Three weeks. That was all Matthew had to survive of his vacation in sunny California with his twin brother Alfred, on what he was expecting to be yet another torturous experiences in his seventeen year old life. You see, two weeks beforehand Alfred had come home screaming "ROAD TRIPPPP!" and declared that this perilous journey to the land of sunshine, popsicles, and hot girls would take place no matter what, and that he simply wasn't going to take no for an answer. He, of course, failed to recognize that driving all the way there from their home in Calgary would take at least 26 hours (not including the many, many stops at McDonalds that would undoubtedly take place with Alfred in the car, and, you know, sleeping). And yet, after a week of intense badgering from Alfred, including threats to destroy his not-so-secret stash of maple syrup and burn his favourite hockey jersey, Matthew was finally forced into a begrudging "yes", giving him one week to find a hotel, book a flight, pack up all his belongings, and say goodbye to the last few days of his once peaceful summer.

They had now just arrived at the hotel, and after checking in and running to their hotel room, with Matthew pulling the luggage and struggling to keep up, Alfred claimed the bed by the window and immediately declared that it was time to go to the beach.

"C'mon Mattie let's go. Girls in bikinis await!" implored Alfred.

"Await you maybe," replied Matthew swiftly, as he put their suitcases down, then slowly turned around and stretched, "I'd like to take my time unpacking my things, and maybe explore the hotel a little bit," he ventured.

"C'mon… pleeeeeease. It'll be awesome!" pleaded Alfred, putting his face less than half a foot away from his brothers, his bright blue eyes not blinking. This merely elicited an eye roll from Matthew.

"No thanks," he replied coolly. "Just be thankful that I got us here," he grumbled and Alfred could tell by the slight passive-aggressive edge in his voice that he wasn't going to win this one.

"You're no fun," he pouted, and then, flinging open his suitcase and finding and changing into his swimsuit in a flash, gave a quick "Suit yourself!" before taking off, leaving Matthew alone at last.

Matthew opened their balcony door, then walked a few paces and let himself fall onto his bed, closing his eyes as he did so. An ocean breeze floated in, cooling the summer air. He lay like this for a few minutes, then slowly got up and walked out onto the balcony, which faced the deep blue sea. He had to admit, the place was kind of nice. So long as he avoided the overcrowded beach, it might be possible for him to have a good time.

I guess I might as well take a look around he said to himself, and so he did.

For Antonio, Francis, and Gilbert, also known as the self-proclaimed "bad touch trio", summer was in full swing, and damn were they having a good time. They had managed to land jobs as waiters in a café at a hotel right on the beach. Well, Antonio and Francis had anyway. Gilbert, unfortunately, got stuck being a sandwich board guy for the same café, much to their (Antonio and Francis's) amusement. He had nearly quit, claiming that "he was too awesome for the job", but Francis and Antonio had managed to convince him to stay, seeing as otherwise there would be no way for the three of them to pay the rent for their apartment.

Anyhow, the awesome part of their job was this: not only were they able to rush down to beach immediately after they finished their shifts, they also went to all the parties in the hotel, which technically were for guests only, but since when did the bad touch trio follow the rules anyways? Oh and Francis also was able to get some flirting in with his customers at the café. Which he did. Every time he got the chance. Speaking of, he had a customer right now.

He had very attractive, long-ish, blonde hair, so much like my own, he thought to himself. It grazed his shoulders, and had one very unusual, yet very cute curl, which came down from the top of his head. He also wore glasses, which only furthered the "cute and innocent" look he had going on. He looked a little lost at any rate, standing around the outside tables of café, wondering whether or not he should take his seat or wait to be seated. Someone bumped into him and he apologized.

Well, shall we begin? thought Francis with a smile.

"Allow me to take you to your seat," whispered Francis into his ear, startling the man (who you should all know by now is none other than Matthew), and then gently pulled on his hand to lead him to an empty chair.

"T-Thanks," he blushed.

Satisfied with the situation, the french man handed him a menu, then bent down to once again whisper in his ear: "Let me know when you're ready". He then gave a quick, confident turn and went to attend another table.

Matthew stared at the man's back for a minute as he took the table's orders, a little overwhelmed by his… presence, and maybe slightly envious. Oh and maybe blushing just a little bit too. Noticing his stare, Francis tossed him a wink, causing Matthew's blush to deepen.

Now let's see… what should I order? Matthew asked to distract himself. He stared at the menu for a while, but his mind went blank. He was feeling a little dizzy from everything – the flight, the humid air, the long walk around the hotel he had taken, and it had just occurred to him that he hadn't eaten or drunk anything for several hours when Francis placed a glass of water in front of him.

"T-Thank you," he murmured, and took a large swig of water, draining the glass. Francis refilled the glass him.

"Better?" he asked, slightly amused, watching as he once again took a quick sip. Matthew nodded. "Now what would you like?" he asked bending down, with a voice thick of implications.

Matthew quickly glanced at the menu, and then picking the first thing he saw, "Could I have a turkey sandwich?"

"Coming right up," Francis said with a wink.

In a couple of minutes he came back with the sandwich, which tasted very good in Matthew's opinion. He left Francis a generous tip, and as he got up, Francis touched his butt, causing Matthew to blush deeply, stammer a "T-thank you", and leave.

Francis watched as he walked away quickly, glancing back a few times, and then quickly turning around when he saw Francis was still looking.

"You know, you really ought to stop making people fall for you," joked Antonio, who was working the same shift, "But then again, you wouldn't be Francis then, would you?"

Francis smiled.

No, he definitely wouldn't.