Author's Note: Before this story begins, this story takes place in the same AU as the one I introduced in my story Speak. I highly encourage new readers to at least read the prologue to that story before this so you can understand the AU (Dakota is returning in this story too). As I've hopefully mentioned in the description, this story is a self-insert with myself and fellow writer Master Assassin Ezio 91. Just a fun story that hopefully has interesting themes.

This story will be told in a first person perspective. Like Always, I'll switch between the two perspectives.

Probably should advise you not to read if you like Amberprice. Just saying. I personally like the ship but it wouldn't work in this story.

Thanks for reading!

Chloe

February 23rd, 2014

7:43 p.m.

Don't get me wrong, I was happy for Max and Warren. It was almost a relief for the two nerds to finally get together. It was honestly pretty fucking hilarious to walk in on Dakota and Brooke's fight too.

But I had bigger things on my mind. Lately, Rachel has been acting weird. She stopped talking to me, she's been spending far too much time away from the apartment without letting me know, and we hardly spent any time together at the dance.

Needless to say, I fucking knew something was up.

Rachel insisted on driving to the Two Whales because I was drinking. Whatever. I needed to figure out what she was up to.

Thankfully, we had taken my truck. Rachel didn't notice when I snuck her phone out of her purse while we were getting out.

I hid the phone from Rachel's view while we discussed rent for the apartment. I wasn't really paying attention, I was more or less making a suspect list. A drunken one, yeah, but a suspect list.

People that Rachel could cheat on me with:

Max: Unlikely She's way too fucking in love with Warren to even think about an affair with Rachel. Hell, she probably wasn't even attracted to girls until Dakota.

Warren: Also unlikely. Way too in love with Max. Warren seems way too innocent to even think about picking up strange. Hell, he probably calls sex "coitus".

Dakota: Very possible. Only problem is, she's barely left the house since she cheated on Max. Like, she's been hella sad then. To the point where I'm sure they fucked.

Brooke: Rachel actually has standards.

Frank: This is the interesting one. I know they've fucked before, because after Rachel and I broke up for a month (I don't even remember why we did), they slept together. I'm over it now, mostly. Still, I like him and he's my dealer. They better not have fucked.

Dylan Brooks: Rachel has been modeling recently for a local radio service with this one 20-something year old kid. I guess he was well known for some other modeling shit. Still, I don't trust the douche.

Then, after that, I'm not sure. Those are just the most likely candidates. I've been thinking about this for the last few days, and I'm going insane. I haven't been able to eat recently, or sleep. Rachel is my everything, and I don't want her to break my heart.

I'm looking at Max and Warren across the booth. It was pretty obvious that the two nerds were holding hands. Hell, it was obvious to everyone in the room that they were together, and were hella happy about it.

I remembered what it was like to be that blissfully happy. To be able to not have a care in the world. I wish I could be happy for them, but I'm too racked with anxiety to be happy for them.

While Rachel was talking to Dakota, and Max and Warren were whispering sweet nothings, I snuck a glance at her phone.

Messages from her mom and dad. Text from Mr. Jefferson. Pretty sure he's gay…

Not finding anything. Pretty standard stuff.

Just before I can sigh in relief, I run across the douche canoe himself, Dylan Brooks.

And I don't find much. At first. Just some texts about meetings and stuff. Until I strike gold.

Dylan, Dictator Douche himself, says he can get Rachel cast in some Netflix original show if she sleeps with him. I'm hoping for her to say no, but I'm greeted with the exact opposite. She says yes.

Then, nothing. I started to panic. But maybe I just imagined it, right?

I check the Frank messages. I can trust Frank right? I've known him for years. Longer than I have known Rachel even.

Looking at the texts, nothing seems out of wack. Until I come to some texts dated a couple of days before.

Frank: We really need to tell Chloe.

Rachel: She doesn't need to know.

Frank: I cant. I cant keep me and you from her.

Rachel: You're kidding me right? You were completely fine keeping this a secret in September. Now you're getting cold feet?

They fucked. They fucked. They fucked. THEY FUCKED!

I couldn't stand it anymore. I couldn't stand to be near Rachel or touch her. I had to get out of here.

I shot a look at Max that read, "I'm sorry. I'm sorry for fucking up your perfect night."

Max seemed to have sensed something in my eye because her eyes widened in alarm. Max couldn't calm me down. Nobody could.

Quickly, I got on my knees and slid out of the booth and into the empty booth behind us. Warren, Dakota and that bitch Rachel started in shock. I had no time for them though.

I ran outside before any of them could react. Alone, I launched the phone as far as I could chuck it.

"What the fuck?!" Rachel shouted. "Was that my phone?"

"She doesn't need to know," I spat. Instantly, Rachel knew.

"How long have you known?" Rachel cried hysterically.

"Oh, I just found out!" I cried with false cheer. "Not only did I find out you've been two-timing me with Frank, but with that douche Dylan Brooks! I mean, who haven't you slept with?!"

"Well, maybe," Rachel came back with a different tactic. Less cry-y, more bitchy, "If you weren't such a raging bitch all the time, then I wouldn't have thought about sleeping with Frank."

"You know what the sad thing is?" I retorted hotly. I was trying to push back tears that fought their way to the surface. I would NOT cry. Not here, not in front of Rachel. "I actually loved you."

Rachel took it and didn't say much. She walked past me and avoided my eye. I wanted her to scream. I wanted her to hit me. I wanted her to cry.

I didn't want her to turn around and say, "I thought I loved you too."

Chloe

May 12th, 2014

8:57 p.m.

Fwung.

Thwack.

Fwung.

Thwack.

I know what you're thinking. You're thinking, "Jeez Chloe, cliffhanger much?"

Yeah, I get it. You're probably mad. I am too. We were my favorite couple too.

Fwung.

Thwack.

Fwung.

Thwack.

The thing is, I trusted Rachel. Sure, in the two plus years we were together, she hurt me a couple times. But she was almost always the first to apologize. She knew how to make things right. She was the proverbial glue that held my broken ass together.

Fwung.

Thwack.

Fwung.

Thwack.

Rachel sold the apartment. To be fair, she gave me half the money she made off it. Now she's off shooting that lame-ass movie she got from that douche wagon Dylan Brooks. God, I hate him.

Gulp.

Ugh. That burns.

Fwung.

Thwack.

It's been almost two months. It still sucks. Max and Warren and Justin and everybody else are getting ready to graduate. And me? Well, this loser is still working as a dead end tattoo artist. Minimum wage sucks ass.

Fwung.

Thwack.

"Chloe? Honey?"

That's another bummer. I'm forced to move back in with Mom and David now that Rachel sold the apartment. Realistically, I could barely have enough with the profit from the apartment to get my own shitty apartment. Sad fact is, I probably wouldn't be able to afford the monthly rent.

Fwung.

Thwack.

"Chloe? I am not going to repeat myself."

Fwung.

Thwack.

That's mom. Her and David have been going out a lot less since I've been back. Mom's also been buying these shirts that are like two sizes too big. And she's been sick. Luckily, that keeps 'ol Drill Sergeant out of my hair. If I wasn't so shoulder deep on my own self-pity, maybe I'd check if Mom was okay.

Maybe if I just ignore her, she'll go away.

Fwung.

Thwack.

"Chloe," Mom says while bearing down on me. "Will you stop playing with that tennis ball and talk to me?"

After the last thwack, I roll my eyes and toss the ball behind me. The ball hits the wall and rolls to a stop next to the box of clothes I have yet to unpack.

"What do you want, Mom?" I say in monotone.

Mom sits all the bed all careful, like I'm sort of museum exhibit she needs to be careful not to touch. Frankly, it's a little bullshit.

"Nothing really, how was hanging out with Max?"

"Same 'ol, same 'ol," I said. I tried to put some gusto into my voice, but it just wasn't happening. "We watched Blade Runner for the 7,000th time, drew some shit. The works."

"Sounds like fun. Shame she had to leave so soon."

"She had to study for finals," I reply with a shrug.

"I bet. Hard to believe that that girl is graduating in just two weeks. You know, I remember when you too were just little girls, building a pirate fort."

She's on thin ice. I know it and she knows it. Not a day goes by she doesn't think about me being expelled from Blackwell. I know David just loves to remind me of that fact.

"She's not even really graduating," I retort. "She's literally going back for another year."

"As a fifth year senior," Mom said with pride. "Her high school career is over. She's going back to Blackwell for college classes only."

I wonder if she ever says anything with pride about me.

"Yeah. Good for her."

The look in Mom's eyes makes me feel sad. I don't want to feel sad; I want to feel numb. That's what drugs are for. Mom barging in prevents me from getting my hit. Because of Rachel, I had to find a brand knew dealer. And by new, I mean Hayden.

Mom slowly moves her hand to my scalp and massages my hair. It feels good, calming. Although, a part of me wants to back away from the nurturing gesture.

"I do have good news though," Mom says excitedly. I fight the urge to roll my eyes.

"Oh yeah," I say. "Spill."

"We were going to wait until David got home and tell you together," she began. Her voice was rising in octave with every syllable. I could tell she had been wanting to reveal this for some time. "But I couldn't wait. Besides, you might have figured it out, I know how much you love playing detective."

Just spill it, Mom.

"I'm pregnent. You're going to have a baby brother."

Kyle

July 2nd, 2014

10:14 p.m.

"What do you mean we're moving?"

I had just come back from hanging out with my friends. I probably should have known something was up because my Mom had insisted that I hang out with someone today. My friends, Seth, Ben, and I did what we always did. We walked around the mall and talked about random shit. We went to local stores and browsed before going back to Seth's and play video games and tabletop games. Pretty normal stuff, but I was shocked to find I might never hang out with them again.

My mother shot me a smile that I supposed was meant to be interpreted as sincere. The only problem is, I didn't take it as such.

Don't get me wrong, I do love my mom. She's a short yet wide woman. We share the same olive green eyes and tan skin tone, but she has dark brown hair. She only measures in at around 5'2 while I chalk up to 5'11.

"I know, Kyle, I'm sorry. My college friend, Martha, offered us to move in with her and I told her we would. You know how much I want to leave here!"

It was true. I've lived in Sparta, Illinois my entire life. I didn't want to leave Sparta. I was just about to enter my senior year, a year I planned on spending with my friends.

"I know you've wanted to leave, but, damnit Mom! Couldn't you just wait until I'm done with high school?"

"I know Bubby." I hate it when she calls me that. "But just think, we'll be starting fresh. You'll still be able to chat with your friends on that headset, (she's referring to XBox), and you'll be away from Faith."

That was the proverbial killing stroke and she knew it. She and I both knew I did not want to be anywhere near my ex.

After taking a moment to consider, I decided to soak it in. This was always my problem, I was always too ready to accept things for how they were. I was always ready to go with the flow, rarely ever did I fight.

"Where are we moving?" I ask. I'm more quiet now that she has me thinking about Faith.

"Arcadia Bay, Oregon," she answered sheepishly.

Chloe

August 18th, 2014

1:04 p.m.

I stood in front of my mirror, thinking about a change. I have had this full blue hair for over a year. Yeah, I've put in a purple or red streak here and there, but for the most part, my hair has been all blue.

I'm thinking of a new color for my hair. Blue was fun, but I've gotten bored of it.

If you can't tell, I've been trying to distract myself. David found my weed stash and he's been a dickhead since. I've blown most of my money on drugs and alcohol. I'm not even sure what to get Max for her birthday, which I know is sometime next month. Hell, Dakota's birthday was two weeks ago and I just gave her a dime baggy. Happy 18th birthday! Yeah, right.

That's honestly the worst part of losing Rachel. I'm lost. I don't really have motivation to do anything. I'm always furious.

Max, Warren and Dakota are probably sick of me by now. They've stopped texting me as frequently. They're usually busy. They hardly want to hang out anymore. On one hand, it's a relief. On the other hand, it pisses me off. Everyone always abandons me, in the end.

As I look in the mirror, I see bags in my eyes. Typical.

I mean, it makes sense. I've barely slept in the last few months. Even less now that I know that Mom and David are having a kid. Give me a break, oh rathful gods.

I'm tempted to take a shower. I haven't in three days. I haven't worked in four, but I might get fired. My tattoistry has not been quality recently. I just lack inspiration for, well, anything.

In the end, I do take a shower, which feels nice. I drape myself in my old pirate towel and walk over to my room. As I try to find clothes to change into, I hear a knock at my door.

"Busy!" I call.

David doesn't care. He hates that I moved back in and I haven't left yet.

"Come down to the kitchen; I have news."

He actually sounds enthusiastic. Did someone get murdered?

"Let me get dressed at least," I growl.

"Fine, but make sure to come down to the kitchen. That's an order soldier."

I think he's kidding.

I change slowly into a grey tank top and white washed skinny jeans. I put on a navy blue beanie too. I trudge down stairs and into the kitchen.

David sits there in his casual attire. A teal collared shirt and khakis with some boots. He's freshened up his buzz cut and shaved recently.

Mom wore a pink maternity dress. I'm still getting used to her being pregnant. "Glad to see you join us, Chloe," Mom says sincerely.

Again, I hold back from rolling my eyes. "What's the big news?"

David clears his throat over-dramatically. "Well, as you two know, I've worked with Sean Prescott over the summer to help pay the bills and get ready for AJ."

God, they've already chosen a name for the kid. Two names it sounds like.

"Last night, two wannabe burglers broke into the Prescott Estate. Thankfully, I had installed my own security in the access point they used."

Blah, blah, blah. Get to the point Step-Dick.

"Long story short, I was able to subdue the armed robbers."

"That's wonderful, honey." Mom reached out to his forearm and slowly massaged it. I fought the urge to vomit.

"Yeah," I chirped sarcastically. "Congrats."

"I'm not even to the best part. Sean was so impressed he promised to grant me a favor."

I suddenly had a bad feeling. David gave me a special look. This cannot be good.

"I asked him to pull some strings. Chloe, you're going back to Blackwell."