot to the sound of 'Jingle Bell Rock'. As I got out of the car and stepped into the cold, I adjusted my knit hat over my ears, my breath billowing out in front of me like clouds.

I smiled in satisfaction. This felt like Christmas. It reminded me so much of Christmases in Kansas. I didn't mind Christmases in Ocean Shores, with its warm weather and sandy beaches. But there was truly nothing like being surrounded by snow and ice this time of year.

As we ventured out into the lot, we decided to split up into pairs so that we could find a tree faster. Reggie and I crossed to the far side, Ray and Tito went to talk to the owner, and Otto and Twist stayed near the entrance, Otto loudly complaining once again about being cold while Twister filmed him on his camcorder and gave him grief. At least he'd worn his coat today.

"Let's find a really full one," Reggie was saying to me over her shoulder, pulling her dark purple, thick scarf away from her face. It was almost the same color as her hair, which was tucked underneath her hat in two braids. "It can't be some scrawny pathetic thing. It's gotta be beastly."

I nodded. "Agreed," I said. "And not too tall either, I think."

She turned around, pointing at me and nodding. "Exactly!" She turned back around, squinting at the trees we passed with a discerning eye. "It has to be perfect."

I glanced sideways at her, smiling. "I remember a time when you weren't so excited about holiday traditions. Remember that X-mas when you and Otto started up that dog walking business to get Ray that longboard?"

She half groaned, half laughed. "Ugh, don't remind me. That was a mess." She shook her head in embarrassment as I laughed at the fond memory. Stopping at another tree and closely examining it, she continued in a more serious tone, "That year made me remember how much my mom had loved Christmas and spending time with us during this time of year. Remembering that made me love Christmas more, too." She looked back at me and offered a shy, if not slightly sad, smile.

I smiled back in sympathy. "I get it. I think that's awesome, Reg." I paused, raising my eyebrows, trying to keep my face looking as serious as possible as I said, "So, does that mean that we have to watch Pinkie Pixie's Christmas Flapadoozy?"

Reggie burst out laughing, her sadness melting away as she shoved my shoulder good-naturedly. "You bet your ass we're watching it."

I held my hands up defensively, laughing too. "All right, all right."

"So, hey," she said as she moved to examine another nearby tree, turning it slightly, seeing a giant bald spot on it and moving away from it immediately. "What's your mom doing over Christmas? She's not by herself, is she?"

Grimacing at a tree with no needles left on it, I shook my head. "No, she flew to Kansas to stay with our extended family there. She's spending the holiday with them. We had our Christmas early, and I opened all of my presents then. This is one of them," I said, patting my knitted hat. "She made it for me for the trip."

"Aww." She reached over to flick the giant yarn pom pom on the top of my hat with her gloved hand. "Your mom's the sweetest. I'm glad she'll have a nice holiday with your family." She stopped suddenly, gasping, and then she ran over to a tree about 15 feet away. She called to me, "Sammy, come look at this!"

I followed her as quickly as I could without slipping and falling face-and-glasses-first into the snow, and I came to a stop next to her in front of a seven and a half-foot beauty. It was full, but not too wide, and the perfect height. "Are there bald spots?"

"I don't know. Help me check?"

We maneuvered around the tree gingerly, careful not to bump into and knock into the other nearby ones, looking up and down and even shaking it to make sure it was sturdy. It was, in fact, the perfect tree.

I went to go find Raymundo and Tito, then I brought them back to the tree where Reggie was waiting next to it with a big smile on her face. When I looked up at Ray, I saw the same exact expression on his face. "Reggie, this is perfect!" He exclaimed, walking over to her and scooping her up into a big bear hug. "That's my girl!"

They broke from their hug and Reggie got up on her tip toes and reached up to straighten his Rudolph hat, complete with antlers and a red nose. "So we're getting it?"

"You bet we are," said Ray, then he nudged Tito with his elbow. "She's a beauty, isn't she Tito?"

Tito seemed to be turning into a Tito-cicle, shivering with his arms folded, even with his giant coat on, mittens, and a scarf covering most of his face. His teeth were chattering. "T-that she is, brudda." Tito agreed, his voice muffled by his scarf. "C-can we g-go back to th-the cabin now?"

Ray stifled a laugh with his hand, looking at his best friend with sympathy. "Of course. Reg, Sam, you take Tito back to the car and turn the heat on to get him warmed up. I'll pay for the tree and ask the owner to help me mount the tree to roof of the car."

Reggie and I stood on either side of Tito, leading him back to the car, and when we got back to it, we noticed that the engine was running and the windows were fogged up. Opening the passenger door, we were surprised to see Otto and Twister greet us, sitting in the middle seats comfortably.

"Well, hi. What happened to looking for a tree?" Reggie asked dryly. Tito immediately got into the car, sat down in the passenger seat, and held his mitten clad hands up in front of the vents.

Twister answered her tiredly, "We started looking, and then Rocket Man got too cold again, so I brought him back here and turned the heat on."

Reggie, suddenly getting peculiarly shy, didn't respond, just shut the passenger door and then silently opened the back so we could get in. One of my eyebrows rose. She and Twister had been acting strangely around each other for weeks now, but I wouldn't ask. It wasn't my business.

As we got in the back, I answered Twister for her. "Well, you guys don't have to worry. Reggie found us the perfect tree. No thanks to you guys. Especially you, Otto."

Otto looked at me over the back of his seat and rolled his eyes. "Yeah, yeah, whatever. Good job, Reg."

Clearing her throat, Reggie answered this time, seemingly gaining her composure and dry tone back. "How are you gonna go snowboarding later this week when you retreat from the cold air after so much as standing outside? When did you get so sensitive, little bro?"

This had Twister and I cackling, and Otto glared at all of us, folding his arms and flopping back into his seat. "Shut up, Reg. I just have to get used to it again. Soon I'll be shredding down that mountain no problem."

Soon, Ray and the owner of the lot came and tied the tree to the top of the car, and we were driving back to the cabin. When we made it back, it took all six of us to carry it inside and hoist it into the Christmas tree holder Reggie had brilliantly thought to bring along with the decorations. We arranged it to fit in the perfect corner—plenty far away from the fireplace, right next to a window, close enough to an outlet to plug lights in, with plenty of space to fit presents underneath it.

With that taken care of, we began the decorating. Reggie, Otto, and Ray began making the red and green paper chains they liked to make every year, and Twister and I began stringing garland around windows and doorways and over the top of the fireplace, right under the space the flat screen TV sat—and I tried my best not to fall off the chairs we stood on to reach high enough. Tito sat back on the couch with a mug of hot cocoa, playing us some Christmas songs on his ukulele.

Finishing up our individual decorating projects as the sun began to go down, we lit a fire in the fireplace and were just about to start on decorating the tree when there was a knock on the cabin door.

Reggie leapt up from the spot on the couch she'd been sitting. "I'll get it!" She called out as she ran to the door excitedly. Something about her eagerness for who was on the other side of the door told me to take deep breaths and try not to pass out. She reached the door and unlocked it.

'Don't freak out,' I thought to myself, fighting the urge to put my head between my knees as my heart rate increased and my head began to swim. 'Don't freak out. Don't freak out. Don't freak out.'

The door swung open. "Trish!" Reggie screamed. She squealed the way some girls do when they greet their friends and behind it I heard low chuckling. It was Trish's laughter.

"Hey, Rocket Girl!" Trish greeted. My stomach immediately seized into a giant knot and I made a low, involuntary whine at the back of my throat. Twister, who was next to me on the loveseat, patted my back.

Risking a look over at the door, I saw Reggie linking arms with Trish and leading her inside the cabin, carrying one of her suitcases as Trish carried the other one. Trish had on a light blue, puffy coat and matching mint green scarf and hat, her black hair sticking out from underneath in one long braid. Snow dusted the top of her head, and her nose was bright red. Adorable. Adorable in every single way. I was done for.

"You're just in time. We were just about to decorate the tree!" Reggie continued, leading her into the living room where the rest of us were. "Did you find the cabin okay? I told Dad to give you clear directions."

Trish smiled, loosening up her scarf. Even though it was freezing cold outside and the air was dry, her lips weren't even chapped. They were pink and smooth and plump looking as always. I gulped. She said, "The directions were perfect, my cousin and I found the place with no problems. Thanks, Mr. Rocket."

Ray shrugged and waved her off, abashed. "No problem at all, kiddo. Glad you got here safely." He got up from his seat next to Tito. "You look cold. Let me get you some hot cocoa, I just made a fresh batch."

"That sounds great," said Trish as he ambled off to the kitchen.

"So Trish, the gang's all here. Otto, Sammy, Tito, and," Reg paused for an awkward and loaded moment that I think everyone noticed, "and Twist."

"Hey, Trish. Glad you could make it," Twister said cheerfully, greeting her with a wave. His face looked kind of red. Reggie shifted on her feet and looked at the ground. If I weren't so nervous at that moment, I would've snorted. Whatever was going on between those two, they weren't being subtle about it at all.

"Good to see you!" piped in Tito with a big smile.

"Yo," Otto said to Trish, waving and then looking back down at his phone's screen immediately, most likely waiting for Clio to text him once again.

"Hey Twist, hey Tito. 'Sup Ottoman," Trish greeted them back cheerfully, and something like dread rose in my stomach. Then her eyes locked directly on me for the first time. Her smile turned shy. "Hi, Sam."

My brain went blank for a moment, as it always did whenever she talked to me. Damn brain, betraying me when I needed it the most. "Um." 'Be normal. Be normal. Say something back. Say something back,' my thoughts roared at me. I clasped my hands together tightly to keep from fidgeting. "Hi Trish."

Thankfully, Ray came back into the room not even a second later. "Here you go! Careful, the mug is hot," he said, holding out a black mug of cocoa to Trish. She took it gratefully, warming her hands on the mug. "Now gang, let's get to decorating this gorgeous tree!" He reached up to his Rudolph hat, pushing a button on it, and the red nose began flashing a bright red. We all laughed, and any awkwardness or unease melted away as soon as everyone got to work.

Reggie focused on helping Raymundo wrap their extra long paper chain around the tree, and then the lights, Twister recorded all of us on his camcorder, occasionally handing me and Tito ornaments to hang, and Otto and Trish worked on the perfect tinsel placement—well, okay, only Trish was doing that. Otto was basically throwing entire chunks of tinsel on the tree at once because he was impatient and he thought it looked cool, and Trish was fixing his mess ups.

And an hour later, the tree was finished, with only one or two ornament casualties—Trish had said something to me when I hadn't seen her standing there, and I jumped and dropped the bulb I'd been holding onto the wood floor. I'd scrambled to clean it up afterwards, managing to cut my hand in my haste. It wasn't too bad of a cut, but I still had to put a bandage on it. So far, that was two times I'd humiliated myself in front of Trish since she'd arrived.

Dang nerves. Dang spending a trip in a cabin with the most wonderful girl in the world whom I really, really liked. Possibly even loved—maybe I'd know for sure how I felt about her if I weren't so damn rational about everything. And during the holidays of all times. At this rate I'd probably accidentally trip over my own feet and send myself careening into the fireplace.

I managed to get through the rest of the night without being scathed any further, and as I lay in my bed that night afterwards and looked at the sky outside—it was a peaceful, glowing grey, the way it only looks when it snows—I wondered how Trish, the queen of the ocean herself, could look so exquisite in the cold. It was like she really was a force of nature, blending in with every condition and season with ease, with grace and beauty.

After some time, I fell asleep, dreaming of a calm snow queen with long black hair and dark, mysterious eyes.

-Back to Twister's POV-

On Christmas Eve, I woke up with an ache in my stomach.

No, not the one that meant I was hungry. That was normal for me in the morning. This was…different. And as usual, she was the first thing I thought of when I woke up.

The older I got, the more different I felt during X-mas. Over the years, the less it was about toys and presents, and the more it was about other things. I missed how it felt to go to sleep on Christmas Eve and wake up in the morning, crazed with excitement and happiness.

It wasn't that I didn't like the holidays anymore, because of course I did. It still made me happy. But the older I got, the more I became nostalgic and sentimental around this time of year. Not just for those old Christmases, but for everything going on in my life. It was like all of my emotions were amplified. During this time of year now, everything that usually made me happy made me happier, and everything that usually made me sad made me even sadder.

As recently as last year, being around my family during this time had made me happy, and this year, my mom and Lars were with extended family, and I didn't even know what my dad's holiday plans were. We were all separated, and everything was different. I tried very hard to not think about it, because every time I did, despair rose up inside of me. It made me feel empty, and I didn't want to feel that way. It was Christmas. I was supposed to be happy.

And along with that, every Christmas in the past that I had loved Reggie without her knowing, the particular feeling of love and warmth in the air during the holidays always made me want her even more. The sight of couples bundled up together on the street, romantic Christmas songs playing everywhere I went, seeing mistletoe above every doorway—it made all of my feelings for her swell up and overwhelm me to the point where it made me physically ache.

And this year that was there again, except worse. Way worse. In addition to how things between us had been awkward and uneasy for the past month, knowing that my frantic, emotional, wordy confession was still hanging in the air between us every time we looked at each other—the ache had absolutely consumed me.

After the semester at school ended and Winter Break started, I found myself avoiding Otto and Reggie's house like I had during Thanksgiving break. Of course it didn't help that Otto and my cousin were having some kind of spat at the moment—I'd gotten tired of Otto asking me what she was doing, how she was doing, if she had asked about him, and so on and so on. But there had been such tension between Reg and I that I decided that giving her more space for a while was a good idea.

But since coming on this trip, things still hadn't gotten much better. Every time Reggie looked at me, she seemed…uneasy and tense. She was barely even speaking to me now. Was coming on the trip a mistake? Had I scared her away for good?

By this point, I had begun to regret telling her. Maybe I had screwed things up between us forever. The easy close friendship that we'd had before was possibly gone forever, and it was all my fault. Why did I have to drink that beer and open my big fat mouth? Things could've still been the same. It was already enough that I lost my old life at home for good, now I felt like I had lost Reggie too.

Refusing to let the sadness swallow me up, I sighed and rubbed the sleep out of my eyes. Rolling over on the bed and sitting up, I glanced back at the clock on the small table between my bed and Otto's bed.11:08 AM. Still pretty early, by Winter Break standards. But by now, I was wide awake, and from the sound of things, everyone else was up, too. I looked over at Otto, who was still sound asleep and snoring loudly.

Grabbing one of my pillows, I threw it hard, and it walloped him on the side of the face, abruptly stopping his snoring. He shot straight up, his brown eyes wide and his dreadlocks flying around his face. "HUH? WHAT?" He shouted. There was drool running down his chin. Gross.

I smirked at him. "Merry Christmas Eve, Oswald."

Otto looked at me blankly in a half-asleep daze, processing what had just happened, then snatched up my pillow and threw it back at me, and it hit me square in the face. "Merry Christmas Eve, asshole."

After finishing our pillow war, we took turns in the bathroom and then trudged downstairs where everyone else was already gathered, eating Raymundo's famous monster pumpkin pancakes with cinnamon whipped cream. We all exchanged greetings and then helped ourselves to some of the giant pancakes, scarfing them down in record time.

When all of us were done eating, the day sped forward, leading from one event to the next. First, we all put on our coats and snow gear and headed outside to divide into teams for a snowball version of dodgeball.

We found a large open space and then drew a long line down the middle of the snow with a tree branch. Tito hung by the sidelines as referee so that the teams would be even, and it was me, Otto and Sam versus Trish, Reggie and Ray. It was tough competition, and the first game was intense. If it weren't for Sam constantly avoiding throwing at and even looking at Trish, even when she was right in front of him, we could've won easy, but they won over us in the end.

Couldn't say I blamed him, though. During the game I'd been avoiding looking at Reggie as well—that is, until her snowball sailed through the air and hit me on the cheek. I'd looked over at her, bewildered, and she just looked at me evenly, lifted her eyebrows and then turned away with the slightest smirk on her lips.

It was the first non-awkward contact we'd had the whole trip, and it made me strangely happy even though I had snow dripping off of my face. And it was the first glimpse of pre-Trent Reggie that I'd seen in a long while.

Also, it was the hottest thing ever.

After we played one more game and all of our hands were numb, we went back inside the cabin to warm up, each of us having either hot cocoa or coffee. Then Raymundo brought out the gingerbread house making supplies, and we got to work on that.

It was way more difficult to make then I had remembered, and Otto and Reggie, having done this every year with their Dad since they were little, barked orders at the rest of us as we all tried to keep up. We also had gingerbread men cookies to decorate, and I'd successfully eaten four of them before getting caught by Ray and he banished me to baking duty in the kitchen with Tito.

I'd only accidentally burned one batch of cookies, which Tito nagged at me for, but other than that, I think I did a pretty good job helping. Every once in a while I peeked out the kitchen doorway to see how the house was going—and to sneak glances at Reggie—and once, I caught Sam putting frosting on the tip of his nose and sticking a gumdrop on it, turning to Trish and making a funny face. She giggled and snapped a picture of him on her phone. I shook my head, smiling to myself as I went back to the kitchen.

When the house was finished being made and decorated—it was tight as hell, by the way—it was already dinner time. We had our laid back dinner of burgers, and afterwards we sat down with popcorn in front of the TV for a holiday movie marathon.

Starting our marathon with Christmas Vacation, because duh, we then watched some more of the classics, like Home Alone and A Christmas Story. And then, because this was also a Rocket family holiday gathering and it was another one of their traditions, we all watched Pinkie Pixie's Christmas Flapadoozy. Then Ray, Otto and Reg—after some coaxing from their dad—stood up and sang the 'Kringle Dingle Song' for us and performed the Antler Dance. After they were done, the rest of us gave them a standing ovation, laughing and whistling as Reggie covered her face in embarrassment and Otto bowed in an over exaggerated way.

By the time all of this was over, it was late, we were tired and loopy, and our busy Christmas Eve was over. So we all said our goodnights and went up to bed, looking forward to the next day.

#

Before I knew it, Otto was jumping onto my bed and shaking me awake. "Twist, get up! It's Christmas! Come on! Get up! We gotta open presents!"

I squinted at him. The curtains had been opened, and the cool Christmas morning light was flooding into our room. The light felt piercing, but I forced myself to sit up, shoving Otto off of my bed. "Okay, okay, I'm up. Geez. How old are you, 12?"

Otto sprung back up on my bed and began hitting me with my own pillow. "Yes. Get up. Presents."

I threw back my sheets, rushing out of bed now. "I'm getting up!" I stood up, my head still swirling with sleep, then kneeled by my bed, taking my suitcase out from underneath it. "You go ahead without me, I have to get something."

Without even hesitating, my best friend said, "Kay bye!" and fled the room, pausing to fling open the door to Reggie and Trish's room next door to shout, "WAKE UP!"

I tiptoed over to the door to our room, closing it again, and then jogged back over to my suitcase, dropping to my knees next to it. Taking out one of the many hoodies I brought on the trip—a red one with white drawstrings, pretty damn festive if I do say so myself—I pulled it over my head and then sprayed myself with body spray, knowing I'd probably end up showering much later today. Then reaching even further into my suitcase, I pulled out three wrapped gifts and two envelopes. A gift for Otto, one for Sam, a gift card for Tito and one for Raymundo, since I never knew how to shop for adults. And lastly, a gift for Reggie—one that I spent forever angsting over because nothing seemed good enough to buy—before I finally decided to make one for her myself. The thought of giving it to her made my heart race; made me so nervous that I almost lost my appetite. Almost.

I'd forgotten to put them under the tree, so I decided to bring them down with me. When I ambled downstairs with my arms full of gifts, everyone else had just settled down in the living room—except for Otto, who was practically bouncing off the walls still. After Tito and Ray came over to me, greeting me with bear hugs, and receiving 'Merry Christmas'es from almost everyone else in the room, we started exchanging presents.

Otto of course snatched all of his presents from everyone eagerly and started ripping them open with shouts and hoots of excitement. Squid and I handed each other our presents and then first bumped, and I gave Raymundo and Tito their giftcards before they gave me a noogie and messed up my hair, which made me pull up the hood on my sweatshirt to hide it.

Then, taking a deep breath, I turned to face where Reggie sat on the ground next to Trish, and she was already staring at me. She was in light purple, warm-looking pajamas with a rocket pattern on them with her curly hair coming out of a messy bun on the top of her head. I tried not to look at her for too long, so I wouldn't make her uncomfortable, but it was hard not to when she looked so damn cute. She held out the gift she held, and with fumbling hands, I handed her gift to her anxiously. "You didn't have to get me anything," I said, my voice a little breathless, staring at down at it in my hands.

She shrugged, waving me off. "It's no big deal, I wanted to." She smiled at me. Her smile was shy and gentle. "Merry Christmas, Twister."

My face was hot once again, and the embarrassment of my face being red made me flush even more. It was like that was all I knew how to do around her these days. "Merry Christmas, Reg." I nodded at the gift in my hands, holding it up. "Should I open it now?"

She blinked at me and then nodded, her smile growing. "Yeah, sure, if you want."

I ripped into the wrapping paper immediately—a metallic purple color—and as the paper fell away, a framed picture was revealed. It was a picture of the two of us, in a black, glossy frame. The picture had to have been years old—I recognized the shirt I was wearing in it as my favorite shirt back in the eighth grade: big and baggy with a giant blue Hurley logo on it. The crazy thing was that I remembered when she'd taken this picture.

I'd been sitting on the side of the boardwalk, eating an ice cream cone and minding my own business, and Reggie had ambushed me, putting her arm around my neck, stretching her arm up with her camera, smacking a kiss on my cheek and snapping a picture before I could react. She, Sherry and Trish had run away, giggling, and I'd sat there frozen, my mouth wide open and ice cream dripping down my arm.

I stared down at the picture in the frame now, my face still red and my heart pounding from the memory. I stared at her lips pressed against my cheek. I'd never quite understood what happened that day, and why she'd taken that picture in the first place. And now, remembering the words that she'd said to me that night a month ago, I finally understood why. 'I liked you a few times, actually. And if you had asked me out, I wouldn't have said no.' I swallowed hard, looking back up at her finally.

Reggie looked nervous. She was staring at me cautiously, her brows furrowed. "Do you like it?" She looked like she was anticipating me to say that I didn't like it.

My heart panged painfully. "I love it." 'I love you,' my mind screamed. "I really do. Thank you so much." A few moments passed with us gazing at each other and fidgeting, and then I cleared my throat, pointing at my present in her hands. "I hope you like mine, too. I worked really hard on it."

At the mention of my gift, she immediately ripped open the plain red wrapping paper and took out what was inside. "A DVD?"

"Yeah." I felt so lame. Her gift was a trillion times better than mine. I glanced over at Trish nervously, suddenly just realizing that she'd been watching us this whole time, and she smirked at me openly. The burn in my face increased as I turned back to Reggie. "Um. Make sure that when you watch it, you're alone, okay?" I looked at Trish again quickly. "No offense, Trish."

She half-shrugged, shaking her head, but still smirking at me. "No worries. I get it." She chuckled, amused, and then stood up, smoothing her hands down her dark blue pajama bottoms. "I'm getting more cocoa. You want some, Rocket Girl?"

Reggie eagerly jumped up too. "I'll go with you!" She paused, looking back at me and clutching the plastic DVD case to her chest with both hands, in a way that looked like she was hugging it. "Thanks Twist. I'll watch it as soon as I can." She gave me another shy smile and then turned to follow Trish into the kitchen, her friend nudging her with her elbow in a teasing way that made me 1000% sure that they were going to talk about me as soon as they were out of earshot. I sighed.

Another sigh came from right next to me, and I jumped, not realizing that anyone was sitting there. Sam was looking after the direction Trish and Reg had left in. "Girls, huh?" Then he glanced over at me and nodded at the frame in my hands, grinning knowingly. "Nice picture, there."

I glanced down at it, forgetting I was holding it, and then brought it against my chest, hiding it as Sam snickered at me. "Shut up, Sam." Even as I said it, though, a big goofy smile was plain on my face.

The rest of the day was lazy, basically full of naps on the couch, eating a ton of cookies, and watching more Christmas movies—just like I liked my holidays. Each of us called our families to wish them Merry Christmas—except for Sam, who'd video chatted with his mom for at least an hour and a half, assuring her at least a dozen times that yes, he was fine, and no, he hadn't seen any wolves at the resort. I'd talked to Mom, Lars—"Merry Christmas, assface!" He'd said as soon as he'd answered the phone—and I'd even talked to my dad, and as awkward as it could've been, it wasn't. It almost felt like old times. Almost.

And though he hid upstairs in our room to do it, I caught Otto on the phone with Clio, exchanging 'I love you's and 'I miss you's and 'Merry Christmas, baby's. I sensed that this was the end of their quarrel. I'd known that they wouldn't fight for long.

At dinner time, we ate Raymundo's turkey dinner, complete with Tito's traditional Hawaiian dishes on the side. It was an altogether great holiday, much greater than I'd expected, even though it was different from all the years before. But even if it hadn't had been great, and the rest of the day had gone terribly, Reggie's gift alone would have made it better than the rest.

I lost count of the times I'd looked longingly up at the mistletoe above the kitchen doorway, wishing someone would just shove the both of us underneath it like in the movies, but every time I caught myself thinking that, I would stare down at the framed picture of us instead, reminding myself that this was enough for now. It was more than enough. I would keep waiting. No matter how long it took.

She was all I wanted for Christmas. Getting to spend it with her was better than anything else I could've asked for.

I fell asleep that night staring at that picture, feeling my stomach bubble nervously, wondering when she would watch my DVD and what she'd think of it.

-Reggie's POV-

The bitter cold white of the ski slopes had always been so calming. Even though I loved the ocean, and the way the waves curled and the way the ocean air smelled, there was something about the slopes I loved almost just as much.

Me and Trish sat on the ski lift, being taken to the top of the mountain for what was probably the billionth time. It was 3 days after Christmas, and the slopes were surprisingly crowded today. The post-holiday crowds had come in at full force. Right after the holiday ended, our days at the resort had become packed with activities. I'd been spending a lot of time on the slopes with Trish, and we'd also both spent a lot of time shopping at the shopping center downtown. My brother, Twist, and Sammy had spent equal time between the slopes and ice hockey. Today however, they had decided to spend all day at the ice rink, so it was Trish and I on the packed slopes today.

Admittedly, I really missed playing ice hockey, and it'd been forever since I'd gotten to last. But I opted to spend time alone with Trish instead. It made me relax a little, getting some time away from them. It was just what I needed to enjoy the rest of this trip. These past few days had been a little stressful for…certain reasons.

"You know we're gonna have to talk about this eventually, right?" Trish said, as if she had read my mind and heard exactly what I'd been thinking.

I looked over at her, a dry look on my face. "I know we have to talk about it." I let out a giant, drawn out sigh. "Just let me blow off some more steam first."

Trish laughed. "That's what you said the last two times we went to the top of the mountain." She raised her eyebrows at me, looking at me pointedly. "You know, Reg, holding in all your worries isn't healthy. Just talk to me."

I looked at her guiltily. I'd been holding out on her this whole time, constantly changing the subject whenever she brought it up, and I knew by now she was dying to know what was going on. I pouted a little. "Okay," I said. "I promise we'll talk, right after this trip down. Then we'll go down to the coffee shop and I'll spill."

We were just approaching the top of the lift, and we both shifted on our seat, getting ready to jump off. Trish scrunched up her nose at me and then lowered her ski goggles. "I'll hold you to that, Rocket Girl."

Finally, it was our turn to jump off, and I held my breath as we both pushed off at the same time. My snowboard touched the snow, and immediately, I was off.

The rush of flying down the mountain was always terrifying and exhilarating at the same time, the cold biting into the exposed skin of my face and the wind whipping through my hair. Sometimes it almost felt like skateboarding and surfing at the same time—my snowboard felt more like how my skateboard felt, but the way the snow gave way under my board and the way I was totally vulnerable to the elements around me felt like surfing. In one word: amazing. The way I felt when I boarded down the mountain almost made me want to live in some place cold all the time...but then I thought better of it, deciding being cold 24/7 wasn't worth it.

When I made it to the bottom of the hill, huffing and satisfied, Trish was nowhere in sight. I hadn't realized how fast I'd been going. I took my board off of my boots and stood there to wait, and before I had a chance to start worrying about my friend, she suddenly came into view, boarding towards me and then curving sharply to a stop, spraying me with snow.

"That's for leaving me in the dust," she said, laughing and sitting on the ground to take off her snowboard as well.

I laughed too, shaking the snow out of my hair and lifting up my goggles to rest on top of my head. "I guess I deserved that," I admitted. I held out a hand, helping her back onto her feet. "Let's get out of here and warm up."

It didn't take long to get to the café we'd been frequenting the past couple of days, and we both ordered big drinks—a coffee for me and a chai tea for her—and then settled down at a small table across from each other. Before we could start talking, a little girl and her mother approached our table.

"Excuse me," the mother said, both of her hands on her daughter's shoulders. "Are you Patricia Tom? The surfer?"

Startled, I glanced over at my friend. With surprise, Trish looked up, setting her giant mug down. "Yes, that's me."

The little girl gasped. "Mom, I told you that was her!" She folded her arms. "And she goes by Trish, not Patricia."

The mother squeezed her shoulders. "Yes, but I didn't think we'd see her up in the mountains." She looked up at Trish again, seemingly embarrassed. "I'm sorry to bother you, it's just that my daughter insisted that we come over and ask. She's a big fan. Could we maybe take a picture with you?" She held up a digital camera.

Trish was beaming from ear to ear, a rare sight. She was positively glowing. She sent me an excited look, and I smiled back at her. "Of course you can!" She said, standing up and walking over to them. "Reg, could you take it?"

I jumped up from my seat. "Yeah, sure!" The mother handed me her camera, I counted down from three, and then snapped a picture as they all smiled in my direction.

"You're so cool," the little girl said to Trish as soon as the picture had been taken, looking up at her in amazement. We all laughed. The woman took back her camera, smiling back at me and thanking Trish once again as she lead her excited daughter away, who was waving at Trish frantically.

My friend and I settled back at our table, and Trish brought a hand up to her face—which had turned a bright pink from the whole experience, shaking her head in disbelief. "I'll never get used to being recognized," she said.

"Well get used to it, missy." I said to her, smiling as I sipped on my coffee. "You are cool, you know."

She snorted, rolling her eyes. "Whatever," she muttered. Then, loosening her scarf and taking off her gloves and placing them on the table, she pointed at me. "Anyway, don't think I've been distracted from what's really important here. Talk. Now."

Damn. She'd been so close to forgetting. Sighing hugely, I said. "Okay. So…let's talk about Trent first."

She grimaced, sitting back in her seat. "You mean 'He Who Shall Not Be Named'."

I flinched. "Basically, yeah." I nodded slowly, wrapping my hands around my mug for warmth to chase away the coldness I felt from talking about him. "Well…we're pretty much broken up."

"Pretty much?" She echoed, looking perplexed.

"We are, we are," I clarified quickly, making sure there was no misunderstanding there. "We're definitely broken up. He keeps texting me all the time still, but I never answer. We haven't talked since I confronted him before break started."

"What'd you say to him then?" She took another sip of her tea, raising an eyebrow. "Did you tell him that he's human trash personified and that he should go live in the dump?"

I paused, impressed. "No, but maybe I should have thought of that." I stared down at the pretty swirls of crème in my coffee. "I just told him that we were over for good, and to never contact or talk to me ever again."

Now Trish looked impressed. "Hey, that was pretty good. You left out the part about how he's scum, but that's perfectly acceptable too."

I stifled a laugh. "I never knew you hated him so much. You thought he was cute for a while when we were kids, didn't you?"

"Yeah, but that was like a million years ago. Every girl in our school did. And that was only for like, two seconds," she said, scoffing. "And did I ever spend time with the two of you? Ever?"

I tried to remember a time when the three of us had ever hung out. I couldn't think of one single time. "Oh." Trish nodded as if to say, 'duh'. I continued, shrugging. "I don't blame you, though. And if I'd been smarter, I would've hated him, too." I couldn't believe that I'd let someone who made me feel so powerless and small be such a huge part of my life for so long. The first day I saw his personality change, I should've left him then.

Trent was the first guy I ever liked. Back when he first moved to Ocean Shores, I'd pretended not to be good at surfing just so I could spend time with him; I'd even let him call me Regina, which I never used to let ANYONE do unless they were wishing for death. Eventually he found out that I was actually good at sports, and that I preferred to be called 'Reggie'.

But as I'd found out years later as we began to date, he really preferred 'Regina'. He'd always preferred who 'Regina' was, even though she didn't actually exist, and he did his damnedest to try and force her into existence. And then from there it escalated, trying to control everything else I did. I don't think I would ever understand how someone could change so drastically within a relationship.

My life would have been so different if I had left him sooner, in a thousand better ways. Sometimes I wished I'd never met him.

"You are smart," Trish said to me very seriously. All the amusement was gone from her face, and she was staring at me. "Even smart people get into abusive relationships. And it takes a really strong person to leave one."

Strong. Was that what I was? I didn't know anymore. "I don't feel strong."

"You are. Maybe you don't feel that way right now," she allowed, and then she leaned her chin in her hand. "But you've always been strong before, throughout everything else you've been through. And you'll feel that way again. It just might take some time."

Deep down, I knew she was right. After all, I had started to feel different after the breakup, in a good way. I was still a little sad for no reason sometimes, as everyone feels after a breakup, but my eating habits had already begun to go back to normal. It wasn't perfect yet of course, and sometimes I'd still hesitate to eat even when I was hungry. But then I'd eat, and the nervous feeling passed. It would still take some time before I had a normal relationship with food again, but I just had to be patient with myself and not force it.

I'd also stopped straightening my hair every day, letting my curls flow wild and free. And I'd started to do the things I used to like to do again, like writing and boarding. So maybe I was getting a little stronger again.

And there was something else that was making me feel better these days. Something that hadn't preoccupied me in a good, long while.

I cleared my throat. "Well, anyway. You know, there was…something else I wanted to talk about, too."

This catching her attention, Trish leaned forward over the table, a look of anticipation on her face that told me she knew exactly what I was about to say. "Yes?" She goaded.

My face was growing hot, and I hid it behind one of my hands, groaning. "Oh, look at yourself. You already know. Why do I have to say it?"

Trish giggled, throwing her hands in the air in exasperation. "Just say it!"

I took my hand away from my face and dropped it into my lap, and I stared down at my hands, squirming and suddenly unable to look at my friend across the table. I sighed, and my voice came out in a mutter. "Twister."

Trish was still giggling. "What about Twister?"

I groaned again, louder this time. "Trish."

"You like him." She'd said it quietly, in fact, her voice was always quiet, but to me, hearing her say this aloud had the effect of her saying it in a megaphone.

My face exploded into a full on glow, and I didn't need to look in a mirror to know I had to be bright red. "You mean I like him again."

Trish covered up her laugh with both of her hands this time. "Oh yeah, that's right. Isn't this like the third time you've had a crush on him the whole time you've been friends?"

I whined, mortified. "Don't remind me. As if I don't already feel crazy enough."

"What's so crazy about it?" She pushed her mug to the side so that she could fold her hands on the table and look at me seriously again. "He likes you. No, he's like, madly in love with you. And he's…hot."

The café was suddenly too warm for me to bear, and I was unzipping my big green coat and shoving it off of my shoulders. I yanked my scarf off, too. "Don't remind me of that, either. Please." I'd been trying hard not to think of that during this entire trip.

"Reg, come on. Admit it. The kid's grown up quite nicely. Didn't you see him on Christmas morning?"

"Of course I saw him. I'd almost had a nervous breakdown." The image of him that morning immediately appeared in my mind; red hoodie stark against his freckles, PJ bottoms, sleepy brown eyes, wavy mussed-up bed hair, the tiniest bit of stubble on his chin. So sexy that it had literally knocked the wind out of me when he'd come downstairs like that. I'd barely gotten it together long enough to give him his X-mas present, which I'd almost chickened out of giving to him at the last second. I'd treasured that picture for years, keeping it in the drawer in my bedside table. It was his now. "Seeing him looking like…that was something that I wasn't prepared for."

"Or something that you didn't realize you needed," Trish said, waggling her eyebrows at me. "Admit it, Reggie. He's boyfriend material."

"Stop," I begged. I covered my face again, feeling the heat in my face on my palms. I shook my head. "I forgot I felt this way about him before Trent and I started dating. I did like Trent at the time too, of course, but...I don't know, Trish. There's just…something about him. Something that makes me never get over him, no matter how much I pretend that I am."

Trish leaned forward eagerly again. "You have to tell me what was on that DVD he gave you. What was it?"

At the mention of the DVD, even just the thought of it made my stomach start doing somersaults inside of me. A few days ago, when I'd watched it on my laptop, alone in mine and Trish's room, I didn't know what I'd been expecting it to be. But it was out of this world.

The DVD had a plain menu that just had the date of X-mas this year and 'Play', and when I clicked play, there were various clips that started to play, set to a Jack Johnson song—one of my favorite musicians. And they were clips of me. Clips of me from forever ago, rollerblading down the boardwalk, clips of me shredding at Mad Town, more recent clips of me smiling across the school hallway where our lockers were and waving at him from the front of our school. Clips of me helping out at the Shack, carrying plates of food to customers and walking past the camera with various funny faces. Clips of me floating on the water on my surfboard, with wet hair and with the sun setting behind my head. And clips of me, not just looking at the camera, but looking past it at him. Smiling at him, laughing at him, rolling my eyes at him, staring at him as he talked to me. Always with a sparkle in my eye, always with this palpably affectionate look on my face.

As I'd watched it, the thought struck me: was this the way I had always looked at him? Even while I was with Trent?

How could I have been so blind?

After 10 minutes of clips—the last one being of me on my surfboard, smiling and raising an eyebrow at him, which I immediately recognized as the day that I almost drowned months ago—it finally switched to a clip of Twister himself, turning on his camera and then leaning back into a chair, sitting in front of the camera. He was wearing his old favorite yellow and brown hat, ragged and riddled with holes. He smiled his goofy, nervous smile, and then simply said, "Merry Christmas, Reg," waved to the camera, and then the video ended, returning to the menu again. I must have sat there staring at the menu for 15 minutes afterwards, my heart pounding wildly and painfully, letting all of the emotions I felt astound and terrify me.

I relayed all of this to Trish now, explaining it in great detail. When I finished, Trish sat back in her seat heavily, blowing her breath out with a puff of her cheeks. "Wow," she said, shaking her head and staring at me. "He loves you. He really loves you."

I swished the coffee around in my mug and watched it. "I know," I replied, not looking up. My throat felt dry.

"I mean you already told me about how he confessed to you, so I already knew. But this…wow." Trish tucked some hair that had fallen loose from under her hat back behind her ear. "Can I tell you something?"

The sudden question caught me off guard. "Sure, shoot."

Trish took a deep breath. "You know, I've always sort of…pictured you two getting together." She stopped suddenly, and then explained, "I mean, you know, not in a weird way. It's just that…you know when you look at two people and just know that one of these days they're going to finally stop messing around and be together. You see them look at each other, and you're just like, 'Wow. I wish someone would look at me like that.'" She smiled gently. "That's you guys. To me, anyway. But a lot of other people see you guys that way too, so maybe it's not just me."

I was stunned. "Really? You see us that way?" Trish had never told me any of this before. No one had. Was this really how everyone else felt about us too?

"Yeah," she said. "Of course. And you guys have been friends for so long. You grew up together. You see each other almost every day, you know each other so well. I think this has been a long time coming." She took a sip of her tea and then set it down again, continuing thoughtfully, "Actually, I'm kind of jealous. I wish the guy I liked knew me that well. I've known him for years, but sometimes it's like we barely know each other."

I'd been taking a gulp of my coffee, and I choked on it, setting down my mug hard with a loud slam. "You like somebody? Oh my God, Trish!" This was big. Trish almost never talked to me about boys,especially not about boys she liked. "Who is it?"

Trish suddenly looked intensely uncomfortable. She shifted in her seat. "Um," she said, cringing hard. "I don't think I should say."

"Why not?"

She was suddenly turning a bright pink, squirming again. "There's a reason I haven't told you, Reggie."

Wait a second…it couldn't be…no… "Why haven't you told me?"

"Because…" she was wincing almost as if she were in pain, blushing so hard that even her ears were pink. Though admitting something like this was probably painful for her, in a way. "…because…"

I was the one leaning eagerly across the table now. "Because…?" I goaded.

A soft sigh of defeat came from her. "Because you're best friends with him."

There was a long pause as I processed this, staring at her with my mouth open. And then I leapt up from my seat, ran over to her side of the table and started shaking her by her shoulders. "SAM? YOU LIKE SAMMY?!"

"Stop shaking me!" Trish said, pushing me off of her. Then she clasped her hands together at me and pleaded, "Please don't tell him, Reg. Please."

I was still freaking out. "Why didn't you tell me you liked him? Oh my God!" I could feel other people in the café staring at us, the only hysterical teenage girls in the room, but I didn't care. There were more important matters happening here. Two of my best friends in the world liked each other and neither of them had any idea.

She answered me in a shout-whisper voice. "I didn't tell you because I knew you'd react this way! Now would you please sit down? People are staring!" Trish looked around at the spectators and tried to smile, smoothing her bangs down self consciously.

I rushed back into my seat, falling back down into it in a heap. "Trish," I started.

"Please don't tell," Trish pleaded again, interrupting me. The level of mortification on her face was almost adorable.

"Trish!" I tried to keep from shouting, but she was making it hard not to. "He likes you!"

She looked like she'd been about to beg me not to tell again, but she stopped cold. "What?"

"Sam," I said, beaming at her from ear to ear. "Sammy likes you. He likes you so, so much."

Her normally calm brown eyes had become wide, her brow furrowed. She looked like she was scared to believe me. "How do you know?" She asked. "Do you know for sure? Did he tell you that?"

I threw my hands up in exasperation. "Everyone knows! He didn't have to tell me. It's fact." I reached across the table, grabbing her hands in mine and squeezing. "He's liked you for years. Since he moved to Ocean Shores. And I don't think he's going to stop liking you any time soon."

Most of the uncertainty melted off of her face now, leaving a little glimmer of hope there instead. Her face was still pink, though. "Really?"

"Really." I wasn't sure if Sam would exactly like that I'd told his crush that he liked her, but in this case, I think it was okay. Considering he was her crush too, and all. I put her hands back on the table gently. "And don't worry, I won't tell anyone. But I think you should tell him." I shrugged a shoulder, smiling at her. "You've got nothing to lose."

Trish looked down at the table for a few moments, smiling to herself, and then she looked back up at me. She said softly, "You too, though. You have nothing to lose, either."

My smile faded a tiny bit. "I know. I'm gonna tell him, I promise. But I just need a little more time." I sighed. "I just need to make sure I feel okay again first. I don't want to start dating someone if I'm still sad about my ex. Trent really messed me up, you know?"

She nodded somberly. "Yeah, I know."

I continued. "And I just don't want Twister to have to deal with leftover Trent bullshit. I want our relationship to be about us, not about how my ex treated me." I pressed my lips together for a moment. My mind was racing. "But he's been so patient with me, and so sweet. And…amazing. I don't want him to feel like I'm rejecting him. It's been a month since I told him I needed time to give him an answer, and he hasn't pushed me or pressured me to answer once. I feel so guilty about it." I bit my lip.

Trish nodded again. "I'm sure he understands, though," she said. "Don't worry about it. Just take your time. You can't rush these things." She looked at her phone then, checking the time. "Oh, shoot! It's close to dinner time. We'd better head back toward the cabin so Ray doesn't bust us for being late."

Bundling all the way back up again, and taking the rest of our drinks in to-go cups, we trudged back into the snow with our snowboards in tow.

We made it back to the cabin just as Dad was taking dinner out of the oven, and Sam, my brother, and Twister had all made it back minutes before we had arrived. As we all sat down to dinner, talking about what each of us did that day, the conversation me and my best friend had at the café weighed heavily on my mind.

During dessert, I snuck a look at Twister across the table. He was already looking at me, and our eyes locked in an intensely intimate way that felt like more than just a gaze between two people.

I looked away first.

Chapter Text

Chapter Nine

-Sam's POV-

I threw my hands in front of me, catching myself and narrowly avoiding face-to-concrete contact. My fingerless boarding gloves took the worst of it for me, the rough material scraping hard against the ground.

"You okay, Sam?" I heard Twister call over to me. I swiveled my head to look in his direction, and he was turned away from Otto tearing up the half-pipe, camera in hand and squinting at me. It was sunny out, the first sunny day we'd had in a while. Southern California was having its infamous rainy season, and we'd decided to take advantage of the good weather. Well, except for Reggie—she was doing something with Trish today. And avoiding Twister, probably.

I sighed, picking myself up off the ground and nodding. "Yeah, I'm fine. Thanks Twist." At my response, Twister smiled and quickly turned back to Otto. I trudged over to where my skateboard had rolled after my sad attempt at riding the rail.

I picked it up and stared at it in my hands, frowning. Admittedly, it had been a while since I'd been able to come to Madtown with the guys, with all of my AP classes and cramming in extra credits I needed before graduation, but I didn't think I would be that rusty. It wasn't like I had come up to Otto's level of boarding, but I'd made some progress over the years. My boarding skills had probably become equal to Twister's skills in more recent years, and I almost never fell anymore—well, until now. A few months away from my skateboard and it was like I'd gone back to my Squid days.

Despite all the wiping out, though, I was glad I came. I'd wanted to go out there and get my mind off of things.

The end of January was nearing, and it had been almost a month since our cabin trip over the holidays. Coming back to Ocean Shores and going back to school after the holiday was an adjustment, as it always was. But it was almost impossible not to keep thinking about that trip.

During the night, as I tried to fall asleep, I found myself going back and thinking over every little moment I'd spent with Trish. Every little moment she'd looked at me. Every moment she laughed at something, her nose scrunching up as I felt something inside me die a little bit. The way she'd looked out in the snow, radiant but serene at the same time.

And New Year's Eve.

On New Year's Eve, we'd found out about a party happening at the main lodge up at the resort, and the whole gang went—except for Ray and Tito, they had decided to celebrate back at the cabin, probably knowing the party would most likely be full of loud teenagers anyway.

And it was. There was probably every teenager in the resort at that party, and even though I didn't normally go to that many parties myself, even I had to admit it was a blast. All of us mostly stayed together and then rang in the New Year together.

When the ball dropped on the television though, something strange happened. Otto, Reggie and Twister were cheering and hollering with the rest of the crowd—although the latter two had a slight awkward moment where they looked at each other and then quickly looked away. But as there were couples everywhere kissing, and even some strangers, and I found myself looking around at them in envy, I glanced at Trish—and she was already looking at me. Her cheeks were pink, and as soon as I looked at her, she quickly looked away, blinking furiously.

And then almost as quickly as she'd looked away, she looked me again, shyly. "Happy New Year, Sam," she'd said. She was playing with the ends of her long hair, and seemed…uneasy. I was so used to seeing Trish look confident and calm and self assured that nervousness looked so different on her.

I was suddenly hyper aware of all the people making out around us, and I suddenly felt very, very anxious. I cleared my throat. "Happy New Year, Trish." I'd said back.

We'd looked at each other for a little while after that, with a strange sort of hesitant, expectant aura between us, and then we turned away from each other, wishing our other friends a Happy New Year. The rest of the night, we avoided each other.

Whether it was because of the rush of excitement from the start of the New Year, or the punch that someone had spiked, I didn't know. But I couldn't stop thinking of that moment.

Not just the way she'd been looking at me, but that pause. The space of time when both of us were frozen, staring at each other, and all the noise melted away and it felt like no one else was there anymore.

I couldn't put my finger on why, but that moment felt so profound, and I knew I'd probably never forget it.

Sighing and putting my skateboard back on the ground, I rode over to stand beside the half-pipe where Twister was standing, recording footage of Otto dominating as usual, doing all sorts of tricks and flips and soaring effortlessly like he had wings. A crowd of younger skaters had gathered on the other side of it, watching him in awe and amazement as per usual.

Finishing off his set by leaping off his board and landing on the left deck, grabbing his board mid air, he bowed deeply as the crowd erupted in cheers. Coming back up from his bow, his long dreadlock ponytail whipping back, he waved at them all and shouted, "Thank you, thank you!" He slid down the ramp, came to our side and hopped onto the ground, smiling proudly.

I pounded fists with him, grinning. "Nice one, Otto!"

"Dude, you're on fire today!" Twister exclaimed, also offering his fist to pound, and Otto followed suit. "I got great footage, too. This is going straight to YouTube." He leaned around Otto to shout at the small crowd, who was still lingering, "Check the official Ottoman channel tonight, footage from today will be up!" More cheers came then and Twister gave them a thumbs up.

Otto waved at them again as the crowd began to dissipate, and then turned to Twister and laughed, clapping him on the back. "You're the best unofficial manager ever, bro."

Twister closed his camera and put it in its case, dropped the case into his backpack and stood up, shrugging. "Well you didn't become a YouTube sensation for nothing, man." He smirked, pointing to himself and continued, "But someone's gotta do all the work to keep up the views."

A few years back, a video compilation of Otto shredding that Twister had posted on the website had gone viral with 20 million views. Otto was somewhat of a celebrity among the extreme sports Internet communities, although he didn't go on the Internet much himself. He even had multiple fan blogs dedicated to him, but it didn't even seem to faze him. It was funny, we all had always known that he would become famous in some way or another, but I never imagined it would be this way. Out of us all, I had least expected Otto to become the Internet mogul. If anything, I thought my technology tutorial videos would have gotten mildly popular—alas, they never got over 1,000 views. So went my aspirations of Internet fame.

Satisfied with our trip to Madtown, after stopping to say bye to Conroy, we decided to head to the Shack for some food.

We'd been sitting there, talking, eating and enjoying each other's company, for about ten minutes or so, when we heard someone walk into the restaurant.

Twister had been asking me different questions about the video editing software I'd leant him recently when he turned his head to see who'd walked in, his eyes grew wide, and he nudged my arm. Seeing his shocked expression, I turned to see who it was.

It was Trish, standing under one of the archways at the entrance of the Shack, silent, unsure looking and staring straight at me. I dropped my hot dog back onto my plate, great anxiety and dread and glee rising up inside me all at once.

Before I could think of anything to say first, she was stomping right up to me with an unexpectedly steely, determined look on her face, her gaze unwavering. She stopped a foot in front of me. "Sam," she said, in a clear voice, "Can I talk to you alone for a minute?"

I took a breath, my mouth dropped open like an idiot, and I glanced over at Twister helplessly. He nodded at me and mouthed, 'Go, go!' at me, pushing me off my stool.

I landed heavily on my feet and caught the edge of the countertop to keep from stumbling and falling onto the ground. "Uh, s-sure," I said, and then I straightened my glasses and cleared my throat. "Sure Trish."

She turned on her heel, walking out of the restaurant briskly, and I stumbled after her, following her uneasily. I took one last glance back at Twister and Otto, and they both shrugged at me, seemingly as puzzled as I was. What was it that she wanted to talk to me about? Was she mad at me? Did I do something that bothered her? And where were we going, anyway?

I voiced the last question aloud. "Um, Trish? Where are we going?"

"The beach. I know it's too cold to go out in the water today, but I just wanted to go sit in the sand. It puts me at ease," she said over her shoulder as we walked down the steep ramp off the boardwalk that lead to the beach. When we got to the bottom of it, she turned, looking at me warily. "Is that okay?"

Of course, I should have realized. She even came to the beach when it was chilly outside. Always near her ocean. "Of course," I said, nodding and offering her a grin. "It'll be nice to go there. I haven't been there in a while."

Before turning around and continuing to walk, she smiled back at me, for maybe the first time since she showed up, and it put me at ease, knowing she wasn't angry.

We walked onto the beach, and it was almost completely empty. Tourists only flooded our beaches during Spring Break and the warmer months, so the rest of the time it was locals only. It was tranquil and quiet. I could understand why Trish wanted to come here to talk.

Finding a nice spot to sit away from everyone else, and far enough away from the water that we wouldn't get ambushed with waves, we sat down together, leaving about a foot of space in between us. Sitting alone on the beach with Trish made me feel like pinching myself, just to make sure I wasn't in the middle of one of my extended fantasies. I'd always daydreamed of moments like this—during breaks in class when we didn't have class work, during drives to and from school, before I went to sleep at night and I dreamed about her some more. But this was no daydream.

Interrupting my thoughts, Trish turned to me suddenly, scooting her entire body to face mine. "So, you're probably wondering why I brought you all the way out here just to talk. Right?"

I paused for a moment, and then turned my body to face hers too, folding my legs. "Yeah, kind of," I admitted.

She made this soundless little chuckle, air blowing out of her nose, and my stomach did a flip. "I just…wanted some privacy. I didn't really want the guys to hear us talking."

"Right, okay," I replied, nodding. I cocked my head and gave her a slight smile. "So…what are we talking about that you didn't want the guys to hear?"

Her hands were digging into the sand busily, and she was biting her lip. She was so anxious. Why? "I…wanted to apologize."

I was taken aback. "To me? For what?" What would she possibly have to apologize to me for? I couldn't think of any reason.

Her hands stopped moving, and slowly, she brought them back in front of her, brushing the sand off of them. She stared down at them. Looking like that, and with the way she was acting so nervously, for the first time to me, she seemed small. She had paused for so many beats that I wasn't sure if she was done talking or not, but then she finally answered. "For being a coward."

Hearing her call herself that, something inside of me throbbed painfully. I leaned forward, frowning at her, my voice serious as I said, "Please don't say that. What makes you think that you're a coward?"

She was still staring at her hands, and she didn't take one glance up at me at all. Just as I was starting to worry, she took a breath and said, "I'm a coward because I've never told you how I feel about you."

That exact moment, I swear my heart stopped. "…What do you mean?" I couldn't say anything else, I couldn't make any other words come out of my mouth. A breeze was starting to pick up, and it had just enough of the bite of winter in it to suddenly make me think of Winter Break. My heart was picking up pace.

"You know…" she trailed off, tucking some of her hair behind her ears as it began to fly into her face. She still didn't look at me. "I can handle the waves as if they're a part of me. I can handle interviews just fine. Being in front of cameras and strangers, fine, whatever, I can deal with it." She stopped again, and suddenly she was looking at me. "So why is it that whenever I'm around you, I'm terrified?" In the distance, the ocean was stirring, waves beginning to roar and curl violently.

And then my heart took a nosedive into my stomach. "You're…scared of me?" I couldn't believe she was opening up to me like this. She'd never spoken to me this way before. But what she was saying was bewildering me. It almost sounded like…but no, she wouldn't. There was no way she would.

Right?

She was looking at me with this look in her eyes…almost like mystification and helplessness at the same time. As if the storm brewing in the sky was reflected in her eyes. "No, I'm not scared of you. I'm scared of the way you make me feel." Her brow was furrowed into almost a frown.

I swallowed. I couldn't move. "How…do I make you feel?" Was this happening? Was this actually happening to me? In my mind, I must have tried to calculate the probability of this hundreds of times. The possibility of finding someone that I loved that would also love me back always seemed so unlikely to me. The likelihood was so low that I never once considered that it would really happen to me. I thought it was almost impossible.

So, how was it possible that it could've been happening right now?

"Like…" she momentarily paused, looking out at the ocean, watching the ferocious waters with a look of serenity. Her voice was quieter when she continued. "Like the first day of school and riding a big wave, all at once. Nervous, terrified, exhilarated," she looked up at me again, her eyes soft and scared. "And like the water in Hawaii. Warm." Her eyes locked with mine. "That's how you make me feel."

I was breathing hard. Suddenly, I was scooting closer to her, my heart screaming and my hands trembling. Instantly, the words I thought I'd always keep a secret deep inside of me left my mouth. "Trish, I'm in love with you." I scooted even closer, and sand was getting into my sneakers, but I didn't care.

Her cheeks flooded pink, tears beginning to form in her eyes. "You love me?" Her mouth was open in disbelief.

"Of course," I said, and instantly I knew that was the truth. Maybe I had always known. My stubborn brain had just kept rationalizing it when there was nothing to rationalize about. It was a fact of the universe. Two plus two equaled four. Spring came after winter, and then came summer, and then autumn. The Earth was the third planet from the Sun. We lived in the Milky Way galaxy, a tiny little speck among countless specks of an even tinier speck of the entire universe. And I was in love with Trish.

That small percentage of probability had come and snuck up on me as I remained oblivious, and maybe a little naïve. I'd been so obsessed with the low likelihood of possibilities that I'd become blind to the possibility right in front of me. There were more exceptions than rules in life, especially with those lucky enough to find love. And somehow, now, I'd become one of the exceptions. Trish had become my exception.

Trish was looking at me in a way I never even imagined. "Why didn't you tell me?" There were tears rolling down her cheeks, her voice was high and breaking and vulnerable, and it was the most beautiful sound I'd ever heard.

Hesitantly, I reached for her hands and held them in mine. Her hands were long fingered, soft, and so lovely. I never thought I'd ever get to touch her, let alone hold her hands. "Why didn't you tell me?"

Unexpectedly, she smiled wistfully, and then she sighed. "Because I'm a coward, remember?" She sniffed, shaking her head slowly. "And I'm sorry."

"Don't apologize." I gazed at her, feeling every night I'd ever stayed awake until morning thinking of her crash into this single moment. This moment that I never thought I'd have with her. This moment I would never let go of for as long as I lived. "I'm a coward too," I paused for a moment, a smile growing on my face that I just couldn't seem to help. "We can be cowards together."

Trish looked down at our hands, and then rearranged them so that our fingers were laced together. She looked back up at me from underneath her bangs, staring right into my eyes, and my heart lurched. "Sam Dullard, I really, really like you. You're my favorite boy in the entire world." She smiled, and it was embarrassed, but bright and beaming. "Please go out with me."

My heart was beating so hard inside of me that I was sure she heard it. I was so overwhelmed that I could barely breathe—but part of me realized that whipping out my inhaler would ruin the moment, so I refrained. I leaned toward her ever so carefully, slowly, and kissed her on the cheek gently. "I would never say no to you, Trish. Not in a hundred years." I paused. "I know the phrase usually goes, 'not in a million years', but technically that's scientifically inaccurate, considering the average human lifespan is only—"

And then for the first time, the first of many, Trish cut me off with her lips on top of mine; effectively shutting me up mid-rant in a way no one had before.

It was extraordinary.

-Otto's POV-

A knock came at my door. "Yeah?" I called. I clicked 'submit' on a response for a comment on my fan page. Every once in a while, after school, I liked to go there and read fans comments, give them some likes, respond to some of them. They always loved it when I did that. What could I say? I was a real fan pleaser.

The door opened and someone walked in, and then I heard my sister's voice. "Hey, bro. Can I talk with you for a sec?"

I swiveled around, turning away from my desk and looking at her. She rarely came into my room these days, although maybe most of the time she just didn't wanna accidentally walk in on me and Clio. Right now she was hovering near my doorway, and she had the strangest look on her face. I slowly closed my laptop. Something was up. "Sure, Reg. What's up?"

Her fingers were tapping against the wall behind her. "Well…I came to ask you something." She looked like she wanted to come closer, but at the same time, she looked like she didn't.

"Ask me what?" I was starting get weirded out by her hesitation. Why was she acting all wonky? I gestured to my bed. "Come sit down."

Reggie came over and sat on the edge of my bed, and then gave me another weird look.

I sighed hard, rolling my eyes. "Reg, why're you acting so weird? Just come out with it!"

"Okay, okay!" Reggie took a deep breath, probably to calm herself, and then she said it. "Otto…how do you feel about Twister and me?"

Taken by surprise, my eyebrows shot up. Well. No wonder she'd been acting weird. Taking a deep breath myself, I folded my arms. "How do I feel about it? Honestly?"

"Honestly," Reg echoed. "Don't hold back. I'm serious." She did look serious. She also looked kinda nervous, which made me feel a little nervous, too, for some reason.

"Honestly…" I started, leaning back in my desk chair and keeping my arms folded. I frowned, considering very carefully what I was going to say next. I blew out the breath that I was holding with puffed out cheeks. "I'm surprised you guys have taken this long."

She stared at me, shocked. "Wait…" she paused, and she just kept on staring. More than looking shocked, she looked confused. "Really?"

I couldn't help smirking a little bit, and I nodded. "Really," I said simply. "It's time, isn't it? You guys are finally gonna date, aren't you?"

She was shaking her head—not as an answer, it seemed, but in disbelief. "But…aren't you gonna get upset? Throw a huge tantrum? Get all dramatic? Demand that we never hang out with each other ever again?"

I scoffed, holding my hands up in defense. "Why the hell would I do that?"

"Because," she gestured at me wildly. "You're Otto."

"I may be Otto," I said, leaning forward in my chair, smiling widely and resting my elbows on my knees, "But I'm not an idiot. Did you think I wouldn't notice that my best bud and my sister have had something between them for a while?" I paused, laughing, "Besides, it's not like Twist ever made his feelings for you a secret. Who do you think had to sit and listen to how miserable he was over you, month after month, year after year? Really, it was just a matter of when he finally told you and when you would realize how you felt about him."

She was still looking at me, amazed. "He…talked about me to you?"

"All the time. Constantly. Wouldn't shut up about you," I said. "Every single freaking day."

Reggie took this in, breaking her bewildered stare at me to look down at her own hands bashfully. My God. She was gone. She was so far gone. Over my best friend.

"I mean, it's not that I'm not weirded out by it. I am a little bit," I admitted to her. Then I shrugged. "But it's not my business anyway. And I move on from stuff fast. I'll get over it." I smiled at her.

She looked up at me again, cocking her head to the side and raising an eyebrow. "And it's not like I need your approval, anyway," she stopped. "But before we start anything, I just wanted to know how you felt about it. It has to be weird for you—your best friend, who's practically your brother, and your sister—"

"Yeah, don't remind me," I interrupted, closing my eyes and grimacing. "Like I said, yeah, it's a little weird. But the both of you mean the world to me, and I just want you guys to be happy. Even if that means it's with each other." I took a lengthy pause, opening my eyes again and looking at her grimly. "And I haven't always paid attention to your happiness in the past. Especially with the people you were dating. And for that…I'm sorry."

A few weeks ago, Reg finally confided in me that Trent had cheated on her and had been mentally abusive towards her. When she had told me everything, I thought of every weird feeling I'd had when I'd been around them, and I realized it hadn't just been my imagination. I felt like shit for letting that happen to her right under my nose. Looking back, when she'd been with him, she changed a lot. I should have realized it myself. Some brother I was.

I swore to myself that I would never let that happen to her again, that I would stand up for her next time. I hoped that she'd be with some one that I could trust. And if there was anyone I truly trusted, to the point of trusting him with my whole life, it was Twister.

My sister returned my serious gaze, nodded, and then looked away, blinking hard. "Geez, little bro. You're gonna make me cry."

"Don't cry. You look funny when you cry. I'd laugh and ruin this moment we're having." I nudged her shoe with mine and she smiled. I continued, "Anyway, I'm not worried. You shouldn't be worried, either. Chill out, okay? I know he'll treat you right. That dude's crazy about you. He…loves you. To pieces."

Reggie nodded, smiling to herself. She knew.

"It won't change our crew. It'll probably make it better, actually. Then you guys can stop being all weird and avoiding each other. So go for it, okay? Just get together, already!" I stood up from my chair, came over to the bed and plopped down next to her, pounding my fist with hers. Then I abruptly changed my expression, mock-glaring at her, and I began to threaten, "But if you ever hurt my best friend—"

I couldn't even get the whole joke out before she busted up laughing and punched me in the arm, and I laughed too. When she finally stopped laughing, she smiled at me solemnly. "Did I ever tell you you're the best brother ever?"

"Once or twice, maybe," I said, tipping my aviator sunglasses to rest on the tip of my nose. "But if you want to say it a thousand more times, be my guest."

She rolled her eyes at me, but she still smiled. I smiled back.

-Reggie's POV-

"Reggie!" Tito was calling me from the kitchen. "I have to make an errand run before the market closes. Could you close up for me?"

"Sure, Tito," I called back, stacking all the plates from table three onto my tray. Today had been a busy day at the Shack. I'd started doing more work at the restaurant lately—had to get some more college money saved up somehow—and today my dad had the stomach flu back at home, so it was mostly me and Tito working things today. Saturdays were always swamped, and this one was no exception.

Sammy had managed to help out a little bit earlier, but then Trish came to see him and that help ended rather swiftly as they headed to the movie theater. They were adorable, my God they were, but there were so many customers today that it was like we were drowning in them. But he'd helped out for a little bit at least, and I was thankful for it. Besides, I hadn't had the heart to keep the two new lovers apart. I was so glad that Trish took my advice after all; I'd spent that whole day coaching her and telling her all the reasons why confessing to Sam was worth it. After reassuring her for the 50th time, she'd rushed over to the Shore Shack and found him, and now here they were. They'd gone on at least six dates over the past few weeks—they had a lot to catch up on in terms of getting to know each other, after all—and inseparable, totally adorable. They were like two little shy puppies. I was so happy for the both of them. If I couldn't get my own happy ending, I was glad they could at least.

As I carried the dirty dishes to the back, Tito met me as he was heading out the back door. "Thanks for all your help today, little cuz'. Couldn't have done it without you here." He patted the top of my head. "Take tomorrow off, okay?"

I smiled in relief and gratefulness. Finally, a day off. "Thanks Tito," I said. I called after him as he left the restaurant, "Have a good Sunday!" He turned, waved at me, and then shut the door behind him.

It was completely dark outside, and cool and damp. It had rained earlier. Being early February, it was still wintertime. It felt like it had been winter for forever. But it felt that way every year, the coldest and dreariest season always dragging on and on to no end. I missed being warm. I missed the summer.

I went back to the front again, making sure that there were no more customers left inside, and then grabbing a step stool from behind the counter, I began pulling down all the shutters on the front archways. I'd gotten halfway through when I heard someone walk in. Without looking over my shoulder, I took a breath to tell whoever they were that the Shack was closed—and then they spoke before I could.

"Hello? Tito? You here?" It was Twister's voice.

I jumped off of the stool that I was standing on…well, sort of fell, actually. At least I managed to land on my feet. "Twister!" I exclaimed, and my voice seemed loud in the empty restaurant. I lowered my voice. "Hi."

He turned quickly, rattled, and stared at me for a few moments. Our eyes locked, and then he looked away first, looking at the floor. "Oh, hey. I didn't know you were working today."

Even though he'd looked away, I couldn't peel my eyes off of him. About a week ago, he'd gotten a haircut—an undercut, with the sides and back of his head down to a buzz cut, and the rest on the top was kept long and tangled and pushed back out of his eyes and GOD. It was so hot on him that it made my insides tremble. All week I'd been sneaking glances at it, torturing myself with thoughts of how it would feel to run my hands through it.

After realizing I'd just been standing there staring at him, I made myself speak. "Uh, yeah. Yeah, I was just closing up." Then something else occurred to me, and I formulated a more helpful response. "If you're looking for Tito, he left about five minutes ago. Do you need help with something?" I sounded so formal, I hated it. I just wanted things between us to be comfortable again.

Twister shook his head, and some of his hair fell into his eyes. My stomach dropped down to the floor. "No, that's okay. I just wanted to talk to him about…" he trailed off, waving his hand and looking embarrassed about whatever it was. "Anyway, I'll just talk to him tomorrow. I'll get out of your way. Night, Reg." He turned to leave.

I took a step after him. "Twist, wait!" He stopped immediately, and I stopped too, shocked at myself for calling after him. But deep down, I knew I needed to. We were alone for the first time in months. I couldn't screw this up. Trish had taken her chances and finally said what she needed to say. It was my turn now. I spoke quieter as I asked, "Can we talk?"

He turned around, putting his hands down deep in the pockets of his hoodie and gazing at me evenly. He wore an expression that I couldn't quite place. "Depends."

I frowned slightly. "On what?"

"On whether it's a good talk or a bad talk." He seemed like he was only half joking.

Letting out a breath, I chuckled a little bit, appreciating the small joke. It helped dissipate some of the tension between us. "Let me just close the rest of these. Sit tight." I backed away and went to each of the rest of the archways and closed their shutters, feeling anxious and jittery.

By the time I had finished and put the step stool away, he was sitting down at one of the tables, watching me patiently. Just like he'd always been with me. Patient.

I went over to the table he sat at and sat across from him, feeling him staring at me but not being able to return his gaze just yet. There had to have been thousands of thoughts swimming around in his mind at that moment. It probably didn't help that I was so nervous, I knew he could tell. He always seemed to know exactly how I was feeling. Somehow that made me even more nervous.

Plus, there was the problem of where to start. What was I supposed to say first? There were so many things I wanted to say, and I didn't know what to start with. And I'd never done this before.

"Reg," Twister spoke up suddenly, and it made me jump. "Is everything okay?"

I looked up at him finally, and when I saw the look of innocent and sweet concern on his face—always caring about me, always concerned, always looking out for me—suddenly, I knew exactly where to start. I took a deep breath. "Everything's okay, I promise. First, I just…wanted to say I'm sorry."

"You're saying sorry to me?" His look of concern was turning into wariness. "Why?"

It was time. Don't back out, now, I told myself. Spit it out. "For avoiding you. And for making you wait for so long." I was staring down at the table again, feeling the guilt plain on my face. "For making you wait for my answer. You've been so patient with me." Without looking up at him, I reached across the table and touched one of his hands. "Thank you."

"You don't have to apologize," he said. His voice was deeper, even deeper than usual, and I wondered what his face looked like right now. "You don't have to thank me, either."

"Yes, I do." I replied. I tightened my grip on his hand. "And I have to thank you for being so caring and wonderful even when I was too blind to pay any attention. When I think of what you might've gone through, especially the past year, I feel so bad. I was dating the world's biggest jackass and you were still so kind to me. I changed so much of myself because of him and you still loved me." I finally looked up at him now, and I felt like I was on the brink of tears. I held them back, though. "So, yes, I do have to thank you."

He was gazing back at me, brown eyes wider than usual, and his face had begun to turn pink. He shook his head. "Thank yourself for making it impossible for me not to love you. Even when you date jackasses." The left side of his face jerked upwards in a half smile, and then it faded quickly from his face. He looked down, turned the hand that I was holding around slowly, and locked our fingers together. His hand engulfed mine. When had it gotten so big? When had he gotten so much taller, in general? I'd always known he was tall, but it was like I'd never really noticed until recently. Or maybe I'd just forgotten. Or maybe I'd forced myself not to notice. My throat went dry. He continued, quieter, "So that's your answer, then. You wanted to thank me." He looked like he was fighting hard to keep his face composed.

Realizing what he meant, I gasped. "No, no!" I was shaking my head fervently. "No, that's not my answer. I just wanted to say that first."

Twister sat up a little straighter. "Oh," he said, pausing. "Sorry. Go ahead."

Suddenly feeling paralyzed, I stared down at our hands in the middle of the table. Wrapped up together. His thumb gently massaging mine. Just like the night he told me he loved me. The way I'd thought of it happening a million different times. My skin felt electrified.

I continued. "Twister…I've thought this conversation over at least a hundred times in my head. I've even had dreams about it. I planned out everything that I thought I'd say, down to every last word. I thought I'd know exactly what to say, and how to say it, in the moment. Turns out I don't." A wry smile spread on my face. "But I am a writer for a reason, you know. I have so many thoughts about things that never come out right when I say them out loud. I've never been that good at speaking when it really mattered. Not like you. Lately."

Back when we were kids, he'd say really dumb stuff most of the time. Now, he could be really insightful when he wanted to be, and he could say the most amazing things sometimes. There were times when he left me in awe.

"That's not true," he said, shaking his head. "I'm not that good at that, except when it comes to you. But you're great at encouraging people."

I shrugged. "Yeah, but when it comes to my own feelings, I can't do it. It's hard for me to talk about them, and it's hard for me to be honest about how I feel." I took another deep breath and blew it out. "Anyway, I guess what I'm trying to get at is…a few times, I considered writing you a letter. That way, I could say everything that I was thinking and not sound like an idiot. But then I realized, one: it's not the nineteenth century. And two: I was making it more complicated than it needed to be. It doesn't have to be complicated at all. And it isn't. I just…" I smacked my free hand to my forehead, closing my eyes. God, I sounded like a crazy person. Maybe I should have written the letter. My face was burning.

I felt Twister move, and when I opened my eyes reluctantly to look at him, I saw him scooting his chair around the table, moving it closer to me. He still held my hand tightly. He was much closer than before, and when he spoke, I felt his breath on my face. Warm and minty. "Hey, it's okay, Reg. Don't be embarrassed. I'm listening."

The sound of his tender voice so close had me abruptly standing up, dropping his hand and walking to the counter. My voice began to rise with my frustration. "I am embarrassed, though. I'm reallyembarrassed." I lifted my heavy, curly mass of hair away from my neck. Why was it suddenly scorching hot? My pulse was fast and I felt like the world was tilting.

Twister stood up too, taking a few steps toward me but stopping just short of following me all the way, frowning. He looked confused. "Why?"

I leaned back against the counter, feeling the edge of it against my back. I dropped my ponytail and let my hands fall at my sides heavily. Now my voice had risen to a shout. "Because all of this time, I've been such a moron! I'm so frustrated at myself, I've been so—" I felt myself losing control. All of my emotions were welling up inside me, growing and overflowing and I suddenly felt like I was gonna cry. And suddenly, uncontrollably, it all spilled out of me with the force of a tidal wave crashing over a sea wall. "I can't believe I lied to myself for so long. I can't believe I ever fooled myself into thinking that I wasn't in love with you." The tears were coming out now, and there was no stopping them. "I can't believe I've wasted so much time."

He flew to me and unexpectedly he was right in front of me, staggering height and his hands at either side of me on the counter top, chest heaving, his face close to mine. "Reggie?"

I felt like I couldn't breathe. I struggled to speak as I began to sob. My voice was high, frantic. "I'm sorry it took me so long. I should have realized it forever ago. I'm so sorry."

Twister was shaking. He brought his hands to my face, wiping my tears. As I blinked more tears from my vision, I saw his face. Open and raw emotion was all over it, his eyes brimming with his own tears. "Reggie, oh my God. Reggie." He held my face again, strong but soft and loving and adoring. "Mi cielo."

"You've always been here. You've always been in my life. I don't know when I started feeling this way. But it feels like I have for a long time." I'd begun shaking too. I was crying so hard I could barely get words out. "I think I was scared of how strongly I feel about you. It still scares me. I've never felt this way. Not even with him." I didn't dare speak his name in this moment. He didn't matter now, anyway. He didn't matter anymore. "You know how much I like to be in control. My feelings for you have never been something I could control. It scares me."

He let go of my face and wrapped his arms around me tightly, bending down to bury his face into the crook of my neck. "I understand. It scares me too."

Now that I was positive that I wasn't going to collapse onto the floor, I detached my hands from the edge of the counter top. I reached up with one, smoothing over his hair the way I'd been craving to do. My heart was still pounding. "But I know it only scares me because it's real. It wouldn't terrify me if this wasn't the real thing. Maurice," his real name rarely ever left my lips, but it felt right to use now. Twister was my friend, one of the guys, my brother's best friend. Maurice was the man I loved. Maurice was my soul mate. "We can't waste any more time. We've lost too many years being too afraid to do anything. This is it now. We can't afford to lose any more time to fear."

"I know. I know. We won't. I promise you." Maurice said, his voice right next to my ear, and then he came up again, his face right in front of mine. His eyes locked right onto mine, and the way he was looking at me made all of the air leave my lungs. Tears were rolling down his flushed, freckled cheeks. He was so beautiful. "God, I can't believe this is happening. I love you so much, Reg. I love you."

This time I wiped his tears, gently moving my thumbs across his face. I'd never touched his face before. Not like this. It was soft. "And I love you," I whispered. It was amazing how good it felt to say that to him. It felt like the words had just been locked up inside of me all this time, waiting to be used for him, and just him. I'd never meant them like this before. They weren't an obligation. They weren't an expectation. They were just truth.

From this moment, nothing would be exactly the same anymore, but I was ready. I was more than ready for this.

He groaned under his breath, his eyelids fluttered, and then he grinned in a cute flustered way. "I think I'm gonna pass out." It was so unexpected and adorable and so Twister that I had to laugh.

"Don't pass out, please." I said, smiling. "If you pass out, I won't be able to do this." Completely unable to control myself, I grabbed his collar hard, pulled his lips down to mine, and finally, finally, kissed Maurice Rodriguez on the lips for the very first time. Not even seconds later, my brain caught up to the rest of me, and I pulled away, bewildered.

Maurice was standing very still, looking astonished and lost, his mouth gone slack. "Whoa," he said.

"Oh my God." I let out an embarrassed-sounding giggle, waving a hand in front of his face. "You okay?"

"Yeah, just…holy shit." He brought up one of his hands to pull on his own hair in shock. "Holy shit. Reggie. You just kissed me. I can't believe you just did that. Holy shit."

"I couldn't help myself, I'm sorry." I was still giggling and I covered my face with my hands. Our first kiss had just been totally ruined because I couldn't contain myself. Nice going, self. "You don't know how long I've wanted to do that. I just…I've been waiting so long, and—" I felt him lean in close again, his cologne invading me, and I dropped both of my hands, suddenly not embarrassed anymore.

"That is definitely not something you need to apologize for, Reg. Really." He grinned at me slyly. "And I really don't think I'd mind if you did it again." His face was still red, as it had been this entire time, but there was the smallest sparkle of mischievousness in his eyes that made my mouth go dry in about two seconds.

With a purposeful slowness, I took the front of his hoodie into both of my hands again, keeping my eyes locked with his, and I lifted up onto my tip toes. I leaned up toward him as he leaned down toward me, his hands resting lightly on my hips. My skin felt like it was going to burn off. We leaned closer, closer, and…

My phone rang. We both groaned loudly, pulling away. What was it now? Aggravated, I yanked my phone out from my back pocket, recognizing the ringtone.

"Is it important?" Maurice asked, palpable disappointment on his face.

"It's Otto."

Gently, he took the phone from my hand, pressing 'Talk' and answering it himself. "What do you want, Otto?" He snapped at his best friend by way of greeting, leaning against the counter top. "Yes, you didinterrupt something. Flawless timing, bro."

I laughed and then covered my mouth with my hand. He looked over at me sidelong as my brother responded on the other end of the line, lifting his eyebrows at me dryly as he listened, and my heart jumped. God, he was so hot. After a few uh-huh's and all right's, he hung up, placing my phone on the countertop next to me. "What'd he want?" I asked.

"He said that Raymundo's throwing up again, and he needs you to pick up some more sports drinks and bread." He looked at me softly. "Sounds like a nasty stomach bug."

My stomach pinched at the thought of my dad. He'd been in bad shape that morning, and it seemed like he was still pretty ill. "Yeah," I said. Then I sighed, looking up at him. "I'd better go, then. Otto doesn't really know how to take care of sick people. I don't know what I was thinking leaving him there with Dad."

"Want me to come with you?" He reached up and lightly traced a finger across my forehead, brushing some hair away from my face, and goosebumps rose up on my skin. "I could play nurse for a while with you guys."

I shook my head, unyielding, grabbing his hand in mine and frowning at him. "Hell no. I'm not letting you get sick, too. No way. Not happening."

Maurice smiled hugely and goofily. He clearly enjoyed that I was concerned over him. He groaned then, leaning down over me again. "But what am I supposed to do, here? After all of this I can't say goodnight to you yet." He sighed. "I can't wait to kiss my girlfriend again." He paused, pointing at me. "That's you."

I laughed again. I couldn't stop laughing and smiling. My cheeks hurt, but I still couldn't stop. I was so happy that my head felt like it was floating. "Yeah, I figured." I answered. God, he was cute. And sexy. He was everything all at the same time. "You know, since you're my boyfriend, and everything."

"Then let me at least go to the grocery store with you. And then I'll walk you home," he said, biting his lip and looking shy. "Since that's what boyfriends do, and all."

Now I was the shy one. Twister was my boyfriend. I couldn't believe it. "Well, okay. If you insist." Smirking, I reached back and pulled out the car keys that were in my other back pocket. "But I drove the Woodie today, so I'll probably walk you home."

We left in the car, dropped by the market to get what I needed to get for Raymundo, and then drove home together, holding hands the entire time. After walking across the cul-de-sac with him, and climbing all of the steps with him to his front door, we said goodnight—with a hug. Somehow I'd lost all of the nerve I'd gotten earlier; we were both still flustered over everything that had happened, and I was in a hurry, so we decided a tight hug and a promise to call was enough for now.

After helping Otto out with Dad, and getting him everything he needed, I escaped to my room, taking out my phone and going straight into my Contacts.

Biting my lip with barely restrained excitement and giddiness, I scrolled down to 'Twister', and went to 'Edit Contact'. Backspacing his name, I typed there instead, simply, 'Maurice'. Somehow, that action alone felt so weighty and intense. It felt like my entire life had changed in just one night. Because it kinda had.

I stared at it for a long time, trying to calm all of the raging butterflies in my stomach, and then finally, I hit 'Call'.

It rang only once. "Hi," he said. I could hear the smile in his voice.

I smiled back. Maybe he could hear mine, too. "Hi."

Chapter Text

Chapter Ten

-Twister's POV-

"We're here!" I announced, stopping my car where some other cars were parked at the start of the Pier and cutting the engine. I turned in my seat to look over at my girlfriend in the passenger seat. Regina Rocket, in all of her perfection. My freaking girlfriend.

A week ago, she had confessed her feelings to me, about three months after I had confessed to her with frantic, drunken abandon. At first, I had been positive that I'd made a mistake telling her how I felt, and that I had ruined everything between us, but she had only needed some time to fully process everything. Breaking up with her ex had brought a whole bunch of personal issues to the surface for her, and she just needed some time to sort through them all.

Her confession had shaken me up to my core, and hearing her say that she loved me was like nothing I'd ever experienced in my whole life. We'd only been together for a week now, and I was only beginning to wrap my mind around everything—that this was actually happening.

This whole week as a new couple had been full of shyness and exploring new territory, along with reactions from people ranging from complete disbelief to 'well, duh'. Already, it was better than anything I could have ever dreamed up. After years of pining and wanting and craving, I could finally, finally say that Reggie was mine.

I was so glad that I waited. She was more than worth the wait. I would wait a hundred more times for her if I had to.

And now we were having our first official date on Valentine's Day. Usually people have their first date before declaring their love for each other, but obviously that wasn't our style. I was extremely nervous, and had been ever since I walked over to her house and picked her up at her front door just minutes before. I'd also spent the entire morning getting ready worriedly—I'd brushed my teeth twice before leaving the house, taken two showers, put on extra deodorant and cologne and even blow dried my hair. I hoped it looked good—at least, I hoped it looked good underneath the backwards snapback I'd thrown onto my head last minute. Wearing a hat sometimes still gave me a sense of security—old habits die hard.

I'd waited ages to go on a date with Reggie, and I didn't want to screw it up.

"I still don't see why we drove. We could've walked here," Reg said to me dryly as she undid her seat belt. She smiled back good-naturedly, though. "You know, like we usually do with the other guys?" She always looked great, but today she somehow looked even better to me than usual. I couldn't stop staring at what she was wearing—light blue, ripped skinny jeans that looked like they were painted on her shapely legs, a short red sleeveless shirt with a white heart on it that showed her toned stomach, and her usual white sneakers, which always looked like she'd bought them the day before. Effortlessly sexy—but that's Reggie for you. Sexy without even trying.

"True," I said, giving her a sheepish grin and rubbing the back of my neck, nervous. "But I didn't know if the temperature outside was gonna be cool or not…and I didn't want you to get too cold after we leave later. And also I thought maybe your feet might be sore afterwards, and I just thought—"

"Maurice," Reggie cut off my flow of words with the use of my real name, immediately stunning me silent. It'd been a whole week since she'd first started calling me by my birth name, and I still wasn't used to it…in a good way. It made my heart pound. The way she said my birth name, with affection and sweetness instead of mockery, made me go weak in the legs and in the stomach and basically everywhere else. It made it feel like she really did see me differently now, as her boyfriend instead of 'just Twister'. She was now officially one of the very few non-family people allowed to call me by that name. She continued, placing a soft hand on the side of my face and looking me right in the eyes. "I was just joking. That was very considerate of you. Thank you."

I felt the familiar heat in my face, which basically hadn't left for the past week, and I changed the subject, waving off her gratitude. "Would you like to exchange Valentine's gifts now or later?"

"Let's do it now," Reg said, reaching down and pulling a large wrapped red rectangle from the tote bag at her feet. Likewise, I reached back behind my seat for a plain purple gift bag, and I unsteadily exchanged it for the rectangle in her hands. Due to my crappy wrapping, all she had to do was look inside the bag to see what it was. She looked back up at me, grinning. "Cookies?" She eagerly pulled out the zip-lock bag inside full of heart shaped peanut butter cookies.

I returned her grin, fidgeting. "Yeah," I cleared my throat. "They're peanut butter ones. My mom helped me make them for you. I hope they're good." I'd tried to get rid of the ones with most of the burnt spots—which were most of the ones I'd made by myself. The ones my mom had made turned out the best.

Her grin had turned into a full-out beam, her eyes practically sparkling as she looked at them. "I can't believe you made these for me. I'm sure they're amazing. Thanks." She set them down in her lap lightly, careful not to break them, and then pointed to her gift. "Open yours!"

I immediately tore into the wrapping paper, reminding me of how I opened her framed picture at Christmas and having a moment of déjà-vu. I smiled to myself. Who'd have thought that by the time Valentine's Day came that we would be together?

The package fell open. My jaw dropped. I gawked down at the gift in my hands.

"Well?" Reggie goaded, seeing my reaction. "Do you like it?"

"Oh my God," I said. I had to blink a few times to keep my eyes from tearing up with sheer joy. In my hands was the most beautiful Valentine's Day gift I had ever received from anybody—a limited edition jumbo milk chocolate bar filled with bacon. I took a deep breath, clutching the chocolate bar to my chest and looking up at her, having one of the many realizations I'd had so far that week that I had the best girlfriend in the entire world.

She was smug, smiling proudly and twirling one of her violet curls around her finger. She'd known how much I'd love it. "Do I know you, or do I know you?"

"You're the best," I managed to get out, grappling with my emotions as I stared down at it again. A lone word on the package shone out as if under a spotlight. BACON. I hadn't even known that bacon chocolate bars existed until now. My life was changed forever. "You're the freaking best."

"I know," she said. She leaned over, kissing me on the cheek softly, snapping me out of my trance and making the heat return to my face again. "Happy Valentine's Day."

#

Hand in hand, we walked under the front archway, entering Dream Park on the Pier.

I'd been in this park probably a thousand times ever since we were kids, but towards the end of last year, it had gone through a huge revamp. Tons of rides had been added, along with more food and game stands, and all of the old rides had gotten new paint. They'd done it to appeal to more of the tourists—or as we always used to call them, Shoobies—who usually ended up clogging up the beach and Madtown in giant, socks-and-sandal-footed, visor-wearing, fanny-pack-wielding mobs. But today, it was perfect: not too crowded, but not too empty either. And after the makeover, now it was lively, colorful and almost like brand new. None of us had gotten the chance to come after all of the upgrades were finished, so it was really like visiting a brand new amusement park.

After we bought our tickets to the park and entered, Reggie and I looked around us in awe.

"I hardly recognize this place," Reggie said, lowering her red, heart-shaped sunglasses to get a good look. "It looks even better than it was before."

I smiled to myself in pride. It'd been a good decision to come here after all. "Looks like we have a lot of new rides to go on. What do you want to try first?"

She turned in my direction, peering over her glasses, and then smiled mischievously, pushing her sunglasses back over her eyes. "Everything," she said. She suddenly spotted a ride somewhere behind me and tugged on my hand, pulling me in its direction. "Oh man, we gotta try this one! Come on!"

"Okay," I said, letting myself be dragged. It took me a moment to process which ride we were headed towards, because all I saw was its' semi-long line, but finally I saw it looming high above us—a new metal roller coaster called The Brain Liquefier where the rider's feet dangle in the air. We stood in line for about ten minutes, hands linked and talking as the sun beat down on our heads and I relished in the envious looks that nearby dudes our age were sending me. 'Yeah, that's right.' I thought at them, self-satisfied. 'You can look all you want. But she's my girl. Be jealous. Seethe in envy.'

Trying to seem as casual as possible, I slung an arm around her shoulders, the same way I had done a few times earlier that week at school (to Otto's discontent). I peeked down at her face, and she was trying to hide a grin with her hand, turning a little pink underneath her huge sunglasses. Nope, still hadn't gotten old.

Finally it was our turn to get onto the ride, and we sat next to each other, sharing a car with two middle school girls. Seeing the looks they were giving me, Reggie sat in-between them and I, with me on the end. I snorted as we pulled down the guard and secured our seat belts. I murmured low so that only she could hear me, "You don't have to worry. They're a little young for me." I paused as she rolled her eyes, leaning close until my nose brushed her ear. "Besides, I've always liked older women more."

Just as she whipped her head around to gape at me in astonishment, the ride started—our car speeding forward with the clickety-clack of the tracks and the sound of my laughter.

#

We ambled away from the ride with wind-blown hair and flushed faces. I proclaimed, "That was the best!"

"You mean the greatest!"

"It was so fast, and those loops—"

She interjected with a hoot of exhilaration. "I totally thought I was gonna die!"

"Me too!" I shouted, and two older women walking by shot me looks of irritation. I cringed away from their glares in slight embarrassment. "Sorry," I muttered at them.

Reggie threw her head back and laughed. It was one of her rare hard, stomach-clutching, vein-standing-up-in-her-forehead laughs that I liked so much. "Just ignore them. Sticks in the mud," she said to me in between gasps of air, not bothering to lower her voice. Her laughter subsided and then she took my hand again, lacing hers with mine, leading me towards a stand. "We have to look at our picture. I bet we look crazy."

We stopped in front of the photo stand and looked at the screen where pictures from our turn on the ride were showing. Suddenly we appeared onscreen, and both of us burst into laughter this time. In the picture, both of us were screaming, our hands clutched together and held up in the air along with our other hands, and my other hand was holding my hat in it tightly so that it wouldn't fly away. It would almost be the perfect roller coaster picture—if the long part of my hair hadn't flopped down into my eyes, covering almost my whole face.

"My hair!" I exclaimed, pointing at myself in the picture and groaning. "I look totally lame."

"Your hair? What about mine? Look at it!" She pointed at herself onscreen, and when I looked I couldn't help but snicker. It was wild, wilder than usual, and blowing in all different directions. It didn't look bad, though. Actually, it almost looked like a fan was blowing it, like she was in a photoshoot or something. How did she do that?

"At least yours isn't in your face," I pointed out. I pulled my wallet out from my back pocket. "Let's buy it. You want just a photo or a keychain?"

She just looked at me for a moment, surprised, and then her smile was glowing. "A photo, so I can frame it." Reggie moved toward me without warning, taking my arm closest to her and hugging it to her body, hoisting up on her tip toes to rest her chin on my shoulder cutely. "You really don't have to."

My heart pounded hard at her sudden display of affection, making me shy for a moment or two. With Trent she used to be publicly affectionate, but I never expected she would ever be this way with me. I was having another moment where I was truly realizing that we weren't just friends anymore, we were a couple now, and it was the greatest feeling in the world. I was never going to get used to it. "Anything for you," I said to her softly. I handed a five over to the cashier sitting in the booth, requesting, "Two pictures, please."

The cashier gave us a voucher to pick up the pictures later, and we headed off to some of the other rides. We went on the Tilt-A-Whirl, the Sky Torpedo, then the bumper cars for nostalgia's sake, and then we went on this ride that spins you upside down over and over and over again and I was really glad that I hadn't eaten right before we came. After that, we decided to buy a cotton candy to share and then wandered around the game booths.

The day was unseasonably warm. It was the afternoon, but the sun was still burning bright, along with completely clear skies. No wonder there were crowds of locals everywhere today. The season of hibernation was ending, and everyone was coming out to play. It was a sign that spring was definitely on its' way early this year.

"Wait," I stopped suddenly at a game booth; it was a game where the player had to throw tennis balls at a faraway target. "I'm gonna win you something."

Reggie stopped with me, eyeing the game herself and then raising her eyebrows at me and grinning. "Are you sure about that?"

I sniffed. "Yeah, why not? It'll be easy. Watch." I squeezed her hand and then let go of it, walking right up to the smug-looking guy in the booth. I slapped down a five. "One round of balls, my dude."

The guy chuckled under his breath, pushing a small box of twelve tennis balls toward me. "Good luck, kid. You'll need it."

Shaking off his comment, I picked up my first ball, staring down the target. It was awfully small. It had looked bigger a moment ago. And it was really far away. Mustering up my strength, I threw the ball with all of my might. Whomp—it flew into the padded wall behind the target.

"That was close," Reggie commented behind me. "Maybe try to aim more to the left?"

"You're right, more to the left," I agreed, reaching back into the box for my second ball. "I got this, I got this." Aiming more to the left, I summoned up my strength, clenched my muscles, threw the ball and—it flew into the padded wall on the left side of the target. My shoulders sagged.

A moment of silence. "That was still really close!" My girlfriend said with a little too much enthusiasm. The dude running the booth opened a can of soda, taking a drawn out, noisy sip.

"Come on," I said to myself, picking up another ball and clenching my teeth. I threw this one, and it fell too short, sailing directly underneath the target. I quickly threw another one, and it fell even shorter. Booth Dude laughed loudly. His attitude was adding to my mortification at not being able to hit the target, further riling me up, and I grabbed my fifth ball and threw it wildly. It went directly over the target, again striking the wall behind it. "Dammit!" I shouted.

Smug Booth Dude was even smugger, drinking his soda and eyeing me like I was some sort of out of shape weakling, even though he himself had a beer gut. "Told you you'd need that luck," he said to me.

Suddenly Reggie was right next to me, lifting her sunglasses to rest on top of her head, glaring at him and folding her arms. "Excuse you? There's no need to be rude. He's trying his best." A few people walking by had stopped to watch this exchange, sensing a conflict. I wished they would keep walking. My face was flushed red in frustration and shame.

He laughed loudly again, laughed so hard that it dissolved into coughs. "I'm just being honest, Princess. Your little boyfriend can't throw for shit." He took another sip of his soda, waving his hand at her dismissively. "Though it's not like you could do better." The small crowd around us chorused in 'ooh's.

My mouth dropped open. Oh. Oh no. He did not just say that. Not to my girlfriend. I was fuming, but I was not the person he should've been the most worried about at that moment. I looked down at Reggie. Her face was a terrifying scarlet, her eyes narrowed. "What did you just say to me?" She grabbed the box of balls from my grasp, nudging me to the side in a gentle way despite her rare temper currently making an appearance. "Excuse me, sweetie. I need to make this son of a bitch eat his words."

"Oh, what's this? Is Princess gonna try to throw? Ooooh, I'm so scared!" Booth Dude's voice had grown in volume, the mocking tone grown stronger, and I felt the glower on my face, my fists clenched tightly at my sides. I wanted to punch him in his stupid face so bad. But then we'd probably be kicked out of the park, or arrested, and that would probably ruin our first date.

Besides, I knew Reg would show him. She would do it the way she always proved people wrong. She picked up a ball, gripping it hard, and backed up a few steps, staring hard at the target in absolute concentration. I recognized the fire in her eyes. I stepped back too, giving her some space.

"If this tiny thing could even graze that target with a ball, I swear, I would give her two prizes." He laughed again, cackling and hacking, looking around at the crowd to get them to laugh too. "But there's no way in hell that's gonna happ—"

Wham—the sound of the target being hit at warp speed. I swiftly turned my head to look. Alarms sounded off along with lit signs flashing the words, 'Bull's-eye! Top prize!' all over the booth. The crowd erupted in loud applause and 'wow's around us. Pride rose up and exploded inside of me like an entire firework show. I gaped at her in wonder. I'd had no doubt she was going to be able to do it, but the bull's-eye? In one try?

She was remarkable.

Arms folded and head held high, superiority in her eyes and completely radiant with confidence, Reggie turned slowly towards Booth Dude, whose face had gone slack in incredulity and had dropped his soda can onto the ground. She scrutinized him with the poised gaze of a lioness. "You were saying?" She held up two pretty, manicured fingers. "Two prizes, right?"

She was back. Officially.

Reggie Rocket had fully returned in all of her glory.

Forced to own up to the promise he'd made in front of a whole crowd of people, Booth Dude resentfully let us pick out one prize each—two matching medium-sized stuffed green aliens with giant heads, both holding plushy red hearts in their hands. We walked away from that booth, hand in hand, and as we did, I wondered how I ever got so lucky to be able to be with her.

We spend the rest of the afternoon away from the games area, going on all of the other rides instead—literally, all of them. Not wanting to waste any more of our day, and Asshole Booth Guy already pushed to the back of our minds, we went on every ride the park had to offer, even going on every roller coaster twice. As the sun started setting, turning the sky a purple-y pink, we got a bite to eat; both of us got some pizza and then shared a funnel cake afterwards.

Sometime after we finished eating, we were just walking around, swinging our clasped hands in between us and holding our aliens in our other hands. Dream Park looked different in the dark; all of the rides and booths were alit with fluorescent, blinking lights, like a nighttime wonderland, and though the crowd had thinned out some, people were wearing glowing hats and necklaces and bracelets.

I stopped in front of a man selling glow bracelets, buying one for Reg that she liked—it was a bunch of flashing hearts strung together. I put it onto her wrist myself, holding her hand in one of mine and slowly sliding the bracelet onto her arm with my other. My fingers brushed against the bare, smooth skin of her arm, and I lingered there for a moment, taking a glimpse at her face as my heart thudded in my chest. She looked bashful, smiling and blinking down at her new bracelet. Her eyes landed on my fingers on her arm for a long, loaded moment, and she swallowed hard, looking back up at me. "Thank you."

The only ride we hadn't gone on all day, the revamped and rainbow-colored Ferris wheel, was looming above us, and we decided to get in line for it. The line was a bit longer than the lines for the other rides, because the Ferris wheel was always the best to ride at night; you could see everything from up there, and at night there was no sun glare.

After about fifteen minutes, it was our turn to get on, so we climbed inside our cabin—it was the round fitted kind that you walk into, enclosed with plastic window panes, and two people have to sit on opposite sides of it so that it isn't imbalanced or slanted to the side. We unlocked hands, sat on opposite sides of the cabin with our aliens in hand, looking longingly at each other across the dimly lit space between us as the operator shut and locked the small door.

We were silent for a moment as the wheel started to move and then abruptly stopped so that the next riders could get in the cabin after ours. "Well this sucks," Reggie said suddenly, breaking the silence.

I was relieved she'd said it first. "I know, huh?" I replied with a sigh. "You're too far away."

The ride started and then jerked to a stop abruptly again. "So are you," she said to me, pouting. Oh God, that was a cute face she was making. She nudged my big shoe with her smaller one, snapping me out of my transfixed gaze. "I guess that's why people usually go on the Ferris wheel last, right? So the boring ride doesn't ruin the middle of their amusement park trip." She smiled at her own joke cheekily.

I sat up straighter on the bench I sat on, grimacing. "Speaking of stuff being ruined," I started, my voice trailing off.

Her smile dropped, and I knew she immediately knew what I was talking about. She groaned and then said, "Maurice, please don't worry about it. That guy was an ass, that's all."

Stomach jumping at the use of my real name again, I leaned forward, resting my elbows on my knees. "He was. I hated the way he talked to you. I was going to step in and do something, I'm serious—I really was about to knock him out." The wheel moved again, and then stopped.

Reggie leaned forward too, tucking some of her hair behind her ear. "There was no need for that, anyway. He wasn't worth it." The side of her mouth quirked upward. "But thanks for thinking about doing it."

"He upset you," I said, my frown deepening.

"It's over now," she said gently. She leaned forward even more and reached a hand out for me, and I stretched a hand out to meet hers. They clasped together again. "I've already forgotten about it. And he didn't ruin anything, I promise." She squeezed my hand, a full smile on her lips this time. "This is the best first date I've ever had."

My heart skipped a beat at this bit of information. "Really? It is?"

"Yeah. And the best Valentine's Day I've ever had, too." She confessed.

The Ferris wheel suddenly sprung to life again, starting and then stopping. We were almost at the top now. We could not only see the amusement park lights from where we were, but we could also see the lights from the city, and the moonlight reflecting off of the still ocean.

"I've never spent Valentine's Day with a girl before." I'd said it before I could stop myself, and as soon as it was out, I cringed at myself, looking out the window at the moon. That sounded so dumb out loud. It made me sound like such a loser.

"You haven't?" Reg sounded surprised. "What about that girl you dated for a little while a few years ago? That girl your parents set you up with?"

I groaned. I was hoping she'd just conveniently forgotten about that. "That was over the summer. And it was only for a few months, anyway."

Maria Lopez, my first and last girlfriend right after my freshman year. She was the youngest daughter of some friends of the family, and my parents, along with one of my tias, had practically coerced me into dating her. Both of our families wanted us to date so badly, so we just got together for their sake. Worst mistake of my life. She was immature, and sometimes vicious, and I was immature and bitter over my feelings for Reggie, and by the time we'd broken up, we hated each other. We hadn't spoken since, not even at huge family functions that they'd be invited to occasionally. Also, her parents kind of hated me now. Couldn't say I blamed them.

"I was jealous of her, you know," she said unexpectedly. I quickly looked back over at her, and she was biting her lip, looking a little embarrassed herself. "Really jealous."

The wheel moved and then jerked to a stop again. Reggie reached for the pole that was down the middle of the cabin to steady herself, then reached back and steadied her alien lying on the bench behind her.

Well, that was brand new information. Forgetting my own embarrassment, I scooted closer to her. Our legs were tangled up together in the middle of the cabin, her jeans pressed against my jeans, and it was getting hard to ignore it. "Why didn't you say something?" I tried to think back, but I didn't recall ever noticing her being jealous. Of course, I'd never noticed that she'd liked me either, so no wonder.

She snorted. "I mean, I didn't want to ruin your chances with her or anything. You seemed…happy." She paused, looking down at her white sneakers as her expression faded into staidness. "It was around then that I'd started hanging out with…him more."

Something inside of me tugged with a sting. I remembered that part. That was when their crushes on each other had begun to progress into something more, and I stood at a distance, watching it and breaking a little more each day. I squeezed her hand, gazing at her downcast face. "I dated her for all the wrong reasons. Every single day that I dated her, it felt wrong. Every single day, I thought about how I should've been with you instead. I want you to know that."

Reg looked up at me again, her eyes soft and glassy and vulnerable. It melted me. "Do you mean that?"

I leaned even closer, barely even touching the seat anymore. "Of course." We were leaning so far that our faces were much closer now, inches apart. With my free hand, I slowly reached up and stroked the smooth skin of her cheek with the back of my fingers. Her eyes slowly slid shut, leaning her head into my hand, and I held it. The light from her flashing bracelet, along with the flashing lights from the park and the moonlight from the window danced across her features, creating shadows and soft angles. So beautiful that it was almost devastating. My breathing had slowed. "Mi cosa más hermosa," I whispered, "What have we been doing this whole time?"

She sighed soundlessly through her nose, her eyes still shut. "We were really clueless," she whispered back. Her eyes opened up again, hooded and dark, and locked right onto mine. "But that's the past now."

The air around us felt heavy, like it had during most of the day, but it was even more potent now. Undeniable.

I drew closer to her, and she drew closer to me, like two magnets pulling together. Her eyes slid shut again, and I tilted my lips toward hers as my eyes shut; years of intense feelings along with months of built up tension crashed down, and the distance between us closed up.

Our 2nd first kiss was much different from our real first kiss a week ago in the Shack—that one had been so quick, so unexpected that it almost felt like it hadn't actually happened. This one was unhurried, and tender, and sweet, the way I'd always imagined kissing her for the first time. Her lips were otherworldly. She tasted like mint and her favorite cherry lip balm and traces of powdered sugar. Nothing else existed anymore.

That is, until the Ferris wheel jolted into motion again. The sudden movement startled us apart as we lost our balance momentarily, both of us grabbing onto the pole in the middle of the cabin with noises of surprise. This time, though, it didn't stop—it trudged around at full speed, sending us into a dizzying world of spinning lights and sounds.

We looked around us, dazed, and then at each other for a moment. Then we laughed, coming in toward each other again. Our lips eagerly reconnected, fitting together like pieces of a puzzle. Reggie cradled my face in her hands as I embraced the back of her head, my fingers tangling in her hair. Everything else faded away all over again.

We kissed until the ride operator yelled at us to get out, and then we grabbed our matching aliens and got out of there. Running, hand in hand, to the closed, dark food court area of the park, we squeezed behind the ice cream stand where no one would find us. I pushed her up against the back wall of the stand, and she wrapped her legs around my waist so I could hoist her up to my height. And then we kissed some more, hungrily and urgently, hands grabbing and tugging at each other as our hearts beat wildly. I'd never kissed anyone like this before—like my soul was going to fall apart if I didn't. But before I hadn't wanted to kiss anyone this way, unless they were her. Unless they were Regina.

Half an hour later, we forced ourselves to stop—our lips were sore and raw, it had grown cool outside with the familiar nip in the air once again, and we didn't want to get locked inside the park. It was still technically winter after all, and they always closed up earlier in the winter.

After picking up the roller coaster pictures we'd bought earlier, we headed back to my car, where I saw the bacon chocolate bar sitting in the backseat and got I excited about it all over again. As I drove the short drive back to Ozone Street, we held hands, and we kissed at every red light along the way.

When we arrived, I stalled the car in front of the Rocket house, and then reluctantly undid my seatbelt. "I'll walk you to your door," I said to her.

She got out of the car, grabbing her tote bag and putting her bag of heart-shaped peanut butter cookies inside it. She watched as I got out too, walking around to where she stood, and then she threw her arms around my neck, standing on her toes. "I don't wanna leave," she said, pouting. It was so cute when she did that. Damn it.

I wrapped my arms around her waist, grinning at the thought that she didn't want our first date to end. I didn't want it to end either. However, I had a reputation to uphold. I had to be a good, responsible boyfriend—unlike her last one. I said, "You know Otto and Raymundo are waiting for the exact moment you walk back through that door."

She sighed, rolling her eyes. "I know. It's not like they have anything to worry about."

Taking a quick glance at the nearest window of the house, and seeing that the coast was clear, I leaned down quickly, stealing another kiss. "Don't you have work at the Shack tomorrow?" I asked her in a subdued voice.

Reggie groaned. "Don't remind me." She stole a kiss from me this time. "I wish I didn't have to."

"I'll come see you. I could help out if it's too busy," I kissed her again. "Gotta support my baby."

She made a little whining noise. "You're so cute," she said.

"No, that's you."

"Can't you come in and hang out for a little bit?"

I paused, thinking it over seriously for a moment or two, and then I laughed to myself. "I don't think Otto would appreciate that. You know he's been a little weirded out by us lately. And if we got caught in your room alone, Raymundo would throttle me. No thanks."

She sighed again. She knew I was right. Her eyes gazed up into mine dejectedly, pausing for just a moment, and then she reached up and kissed me again, longer and lingering this time. "Goodnight," she said after we broke apart.

I swallowed hard. Was I ever going to get used to her lips? Because it felt like I wasn't going to, not for a million years. "Goodnight," I said back unsteadily, and when she leaned up and kissed me again, without unlocking our lips, I tightened my grip around her waist and lifted her off her feet, carrying her to her front door. I set her back down on her feet again as she squealed and swatted me, and I broke our kiss and laughed. "Go inside before we both get in trouble."

She laughed but slumped back against the front door in defeat. "Fine," she said with an unfairly sexy simper, and after inserting her key and unlocking the door, she turned the door knob leisurely. "You'd better call me."

"You know I will," I told her, returning her smirk and watching her open the door at a snail's pace, her eyes never once leaving me. I paused. Then, as if completely against my will, I stepped forward, closing the distance between us once again. "Just one more!"

She met my lips with hers, our arms wrapped around each other as we kissed goodnight once more, ending the best first date and best Valentine's Day of my life.

-Reggie's POV-

"Baby? I have another question."

I placed my pointer finger by the last sentence I read in my book, then I looked over at my boyfriend, who was sitting at his desk and peering at me from over the top of his math notebook, which he held up in front of his face. I looked at him dryly. "What is it this time?"

Maurice held up the problem he'd written down on the page. "How do you solve these types of equations, again? It's so complicated, I can never remember the order."

I sighed, waving him over. "Come over here, I'll show you again." He shot up from his desk, climbed onto his bed where I was sitting, and settled into my side, making himself comfy against me as I showed him how to solve for x, step by step, and then I made him solve the next equation as I watched.

It'd been about three weeks since our first date, and afternoons like these had become the new normal. We'd taken up having study dates at his house during the week, since after school his house was nearly always empty and quiet with his mom at work. He'd convinced me to come over to his house by promising to keep his room clean, unlike before when it smelled like stale food and socks. I also had a feeling that he liked me coming over because it helped him feel more comfortable in his noticeably emptier house. I did notice a new, cold emptiness to his home, a huge contrast to the familiar warm boisterousness of the years before. It made me sort of sad.

Most of the time, the studying part of our study dates proved unsuccessful. This time, though, I had to start studying for midterms, and I had a big research paper due in a few days in English. I needed to finish reading and taking notes for this last book for mine—A Vindication of the Rights of Woman. It was semi-hefty reading, so I'd banished him to his desk instead of letting him cuddle up next to me on the bed like he usually did…although he kept finding excuses to come back over to where I was. Like he was now.

I watched him complete the equation, slowly but correctly. I smiled up at him. "There you go, that's right. You got it, I knew you'd get it."

"Thanks for helping me." Maurice looked down at me, moving his arm around my shoulders leisurely and letting his fingers brush against the sensitive side of my neck almost as if by accident, but I knew it was no accident. "Do I get a reward for getting it right?"

I bit the inside of my cheek, suppressing a knowing smile. I held my hand up, palm facing him. "High five, dude!"

He groaned, frowning miserably as the back of his head thumped against his bed's headboard. "Reg."

I looked at him innocently. "You don't want a high five?" I loved teasing him. He always reacted hilariously. I held my fist out instead. "Fist bump? No?"

"No." He brought his face down gently against the top of my head, smushing into my hair and tightening his arm around me. "You smell sooo good," he lamented.

Straightening up at the compliment, I grinned. "Thank you." Steeling up again, I pointed at his desk. "Now get back to your homework. Over there."

For a moment he stayed right where he was, with his face in my hair, and then he slowly let go of me and grudgingly got off of his bed, sulking back over to his desk and dropping down into his chair again, looking like a scolded puppy. It was almost enough for me to give in, but I held my ground, digging right back into my book.

Five minutes later, there came the sound of his voice from his desk again. "Baby?"

Placing my finger where I left off, I glanced up at him tiredly. "Yes?"

He was still holding his pencil, but he held it between his hands, fidgeting with it, letting me know he hadn't actually been writing anything with it. "Are you almost done?"

"With my book?"

"Yeah."

Keeping a finger on the page I was on, I flipped through it to the back. The book was 200 some pages, and I was on page 100. "Not really."

"Oh."

He stayed quiet for a few long, drawn out moments, so I read the next sentence on the page, and the next, and the one after that.

A few minutes later, he spoke up again. "Reg?"

I didn't look up at him this time. I sighed. "Yes?"

"You look really sexy when you're reading. I just wanted to tell you."

My heart leapt in spite of myself, and I bit my lip, holding back a smile. "How does someone look sexy while reading?" I hadn't even realized that he'd been watching me.

I heard him turn away from his desk and put his mechanical pencil down. "You just do. Your hair falls down over your face, sometimes you bite your lips, and you frown a little bit, and you stare at the pages so intensely. You look so…intelligent. I don't know. It's so sexy. I wish I could enjoy books the way you do."

I turned my head, looking at him, and he was staring unreservedly at me with a half-lidded, enticing gaze, his chin leaned on his hand. Well. Now I was distracted and turned on.

I swallowed thickly, biting my lip again. Knowing there was no way I could go back to concentrating on my book now, I dog-eared the page and closed it. I was giving up for now. "You know what's even better than reading? Getting good grades." I set my book down and looked at him pointedly.

He looked down at my book, now lying on his bed. "Sorry," he did look a little guilty, at least. "I'll let you concentrate."

I shook my head. "It's okay. I think it's time for a short break, anyway." I patted the space on the bed next to me. I was giving in yet again. He sure made it easy. "Come sit." He scrambled back over to the bed eagerly, climbing toward me and then engulfing me in his arms as I giggled. We arranged ourselves into a comfortable cuddle position, my legs across his lap with me leaning partially against his chest. I sighed again. "If our study dates keep going like this, at this rate, I probably won't even graduate in a few months."

He snorted. "Don't be ridiculous. Of course you're gonna graduate. It's me we should be worried about." He laughed at himself, and his breath blew across my face pleasantly.

"I'm sure you'll be fine," I reassured him. Reaching up, I pulled his shark tooth necklace out from underneath his t-shirt. I toyed with it, rolling it between my pointer finger and thumb. "Hey. What do you want to do?"

I felt him look down at me. "What do you mean?"

I stared at the shark tooth, holding it in my palm. "Like…who do you want to be after high school? What do you want to do with your life?"

"Wow, Reg. Keeping the conversation nice and light. Totally not heavy at all."

I chuckled silently, dropping his necklace. "Sorry. I was just wondering, that's all."

"No, it's cool." He swallowed, and with my ear leaned on his shoulder, it sounded extra loud. "I uh…want to be a videographer, obviously. But I do want to go to college. I know it seems like I don't, but I do."

I shifted, leaning up to look at him. "Really?" I was surprised. He'd never mentioned this before.

"Yeah, really." He grinned down at me, looking slightly awkward at my surprise. "You guys think I hate school but…okay well, I do, but I want to learn more about video production in college. I want to produce some day, or maybe even be a director. I want to go to film school."

My mouth was dropped open. I was touched that he was sharing this with me. "Maurice, that's wonderful. You could do that. You've already been doing that your whole life." My voice got softer. "I didn't know that was your dream."

He shrugged his shoulders as if it didn't matter, but I knew it did. "I've only ever told Otto. He was against it, though. He wants me to be his personal videographer forever, I guess." He forced a laugh, but I could hear the hurt behind it.

I sat up fully, and his arms fell off of me. "Screw what Otto says," I said, annoyed at my brother once again showing his selfish tendencies. "You want it. It's your dream. Go for it. You deserve to exist outside of Otto's life, you know." I hadn't meant to sound as blunt as I did, but Maurice took it in stride.

"You're right. I do." He looked up at me, his face gentle. "And I will. I'm gonna go for it. But first I have to work on getting through the rest of junior year and surviving senior year." He held his arms out again, looking at me unhappily. "Come back."

Laughing, I leaned back onto him again, and his arms closed around me. "You can do it. I know you can."

Maurice flipped my question back on me. "So, what do you want to do? Your graduation is closer than mine. You've got a lot to think about."

"Yeah, I do," I sighed. "Well, I'm sure you could guess. I want to be a writer. I want to write for some big newspapers and magazines, and maybe someday be the head editor of one. Like I was with my own magazine when I was younger." I paused, looking up at him again. "Remember 'The Zine'?"

"Of course I remember. It was a huge hit." He reached one of his hands down and poked me in the side. "And how could I forget that revenge issue you released that had me and Otto's embarrassing secrets in it, not to mention our asses? Lars never let us live that down."

I laughed and squirmed as he poked me again. "God, I miss it. It was so fun to just write what I wanted and do my own thing. No adult-life worries to think about."

"You could do that now, you know." He said. "You can still write on your own terms. You're just graduating high school, it's not like you're 40, or something. You could make another magazine. Or you could be a blogger!" He snapped his fingers at his own idea. "You'd be a great blogger. People really like your writing, and you have the personality for it."

Me, a blogger? Hmm. "I've never considered that before. I guess I didn't consider it to be real writing, or something. I don't know." I paused heavily this time. "I'm just…starting to worry about all that stuff, you know? I feel like I haven't prepared long enough and it's coming on too fast."

I looked at him, and he was frowning. "What's there to prepare for?"

I heaved a long, miserable sigh. I hated talking about this. "Well, first off, I've applied to some schools, but I don't know where I actually want to go. And once I go to one, I don't know what I want my major to be—I mean, probably English. But then what? And then there's money. I'm pretty sure I've missed almost all the opportunities for scholarships by now, unless I can manage to get a last minute one. And even though I've been saving up money from working at the Shack, I still don't have that much saved up, and I know Dad has to pay for my college and Otto's, so I don't know what I'm going to do!"

"Whoa," Maurice said, interrupting the next stream of words about to leave my mouth. "Wow. Okay. That's a lot on your plate. I didn't realize preparing for college was so…complicated."

I groaned, my face falling forward into my open hands in frustration. "You're telling me. I'm usually on top of things, but this? I feel like I'm so behind."

"Hey," he said, his voice mild. "You'll figure it out. You always do. And whatever you end up doing, I'll support you. We all will." Crooking a finger under my chin, he gently lifted my face so that I would look at him. His eyes were somber. "You're the almighty Reggie Rocket. El magnífico reina de Rocket. This is nothing you can't handle."

My pulse skipped as I stared at him. "Did you just call me the magnificent Queen Rocket?"

Some of the intense seriousness melted off of his face, and a small grin replaced it. "Yeah, I did. You understood?"

I was positively flustered. "My Spanish isn't that good, but yeah, I understood it." My eyelids fluttered, my face heating. He called me Queen Rocket. I could get used to that. "I know it's a cliché, but your Spanish is so damn hot."

He was smiling ear to ear now, glowing proudly. "You like it when I speak Spanish? Really? I thought that was a stereotype."

"In your case, it isn't. It's just hot. Really, really hot." I'd always thought that, but never dared to tell him.

My boyfriend cupped my face, leaning his face down closer to mine. "Escucha esto Español. Mi novia, mi adoracion, mi preciosa, mi amor. Eres la mujer de mis sueños. Estoy desesperadamente enamorado de ti." My pulse was soaring, and my heart leapt into my throat as his lips grazed my forehead, then the tip of my nose. Then he leaned close to my ear, his lips flush with my ear lobe. He lowered his voice to a whisper. "Quiero besar todas las partes de tu cuerpo. Te deseo mucho." Softly, he kissed the spot on my neck just under my ear lobe, my pulse racing against his lips. "You like that?"

My whole face and all of my veins were burning. My head was swimming, and it felt like my entire body was throbbing. "I didn't understand most of that," I admitted, clearing my throat. But damn, was it hot. And I swore I heard the word 'kiss' in there somewhere.

Placing one last kiss on the side of my neck, Maurice moved his face back in front of mine, scrunching his nose up at me teasingly. His eyes flashed with wickedness. "Good."

Oh God. I should have never told him how hot it was. Now he was probably going to torture me with it all the time. "Come on," I said, frowning. "Tell me what you said."

"Nope."

"Please?"

Amused, he shook his head slowly, clearly savoring all of this. "You're just going to have to improve your Spanish." He leaned in toward me again, holding my gaze. "But for now, I could tell you something you can understand."

My heart's speed was positively erratic. "Then say it," I said.

Looking more than just a little impish now, his eyes darker than usual, all he said was one word. "Bésame." Kiss me.

He didn't have to tell me twice.

I closed the remaining inch between us, my mouth colliding with his. Lying down on the bed, I wrapped my arms around his neck and pulled him down on top of me, and he delicately turned us over so that I was on top instead, my body flush against his.

Before, kissing my ex had been…nice. It was fun. It was playful and flirty, and it felt good. Despite what else had happened in our past relationship, and how corrupt it became, I could at least admit to that.

But kissing Maurice…was an experience. It was like my brain shut down, and the entire world shifted and spun around and flipped over. With his lips on mine, I couldn't remember my own name. I couldn't even think straight. I felt drunk. And I never wanted it to stop. I had never been kissed that way before.

The way he kissed me—it was like he fit with me perfectly. He knew exactly how to hold my head in his hands, knew exactly how to move his lips and tongue against mine to make me ache with vulnerability, knew exactly when to breathe when I did so that our breath moved in time with each other—we breathed the other in and breathed the other out. We just melted together.

Kissing Maurice felt as natural as blinking and moving. It felt like we were always meant to kiss each other. If I'd known kissing him would be like this, I wouldn't have waited so long to do it.

We stayed like that for at least an hour, until we heard the front door slam. My lips had started hurting, all of the natural light had disappeared from his window, and we were bathed in darkness. Since it was early March, the sun still set early.

I lifted off of him, leaning up on my elbows. "What time is it? Is that your mom?" My voice sounded ragged.

He was holding his head and looking dazed, appearing to be trying to think straight. "I don't know," his voice sounded husky. It nearly made me jump him again. He took his phone out from his pocket and squinted at its' screen. "It's only 5:40. She's usually not home by now, she's early."

I started to move off of him. "We should go see her."

"No, wait." He kept me from leaving with an arm around my waist, pulling me back down onto him. "Let's just stay in here."

"She's going to come in here and catch us like this, you know." I told him, smirking. "You don't want that, do you?"

He shrugged, seeing my point. "No," he said. He sighed. "I just…kind of don't want to deal with her right now."

I gave him a stunned look. "Twister."

His eyes shot up to mine, wounded. "You called me Twister."

"Yeah, I did. Because I can't believe you just said that." I frowned at him, shaking my head. "Don't talk about your mother like that." I fully got up then, getting off of him. He let me. I sat cross-legged beside him, folding my arms. The mood was definitely gone.

He sighed again. "I'm sorry. You know what I mean, though." He sat up too, biting his lip. "I just never know what mood she's in these days. If she's sad or angry. Sometimes it's easier to avoid her." He looked so guilty.

Softening up a bit again, I unfolded my arms. "You shouldn't avoid her. She can't help that she's sad. She probably misses you. A lot." I scooted close to him again, running a hand across his cheek comfortingly. "Here's what we're gonna do. We're gonna go out there and talk to her like normal, okay? And no more of this avoiding business. She's having a hard enough time already, she doesn't need her son giving her the cold shoulder, too." I leaned towards him and kissed him on the cheek. "Okay?"

He blew out a breath through his nose. "Okay," he agreed. He smiled slightly. "You're right, as always. I'm lucky I have such a smart girlfriend."

I smiled too, backing away, getting off of his bed and offering him a hand to get up. "I know."

After looking in his mirror and fixing our post-make out appearances, we ventured cautiously out of his room, me with my backpack slung over my shoulder. Walking past the kitchen doorway, we saw her. Mrs. Rodriguez—was I not supposed to call her that now? What was her maiden name?—was standing by the kitchen sink, looking out the window with an unreadable look on her face. Her hair fell in thick curls to her tailbone, and she seemed like she had barely aged at all. I had always thought she was beautiful, and it was clear that Maurice took after her looks, aside from the freckles. After exchanging a look with each other, Maurice cleared his throat, signaling our presence.

Startled, Mrs. Rodriguez looked over at us, snapping out of her daze. "Oh," she said, grinning faintly at Maurice. "Hello. I didn't know you were home." She looked at me again, in question this time. For some reason, I was nervous. This was my first time seeing her since I'd started dating her son.

Taking the cue, he gestured me to come forward. "Mom, of course you remember Reggie." He looked over at her again, smiling. "Um…remember what I told you? Ella es mi novia ahora." She is my girlfriend now. I broke into a full body blush.

"Of course I remember, mijo. You talk about it all the time." She turned to me then, appraising me with a quirk of her lips. "My son was head over heels for you for so long, I'm surprised it took you this long to get together." She paused. "Did you like the cookies we made you?"

"I loved them," I said, and I really did. I ate them all within a week of Valentine's Day. "Thank you so much for those. They were delicious."

She smiled, then. "You're welcome. I'm glad you liked them." She brought a hand up to her chin, contemplating something, her long manicured nails tapping against her skin. Then, unexpectedly, she broke into a laugh. "Who'd have thought Maurice would end up dating his old babysitter? Time flies, doesn't it?" Immediately, I burst out laughing too, looking over at my boyfriend. I'd forgotten his mom had thought I was his babysitter for a while. How awkward. And hilarious.

Snapping out of watching our exchange, Maurice blustered, "Mom! She wasn't…she was never—" He made a noise that sounded somewhere between frustration and mortification. "She was never my babysitter! We've been over this a thousand times!" He avoided my gaze, his cheeks a bright red under his freckles.

Still laughing, I laid a hand on his shoulder, squeezing it. "Calm down. She's just messing with you," I told him. I reached up to pinch his cheek, unable to resist saying, "Although, looking after wittle Twisterwas a handful sometimes."

Mrs. Rodriguez laughed even harder, and my boyfriend sent me a withering glare, swatting my hand away. "Don't encourage her, please."

His mom's laughter faded as she wiped a tear from the corner of her eye. "I haven't laughed like that in a while. I needed that. Thank you, Reggie." Pausing, she came toward me, smiling at me warmly. "Reggie, you're welcome here anytime." Then, she reached for me, bringing me into her arms and squashing me in a big hug. "Welcome to the family."

Shocked, and incredibly touched, I hugged her back. "Thank you."

Abruptly, she pulled back, wagging a finger in my face. "But no locking his bedroom door while you're here. No funny business under my roof." She looked at her son, too. "Understood?"

Busted. We weren't as clever as we thought. Both very red in the face, we said, "Yes ma'am."

"Now," she continued, her warm smile at me returning as she gestured at the dining room table. "Why don't you stay for dinner, Reggie?"

I did that night and for many nights to come.

#

"Double check all of your bags. Do you have everything you need?"

"Raymundo, we already double checked them." Otto groaned. "It's all there."

"Well then, triple check. All of you, right now, while I'm standing here."

A collective sigh came from all six of us as we dropped our bags to the floor, unzipped them and triple checked that we had everything for our trip.

It was very early Monday morning on the week of Spring Break. It was, in fact, my last Spring Break as a high schooler, as it also was for Sammy, Trish and Clio. To celebrate the last Spring Break where we'd all be together in high school, we decided to go on a week-long road trip. This was also the first major trip we were going on by ourselves, without any parental supervision whatsoever, and it was a huge deal. And fittingly, Raymundo was freaking out in classic Raymundo fashion, along with Mrs. Rodriguez and Ms. Dullard, who hovered around Sam and Trish, making sure not one hair was out of place on their heads. Maurice's mom was telling him something sternly in a low voice as he checked through his bags, and he was nodding.

"Reggie," Dad barked at me. I looked up at him grouchily as I zipped one of my bags closed again. "Repeat all of my rules back to me."

"Dad, I just did. Like, literally five minutes ago." It was way too early for this.

Dad folded his arms, raising his eyebrows. "Well then recite them again. Loud enough for everyone to hear." He directed the last part of that sentence to Otto in particular, who shrunk away defensively.

I sighed heavily. Counting them off on my hands as I named them, I started, "Rule number one, take all the main roads. Rule number two, take sufficient rest stops and bathroom breaks. Rule number three, watch out for snakes, bears, and other wildlife. Rule four, no drinking or smoking. Rule five, no distracting the driver. Rule six, no getting arrested or otherwise doing illegal things." I dropped my hands back down to my sides. "Did I miss any? Or were you going to add anything?"

Dad was rubbing his chin contemplatively, but Tito came up from behind him, patting him on the back. "Your dad forgot to tell you one last thing," he told me. Dad looked him, confused, and I did the same. Tito lifted his eyebrows at my dad and then smiled at me and the others. "Have fun." We all cheered as Dad nodded his head reluctantly.

After some more questions, hugs, 'I love you's, and more promises from all of us to our parents to call them at every stop, we packed into the restored, light blue 60's Volkswagen van we borrowed from one of my dad's surfing buddies for the trip, and we were off. All of the adults watched us drive away from the driveway, waving, with identical uneasy looks on all of their faces.

Before leaving the city, we stopped for coffee, since it was so early and we had hours of driving ahead of us.

I started off driving first, and Maurice sat in the passenger seat next to me, his arm draped around the top of my seat. Sam and Trish sat in the first back row of seats, Trish had her earbuds in and Sam was instructing me where to turn and which streets to take via directions on his phone's GPS. Otto and Clio sat in the last row of seats in the back, surrounded by overflowing baggage and supplies that wouldn't fit in the trunk. They didn't seem to mind that much, though—they were too busy making out. Audibly. Seeing the distraught faces my boyfriend was making at all of their noise, I turned up the radio. The bass of the loud music made the hula girl figurine on the dashboard shake her hips.

The route we were taking brought us straight through Los Angeles, although we didn't pass by any major tourist attractions. L.A. whizzed past our windows, and soon the city became less dense, and beyond the freeway, there were less buildings and more palm trees.

Soon we drove through some smaller, suburb-type areas, and then there was mostly green—fields of yellow grass turning green again with colorful wildflowers sprouting up at intervals, trees that weren't palm trees, and mountains and hills. Then for a while, there was more buildings and more palm trees as we passed through another suburban town, and Sam warned everyone that this would be the last major rest area. Suddenly everyone had to go to the restroom, so I took the exit and stopped at a corner store, thankful for a chance to rest my legs for a bit. After filling up the gas tank, we ended up buying snacks for the rest of the car ride—though I had to wrestle the energy drink away from Otto, knowing the rest of us would pay if he'd had it. Then we were back on the road again.

The small town we drove through next was even greener than the last, with even more mountains, and it passed by quickly. The mountains grew even larger, but more of a tan color than green, as we drove through a smaller town that had giant, towering dinosaur statues. And then everything was tan—complete dryness and desert, with very little foliage to be found, and very few buildings. There were even smaller towns that we passed through, but they were but a speck of population.

We were in the middle of nowhere, and before I had a chance to worry if we were lost, we finally arrived at our trip's first destination: Joshua Tree National Park.

After arriving at our campground, one of the nine available at the park, all of us poured out of the van, stretching, breathing in the air, and taking in the scenery around us. We were smack in the middle of a desert—but it wasn't sandy like most deserts. There were mountains, rocky hills, which were perfect for mountain biking, rocks precariously balanced on top of cliffs, dry foliage close to the ground, and Joshua trees, medium height trees with short branches, which had spiky, cactus-like tufts at the ends. It was all open space and fresh air out here.

We all set up camp, the boys setting up their tent and me, Trish and Clio setting up our tent next to theirs. Grabbing the firewood that we'd brilliantly thought to bring with us, we made our fire pit for campfire fun later. After we set up everything, most of us unlatched our mountain bikes from the top of the van, got into our biking gear and went to ride around—except for Clio, who stayed behind to look at magazines inside our tent and paint her nails.

For our biking trip, we didn't go far, we only traveled just past our campground. The sun was high in the sky, burning bright and hot, making it feel more like summer than spring. I basked in it.

Soon enough, maybe an hour later, we turned around, heading back to our campsite. After we got back, Trish and Sam went straight to the van, grabbing the sunscreen and both putting on fresh coats of it on their skin. Sammy was complaining that he was already getting sunburn on his arms, and Trish was snickering at him, saying "my poor Sammy" but pinching his cheek teasingly.

Deciding to break out the cooler, we took out some freezing cold sodas and all sat inside the van to get some relief from the heat. We found some more ways to pass the time, and before we knew it, the sun was setting, bathing us in cool air and a sprawling world of cobalt blue, orange and vivid pink. A couple of times, my boyfriend tried to get me to speak into his camera as he recorded. Instead I made various weird faces at the lens and flipped him off playfully. Setting up some folding chairs and lighting up our campfire, we cooked some food over it for dinner—roasted hot dogs on sticks, of course, with chips and coke. I had two, and Clio had one, but the guys each ate about three each. Trish ate four. As we all watched her pack them away like a pro, utterly amazed, Sam watched on with pride.

The sun completely dropped behind the rocky horizon, and replacing it was an expanse of stars, entire galaxies iridescent above us like a painting. I had never seen the stars this way before, never so bright and so many at once. It was as if the biggest container of glitter in the universe had exploded and spilled into the heavens. Most stunningly, what stood out the most was a part of the Milky Way arching across the sky, clear and lovely. It was so striking that it overwhelmed me. As everyone stargazed, talking amongst themselves as the campfire popped and crackled, Maurice pulled me aside to sit on the roof of the van with him, wrapping a blanket around both of our shoulders to keep away the chill. I rested my head on his shoulder, and he kissed me on the forehead. Far off in the distance, a coyote howled its' song to the moon.

The next day, after having some energy bars and fruit, we spent all day mountain biking, taking sandwiches with us in our backpacks for lunch. We even convinced Clio to come with us this time—she complained a lot, but Otto stayed by her side and went at her pace like a good boyfriend. We ate lunch on the top of a big cliff that overlooked a nice view, and I very narrowly avoided having a lizard crawl across my sandwich when I wasn't looking. We explored some other far away areas of the park, including a large field flooded with an ocean of yellow wildflowers. In fact, the park was full of patches of wildflowers in yellow, white, pink, red, and lavender, spring in full bloom, and they were such a breathtaking, unexpected contrast from the otherwise dry, tan expanse of land that it stopped me in my tracks every time, commanding my admiration. There were even flowers blooming from the cacti, bright magenta and gorgeous. I so wanted to pick some, maybe weave a flower crown out of them or wear one behind my ear, but I didn't want to ruin their beauty, so in the end, I left them alone.

It was so scorching hot out that along with my biking gear, I wore only cutoff shorts and a tank top, and the other girls wore pretty much the same. I knew I'd regret it if I wiped out against the rocks—thankfully I didn't—but the hardcore blistering sun definitely didn't allow for long sleeves or pants. The guys wore short sleeves and even took their shirts off for a short time when the heat got too much. I tried not to stare at my boyfriend so hungrily, especially after Trish pointed out that I was. We continued to explore other areas of the park, and as we did, we saw some furry residents—a hare, a ram that was thankfully too far away to care about us, and a small creature that looked like a chipmunk. We also ran into some non-furry residents—Maurice cheerily pointed out a tarantula about eight feet away from us when we stopped to share water out of our canteen, and Clio had taken off down the trail by herself, peddling and screaming at the top of her lungs.

After getting back from our day of biking, we rested for a bit, then had some dinner. After dinner we made s'mores, and as the sun started to set, we blasted some music and took out the sparklers we'd bought. We goofed around with the sparklers, laughing and chasing each other with them, taking pictures with them, and Maurice took video of it all on his camcorder, smiling at us from behind the lens as he waved around a sparkler in his other hand. We all went to sleep that night drunk on contentment.

Very early the next morning, we packed up the campsite, packed up the tents and everything, and left our small desert paradise behind. This time, Maurice was behind the wheel, and our pale blue van went back through more Californian desert. Relieved that I didn't have to drive this time, I felt more relaxed. Every once in a while, I leaned over to kiss his stubbly cheek. He'd forgotten to bring a razor, and he had a shadow of stubble on his face. It made him look mature. He also had gotten really tan over the past couple of days, and he looked so golden and gorgeous.

We all tried to keep ourselves busy with driving games, music, and more snacks. If we'd thought the first drive had taken long, this one was taking forever, and was even more boring. After about three and a half hours, we were starting to go crazy, so we decided to make a stop in Bakersfield. As soon as the van stopped at our fast food joint of choice, we all jumped out of it, stretching our legs and soaking in the civilization. We went inside and ordered a smorgasbord of burgers, fries and milkshakes big enough for an army.

After we finished eating, we filled up the gas tank again and made another stop for snacks at a grocery store. Trish rode in the grocery cart, her tiny self not taking up much room, and we all piled packaged foods and drinks on top of her. We bought our snacks, all used the restroom, and then we were once again back on the road.

Seeing Maurice's exasperated expression at the thought of driving again, Clio volunteered to drive this time, and Otto sat in the passenger seat. Maurice and I sat where they sat before, in the very back, where it was surprisingly roomy despite all of the bags and camping supplies being back there too. We'd opened the manual sunroof and all of the windows so that it would stay nice and cool inside, and the sound of the wind rushing past the windows put everyone in a calm mood. Noticing how sleepy my boyfriend looked, I told him to lay his head in my lap. After a while of me brushing his hair away from his face with my fingers, he fell into a peaceful sleep, curled up in a ball like a giant kid.

This proved to the longest drive yet, as we passed through Fresno, Modesto, and Oakland and then finally arrived at our next destination: San Francisco.

It was already three in the afternoon, and after driving all day, we were all beat, so we decided to check into our hotel and chill for the rest of the day. I shared a room with Trish and Clio, and the boys shared a room, too, since it was cheaper that way. Clio and I very nearly came to blows over who got to shower first—Trish settled it by making us rock-paper-scissors for it, and I won. After I finished showering, though, Clio nearly dragged me out of there herself.

When hygiene issues were all taken care of, we walked across the street to a pizza place for dinner, stuffing ourselves once again. With full bellies, we came back to the hotel, piled into the boy's room, and watched a horror movie on Sammy's laptop with the lights off. After the movie was over, we next decided to change into our swimsuits and go downstairs to check out the outdoor hotel pool. There was a shallow pool, a regular pool, and a hot tub, and since it was dark outside, the place was deserted.

Sam, Trish and Clio enjoyed the hot tub as Otto and I competed to see who could do the best dives with the biggest splashes, with Maurice as our judge. The competition was fierce and in the end we realized that choosing my boyfriend and his best friend to be the judge was a horrible idea—he kept telling us it was a tie so that we'd both be satisfied and he wouldn't have to disappoint either of us. We both called a truce. Soon it became too cool outside to be wet, and we were shivering, so we all went inside, deciding to call it a night.

Early the next day, after having some complimentary hotel breakfast, we made the short, forty minute drive to Muir Woods—Sammy driving this time. As we arrived, left the parking lot and trekked into the woods, looking around with wide eyes, all of us fell into a silent awe. This place was the exact opposite of where we'd had our camping trip in every possible way—humid, lush, browns and greens everywhere we turned, moss on trunks and ferns along the ground, bubbling creeks running under pathways. The trees were unlike anything I'd ever seen, towering and twisting skyward like natural skyscrapers. Some of their trunks were wider than the span of my arms. The trees' leaves formed a blanket high above us, and sunlight streamed through in small patches. It was...utter magic. It was like walking into something from a book, some amazing place that shouldn't have existed in real life, except it did.

We spent the whole morning there, walking, winding through the paths and enjoying the views and taking pictures, Maurice documenting everything on video as usual as he walked alongside me, holding my hand.

After making our way back to San Francisco and getting a bite to eat, we went to some of the touristy city places we hadn't gotten to go to the day before—Chinatown, Lombard Street, and a hill where the majestic Golden Gate Bridge was viewable from the perfect distance—and then we headed back to our hotel. Us girls had been in our room for a while, chatting about our relationships and flipping through the TV channels, when a knock came at our room door. As I opened the door, Otto came rushing into our room, Sam and my boyfriend following him.

"Excuse you," I said to them as they pushed past me, and Maurice winked at me flirtatiously as he passed, smoothing a hand over the top of my head.

Trish, who was sitting on the bed I was sharing with her, and Clio, who was sitting on her own bed, both looked up, seeing them enter, and Clio made an alarmed noise. "How could you boys just burst into an all girl's room with no notice? How rude. You all are lucky we weren't in the middle of changing, or something."

Otto snorted, rolling his eyes. "Yeah, sure. Lucky." His girlfriend responded by raising her eyebrows and smirking at him, shaking her head.

"What's the deal, guys?" asked Trish, looking mildly irritated. "We were just about to go to sleep."

"We figured," Otto said, reaching underneath his hoodie, where he was hiding something. "So we decided we should have these now." He pulled out a six pack of beer from underneath his hoodie.

All three of us gasped, the loudest coming from me. "Otto," I reprimanded, glancing back at the door and making sure I'd locked it, as if someone was going to burst in and bust us at any moment. I looked back over at him, half surprised and half disapproving. "Where the hell did you get that?" I paused. "Wait. When the hell did you get that?"

"Twister bought them for us while we were out and about in town earlier," said Sam, looking pleased and considerably less guilty than I thought he'd be about this. Guy gets a girlfriend and suddenly he's as rebellious as they come. "We went while you guys were in that souvenir shop."

"Really?" I looked over at my boyfriend, giving him my stern look as I folded my arms.

He looked down at me, cringing and shrugging as he explained, "I was the only one they didn't card. I guess they thought I looked 21." He grinned at me persuasively, taking one of my hands in his. "Don't be mad at me, cariño." He kissed my hand. Otto and Sam groaned, horrified, and Trish giggled at us as Clio 'aww'ed.

I sighed, looking at the cans of beer. I'd already begun to cave. Stupid charming Spanish. "Dad's rules…" I trailed off, unsure.

"Yadda, yadda, Dad's rules," Otto blurted, waving his free hand in the air. "It's just one beer, Reg. Dad's not gonna know. It's our last night of the trip, tomorrow we're going back to Ocean Shores. It's our last Spring Break together. After this, you, Sam, Trish and Clio are gonna graduate high school, and you're gonna go off to college, and we might be separated and things might not be the same anymore. In five years, or ten years, when you look back on tonight, are you really gonna care about some stupid rule that you broke? Or do you want to have fun? Fuck the rules. We deserve to send it off the right way," he paused, pulling one of the cans out of its' plastic ring, and stretching out his hand to give it to me, finishing, "with booze."

Taken aback at the sudden gravity of his rant, and unexpectedly moved, I stood there for a moment, eyeing the can warily. He was right. I knew he was. And suddenly, for once, I didn't care about the rules at all. I gradually grinned, reaching a hand to take the beer from his grasp. "Touché, little brother. You win." I opened the can as my friends cheered and grabbed cans for themselves. "Hey," I paused, laying a hand on his shoulder. He looked up at me, startled. "Things aren't gonna be that different. Family is family. We'll always have each other." I regarded the rest of the group too, solemn. I raised my can in the air, proposing a toast. "No matter what happens. Always."

"I'll toast to that," Maurice said, raising his can.

"Here, here," Sam said.

Otto was staring at me, and before, where there had been a trace of fear in his eyes, there was only release now. It made me wonder how long he had been worried about that. Clio had come up beside him, resting her head on his shoulder comfortingly. Slowly, he raised his can, smiling back at me sincerely. "Cheers."

All six of us clinked our cans, and on the last night of our last Spring Break together in high school, we drunk to friends, family and love.

-Back to Twister's POV-

"Stop it, that tickles." My girlfriend demanded, using the voice she used when she was trying to suppress a laugh.

I made an innocent face. "What tickles?" I asked, pretending to not know what she was talking about. I moved my hand over her stomach again. "This?"

She burst into uncontrollable giggles, burying her face into the pillow under her head and shoving my hand away. "Stop."

"Stop what? What about here?" I lightly wiggled my fingers over the spot on her neck that I knew was the most sensitive.

Reggie squealed, rolling away from me on the bed. Her giggles were becoming breathless. "I'm gonna hit you! Stop it!"

We were currently lying in her canopy bed in her bedroom, cloaked in darkness and moonlight. We'd been watching a movie on her laptop, snuggled up under her green covers together harmlessly, but then the movie ended and our snuggling somehow escalated into a tickle fight. Also, the only way we were able to be in her bed in the first place was Otto and Ray both being gone—and they were. Ray and Tito were on a weekend-long fishing trip with some buddies, and Otto was with Clio for the night. Which meant that we had the entire house to ourselves tonight. Completely alone.

This was the first time I'd been alone with Reggie in her bedroom this way since we got together. I'd thought about being in her bed so many times, and now I was actually in it. With her. Under her sheets, which were way softer than mine. Seeing her hair splayed across her pillows. Feeling her smooth legs against mine. Seeing the poster of the sun with a face on the wall behind her bed, from a completely different angle than I'd ever seen it before.

"Okay, okay, I'll stop," I granted finally. "I couldn't help myself. You're so cute when you laugh." As she turned back, facing me again, I locked gazes with her, growing serious. "And I love to touch you."

She smiled, scooting back over to me. "Permission to touch," she said, rolling onto her back, holding my gaze. "But no tickling for the rest of the night."

The rest of the night. I gulped audibly. We were spending the whole night together. How long had I wanted this? I felt restless. Since we started dating, I had been alone with Reggie countless times before now. But tonight was different. It felt different. "We should start that other movie you wanted to watch," I said, not meaning to change the subject but managing to anyway. "I mean, if you still want to watch it."

"I changed my mind." Reggie scooted even closer, resting her head on my chest and curling one of her smooth legs around both of mine. I hoped that my legs weren't too hairy. I hoped that I wasn't breathing too heavily. Was I? I was overly aware of everything. What was wrong with me? She continued, "Let's talk instead."

I kissed the top of her head, lifting one of my hands up to start playing with her hair. I tried not to look as nervous as I felt. "About what?" I asked.

"I keep thinking about our trip. It was amazing, huh?"

It had now been a whole week since we'd gotten back from our road trip. Getting back to school this week had been a drag, but that was every week for me. "It was the raddest," I agreed, and then I sighed. "I wanna go back."

"Me too," she said, pouting.

"You're pretty," I said without thinking.

She looked up at me, startled, but pleased. "That was random, but thank you."

I chuckled, untangling my finger from one of her curls. "No it wasn't. I was thinking about how especially pretty you were on the trip. That was the best part of it." I paused. "For me, anyway."

Now she was looking at me like I was crazy. "I showered like, three times total that entire trip."

"So?"

"So, I was dirty and grime-y for a majority of the time."

I tried to think back. I couldn't recall ever noticing her being dirty. I only remembered her skin darkening in the desert sunshine, her eyes squinting behind sunglasses, her hair wet with pool water, and the wind blowing her bright violet curls loose from her ponytail as we drove down the freeway. "I didn't notice," I replied, shrugging.

Reggie laughed, shaking her head. "You're crazy," she said.

"Why is that crazy?" I looked down at her, my brow furrowing. "You're always beautiful to me."

The hand that she laid on my stomach formed a fist, bunching my shirt up underneath it. "Maurice." Her voice had gotten quieter.

"Reg, I'm serious. Hey. Look at me." I waited until she looked back up at me, her expression shy and self-conscious. "You're beautiful. I wouldn't change one single thing about you. Never." I smoothed a thumb over her cheek. "I love your eyes. I love your skin tone. I love your body—your thighs, and your perfect ass—God, you don't know how long I've wanted to say that. I love your ass."

She laughed again, harder this time, burying her face into my shirt. The tip of her nose tickled. "My ass?" She laughed even harder. "You are absurd."

"Absurdly in love," I said without missing a beat, staring down at her, enchanted by her laughter. Suddenly, I got an idea, and I began to sit up, gently moving her so I could move out of the bed. "Hold on."

"Where are you going?"

"I'm getting something." Flipping the sheets back, I stood up and then bent down to where I'd put my backpack on the floor earlier. I reached inside, taking out what I was looking for. I held up my camcorder. "This," I said.

Reggie watched me get back into the bed again, confused. "What are you doing?"

"You'll see," I replied as I laid back down, and I gestured for her to come lie beside me. "Come 'ere." My girlfriend snuggled back into my side, her head resting on my shoulder this time. I turned my camera on, turned the lens toward us, flipped around the viewing screen, extended my arm out, and started recording. I glanced down at her. "Say hello," I teased.

"Oh God," she said, covering her face with a laugh. "I don't have any makeup on."

I leaned my face close to hers, lowering my voice to a whisper. "It's okay. This video is just for us." I pressed a quick kiss to her temple as she lowered her hand. Then I cleared my throat and spoke up so that the camera could hear. "Mi amor, this video is going to serve as a reminder of how much I love you. One day, if we get in a terrible fight, and I make you mad for some reason, as I am certain to do at some point, you can watch this video and remember that I love you. If we're separated for whatever reason, and you miss me, you can watch this video and remember that I love you. Whenever you need it, that's what this video is for. All right?"

I looked at her face in the viewfinder, and she looked dumbfounded. She nodded. "Okay."

I leaned my face against her head. Her hair smelled like coconuts. I took a deep breath and started. "Regina Rocket, I promise to kiss you in the morning, even if you have coffee breath. I promise to hug you and watch movies with you and eat ice cream with you when you're sad. I promise to support you in everything you do. I promise to be there when you need to talk. I promise that I'll never criticize the way you look, under any circumstances. I promise to always leave you enough pizza and not eat the whole box. I promise to always tell you how beautiful you are. I promise to always make you peanut butter banana sandwiches when you need them. I promise I'll never forget our anniversary."

Reggie interrupted. "Like that time you forgot you had a puppy?"

I paused. "…Will no one ever tell me when I had this supposed puppy?" I paused again as she laughed. "Anyway. I promise I will never forget you like I forgot about my puppy. I promise to always make your birthday special. And I promise to never betray your trust in me." I turned my face toward her again, whispering, "I love you."

"Maurice," Reggie whispered back, leaning towards my ear. "Stop recording."

Worried, I stopped recording, closing the camcorder and setting it down. "What's wrong?" Had the video been a bad idea? Had it been too much?

She turned, grabbed my face in her hands, and kissed me slowly, deeply, soulfully. I could feel all of the things she felt. My heart was throbbing. She pulled back momentarily, gazing at me through her long eyelashes. "I love you so much."

She climbed on top of me, reconnecting our lips and pressing her body flush against mine. I could feel her heartbeat, sprinting, thudding against my chest like a sledgehammer. My heartbeat answered hers eagerly. Vanilla and coconut and Reggie was all I could smell. Magic. My head spun.

Soon our kisses became harder, pressing, more urgent. I tugged at her lips mildly with my teeth—full and smooth and juicy delicious and plush like two pillows. She tangled her hands in my hair, and my hands ran over her body, over her arched lower back and her firm, rounded butt, pulling at her, needing her closer, needing more of her against me.

This was different from all the other times I'd kissed her, more intense—I never had enough of kissing her, but this time it felt like both of us wanted more. The atmosphere was burning, intoxicating, hypnotic. This time everything was going to change.

Reggie pulled back suddenly, and before I could protest, I realized she was yanking at my shirt, wanting it off. I sat up, letting her pull it over my head. After it was off, she raked her nails down my stomach. It felt extraordinary beyond words. I shuddered, a complete body spasm that I couldn't control. I reached for her San Francisco shirt, and she lifted her arms as I pulled it off.

I couldn't stop myself from staring. Her black lacy bra stood out against her warm, terra-cotta tan skin, and I could still see her tan lines from Spring Break. I leaned toward her, kissing the most sensitive part of her neck and running my hands against her lean stomach. As I began sucking on her neck, giving her skin gentle nips with my teeth, she let out a noise I'd never heard her make before, a mewling sort of moan in her throat that had me reeling for a moment, shocked at how lewd it sounded. Pulling myself together, I bent down, kissing my way down her chest and stopping at her stomach, fervently kissing the tight muscles there the way I'd wanted to for years every single time she'd worn a bikini.

Reggie began tugging at my pants, and I helped her take them off, leaving on my boxers, and then she helped me take her sweatpants off. We lowered ourselves back into a lying position. As our lips crashed together again, we pressed our bare skin together, and our bodies intertwined, the body heat between us becoming sweltering. Both of us were breathless. Our kisses were desperate, frantic.

Even with my brain fogged up with desire, I knew if I didn't stop now, I wouldn't have been able to at all. I pulled my mouth from hers, my breathing heavy. "Reg, do you want this?"

At first exasperated that I stopped, Reggie looked at me head on. "Yes. I do."

"Are you sure?" I knew after this, there was no going back. It was a big decision. I was sure, I'd been sure for a long time, but I had to be positive that she was sure too.

"Maurice Rodriguez, I want you. And I want this. Right now." She leaned forward, kissing my lips. She pulled away, but lingered, her lips brushing against mine. Her brown eyes were dark with lust. "Make love to me."

As I pulled her back down to me, I wrenched her green duvet over our heads.

#

Hours later, sometime in the early morning, it started to rain outside, as it does relentlessly in April. Thunder clapped. I startled awake, and I felt Reggie stir in my arms. Groggy, I squinted down at her. She had her hands curled under her chin, dreaming, exhausted and angelic. Sweat still plastered some thin, wispy curls to her forehead and temples, a physical reminder of the hours before. Beaming, I hugged her tighter to my chest, careful not to disturb her, then drifted back to sleep.

Chapter Text

Chapter Eleven

-Twister's POV-

Even though she held my hand tightly, my girlfriend was glowering at me in her classic Reggie Rocket way. "I cannot believe that you're doing this. You're crazy. You're absolutely insane."

I was wincing, trying not to squirm from the intense pain, and held her hand in a vice grip. "Love you too, nena."

She continued ranting as if I hadn't spoken. "Your mom is going to kill you. She's going to kill you, Maurice, and I'm not going to your funeral, because it will have been your fault. You know how much she hates tattoos, and yet you're getting one anyway." She squeezed my hand even harder, bending down to look me in the eye and arching an eyebrow. The fabric of her long blue gown pooled around her heels on the floor. "She's going to kill you." The tattoo artist behind me was laughing.

The needle was rapidly tearing into the skin of my upper back, over and over and over, up and down, up and down. I'd expected it to hurt, but I didn't expect it to feel like someone lit my skin on fire. How had Lars done this so many times? I bit my lip hard, trying to force my eyes to stop tearing up. "Reg, please."

Tonight was technically the night of our prom.

Before the dance, Reg and I, Sam and Trish, and Otto and Clio had stood in the middle of the cul-de-sac, all of our parents taking a million and three pictures of us doing corny poses together as our cheeks hurt from smiling for so long. And then we'd spent the majority of the night at the dance itself, eating prom food, drinking spiked punch and dancing to prom music.

Truthfully, I thought that it felt just like any other school dance, which I tried to avoid most of the time, mostly because back then I hadn't wanted to see Reggie with her ex. But this had been my last chance to go to a school dance with Reggie, and I wasn't about to pass that up. Besides, seeing her in the dress she was wearing—turquoise blue, form-fitting, shimmering, so low in the back that it dipped to her lower back—was worth going to 20 proms.

"Please what?" My girlfriend snapped in response to me. She was wearing more makeup than usual tonight, which Clio had helped her do. I didn't know anything about makeup, but whatever she was wearing was making it hard to find her scary at the moment. She just looked sexy. Very, very sexy.

I looked up at her, my eyes pleading for mercy. "Spare me, please. Isn't the pain I'm going through right now enough of a punishment?" I heard Sam laugh, and I shot him a glare.

About half an hour ago, Otto and I had successfully convinced the whole gang to leave the dance early, having planned our tattoo parlor scheme earlier on in the day.

When we'd arrived, our girlfriends had reacted with outrage as Sam and Trish looked on in amusement, much like they still were right now. They stood over in the doorway, Trish folding her arms and smirking in her navy blue gown that looked like the ocean at night. Sam was cringing as much as I was, staring at the needle going into my back as he continued to eat from an extra plate of food that he'd taken from the dance. His navy blue suit went with Trish's dress well, much like how my bow tie matched Reggie's dress, though it was lying on an extra chair across the room with my tuxedo jacket and shirt. Somewhere in another room across the hall, Otto was getting two more piercings while Clio loudly and colorfully cursed at him in rapid-fire Spanish.

Rolling her eyes at me and sighing, Reggie's glare faded the slightest bit. "I suppose it is," she relented, then added with a snort, "Besides, when your mom finds out, she'll probably be doing enough screaming for the both of us."

I groaned again. Just thinking of it was enough to fill me with dread. "I'm kinda hoping she just won't notice it for the rest of my life," I said. But I knew she'd get used to my tattoo eventually. She'd gotten used to all of Lars' tattoos by now, and he was practically made of 90% tattoos. I lifted my chin up towards her. "Kiss me. Relieve my pain." The frown on Reggie's face left completely this time, melting into a playful smile.

Sam made a noise of discomfort. "All right, I'm going back to the entertaining room while you two eat each other's faces and whatnot," he announced, turning back to walk towards the room Otto was in, where Clio was starting another round of curses, this time in English. With a wink at Reggie, Trish turned around to follow her boyfriend to the piercing room.

I smiled momentarily up at Reggie before a strong new wave of pain jolted through my back and I bit down on my lip, swallowing back a noise as I squeezed the corner of the bench I was lying on with my free hand. "See, our audience is gone now. Kisses. I'm begging you. Please."

"I'm still here," the tattoo artist pointed out, but I could hear her smiling. Suddenly the burning stopped, and I breathed a sigh of relief, letting my muscles go slack. She continued, taking off the mask that covered her mouth and nose. "But if you want we could take a five minute break. Give you guys some privacy." She looked at us knowingly.

"Thanks," Reggie told the artist, and after taking her gloves off, she left the room, closing the door and leaving us alone. My girlfriend turned back toward me, smoothing a hand over the long part of my hair gingerly, which I'd slicked back tonight with a considerable amount of gel. She leaned in closely, looking more sympathetic than she had earlier. "It really hurts, doesn't it?"

"Yes," I said miserably.

She sighed, kissing my forehead in a way that made my bones turn into jelly. "Poor baby," she said semi-teasingly, and then kissed my lips next, softly. The pain instantly melted away. She pulled away and asked, "Why didn't you pick a smaller design?"

"This was the only one I wanted. It looked really cool." I sighed too. "I didn't know it would take so long."

She was looking at my shoulder blades, where my tattoo was shaping up. "What's it gonna be, again?"

"A traditional Aztec eagle with its' wings spread, with just black ink, and it'll look tribal. It's a classic symbol of Mexican culture," I explained. I pointed at the table where the paper with the design on it was. I perked up a little. "Is a lot of it done already?"

She hesitated. "Not…really. Not even half of it, yet."

I groaned once again, loudly, and dropped my face down into my folded arms. "I'm gonna be here forever." I turned my face up towards her again. "More kisses."

Reggie snorted. "Bossy," she said, but she leaned towards me and kissed me again. Then abruptly, she broke the kiss and leaned back again. "So, do you really expect me to stay here the whole time you get this huge thing ingrained in your skin forever?"

I made a sad face.

She laughed. "All right, all right. I'll stay," she said, shaking her head. "But I'll probably have to go make a food run eventually. We could be here all night."

Smiling, I kissed her this time. "Did I mention that I love you?"

"Damn right you do," she said, and then she smiled against my lips as she kissed me back.

Stopping our kiss for a moment, getting an idea, I spoke before I could stop myself. "Since we'll be here for a while, you could get a tattoo, too, you know."

Reggie jerked back, baffled, and staring at me like I had lost my mind. "I'm sorry, did you forget who you're talking to?"

Maybe I really had lost my mind momentarily. "I mean…why not?"

"Why not?" She repeated in disbelief. "How about because Raymundo would throttle me, for one?"

I thought this over for a moment, tapping my fingers on the bench. Then my eyebrows raised, thinking of something. "Not if it was small enough to hide."

She paused, holding in the tirade she'd been about to start. "What?"

"Yeah," I said. "Remember when you told me a few years ago that you really wanted a tattoo of a rocket? You could get a really small one in a place that would be hidden by your clothes, or something. I mean, if you still want it." I shrugged, then immediately regretted the movement, cringing in pain. "It was just a suggestion. Since you're about to graduate and all. It could be your last chance to do something crazy in high school."

"You're crazy."

I laughed. The tattoo artist came back into the room then, jokingly covering her eyes. "Everyone decent?" She joked.

"All good," I said to her, bracing myself for the pain to start again as she slipped on her gloves and put the mask over her nose and mouth again. Before the pain could start again, though, my girlfriend said something I was not expecting even a little bit.

"Excuse me," she said to the tattoo artist. "Is there someone available that could tattoo me, too?" I stared at her, mouth agape in amazement.

"Yeah, sure. Just go tell one of the guys up front, one of them could do it for you." The artist gave her a thumbs up. "This is some prom night. Wish I'd done this on the night of my prom."

Reggie laughed. "I didn't know I'd be spending mine like this, actually." She leaned down to whisper to me, shaking her head with a mock glare. "I can't believe you talked me into this."

"I can't believe you're actually doing it!" I exclaimed, then winced as the needle started on my skin again. "Don't be gone too long."

Giving me a quick kiss on my cheek, she breezed out of the room, giving me one last look before the door shut. Five minutes of me gripping the bench in distress later, she reentered the room with another tattoo artist, a large burly dude.

"Thanks for coming in here," she said to him as they entered. She turned to look at me with an anxious look, and I gave her what I hoped was a look of encouragement.

"Welcome to the party," my tattoo artist said to her colleague.

"Prom night tattoo extravaganza," he answered with a laugh. He turned to Reggie and pointed to a chair that looked like a dentist chair that sat by my bench. "You can sit right here. This won't take long at all," he reassured her. He looked over at me, appraising my back. "That dude's got at least another hour of work." I held in a whimper.

Reggie sat down in the chair, shooting me another nervous look, and as she told him where she wanted it—right on the back of her neck, where her hair would normally hide it, though it was all piled on top of her head now in a complicated hairstyle-updo-type-thing—he disinfected her skin, put the imprint of the design on her neck, and then got to work. I wished I was closer to her so that we could hold hands again, for both of us this time, but at least I could watch.

She was handling it a lot better than I'd expected—only gripped the chair hard and squeezed her eyes shut, hissing in air through her teeth a few times, but in ten minutes, he was already done with it.

"You're set," he said, holding out a hand held mirror so that she could look at it on one of the giant mirrors on the wall.

"That's it?" Reggie said, pleasantly surprised. She grinned widely at the sight of her new mark, delighted. "Oh my God, it's perfect."

"No fair!" I said. "How did hers take two seconds?"

My tattoo artist chuckled sympathetically behind me. "I'm going as fast as I can," she said. "Only a third of shading left. Good thing you picked a design with flat shading instead of a 3D design."

The other tattoo artist put a bandage over Reggie's tattoo, sealing it shut with tape as he told her how to care for it, and then handed her a packet of papers. "Right there is your all of your cleaning and care instructions. If you can't remember what I told you, anything you need to know is in there." He looked between us, smiling as he turned to leave the room. "Have a nice prom night."

I thanked him and Reggie waved at him as he left, and then she looked at me, walking over and smiling at me excitedly. "I have a tattoo. I can't believe I have a tattoo!" She reached for my hand.

"Congratulations baby," I told her, taking one of her hands and squeezing. "Still working on mine." I looked up at her, pleased. "I can't believe you actually did it. Who are you, and what have you done with Reggie Rocket?"

"I can't believe I did it either!" She said, laughing behind her other hand, surprised at herself. "Otto's not gonna believe this. He's gonna flip." She frowned looking at the hallway out the door. "Where is he, anyway?"

As if on cue, Otto walked into the room with pride, more light glinting off his face than usual. He'd kept his black tuxedo jacket on, unlike me, and his gold bow tie hung untied around his neck, his dress shirt untucked and unbuttoned at the top. The ponytail his dreadlocks had been in earlier in the night had long come undone, and they hung freely as they usually did. My cousin followed him into the room, and she was right on his heels. Her dress was glittery, gold, dramatic, poofy, and super Clio. It reminded me of the dress she wore at her Quinceñera three years ago, except that one had been bright pink and retina-stinging. Sam and Trish followed them both into the room.

Clio started off right away with a dramatic flourish of her hands. "Reggie, look at your brother's face. Look. Look at what he has done to his face!" She pointed at her boyfriend, livid. "I swear to God, Oswald, do not even think of doing this again when we go to my school's prom next weekend. If you do, there will be hell to pay." Seeing his face in full view now, Reggie gasped.

Otto had two new piercings—one new eyebrow piercing next to his already existing one, and a septum hoop piercing in his nose. Ignoring his girlfriend's sharp words, he turned to the rest of us, a self-satisfied grin on his face. "What do you think, guys? Rad, right? Highlights my good looks?"

I was grinning. "Nice, Ottoman. Badass."

Reggie looked down at me dryly and then sighed, lifting her shoulder in a half shrug. "I guess it's not that bad," she said.

"Not that bad?" Clio looked over at her incredulously at first, and then noticing her bandage, froze. "Wait. What is that?" She walked in a circle around Reggie, staring at the back of her neck. "Reggie…didyou get a tattoo? Has the world gone mad?"

"Whoa! Way to go, Reg!" Trish exclaimed. Sam adjusted his glasses, gaping at her bandage too.

Now Otto was the shocked one, and he came over to her, his mouth dropped open. "Holy shit, Reg. A tattoo? Has my sister actually done something cool for once?" For a long moment, he actually looked amazed. It made me want to laugh.

"Don't tell Dad," was all Reggie said in response to her brother, looking at him warily. Still looking thrilled, he nodded in agreement, offering his fist to bump. She bumped it with her own fist, letting a sly grin curve her mouth.

"I'd like to remind everyone that I'm getting a tattoo, too," I piped in half-heartedly.

Clio turned to look at me then, tutting and staring at my currently-in-progress tattoo with a look of distaste. "Oh, Maurice. Why are you doing this to yourself? You're going to end up like your stupid older brother. He looks like the Lizard Man. Do you want to look like the Lizard Man? Are you going to split your tongue in half, too?"

I rolled my eyes at my cousin. "I'm not gonna end up like the Lizard Man or Lars, Clio. It's just one tattoo. Would you relax?"

Otto was looking over my tattoo artist's shoulder. "It's looking awesome, bro." I thought I heard him snap a picture on this phone. "Looks like it hurts."

"It does," I said flatly.

"Wait until your mother sees this," Clio continued, pinching her nose bridge between her thumb and pointer finger and shaking her head in disapproval.

My girlfriend snorted. "That's what I said."

I groaned once again, Otto and Sam laughing at my misery. Trish was leaning over, scrutinizing my tattoo with a look of approval. "I think it looks pretty tight," she said.

"THANK YOU," I said. I pointed at Clio. "And do not tell my mom about this."

"Oh, I won't, don't worry." She raised her eyebrows with a smirk and then gathered her massive skirt in both hands, preparing to walk away. "I'll just sit back and watch for the explosive punishment that results from this." She turned back to Otto and announced teasingly, "We're leaving, metal face."

As Otto and Clio left for their hotel room (as far as Raymundo knew, they were staying at Clio's house with her parents), Sam and Trish decided to leave next, having planned a night of video games and movies at Trish's house.

About thirty five minutes after they left, and thirty five minutes of Reggie, the tattoo artist, and I talking casually to pass the time, my tattoo was finally done.

"Come take a look in the mirror," the artist said to me after taking her gloves and mask off. Reggie was looking at me with her jaw dropped, and I wasn't sure if that meant that it looked really good or really bad.

Both of them helped me stand, since I was stiff from lying there for so long, and then I took the handheld mirror and stood with my back to the wall mirror. The design was just like the one I'd printed out, except large and stretching broadly across my shoulder blades and amazing. It made me look like an Aztec warrior. It made me look 700% more badass.

It. Was. Magnificent.

#

"We probably missed the last slow dance of the night, huh?" said Reggie, shifting in the passenger's seat.

We were currently taking a peaceful, quiet drive home after our eventful night. After leaving the tattoo parlor and grabbing a bite to eat at a drive thru place, we'd decided to call it a night. I looked over at the dashboard where the digital clock was. 12:19 AM. I nodded slowly. "I'm pretty sure we missed the entire ending of the dance," I said. I glanced over at her quickly as the light turned green. "Why?"

She was looking straight ahead, face unreadable. "Just thinking out loud." She paused for a second and then shrugged. "I was just thinking that it would've been my last slow dance of high school."

My stomach sunk a little, my smile fading. "Oh."

I saw her shake her head in my peripheral vision. "It's dumb anyway."

"No it's not," I said. I felt so guilty. I hadn't thought about how she would feel leaving the dance early. I should have realized she might have been sad.

Her voice got softer. "It doesn't matter."

"It does to you." Suddenly, I got an idea. After driving a few more blocks, I pulled the car over to a stop underneath a streetlight. I stalled the car, leaving the engine on, rolled down the windows, and I turned to Reggie in my seat while undoing my seatbelt. "Get out with me," I said.

She frowned, starting to undo her seatbelt as well, but clearly confused. "Why? What are you doing?"

I grinned, putting turning to a new radio station and turning the volume up. I found a station that was playing soft acoustic music. "You'll see," I told her.

We both got out of the car, and I walked over to her side of the car, taking her hand. I pulled her over to the sidewalk, the streetlight shining over our heads like a spotlight. She was still staring up at me, irritated and wondering what the hell I was doing. I took both of her hands in mine. "Dance with me?"

Realizing what this was, my girlfriend began to smile, looking down at our hands. "Maurice."

"Hmm?"

"This is really sweet, but you don't have to do this." The breeze picked up, and she hissed through her teeth at the slight chill, her bare shoulders hunching over. "We can just go home."

I let go of her hands, took off my suit jacket and draped it over her shoulders, careful not to put too much weight of the fabric against her tattoo bandage. "Not until you have your official last slow dance of high school. Prom night isn't over yet." I offered her a hand. The song that blasted from my car had soft guitar in the background and a singer with a soft voice.

After pausing a moment, she put her hand in mine, and I pulled her in close. She began to place her hands at the top of my shoulders, and when I winced, she drew them back quickly. "Sorry. I forgot," she said, looking up at me apologetically.

"It's okay," I said, then took her hands in mine again. "Here, let's try this way." I placed her hands under my arms instead, leaving them to rest on my mid back instead of my sore, bandaged upper back. I hugged her to my chest, my arms wrapped around her shoulders, making sure not to knock my jacket off of her. "This is much better."

Reggie burrowed into my chest, smiling with content. "Yeah. This is perfect."

After awkwardly finding out rhythm, and after I stepped on her feet at least twice, we comfortably settled into a nice tempo. We quietly swayed to the music, in our own world, as one acoustic song turned into two, and then three. At one point, a car driving by honked at us, and I flipped them the bird.

"How long will this dance last?" Reg asked me after some time, making no move to let go of me.

Not letting go either, with one hand, I took a curl that had come loose from her complicated done-up hairstyle and tucked it behind her ear. "As long as you want it to."

By the time we finally decided to stop dancing and head home, I had long lost track of how many songs had gone by. For endless minutes, it was us, and the streetlight, and our tattoo bandages, and the moon and the stars.

#

Much later that night, after carefully showering while trying not to get my bandage wet, washing all of the gel out of my hair, and after getting into my pajamas, I heard it.

The sound of my mom talking, though her closed bedroom door. Realizing she was on the phone, without thinking, I ran to the kitchen and did something I had not done in years. I picked up the kitchen phone, pushed TALK, and listened in on the phone.

Wrong, I knew, but something felt off. Why would she talk on the phone with someone in her room, alone, with the door closed? Why was she hiding it?

As soon as I could hear the phone conversation, I immediately realized why.

"You know how much I miss you." It was the voice of my dad.

"I wish that mattered." My mom paused, exhaling for a long, long time. Then she continued. "But I miss you, too. You know I do."

My dad sounded so vulnerable. "You don't know how much it means to me to hear you say that."

"It means nothing," Mom said.

"It means everything to me." Dad said. "You mean everything to me, Sandy. You and the kids. I would do anything to have you back in my life."

"There's nothing that you can do. The damage has already been done."

"That woman means nothing to me. It all meant nothing to me. You are the love of my life. You are the only one for me." He was growing desperate. "Let me prove it to you. Please."

Feeling shocked, confused, sick and riddled with guilt—and feeling like I had seen something I shouldn't have—I hung up the phone as quietly as I could. I tip toed to my room and shut the door behind me.

#

"Over here!" I could hear my girlfriend's voice, but I couldn't see her. I squinted, trying to look past the thick crowd of Shoobies and locals on the beach, holding two very cold snow cones in my hands. Finally, I spotted her waving at me, sunlight gleaming off her red, heart-shaped sunglasses, as well as Otto, Clio, and Sam next to her. They were sitting on their towels at a completely different spot from where I'd departed from just minutes before.

Weaving through the crowd, avoiding elbows, wide-brimmed sun hats, kids running around, and umbrellas, I finally made it to where they were sitting. "Some sweet ice for my sweet chulita," I said, handing Reggie the watermelon snow cone she'd requested. She rolled her eyes at my cheesiness good naturedly as I sat next to her on her towel. I asked, "Why did you guys move spots? Our old spot was pretty good."

Reggie kissed me on the cheek, then eagerly dug into her snow cone. "We decided the breeze was better over here. Plus, now we can see the competitors better."

It had been a week since prom weekend, and the annual National Women's Surf Competition was currently taking place in Ocean Shores. Since Trish was competing, just as she had for years before, being there to cheer for her was a no-brainer. It had started the day before, and today was when semi-finals and finals were taking place. Semi-finals were still going on currently, and Trish hadn't had her turn yet.

At the moment, she was in one of the many competitor's tents somewhere further away on the beach, changing into her competing gear and preparing, while Sam was sitting with us, nervously wringing the towel he was sitting on between his hands. Being the supportive boyfriend that he was, he was also wearing a 'Trish Tom is #1!' shirt and a foam finger, which I wasn't sure was appropriate for watching surfing, but oh well, it was the thought that counted.

"What if what happened yesterday happens today?" asked Sam, breaking the brief silence and completely unable to hide his anxiety.

Although Trish had managed to pass through to semi-finals the day before, her performance wasn't her best. She was shaky, unsure, and careful, completely unlike she usually performed. Trish had the upper hand above all the other competitors because she was the only local from Ocean Shores competing, which meant she knew the waves here better than anybody else. But something was holding her back from her usual power, and none of us could figure out what it was.

"Don't worry, Sam. Trish was just having an off day yesterday." Otto reassured him. He was sitting next to Clio, who was wearing huge sunglasses that took up most of her face and was cuddled up against his shoulder despite the unrelenting heat. "I'm sure she'll be on her game today."

"But what if she isn't?" Sam's nervousness wasn't going down any. "This competition is so important. She has to keep up her good streak with this one. If she wins, she'll be the youngest surfer to win 3 women's competitions in a row since Klarissa Moors. If she wins 3 women's competitions in a row, she could be asked to join the next ASP Women's World Tour. A professional competitive surfing league. Do you know how big of a deal that is? She would become legendary!"

All of us stared at him, speechless and impressed. I was used to the Squid knowing more about things than me, but I hadn't realized that included professional surfing. Reggie broke the silence. "Wow, look at you. Pro Surfing Expert all of a sudden."

Sam's face turned red quickly. "Well. I've just…done my research." He straightened his glasses in embarrassment. "Besides, I've been the one watching her training endlessly for the past month. This is really important to her. I wish I could help her in some way." He looked down at his foam finger, frustrated.

Reggie put a comforting hand on his shoulder. "She'll be okay, Sammy. You have nothing to worry about. Trish will pull through. Believe me, she will." Sam looked at her, unsure, and Reg smiled at him encouragingly.

Twenty minutes later, my blue raspberry snow cone was long gone, and it was time for Trish's heat against a competitor from Florida. Trish emerged from her tent, in badass, all-navy-and-black surf gear and her hair tied up, a steely look on her usually calm face. Outside of competitions, she was always super chill, peace and love and all that, but all of that was gone the moment she competed. She reminded me of Reggie that way. No wonder her and Reggie had been friends for so long.

As she walked towards the ocean, she stared out at the water with unbreakable, absorbed concentration. That's how she always looked before she went out. The day before, Sam had explained to me that it was her 'listening' face. She was watching the waves, and listening to them speak to her. Watching their pattern. It was weird. And…pretty cool. For Trish, surfing wasn't a sport. It was a mode of living. It was her way of existing.

Trish and her competitor, Laura something, got into the water and paddled out. Our entire group stood up from our towels in edginess and excitement. Laura took the first wave, and Trish respectfully bowed out. It was small, and Laura handled it pretty neatly—she lacked style, though. Her riding style was bland, too basic and easy.

Trish waited patiently for her wave, and five minutes later, it came: a nice sturdy five footer. Trish paddled into it, stood, and off she went. She started off strong with more of the style that she'd become known for—untamed, spunky, and quirky, with plenty of sharp curves and goofy footing. But in one of the wave's openings, she went for some air—and fell off her board. A collective pained gasp came from all of us. Trish had fallen the day before, too, and we'd been hoping she wouldn't today.

Thankfully, she'd gotten enough style points from the judges, and even with the point deductions for the fall, she still scored higher than Laura. Their round went on for fifteen more minutes, and in the end, Trish had the most points and passed onto the final round. We cheered for her, relieved.

She got out of the water, shook hands with Laura, and a camera crew swarmed around her, asking for an interview. Good naturedly, she went to stand in front of the camera as they asked her questions, and she smiled and answered them for about ten minutes. After that, her agent ushered her to the meet-and-greet tent further away on the beach to sign autographs and take pictures. We watched the other competitors when she was gone, although Sam kept looking towards the tent impatiently for when she would emerge. When she finally got some breathing time, she came over to where we were sitting, looking exhausted and holding a protein drink.

Sam rushed to her side. "You're doing so well," he told her, pulling her into a tight hug. "I'm so proud of you."

Even though she hugged him back, she looked up at him irritably. "I fell."

He sighed, letting go of her. "Yes, but you picked up well afterwards. The judges thought you did well, too."

Reggie was the next to hug her. "Yeah, Trish. The judges scored you so high on your style. And you're in the finals! Lighten up. You're doing great."

Trish sighed, sitting down on Sam's towel as he sat also. "I'll lighten up when I'm done with this thing," she said.

After all of us encouraged her for a while longer as she tensely drank down her protein drink, her agent called her over for another interview—this one for ESPN—and after sighing and shooting us a tired smile, she left once again.

The day grew long, the afternoon went by quickly, and finals had begun. By early evening, there were just two competitors left, Trish and a girl from Hawaii named Alana. Alana was good, I had to admit—surfers from Hawaii always are—but Trish was at the same level. Even though she'd messed up earlier, if she just focused, did her absolute best, she could still win.

Needless to say, we were all tense when Trish came out of her tent with her freshly waxed surfboard. Her expression was as uncompromising as ever, her dark eyes brutal. She even looked a little scary. The ocean even seemed to match with her mood, the swell had increased, with waves churning and dark and nearly bordering on dangerous. But there was no storm coming except for Hurricane Trish, and at that moment I think we all knew she was about to make the night hers.

As the girls got into the water, our group left our towels behind and went to stand at the edge of the water, nervous and on edge. Reggie stood beside me, gripping my hand hard with a worried expression on her face. Sam stood the closest to the ocean, grabbing at his own hair in terror.

Trish and Alana paddled out, and unlike all the times before, right off the bat, Trish took the first wave. It was a smart move—it was medium sized, and it moved at the perfect pace for her to show off her style. She didn't just ride the wave; she tore it up. She zig-zagged and ripped down the wave and kept her footing steady. There was no falling this time. It was the perfect start, and it gave her the perfect advantage. The judges scored her high. When she finished riding it out and dropped out of it, she paddled out of the way as Alana took the next wave.

Alana followed up well, as expected. The wave she took was slightly smaller, but Alana had an impressive style of her own—where Trish was eccentric and untamed, Alana was showy and agile. Her footing was classic, but she was a dare-devil, her knees bent far, her arms splayed out broadly in the air as she rode with an almost unnatural speed. The judges loved her as well. She would be hard to beat; Trish would have to think on her toes and take the right steps to get ahead.

It went back and forth for twenty minutes: both girls riding impressively, unrelentingly. Each turn more impressive than the last. Then, for a while, nothing.

The clock was ticking, and the ocean was almost flat; there were barely any waves to be found. There was only 2 minutes of the round left, and Trish was slightly behind in points; Alana was ahead by a mere 3 points. She needed a big miracle, and her ocean wasn't cooperating with her. It almost looked hopeless. We all paced the sand in frustration.

Then—it came.

Alana didn't recognize it, but Trish instinctively knew these waters well enough to see it before she could—the monster wave that was building. The waters were backing up, and before Alana could even budge, Trish was backing into it, paddling, paddling back, paddling some more, she stood and dropped down into it and there it was.

This wave was the mother of all waves. Huge. Humongous. Muy grande. And Trish was making it hers.

As the lip of the wave collapsed onto the tail of her board, she ripped across, first letting her hand skim across the wall as she sped along—and then she really went for it. She went for a bottom turn and transitioned into a top turn, making a gorgeous, huge S shaped turn, and then two more right afterwards. As she came down from the third top turn, she came down again, swerved across the bottom of the wave, came up, brought her knees in towards her body and snapped her board up—and flew.

Water sprayed everywhere as she momentarily flew off the tip of the wave and then landed back down with perfect placement, perfect timing, perfect everything. It was the jump she'd attempted during semi-finals and failed. It was the jump that all of her competitors had probably only ever dreamed of landing so flawlessly.

After a few more enterprising Trish-style curls, she bowed out of the wave, lying back down on her board. The judges announced a 9.8 score for her performance on that wave, placing her 6 points ahead of Alana.

Seconds later, the horn sounded—the heat had ended, the competition was over. And Trish won. She sat up on her board, covering her mouth with both hands in shock.

We erupted in cheers, jumping up and down in exhilaration and hugging each other. Reggie was crying tears of joy, and Sam seemed like he was close to crying as he hugged Reggie hard. After hugging her opponent like a good sport, Trish paddled toward shore and then strode the rest of the way, gripping her board with probably the biggest smile I'd ever seen.

Sam ran to her side before she was even out of the water, lifting her up in a giant hug, drenching his clothes and hair and skin in water. She laughed, dropped her board into the water and cupped his face, kissing him in the most public display of affection they'd had since getting together. Cameras were flashing and the crowd around us erupted into noise, a mix of excitement, admiring hoots of approval and sounds of woe coming from her adoring fan boys.

Shortly after her winning interview for the cameras, the medal ceremony was held, where Trish stood on a pedestal and received more applause and adulation, from us, her fellow competitors, and everyone else there. She also received a giant trophy as champion for the third time, crowning her official surf royalty.

Just as she deserved.

#

"You can do this, baby," I told Reggie. "You've done tons of final exams before. This time should be nothing." She was sitting on one end of the couch in my living room, and I was sitting on the opposite end, with her piles of books and notes in between us.

It was the day after Trish's surf competition. We were technically having one of our study dates, but there was more studying during it then there ever had been before. It was the Sunday before senior's finals week started, and being as stressed as she was, my girlfriend had laid down the rules as soon as she stepped into my front door, saying that there would only be strictly studying today.

Reggie looked up from her notes sharply, shooting me a glare. "This time is everything," she said. "This is the last chance I have to either make my GPA amazing or screw it up. It's my last chance to do well on high school tests before whatever grade I get gets shown to every college I apply to. These grades will determine my future. These are the most important finals of my whole life!"

I winced, rubbing the back of my neck. I hadn't thought of it that way. Being a senior sounded hard. I wasn't looking forward to it. "That important, huh?"

"Yes," Reg said, turning back to her notes. "Now, stop talking to me. I can't read and talk at the same time."

Harsh. I understood, though. This was important for her. I sighed and then stayed silent for ten minutes or so, alternating between watching her trying to memorize short little notes on homemade flashcards and notebook pages and entertaining myself on my phone with the volume muted.

Abruptly breaking the silence, Reggie threw her flashcards to the floor with a frustrated wail. "I can't read these anymore! I can't do this!"

I put my phone down and looked at her, bewildered. "Whoa, Reg. Easy."

She put her face into her hands, groaning. "I'm freaking out."

"Don't freak out. Hey," I got up from my side of the couch, coming over to sit right next to her. She scooted forward a little so that I'd fit, and after sitting there, I wrapped my arms around her from behind. "Mi corazon, please relax. You're gonna give yourself a headache."

She lifted her face from her hands, leaned her head back against my shoulder, breathed in deeply and then sighed. "You're distracting me. You're breaking the rules."

I leaned down to press a quick kiss to the nape of her neck. "No, I'm helping you. Clearly, you need a break."

She moved slightly, as if she momentarily wanted to get out of my embrace, but she made no move to get my arms off. "No breaks."

"At least take a break for lunch. You haven't eaten lunch yet." I kissed her shoulder, completely unable to help myself. "You have the whole afternoon left. You can afford to take one break. Just take one. Then you can stay over as long as you need to finish studying." I bent to place a gentle kiss on her shoulder again.

Her eyes were closed, clearly enjoying my 'distraction'. "Mmm…I don't know…"

I kissed her ear. Slowly removing my arms from around her, using both of my hands, I clasped her shoulders, slowly and deeply kneading the tense muscles there the way she liked. "Please?"

Reggie groaned again, quickly giving in. "Fine, fine. One break. For lunch. And this." She sighed in appreciation, her head lolling on my shoulder. "You're good at massages. This isn't fair."

I snickered silently, very pleased with myself. "Thank you." I showered some kisses from her cheek down to the side of her neck, and then I pressed in closer, rubbing the knots in her muscles a little harder. I would never get tired of how soft her skin was. "You're so tense. I know a way you could loosen up."

She made a noise of disapproval, snapping back into focus and starting to move away. "Maurice, no. Your mom could walk in any time now."

"She's gone running those errands. She's not gonna—"

The doorbell rang. Reggie glanced at me over her shoulder, looking smug. "See?"

Mildly annoyed, I let go of her and got up from the couch. "That's not her. She has a key, why would she ring the doorbell?"

"You tell me," she said as I left to go answer the door.

Opening the front door, I hadn't been expecting my mom to begin with, but I definitely didn't expect to see who I saw there either. A deliveryman.

The deliveryman smiled at me. "Flowers for Sandy Rodriguez," he said. Sure enough, he was holding a giant red bouquet of roses. So giant, in fact, he had to lean around them to see me.

"Um," I blinked, unsure what to say for a moment. "She's not here. I'll sign for it, I'm her son." The deliveryman handed me a clipboard and told me were to sign, and I signed before he handed me the gigantic bouquet with both hands and wished me a good day.

As I closed the door, I balanced the bouquet with one arm and a lifted knee as I searched for a card of some kind to see who it was from. Was she dating somebody that I didn't know about? Why hadn't I met this person yet?

And then, when I finally found a small white card sticking out of the top, as soon as my eyes met the words there, I froze.

It said, simply, 'Te amo. –Your Raoul'. I stood there for a long moment, staring at the card in silence.

Finally, I walked back into the living room with the bouquet. Reggie had picked up her flashcards from the floor and she looked up from them as I came into the room. Her eyes went straight to the explosion of roses in between my hands. "Where did that come from?" She asked, bemused.

I was holding the flowers very carefully between my hands. I leaned away from them as if they were poisonous. "They came for my mom," I paused for a second. "From my dad."

Reggie's eyebrows shot up. "Oh," she paused too, taking in this information. "Oh. Wow."

I went over to the coffee table, carefully setting them down, and then I sat down next to her on the couch again. I stared at the flowers, confused, before speaking up again. "What do you think this means?" I handed her the card.

She read the card, and then she stared at the flowers too. "Well," she stopped, looking like she was thinking hard. "I think your dad is trying to win the woman he loves back."

My frown got deeper. "But that doesn't make any sense. He cheated on her."

"I know, but," her mouth pressed into a line, thinking some more. "I don't quite understand it either, but what I do know is that your dad is no Trent. He seriously messed up, but he's a good man. And he loves your mom." She looked up at me, taking my hand and looking at me soberly. "I'm not saying he is for sure, but...you never know."

I stared at the flowers some more.

#

Over the course of the next few days, more flowers came to the house.

Monday afternoon, when I had just arrived home after school, another rose bouquet was delivered. It was just as huge as the last one had been, and a small stuck out of the top like the other one. The card read, 'Te adoro. –Your Raoul'.

Tuesday, the next one came in the morning before I left for school. My mom answered the door before I could, and I walked out of my room to see her standing by the front door, staring down at the flowers in shock. Then, as I stood there watching, she walked over to the trash can and threw them in, storming past me to her bedroom. I went to the trash can, reached for the card sticking out from between the petals, and read it. 'Eres espectacular. –Your Raoul'.

Wednesday, the card said, 'Eres hermosa. –Your Raoul'. Thursday, it said, 'Eres divina. –Your Raoul'. More bouquets came. One bouquet came each day, with one line from the vows my parents had made to each other from when they were dating and from every year they'd been married. Nine days total, nine bouquets of roses total.

When they first started coming to our house, my mom continued to react with scorn, but somewhere over the course of the nine days, her attitude began to change. She began keeping the flowers with an indifferent, blaze response. Slowly, her disposition changed—she was in a better mood than I'd seen her be in for months. She was so preoccupied with the flowers that she hadn't even noticed my tattoo yet.

Then she began putting the flowers in vases scattered all over the house. There were roses everywhere I turned—the kitchen table, the countertops, the living room table, the entertainment center where the TV sat, the main bathroom, even my bedroom. When I asked her about it, she simply said she thought the house could use some cheering up. Afterwards, I took one of the roses in my room to give to Reggie.

And lastly—when I walked past her bedroom one day, roses everywhere. Roses in single vases, roses on her bedside table, her chest of drawers, and one single rose on the bedside table that used to be my dad's on his side of the bed, which he never took with him.

I texted Lars about it, telling him everything and asking him what it meant. He was no help, unsurprisingly. When he asked me why I 'cared so much about a bunch of flowers', I called him an idiot, he said, 'Back 'atcha, dumbass', and that was the end of that conversation.

That night, I fell asleep staring at the last rose next to my bed.

#

"I still can't believe all of you guys are done with high school forever and Twister and I still have stupid school for another whole week," Otto lamented, leaning back in his chair and folding his arms. Trish, Reggie, Clio and Sam all laughed at him.

"Aw, come on, little bro. Don't be like that." Reggie teased.

The Monday after the senior's finals week was over, all of us were gathered at the Shack. It was a lazy, hot afternoon, and after skating for a while at Madtown, all of us had sought refuge here from the heat. The Pier was busy and loud with tourists.

"Technically we still have it for another whole year," I told Otto jokingly. I had to admit, though, I was feeling the sting of jealousy, too. "I can't believe we're the only ones left in high school now. This feels so weird." Seeing how Otto was still scowling at our friends, I sneakily stole some fries from his basket.

Sam put down the triple chocolate milkshake he'd been gleefully drinking. "Actually, technically we're still high schoolers, too. Until graduation next week, that is." He finished with a leer.

Chewing some fries with an irate look on his face, Otto groaned. "So, what, for the next week you just get to do nothing? Just surf and chill and skate while me and Twist are forced to rot inside classrooms?"

Clio was smirking, also clearly enjoying her boyfriend's distress. "Yep, basically." She exchanged high fives with the rest of the seniors at the table as they laughed again.

"Nice, guys. Just rub it in our faces," I muttered. I exchanged an annoyed look with Otto, and he slumped down further in his chair.

Sam's smug look faded, and he looked at us sincerely. "Don't worry guys, we aren't totally leaving you behind. Even when we go to college, we'll all still hang out in town when we can. It won't be thatdifferent."

"Yeah, except you'll be coming back less often, Mr. Stanford," I said to him, folding my arms. "You'll probably forget all about us and get new smart Stanford friends." Sam didn't respond, and he had on a strangely contemplative expression.

Reggie stood from her seat next to me, squeezing my shoulder with her hand and grinning cheekily. "Lighten up," she said. She picked up my empty paper cup. "I'm getting more fries. More root beer?"

"Thanks baby," I said as she took my cup with her back toward the kitchen, where Ray and Tito were preparing some kind of surprise for us. They were probably making us test some kind of new dessert to put on the menu. I turned back to the table, changing the subject. "So, Trish, how's life going for you as third-time women's surf champion?"

Trish rolled her eyes, waving off the compliment with her hand. "Oh, you know, just normal. Pretty busy, though. I've been doing about a million interviews and stuff, I don't know how I fit in time to take finals last week."

Otto sat up in his seat again, leaning forward with interest. "Yeah, how'd you even do that? How'd you balance all of this with school in the first place? If I were you, I would've dropped out of school a long time ago." Clio shot him a look.

"She's amazing, that's how." Sam said proudly, taking Trish's hand and looking at her adoringly. Her entire face flushed red.

"You're damn right, she's amazing." Reggie returned, setting my refilled cup in front of me. "More root beer for you, more fries for me," she said, moving to sit in her chair again. Before she could sit, I gently took her by the waist, tugging her backward slightly so that she'd sit on my lap instead. "Hey!" She exclaimed, setting her fries on the table, giggling and looking back at me.

"Seat for one?" I joked. She laughed, settling into me and then feeding me a fry, and everyone at the table groaned. I regarded them indifferently. "What?"

Otto looked super mortified, as he usually did when he was around to see our PDA. "You guys are a thousand times worse than Reg and Trent were," he said half-jokingly, half-miserably. "Get a room."

"Agreed," Sam said, adjusting his glasses and clearing his throat.

Clio scowled at them both, saying defensively, "Shush, you guys. They're adorable. It took them long enough to finally get together, leave them be." She shook her head, making her giant gold hoop earrings sway from side to side. Then, her expression lightening up, Clio looked at us fondly. "Just ignore them, you two. Trish and I don't mind. You be your lovebird selves." Trish nodded at us in agreement, grinning.

"No worries. Ignoring Otto is my specialty." Reggie replied. I turned my face to look at her as she turned to look at me, and playfully, she lightly bit the tip of my nose. The guys groaned again, and my cheeks flushed, shy and happy.

"But it's been almost five months already. At least tone it down a little. I'm dyin' here." Otto continued to whine. "Reg, please get your ass off of my best friend."

"Hey now," I said to him, lifting my eyebrows, "Leave my girlfriend and her magnificent ass alone."

There was a quiet, long pause where nobody said anything, just stared at something behind me, and then a big hand thwacked against the back of my head. Hard.

Reggie gasped, looking behind us. "Dad, don't," she said.

Shit. I hadn't slipped up once with Raymundo since Reg and I had become official. Why'd my first slip up have to be in front of everyone? And, come on, it's not like it was bad. Her ass was magnificent. The whole table was staring at me with an uncomfortable kind of sympathy.

Ray came around to face me, his arms folded and a deadly look on his face. "You'd better watch yourself, Maurice. That kind of language used to talk about my daughter is not allowed. Only I can talk about her ass. I made that ass."

"Oh my God, DAD," Reggie whined, horrified.

I rubbed the back of my head with my hand unhappily. It was throbbing. I needed to apologize, pronto, or Raymundo was going to totally whomp me in front of everybody. "I'm sorry, sir. It won't happen again, I promise."

Otto was bent over onto the table laughing so loud that people on the beach could probably hear him. Clio was covering her mouth with her hand, trying really hard not to laugh but failing. Sam and Trish just looked like they wanted to get the hell out of there.

"Easy there, Ray. Don't whomp the little 'cuz before he can help test out our new sundaes." Tito said with an amused look on his face, coming into the room with two trays of the surprise desserts they'd been preparing for us to try.

I nodded, eagerly agreeing. "Please don't," I said.

Ray narrowed his eyes, pointing at me in warning. "Count yourself lucky I'm in a good mood today. Don't let it happen again." I gulped.

Tito merrily gave each of us their new sundaes to try, something they called the Nutella Banana Chocolate Chip Blitz, and as we all ate and talked about other things, my little slip up was long forgotten, to my great relief.

Soon afterwards, Otto, Cleo, Sam and Trish decided to go to surfing to beat the heat some more, and Reggie asked me to stay behind at the Shack with her. Before I could get nervous about her confronting Ray about what happened, she was sitting down at the barstools, looking at Tito, who was in the kitchen working on something.

"Hey, Tito. Can I talk to you?" She asked. I sat down on the barstool next to her, and she gave me a small smile, reaching down to squeeze my knee.

Tito came around the counter to sit next to her on her other side. "Of course, little Reggie. What's on your mind?"

Reggie bit her lip. "It's just…about school."

Tito frowned. "I thought you already finished your final exams. Don't you just have your graduation left?"

"Yes, but," Reggie paused, tucking a curl behind her ear, clearly a little uneasy. "I mean, school after I graduate. College."

"What about college?"

There was a long pause. "I…haven't figured out which college I want to go to yet."

I looked down at the counter, a little taken aback. So this was what she wanted to talk about with him. I was a little surprised that she was bringing it up, since the only person she'd talked about this with before was me.

Nodding slowly, Tito exchanged a look with me. "Ah, I see now. And why is that, little 'cuz? I'm sure plenty of colleges would love to have you there."

"That's just it, though. I have so many options that I just…panicked. I didn't apply anywhere because I don't know for sure what I want." Reggie looked at him. "I don't know what to do, Tito. And dad keeps pressing me to tell him about where I've been accepted, and I haven't told him I haven't applied anywhere."

Tito nodded again. "Ah," he said.

She continued, "I just don't want to disappoint everybody by making the wrong decision. And the future is so uncertain and scary. I don't want to mess things up for myself." There was so much fear and doubt in her voice that I searched for her hand underneath the counter, taking it with mine. She squeezed mine back. "What should I do, Tito? I feel like I've run out of time."

"This reminds me of something the ancient Hawaiians used to say," Tito started, and Reggie and I groaned aloud. He looked at us innocently. "What?"

Reggie smiled at Tito, though it was strained. "No offense, Tito, but what did the ancient Hawaiians even know about college?" I stifled a laugh.

He looked affronted. "The ancient Hawaiians were one of the first early civilizations to even have education, let alone college," he said. He straightened up. "Anyway, as I was saying, there's an ancient Hawaiian saying that goes like this: 'For every one coconut that knows its exact path from the day it was grown, there are twenty more coconuts that have to go down ten paths before they find their destined path.'"

I grimaced. "Sounds like a math problem," I said.

Reggie shook her head at me, then turned back to Tito, frowning. "So, what does that mean for me?"

Tito leaned against the counter on one elbow. "Well, think of it this way. Your dad and I lived the lives of surfers for many, many years. We boarded all of our days away. We also, for a very short time, had a band and had one hit song. Neither of us had any idea that, twenty years later, we'd be here in Ocean Shores, running a successful restaurant with all of you kids here making our lives colorful and wonderful every single day." He looked between the two of us pointedly. "And I'm sure that when you were kids, neither of you thought you would fall in love with each other all these years later. But it happened."

Reggie and I glanced at each other, red in the face. Our hands tightened. Out of the corner of my eye, I finally noticed Raymundo standing at the other side of the room, quietly listening and smiling to himself.

Tito continued, "What I'm trying to say is, most people don't know what their path in life is going to be. But isn't that what life is? Searching for that right path, and having a blast for as much of that time as you possibly can?" He looked Reggie directly in the eyes. "Don't worry about making 'wrong' decisions, Reggie. We all make them. That's a part of growing up. What's most important is that you're truly happy. That's all I, your father, and everyone should want for you. And once you do find your path, anyone that doesn't like what you choose don't matter anyway. Your happiness is priority number one."

I hadn't noticed Reggie had started to tear up. "Thank you, Uncle Tito." She let go of my hand, getting off of her stool and giving him a giant hug. "As always, you know exactly what to say."

Tito was giving her one of his snug bear hugs, the way you could always count on Tito to hug you. "Anytime. You know you can always come to me. Even though you're not little anymore, you'll always be my Little Reggie."

Partly feeling like I was intruding on a private moment, I looked away.

I glanced at Ray again, who was about to step out of the room. He caught my gaze, then narrowed his eyes at me again, making the 'I'm watching you' gesture with his hand. I nodded, gulping, then turned back around on my seat uneasily.

#

I rang the doorbell, and moments later, the door opened, Raymundo standing on the other side of it. "Hey, Twister. Reg is still upstairs getting ready, you can wait with Otto and I in the living room." He offered me a friendly—if not slightly anxious—smile.

I smiled back at him, stepping through the Rocket's front door. I was glad he had forgiven me for my slip up a week ago. I'd thought he was going to hate me forever. "Thanks, Raymundo." I tugged on my blue t-shirt and then adjusted my trusty camcorder in my hand. I was going to dress up today, but then I thought I'd probably get hot in fancy clothes. Besides, it wasn't my graduation.

"Where's your mom? She still coming?" Ray asked me, shutting the front door. "And Clio?"

I nodded. "Yeah, my mom's coming. She said she had something to do first, and she'd meet us there. And Clio has an important appointment, but she'll be at the party tonight." What my mom had to do, though, I had no clue. But I'd decided not to ask. I looked at the couch, and Otto was sitting there, watching some morning news program blankly. "Hey, Ottoman."

Otto startled and looked up, as if he hadn't heard me come in. "Oh! Hey, Twist." He shifted in his seat, seeming ill at ease. He was slightly more dressed up than I was, which was surprising, wearing a blazer over a plain white t-shirt and his usual shorts. Like I said, slightly more dressed up.

I pointed at his jacket. "You're gonna get hot in that, dude. The graduation's outside."

Otto looked down at himself and then shrugged. "Yeah, I guess. I just wanted to…look kinda nice, or something. I don't know." He fidgeted, looking towards the stairs. "What's taking her so long?"

Ray frowned at him. "Easy, Otto. This is an important day for your sister."

"I know. I just…" Otto trailed off, looking agitated about something. He folded his arms and slumped down on the couch. What was his deal today? I cocked my head at him, then looked at Raymundo, who looked at me with the same confusion.

There was a noise at the top of the stairs, and then footsteps coming down them. All of us looked at the stairs, and there was Reggie. Wearing a short white dress under her graduation robe, her hair was straightened and smooth, and she looked nervous, but radiant. My heart did a somersault in my chest.

Ray had stood up from the couch, and he looked like he was choking up. I had a feeling he would be doing that a lot today. "Rocket Girl," he paused to clear his throat when his voice cracked, "You look wonderful."

Reggie smiled, then groaned a little. "Dad, come on. Don't start crying now." She teased. "You'll never make it through today, hold it together."

Ray and Otto laughed. Reggie looked at her dad. "Do you have my cap? I can't find it."

Ray exchanged a secret look with his son, and then he smiled, saying, "Hold on," and left to the kitchen. He came back after a few moments, hiding something behind his back. Revealing it, he exclaimed, "Ta-dah!"

They had decorated the top of her cap with a design made in white and purple duct tape, purple rockets scattered all over it with the words 'ROCKET GIRL' in all caps across it.

"Wow. You guys, it's perfect." Reggie covered her mouth with her hand, staring at the duct tape, then fanned her eyes. "Oh my God. Now I'm gonna cry." Her brother and Dad chuckled again.

I got up from my seat, coming over to where she stood at the bottom of the stairs. She watched me the entire way, and I closed my arms around her, hugging her tightly. She hugged me back just as tight. I leaned my face down to her ear. "How do you feel?" I whispered.

She let out a breathless, shaky laugh. She whispered back to me, "I didn't think I'd be scared, but I am."

I rubbed her back and whispered again. "You'll be fine. Don't worry." I pulled away slightly, still holding her in my arms, and I spoke up so Otto and Ray would hear. "This is your last day of high school. Enjoy it."

Reggie laughed nervously. Ray made a noise that signaled he was trying not to cry again, and Otto just looked at his older sister in a way that seemed a little sad.

#

We arrived at the giant grass field where the graduation was taking place. It was a gorgeous day outside, the sky a perfect blue with no clouds in sight, the sun bright but not too hot yet.

As Otto left with Ray to find good seats, I followed Reggie to where the graduates were supposed to go. We passed a bunch of guests on the way, and I saw a bunch of people I didn't think I'd see there: Eddie, Officer Sherry, Oliver—maybe Sam invited him? He'd already graduated high school when we were still in middle school—Violet and Merv Stimpleton, who had moved away years ago, so I hadn't expected to see them at something like this. Violet still had her energy and her electric pink hair, though she had more wrinkles on her face, and Merv still wore his trademark disgruntled expression. She waved at us as we passed, and we waved back.

We also ran into Trish on the way, and she walked with us the rest of the way. Sherry, their old friend that had moved to South Dakota, had flown all the way back to town to see her old friends graduate, and she came to congratulate them both and wish them luck. Soon we arrived at the graduate's area and I said goodbye, giving Reggie a kiss and also wishing her luck.

As I made my way to the seated area, I passed more guests showing up to the ceremony, including Sam's mom and his dad, who'd flown in from Kansas and was arguing animatedly with someone on his cell phone. From a distance, I saw Trent arrive and leave toward the graduate's area by himself, and I resisted the strong urge to chase after him and beat him up. Instead, I disappeared further into the crowd.

Before I could find where Otto and his dad were sitting, I heard my name above the crowd's noise. "Maurice!" It was my mom's voice.

I turned, searching for where she was, and then seeing her waving, I began to wave back. Then I froze, staring.

Standing next to her was my brother, sneering as he waved his heavily tattooed arm back at me. And on her other side, my father, offering me a tentative grin.

#

We all took our seats, me sitting with Otto, Lars, and Keoni, who'd had a big 'aloha' for us. He had come to town to see his uncle Tito and decided to come along to the graduation. My parents sat with Ray, Tito, and Sam's parents.

It was the first time I'd seen my mom and dad in the same place as each other since Thanksgiving, which was weird to begin with, but what was even weirder was how things were between them. The obvious strain that had been between them at Thanksgiving was completely gone now. They were actually getting along—talking to each other, talking with the other parents, and when my dad told a joke, my mom even laughed. I couldn't stop looking over in incomprehension.

"I know," Lars said in a low voice to me when he caught me looking over to where they were. "They've been like that all morning. It's weird, right?" I nodded, frowning.

We waited some more time for the ceremony to start, Keoni and I catching up as Lars loudly pestered Otto about how long his hair had gotten and how he was still a 'shrimp', laughing his foghorn smoker's laugh as Otto bickered back.

Finally the graduation march started, signaling the start of the ceremony, and I powered up my camcorder as a hush fell over the audience. As the graduates began to flood to the graduate seats single file, the crowd cheered. Otto and I found Reggie's 'ROCKET GIRL' cap in line and I filmed her as she sat down. Trish was in the row of chairs behind her, and Sam had taken a seat in the very front row, where the valedictorian was supposed to sit.

Our Principal opened with her own speech, talking about hard work and accomplishments and the importance of education and yadda yadda. I heard Lars sigh deeply at least five times during the entire thing. Despite the speech's boring nature, I kept recording, determined to record the entire ceremony like I told Raymundo I would.

Eventually, her speech ended, and there came the moment our whole group had been waiting for.

"And now, it is my honor to introduce you all to the youngest member of this graduating class, class valedictorian, as well as one of the most gifted young men I've ever met: Samuel Dullard."

The whole crowd went wild, especially us, hooting and whistling and shouting and making a huge commotion for our best friend. Sam made his way up to the stage, and I zoomed in on him with my camera. His whole face was flushed, and he looked terrified. He had always had stage fright, I'd almost forgotten.

Otto leaned toward me, whispering, "Dude, he looks freaked."

"I know," I whispered. "You can do this. Come on, Squid."

Sam waited for the cheers to die down, and after taking a deep, slow breath, he began. "Good afternoon, ladies and gentlemen." He looked dead ahead, straight at the crowd with a somber look coming onto his face and all of his nerves seemingly melting away, and then continued in a clear voice. "Nine years ago, my mom and I moved across the country, from the state of Kansas to Ocean Shores, California."

I heard a muffled gasp, and quickly glanced over to where Sam's parents were sitting. His mom had a hand over her mouth, looking like she had already begun crying.

"I didn't know anybody, I had never been to a beach in my whole life, and I was starting at a new school. I had never been outspoken, daring, or extroverted. At my old school, I mostly hung out with other kids that liked studying and computers as much as I did. I spent most of my time indoors and sticking to what I knew. Then I moved here.

"After just moving into our new house, I noticed these kids outside. They lived in the same cul-de-sac as me, and they were playing together. But they weren't playing hopscotch, or Red Rover, or tag. They were shredding on skateboards. And they were amazing. I observed them from the safety of my window, amazed at their skills. Two of them, brother and sister, were named Otto and Reggie Rocket, as I learned later. The boy that followed them around with a camcorder, filming their every stunt, was Twister Rodriguez. They called him 'Squid', which he seemed to hate."

I heard my parents laugh with Raymundo, and I looked down at my feet, hiding my smile as Otto nudged me with his elbow. I did hate being called Squid.

"Thanks to my other neighbor, Violet Stimpleton, I was finally introduced to these cool kids. Though they were reluctant to hang out with me at first, after proving my skills as a hockey goalie to them, I was appointed the new 'Squid'. At the time, I didn't know what the introduction of these people into my life would mean, and how it would affect the rest of my life. I didn't know that these crazy, daring, courageous kids would give me a life I would have never imagined for myself. I didn't know that they would become my teachers, inspirations, as well as my best friends. Although I always have had faith in the things I learn in school, my friends have each taught me other important lessons that I will use for the rest of my life.

"From Otto, I learned confidence. Otto is someone that goes after whatever he wants with a wildness, a ferocious tenacity that sometimes borders on insanity." He paused, smiling as the crowd laughed. I glanced over at Otto, and he had on the biggest smile. Sam continued, "I would watch on with wonder, sometimes terror, wondering how someone could be so fearless. I've seen him soar through the air like a hawk, accomplish skills that athletes more than double his age were amazed by, and through it all, he maintained an easy, effortless self-assurance that took me years to even begin to find. Though he would have setbacks, as we all have at times in our lives, he would get back up, determined, with renewed fire and power. Although I may never reach the graceful athletic prowess that Otto was born with in his very bones and blood, to have that kind of ease and power in anything I set my mind to would be a tremendous privilege and honor."

Otto shifted in his seat, hiding his face. "Aw, man," he muttered. I looked at him and saw him wipe a tear that had rolled out from underneath his sunglasses.

Lars leaned over me. "Don't cry, Rocket Dork," he taunted. I shoved his shoulder and he rolled his eyes at me.

"I'm not crying," Otto insisted, sitting up straighter in his seat.

Sam went on, flipping through his notecards. "From Twister, I learned loyalty and dedication. Although it sometimes leads to issues in itself, he has always been loyal to a fault. No matter what we might be going through, he always sticks by his friends. And though it took him some time to warm up to me, when he did, it became immediately difficult to find a truer friend than him."

It was impossible to control the huge smile that took over my face.

"His dedication to his art, his instinctive gift for video production and videography, inspired me to search for my own passion as well—which I eventually found. One day, when I become a world renowned computer-designer-slash-video-game-creator, and Hollywood seeks to make my biggest hit video game into a smash-hit blockbuster, I'll refuse to let anyone touch my work unless they're Twister Rodriguez, world renowned Hollywood director. Because I owe finding my own passion to his passion."

This time I heard my mom crying, and Lars was jabbing me ceaselessly with his elbow. I swallowed hard and blinked hard, hoping no tears would come out of my eyes. Man, that dude was good with words.

Sam looked where Reggie was seated this time, grinning warmly. "From Reggie, I learned strength and responsibility. With a brother like Otto, Reggie often finds herself as the voice of reason, cleaning up after his mistakes and sometimes standing in his shadow. But that never keeps her from shining on her own and being who she is—strong and capable, a force to be reckoned with. Everything she goes after, she masters with finesse and poise, and consistently proves those who ever doubted her wrong. To date, she is one of the strongest women I know—except for my mom, of course." Sam's mom was sobbing by now, though he apparently couldn't hear her, because he kept going without a hitch. "Though my strength can't compare just yet, I can only hope to one day learn to become as strong as Reggie is. Never afraid to show her intelligence, her athletic ability, as well as her sensitivity and compassion for those that mean the most to her, I consider myself a better person having known her. And one day, when she quite justifiably rules the entire world, the world will be a much better place, too."

Glancing toward where Reggie sat, I saw her dip her head down to wipe some tears. I cursed under my breath as a tear rolled down my face, and I wiped it before anyone noticed—well, except for Lars, who laughed at me under his breath. Otto wasn't holding up much better, and Raymundo especially wasn't—he frantically wiped his face with a handkerchief that my dad handed to him.

"And the rest of you—Raymundo, Tito, Trish, you know who you are. All of you have taught me things as well, probably more than I could put into words. Thank you to all of you, too." Raymundo loudly blew his nose.

"Spending time with these people in my life, and their families, and getting to be a part of their everyday lives, has been an immense honor. It's allowed me to grow up into someone that I'm proud to be, and I'm not sure my life until now would have been half the adventure it was without all of them in it. As I step through the doors of Stanford University this fall, I'll take all of the life lessons they taught me with me in this next new, scary phase of my life. And if fate should have it, 20 years from now, we'll still be tearing up this wild skate park called life together." He looked toward where we all were sitting with the most meaningful look on his face, and I had to fight hard to keep myself together.

"All these endless adventures, endless troubles and challenges, endless accomplishments and opportunities—every moment was worth it. To my best friends, the kings and queens of Ocean Shores, and to all of you, I wouldn't have wanted to slay dragons and conquer the world alongside anyone else. Thank you for making the weird kid from Kansas your 'Squid'. I may be a Squid, but I'm without a doubt the luckiest Squid on this whole planet. Thank you for the time of my life. Thank you."

As Sam bowed forward, signaling the end of his earth-moving speech, every single person stood and applauded him, giving him a standing ovation. With the last words of his speech, chills had moved throughout my entire body, leaving me feeling like I had just witnessed greatness.

As we clapped for our friend, Otto and I looked at each other, smiling. If Sam was grateful for having met us, we were ten times more grateful that the super geek from Kansas had moved here and changed our lives, too.

Next it was finally time for the graduates to get their diplomas, and I recorded on my camcorder as Sam, Reg, and Trish walked across the stage, shook our Principal and Superintendent's hands, and received their diplomas, officially crossing the bridge from high school to the real world. We cheered for them the entire way, until our voices were hoarse.

When everyone had received their diplomas and changed their tassels to the other side, they stood up and formed a large circle. Everyone had their caps in hand. As their class song blared over the speakers, after a count of three down to one, "Three, two, one!" they threw their caps up into the air with one collective, mighty cheer.

Our lives would never be exactly the same from that point forward. It was the end of an era. But with the ending of one era, a new, possibly greater one would open up in its' place. The future ahead, bright and mysterious and endless in its reach, had its arms open to all of us. And I was ready for it.

#

Hours later, the graduation party was in full swing on Rocket Beach.

The entire town had showed up, even people we had never even met before. It was a full out luau, complete with tiki torches and flower leis and a band that Tito had hired to play beachy tunes on ukuleles and other various acoustic instruments. As for Tito and Ray themselves, they were running around frenziedly, Keoni helping them out, trying to keep up the food supply to meet the large crowd's demands.

And as for me, I had been chilling with my friends. The whole time, I had been trying desperately not to wonder about my parent's situation, but eventually I took off in search of Lars.

Making my way through dancing, jostling bodies, I continued searching. I weaved my way around a woman on stilts, and dodged my way past a fire breather. Where had he even come from? Who were these people? When I made my way past a suit-wearing, top-hatted stranger, he said to me, "That's the spirit!" I nodded, smiling and backing away.

I also passed by another unexpected guest at the party—a middle school aged, punky combat-boot wearing and heavily pierced Mackenzie, trailing behind her preppy parents with a grimace and shouting, "This graduation party stinks on ice!" I ran away before she could see me.

After another girl accidentally hit me in the face with her hair and another dude jabbed me with his elbow, I finally found Lars standing about ten feet away. "Lars! Lars!"

He was standing with his old buddies, Pi, Sputz, and Animal, and together they were all talking to a group of girls around their age, probably trying to flirt, though it didn't look like they were having much success. Sputz was telling a marble-mouthed joke, and the girls just stared at him in confusion.

I called again, coming closer. "Lars!"

Lars, turning away from the group, glared at me. "What do you want, dork? Can't you see that I'm busy?"

I glanced back at his friends again, and the girls they were talking to looked super bored. I rolled my eyes. "Yeah, I'll let you get back to your unsuccessful flirting later. This is more important."

He made a face. "What is?"

I sighed, looking at him seriously. "Mom and Dad," I said.

The glare dropped off of his face. Five minutes later, we were shoving through the crowd together, looking for our parents. He grumbled, "Are you sure they're still here? What if they left?" We walked past Violet Stimpleton doing the limbo as her husband shouted at her, saying something about how she was going to throw out a hip if she kept doing that.

"They wouldn't have left without telling us." I said to him. I stepped around a Shore Shack burger someone had thrown, or maybe dropped, onto the sand. I shook my head at it. Such a waste.

Lars stepped over some dude that was sitting with his legs stretched out. "Okay, so, what are we gonna say? 'You guys are supposed to be in the middle of getting a divorce, start acting like it'?"

I snorted. "No," I said. "We just need to ask them what's going on between them. We're entitled to know, we're in this family too."

Then, about fifteen feet away, there they were. We stopped in our tracks. Standing huddled together, near the other parents but still far enough away that they were in their own little world, holding drinks and laughing and talking amongst themselves. I looked closely between them. My mom had a sparkle in her eye again. I hadn't seen her look like that for months.

Trading a determined look, we nodded at each other, then walked the rest of the way to them. "Mom, Dad, aquí," Lars called.

They turned to us slowly, sobering up from some joke they'd just been laughing at. "Ah, there, nuestro mijos," Mom said. Our sons.

"Our pride and our joy," Dad said to her. He turned to us. "Do you need something, boys? Is something the matter?"

I glanced at Lars, and he nodded at me, indicating that he wanted me to ask. So much for being in this together. I sighed, saying, "Actually, yes."

Mom frowned. "What is it, sweetheart?"

I took a deep breath, looking directly at them both. "We want to know what's going on between you two." Lars nodded in agreement, folding his arms. "Things seem kind of…different today. Between you two." I paused. "Again."

My parents exchanged a look. "We thought you might ask," our mom said, and then she looked at Dad again. And then they took each other's hands. I stared at their entwined hands.

Dad finished where Mom left off. "Your mother has decided to give me another chance."

Lars and I looked at each other, and then we eyeballed them again. "So, does that mean…" Lars trailed off.

"We've given it some thought, and decided not to finalize the divorce. Even though the last months have been a painful time," she paused glancing at Dad as he looked at the ground, grasping her hands tighter. "We thought it would be best to start counseling, so that we can work this out the best way. I still don't know if I can fully trust your father, but," she looked between us, "I'm going to do my best to try."

I was just staring at them, mystified. So was my brother. Then, finally, I found the words. "How?" I asked. "After everything that you've gone through? How?"

My mom smiled, and Dad said, "Because when you find love like ours, when two people love each other this much, it's impossible to let go of. Every little bump, every mountain and valley you run across—you find some way to get past it. No matter what it takes. Together."

There was a tear running down Mom's face, and Dad wiped it with his finger. She looked at us, beaming. The true portrait of happiness. "You boys will understand that one day."

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a shock of violet, white and tan, and when I looked over, there was Reg, standing with Trish, Sherry and Clio. Tired looking, but still devastatingly beautiful. My one true love. I looked back at my mom. "I think I already do," I said.

She smiled. She knew.

We left our parents alone in their bliss. After he gave me a celebratory rough noogie and then an actual, honest, rare smile, Lars went back to his friends as I paced toward Reggie and her friends. She saw me coming, and when I arrived, I scooped her up in an attack hug, lifting her off her feet and spinning her in a circle as she laughed. Her dress swooshed around like a cloud.

"Baby, you'll never believe this," I said as I set her down. "My parents aren't getting divorced! They're staying together!"

Adjusting the leis around her neck, she stared at me for a moment in blank shock. "Wait, are you serious?" I laughed, nodding. This time she attacked me with a hug. "Baby, that's wonderful! Oh my God!" Her voice rose with joyfulness.

Clio piped in. "Aunt Sandy and Uncle Raoul are staying together? Seriously?"

I nodded at her, still engulfed in a hug with Reggie. "Seriously," I said, unable to hide my excitement.

Clio laid a hand over her heart, closing her eyes for a second. "Thank God," she said, and she reached toward me to squeeze my shoulder. "I'm so happy for you guys. Really."

"Thanks, Clio," I told her, returning her somber grin.

"What's going on?" Otto asked from behind us. He and Sam were approaching the group, and he adjusted his green headband. He'd long ago ditched the blazer and traded it for a yellow t-shirt, long red shorts and a lei around his neck.

"My folks are staying together!" I announced to the both of them, a gigantic smile on my face. The both of them chorused in excited congratulations, and then Trish, Sherry and Clio wandered off to go look at something.

There was just the four of us left, then: me, Otto, Sam and Reggie.

Sam turned to me, a hand smoothing over his backwards baseball hat, which had a big 'N' on the front of it. "Congratulations again, Twist. I know you must be really happy. I'm glad your folks have decided to work it out." He smiled, and when he did, his glasses went crooked. He pushed them up his nose again.

I grinned, punching him in the arm. "Congrats to you too, Mr. Valedictorian-slash-future-Stanford-student," I teased. "Nice speech, by the way."

He flinched, self-conscious, then shrugged, smiling. "I really hoped that you guys would like it."

"Of course we did, Squid," Otto cackled, punching Sam in the arm, too. His reflective sunglasses glinted in the orange glow from the sunset.

"You made everyone cry," I added. I jokingly punched him again. "Don't ever make me cry again."

Reggie pushed up her red, heart-shaped sunglasses to rest on top of her head. "Okay, let's stop punching the valedictorian now." She said, holding a hand up tiredly. Sam looked at her in appreciation, and she patted him on the back.

"Wow. Graduate Reggie is just as uptight as high school Reggie was." Otto dodged his sister's hand as she made to smack him, and Sam and I laughed. Grinning, Otto took a gulp from his cup of punch, then looked up thoughtfully. "You know, I think this kind of celebration calls for our handshake," he said to all of us.

Reggie looked at him, making a face. "You want us to fist bump?" She asked in a dry tone.

Otto sighed dramatically at her. "Not that handshake. Our old handshake from when we were kids. Come on. What do you say?" He held his hand out in the middle of our group, palm facing upward. He looked at each one of us, his eyebrows raised far above his sunglasses. "For old time's sake."

After agreeing, and after the rest of us put one hand in the middle, for old time's sake, we wiggled our fingers together as we all said in perfect, practiced unison, "Woogity, woogity, woogity."

#

Shortly afterwards, I stole Reggie away, leaning in to whisper in her ear. "You know your favorite beach spot? The private one with wade pools and the rocks to sit on?" She nodded, and I asked, "Will you bring me there?" Taking my hand, lacing her fingers through mine, she led me.

After some time of walking, moving completely away from the party, the noise with it faded away to just a distant hum. By the time we made it there, the sun had almost completely set; there was just a tiny sliver of the sun left peeking out over the ocean.

Weaving through palm trees, we then sat on one of the big, dark rocks on the edge of the water in silence for a few minutes, enjoying the surroundings and how our hands felt locked together.

Eventually, I spoke up. "Can I tell you something?"

"Of course," she replied in a soft voice.

"Just now, my dad told me that when two people love each other a lot, despite all odds, they'll do whatever it takes to stay together." I shifted, staring down at our hands and feeling a knot in my stomach. "And I just wanted to tell you that I'm willing to do whatever it takes for our relationship whenever you leave for college." I paused, swallowing hard. "I know long distance is hard, but there are ways around it. I think if we try our best, we can still be together."

"Maurice," Reggie said.

I jolted, gazing up at her again. "Yes?"

She shook her head, breathing in and then out silently, and then said, "Sorry. I can't believe I didn't tell you sooner. I guess I was so worried about graduation that I forgot." She bit her lip, tightening her grip on both of my hands. "I've decided I'm taking a year off before college. I'm gonna rest, work at the Shack, travel around different places, and blog about my traveling experiences. Just like you said, remember? I have you to thank for that idea," she paused to beam at me. "And this way, I can wait for you to graduate high school. So we can go to college at the same time." She stopped, brown eyes watching me for my reaction with slight unease. "What do you think?"

My jaw had dropped. She was staying? She was going to wait for me?

Too moved and overwhelmed to speak, I took her face into my hands and kissed her lips. I broke the kiss, letting my lips brush hers as I said in a gentle voice, "I love you, Regina Rocket." I kissed her again, then broke it again to say, "I adore you." I kissed her once more. "You are spectacular, you are beautiful." Kiss. "You are divine, you are the most wonderful person in the entire world." Kiss. "You are my everything, I love you with my entire soul." Kiss, kiss. "You are the love of my life, and every day I love you more." Kiss, kiss, kiss. "Te amaré por siempre."

I could feel her smiling against my lips. "What does that mean?"

"I will love you forever." Kiss.

She broke the kiss this time. "I love you, Maurice Rodriguez. And I always will." She kissed me tenderly, then leaned back and said, "You know, all of these sound like marriage vows."

My heart jumped into my throat at the word 'marriage'. I swallowed it back, chuckling. "Yeah, I guess they do." My smile faded as I looked at her, becoming serious. "But you know…" I trailed off, suddenly getting terrified at what I was about to say, and then I started again. "You know, when we're…in the distant future, when you've become successful at writing, and I've become a successful director…and we're married and we live in some beachfront house or something…I think…I'd like to hope…that we'll still be this way. Happy. Actually happy. For a really long time. Like, forever. Even after all of the rough patches."

Reggie wrapped her arms around my neck, hugging me to her. "Of course we will be," she said, nuzzling my jaw with her nose. The nighttime breeze blew some of her violet hair into her eyes, and I pushed it away. "We'll be happy because we'll have each other. We'll be old, and shriveled, and gray, and we'll probably need canes to get around, and we probably won't be able to skateboard anymore. And we'll be happy."

I closed my eyes, savoring her words. They were the most beautiful words I had ever heard. Slowly, I turned my face to kiss her forehead, heart throbbing and aching with an acute happiness I never realized I'd ever get to feel. "That's all I want," I said.

With all of our clothes on, we took an impromptu dip into the ocean. Holding our breath, we dove underneath the water. Bracing my eyes against the sting, I opened my eyes to look at her and found that she was already looking at me. The skirt of her white dress floated around her body and her hair floated around her head, the moonlight shining through the water and making it look like a violet halo.

We surfaced, and then our mouths collided, and we kissed. Swimming back to the beach, we lay on the flattest rock, breathless and drenched in salty water. And under the moon, on the beach, on the night of her graduation, we kissed.

We kissed each other the best way we knew how; we kissed until time stretched and twisted and stopped. Thorough. Easily. Unhurried. Because what was a few hours in the endless space of forever?

We had all the time in the world.

"As the ocean is never full of water, so is the heart never full of love." -Unknown

end