Hey there! This is my first fic, I'm spanish so you'll have to forgive any spelling mistakes. I hope you enjoy reading as much as I enjoy writing. This is all human,but a very badass one, Doccubus! Without the Dyson's drama, I like his character though so he'll be in my story. Just read to find more! Thanks for everything! I would love your reviews :) c.

Bo's POV

Girls. Booze. Girls. Fighting. Girls. In that order. Because girls are the beginning, middle, and end. They are everything that is terrible and sexy and perfect with the world, but you still needthe other two. You need the booze to handle the girls. You need the fighting to keep them.

That was why I went to the pub. My almost, but not quite, 'cause I slept with other girls too many times' girlfriend had dumped my ass. I deserved it. I also deserved a drink, or six. So Dyson dragged me to Dahl and lined up shots on the bar. We raced. That was how we did it. Loser bought. I let the warmth wash over me, through me. My throat, stomach, hands, eyes burned with each sharp crack of the glasses on the bar. We fell to our pattern of playing pool until it was dangerous for bystanders, drinking more when we started to sober up.

When it got late, we stumbled out to the parking lot. We weren't driving. That would've just been stupid. So we waited for our ride while staring at the dark buildings across the parking lot and trying to stay upright. These guys from inside followed us out. All night they'd stared at us, the type that's too pathetic to say something when they got a problem. They looked young, just out of high school, and looking for a way to prove themselves.

"Dyke," was the first word they could manage. Dyson and I laughed. I could take it. People had called me that before, and I wasn't going to get all worked up over some kid talking shit.

"Good one," Dyson managed to giggle. Neither of us was exactly eloquent when we drank.

"Shut the fuck up, pussy," the shorter one spat at him. He was kind of stocky, like a wrestler.

"Yeah, fuckin' fag," the taller one contributed. Dyson wasn't a fag, though, and he certainly wasn't a pussy.

"You guys should try for some originality." Damn, that was hard to say when I was plastered.

"Yeah, originality," echoed Dyson. "Hey." He turned to me. "Where the fuck is Kenzi?" I'd been the one to call our ride.

"Fuck if I know." We were dismissing the idiots. If they didn't catch on, it was their issue.

Two hands planted on my back and shoved me forward. "You got a problem, bitch?" It was the wrestler.

I was fine with leaving them to their ignorance, but no one, and I mean fuckin' no one, touched me. Slowly, I turned around. Dyson tugged at my shirt, telling me to leave it alone. Shorty was up in my face, looking pissy.

"Kiddo, you can walk away. If you don't, I'm gonna punch your teeth out." Dyson stopped pulling on my shirt. He knew what followed that line.

The kid just laughed. So I slapped him. When he came at me again, I punched him in the face. That totally pissed him off. He lunged at me and we ended up on the asphalt. That's no good. If someone's a wrestler, don't let him get you on the ground. I was only down for a couple seconds though before I felt hands, four of them, grab and pull me up. The tall kid was holding his buddy back. I struggled a bit before I realized it was Kenzi and Dyson holding me. They didn't let go when I stopped resisting. Instead, they dragged me and tossed me in the backseat of Kenzi's (I was sure it wasn't really hers) car.

"Watch your back, little boy," I screamed before Kenzi shut the door. From the confines of the backseat, I watched Dyson stumble around the car to climb in the passenger seat. Kenzi got behind the wheel and peeled out of the parking lot.

"Honey, I've dragged your ass away from more fights than I can count on two hands," Kenzi said in his singsong voice. "And, sweetness"—he looked at me in the mirror—"you look awful."

"My hero," I managed as I dragged myself upright and found my seat belt.

"What did those guys do?" Kenzi turned to Dyson.

"They deserved it," Dyson replied. He always sided with me. "One of them pushed her."

"Learn to walk away," Kenzi said real slowly to me. "I'll work on that." "Thanks for picking us up, Kenz." Dyson reclined his seat a bit.

"What time is it anyway?" "Just after one. You're lucky you're hot," Kenzi told him. "I don't leave my warm bed for just anyone." "You know it, girl." Dyson didn't say girl normally. Just with Kenzi. The alcohol might have contributed too.

"So what's the occasion?" Kenzi talked a lot. She didn't like silences. "Your girlfriend dump you again?" Dyson shook his head. "No, that was two weeks ago. This time it was Bo's."

Kenzi gave me another look in the mirror. "That hot little butch number? She finally did it?" "Yeah. Got a hold of my cell phone." She grimaced. "Text messages?" "Yeah. Never let them get the cell phone," I half told her and half told myself. "You could just stop cheating on them," she offered sagely. Dyson started laughing.

"I don't." They turned in their seats to gawk at me. "They assume we're exclusive. None of them ask me."

"Yeah. They're the ones with issues," Kenzi said. "Shut up, Kenz," I said like I almost meant it.

Dyson clumsily extracted himself from the front seat when we stopped in front of his house, a beige monument to suburban monstrosities. He leaned back into the car. "You coming in, Kenz?"

"No. I have work in the morning. I'll see you at the Dahl though, right?" Dyson nodded and started weaving toward the front door. I followed him until we were upstairs where we collapsed on a couch.

"Are we going back to the Dahl?"

"Already? We just left." He sort of fell off the couch and started setting up the Super Nintendo. We were old-school like that.

"No. Kenz said she'd see you at the Dahl." I caught the controller he tossed me and righted myself so I could see the screen.

"Yeah, tomorrow night."

Tomorrow night. There was some meaning there. It was hard to think through the drunken haze.

"Shit." It hit me. Lauren was coming back, and everyone was going to the pub to welcome her home. "I hate your sister." She was his step-sister, they didn't look similar at all though.

"She hates you too." Dyson's shoulder brushed mine as he leaned. The player on his half of the screen did the same thing. Dyson was the type to move with his characters, as if that helped.

"Why doesn't she just stay at Yale for the summer?" Lauren went to Yale. Of course, she went to Yale. Me and Dyson, state college all the way. I couldn't afford a school like that anyway. Dyson didn't care enough.

"You think she should just stay at Yale?" he said like I was being an asshole. "That's nice of you."

"It's not like I'm her favorite either." I paused the game and tossed my controller to the ground.

"I don't care. I'm pumped. I haven't seen her in over a month." He slid to the floor in front of me. His back was propped against the couch, and all I could see was the smooth, blonde hair covering the back of his head.

"Do you miss her when she's gone?" I asked even though I already knew the answer. As if they were twins, they're always connected even if they're a million miles away from each other.

"You coming with me tomorrow?"

"To the airport?" I knew someone had to go with him to help Lauren carry all her crap to the car. That girl brought so much shit to college and back home it blew my mind.

"Yeah." His head dropped back against the cushions so that I couldn't tell if he was tired or if it was the booze.

"I guess."

A slow grin spread across his face. "I love you." Yep, he was still drunk.

"Get up. Get up. Get up." Dyson fell onto the bed next to me. He took my blanket and wrapped it around himself. Then he tried to take my pillow so I pushed him onto the floor.

"Five more minutes," I said as I curled up with the pillow. "No, I woke up late," he said from the floor. "We only have an hour." "That's plenty of time." It wasn't.

"We're gonna be late. If you want a shower, get your ass up." I headed down the hallway and shut the door of the bathroom behind me. When I was done showering, I towel dried my hair as much as posible.

"Let me in. I want a shower too." So I opened the door.

"Calm down. Does it really matter if we're late?" I didn't see why Lauren's plane was coming in so early in the first place.

Dyson just rolled his eyes and said, "You can borrow some of my jeans if you want."

It would have been logical to have more than T-shirts and underwear at Dyson's. Too bad I wasn't logical.

We were only five minutes late to the airport. Traffic had been kind. As we approached the correct terminal, Dyson handed me his phone.

"See if she's here yet." We couldn't stop and wait at the curb. Obviously. So we just had to circle until Lauren showed. That was where I came in. I texted Tamsin to see if she had landed. She said she was going to baggage claim.

I waited on the sidewalk for her. I wasn't going to wander around until I found the right baggage claim. She could come get me.

If not for the familiar haughty stride she'd maintained since childhood, I wouldn't have recognized her. Her face was different. It was all wrong. The chubby cheeks were slimmer, giving way to the kind of perfect cheekbones and jawline that models would paid serious cash for. My initial urge was to let my jaw drop, my tongue hang out, and start panting like a dog. Instead, I clenched my teeth and summoned the most predatory and bored look I could.

" Lo! I've been waiting for you." She turned and glared disdainfully. "Well, come on. Give me a hug." I held out my arms as if she couldn't wait to throw herself into them. The small bag she was carrying hit me hard in the chest. I barely had time to catch it before she spun and walked back toward the building. Her tight little ass twitched in her short skirt with every step.

"My bags are this way. I thought Dyson was smart enough to bring someone who would be able to carry them," she called over her shoulder loud enough for anyone within a fifty-foot radius to hear. "I guess you'll have to make two trips."

"Darlin', you know I can handle anything you've got." There was a slight hitch in her step. "Don't worry. When we get home I'll remind you." I was being a little too obnoxious. It wasn't my fault. I had two semesters of annoying her to make up for.

"I haven't even been in California five minutes and I already feel nauseous," was all she said to me until I'd pulled all the bags she silently pointed out. I should have gotten a cart to carry them. I didn't because I wasn't going to let her win. I stacked and slung them until my T-shirt wasn't visible through the straps and I couldn't really feel my arms.

"Is that everything, princess?" I pretended that my extremities were not tingling and my lungs were perfectly capable of filling withair. "Why? Can't you carry any more?" She wasn't even watching the bags going past us. "I'll carry you if you don't get your ass moving." I nodded in the direction of the doors. "Oh, Bo, I'm so impressed," Lauren responded flatly. At least she also started walking. When Dyson pulled to the curb, he jumped out, opened the back of his 4Runner for me, and tackled Lauren in a massive hug. She squealed and let him spin her around. I was going to hurl from the sibling love. I channeled my disgust into throwing her luggage in the back. They were like that the whole way back. She would reach over and play with his hair, tell him she liked the new cut. He acted affronted when he saw the little glint from a new piercing at the top of her ear. Apparently, it's uncool to get a piercing without your brother present. Lauren pulled her hair back to give him the full effect. Her hair was way longer than when I'd last seen her. When was the last time I'd seen her? Almost a year.

As soon as we got to their house, I took off. As much as I loved Dyson, I hated Lauren. I didn't care if it was just because I was jealous.