I sighed and rubbed my eyes. Stretching my arms, I looked around the familiar room. Blink-182, Green Day, Less Than Jake, and other band posters on the wall. Mix CD's and concert tickets tacked up on various bulletin boards around the room. And then there was the wall of pictures. Some she'd taken, some she'd found, some our friends had taken.

"What time is it?" I asked as she rolled over on the floor and looked up at me.

"I have no idea. 3 AM maybe?" She yawned. "I think I can only do this kind of thing with you, Jack," she laughed sleepily. "I don't want you guys to go on Warped this summer. Why can't you just stay here with me and do this all summer?" She sat up and scratched her head. Her curly hair was sticking up in random places, shiny brown corkscrews sprouting from her head. "It's tradition."

"You can come with us, you know. We need a merch girl," I joked, slipping off the bed and coming to rest next to her. "Alex said it'd be okay," I added.

"I'm not worried about what Alex thinks. I'm worried that you guys will forget about me. I don't want to be stuck here alone all summer." She smoothed her hands over her hair, the long curls spilling over her shoulders.

"Then come with us," I yawned, lying down next to her. "Seriously." She followed suit, sinking down on her side and watching me. "I would never forget you, Chelsea. You know that." I reached out and took her hand.

She nodded. "Yeah, I know. You're my best friend, Jack."

"You're my best friend, too, Chels." I wanted to say more. She was more to me than just a friend. I loved her. More than a sister, more than a friend should love a friend. But I was determined not to let her know, ever since Alex had said that she didn't like anyone that way.

We looked at each other for a while. I was memorizing her face, the way her lip curled when she didn't like something, like us going on tour without her, the freckles on her nose, her big brown eyes. "Okay," she said after what felt like an hour. "Ready?"

I sat up slowly. "Ready. You have the toilet paper?"

"I do. You got the silly string?"

"Hell yes. Let's do this," I grinned, standing up.

--

I heard Chelsea giggle as I tripped over a tree root. "Shh," I whispered, pushing myself off the ground. She strode past me, shaking her head. "Hey," I called a little louder.

"Shh," she mocked me. She stopped walking and crouched behind the fence of the Merrick's yard. "C'mon, Jack-Attack. Let's get Zack back." Her shoulders shook with laughter at her accidental rhyme, and I suppressed a chuckle as I knelt beside her.

"Okay," she whispered, suddenly all business. "You take the toilet paper and start wrapping the big tree in the yard. I'll silly-string the mailbox, then I'll meet you at the tree in five minutes. Okay?"

I nodded, not even trying to be discreet as I stared at her chest, her skin glowing in the dark night against her black shirt. "Uh-huh."

She knocked me upside the head. "My eyes are on my face," she smirked. She pulled something out of her pocket and dipped her finger in. She reached out and smeared something under both of my eyes before painting two lines under eyes, being careful not to smudge her half-rimmed glasses. "Let's go."

Chelsea darted away from me then, tossing me whatever it was she'd painted on me with. It was a little tin of face paint. Clever. I picked up the bag full of toilet paper and started unraveling a roll to drape over a tree branch.

I heard the high squeaking sound that told me that Chelsea was hard at work silly-spraying Zack's mailbox with pink, blue, and green silly spray. She was biting her lower lip, glancing at the house every time she switched cans. I smiled to myself, watching her. I really wish that she'd come with us this summer on Warped Tour. We were only on the Ernie Ball stage, so it wasn't like it was a huge deal…

I looked up at the tree and tossed the toilet paper up and over a branch, catching it with ease as it fell back into my hands. I was no amateur when it came to TP-ing people's houses. But that didn't mean I was particularly good at it…

"Shit," I yell-whispered as the second roll got stuck up in one of the branches. Even when I stretched up on my tiptoes I couldn't reach it. "Dammit," I muttered as I began climbing up into the tree.

"Jack," I heard Chelsea say. "Jack, what are you doing?"

I glanced down. She stood at the trunk of the tree, looking up at me with one hand on her hip and the other hand clutching a half-used can of hot pink silly string. "Oh, just hanging around," I shrugged.

She laughed and shook up the can. "Uh-oh, what're you doing with that?" I asked a little loudly.

"Shh!" she hissed, looking behind her. I shook my head as she shook the can more vigorously. I yanked on the toilet paper roll, knocking it free from the tree branch. Chelsea looked up at me again as I dropped the roll of toilet tissue onto her head. "Oh, so that's how it is," she whispered.

"I didn't mean to---" I began, holding up my hands as she sprayed me with silly string. "Chelsea! Stop it!" I laughed.

"Oh, sorry," she said. "I didn't mean to…"

"Bull---"

"I didn't mean to use pink. I know how that color bothers you," she finished, pulling out the green spray can and pressing down the nozzle. My hand was covered in green slimy string as I lowered it from my face.

"You are so dead," I muttered, pulling another roll of toilet paper out of my backpack. I unrolled it and started tearing pieces off, molding them together with some excess silly string. I started flinging my little missiles at her, but she dodged all of them, now spraying blue string at me.

"Shh," Chelsea hissed again, suddenly stopping in her silly-string-assault.

"Nice try," I smirked, throwing a particularly large wad of pink and green string mixed with a few squares of TP at her butt. "Direct hit!" I cheered as she jumped, the lump making a squoosh sound as it hit the ground next to her black Converse.

"Jack," she said, looking up at me with a glint in her eye, "shut up. Zack's light is on."

I looked at the house, and sure enough, the light in Zack's room was bright, and I could see his shadow moving around behind the curtains. "Fuck," I muttered, crouching down in the tree. I pushed around the branches, trying to cover myself up, and I failed to notice the glob of green silly spray that my hand landed in.

And… I fell. Out of the tree. Right on top of the girl I love. "Shit," I whispered as I rolled off of Chelsea's small frame. "Chelsea, are you okay?" I asked, my voice at normal volume. "Oh god, I'm so sorry, Chels. Fuck, fuck, fuck, are you alright?" I leaned over her, brushing a few leaves out of her hair as she sat up. "Chelsea? Babe?"

Oh, shit, she was crying. "Oh, Chet, I'm sorry," I said, pulling her into my chest, holding her as close as I could. "I'm so so sorry, baby," I muttered into her hair. "Please don't cry… Are you alright, Chelsea? Baby? Ah, shit…" I ran one of my hands over her soft, curly hair, my other hand tight around her waist, holding her against me.

"Jack," she said, her breathing ragged.

"What is it, babe?" I asked, stroking her hair. "What is it?"

"I can't breathe," she laughed. She pushed my arm off her shoulders and rolled her eyes. "You're so dramatic. I wasn't crying, you idiot," she giggled. "I was laughing. You're such a big clutz."

"Oh," I said. "Okay, good. I would've shit myself if I'd hurt you, baby."

"I'm fine, Jack," she said, letting her arms fall around my neck.

"God, Chels, you scared me so bad, babe."

Chelsea sighed and rested her head against my shoulder again, letting the last of her laughter puff out as her breathing steadied. We were both quiet for a while, sitting on the Merrick's front lawn, hugging, both of us covered in brightly colored silly string. I let my cheek rest against the top of her head. "Why do you keep doing that?" she asked suddenly.

"Doing what?" I asked.

"Calling me 'baby.' Or 'babe,'" she said, lifting her head off my shoulder. Her glasses were crooked and her brown eyes were wide in scrutiny.

"Oh." I hadn't realized I'd been doing that. It'll be tough to get myself out of this one. "Uh…"

"Yes?" she asked, almost expectantly.

"Um…" I racked my brain for a reason. Any reason. "I…"

She raised her eyebrows.

"Chelsea…" I sighed. My stomach was in knots. "Dammit. There's no way around this. I'm so stupid."

"Not objecting," she giggled. "But… there's no way around what?"

I felt like she already knew. Like she knew how I liked her, how much I really did love her. "Maybe there's more to me asking you to come on Warped with us than we just need a merch girl…" I started.

She looked at me, a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. "Yeah?"

"Yeah. Maybe I want you to come with us because… because…" It was a lot harder to say these things than you'd think. "Maybe I like you more than friends should like each other."

"Maybe?"

"Okay, so I do like you more than friends should like each other."

"More than friends should like each other?"

"Okay, fine, I like you as more than a friend. Maybe I even love you."

"Love?"

"Yeah, I love you," I muttered, avoiding her eyes. "I'm sorry, babe---" I mentally kicked myself for calling her 'babe' again. "I shouldn't have said anything," I began.

"Why?" Chelsea asked, her smile bright and beautiful in the black night. I glanced up at Zack's window, but the light was out. "Why?" she asked again.

I forced myself to meet her eyes. "I'm out of excuses, and I think you know it," I grumbled.

"So?"

"There's no excuse," I mumbled. "Love isn't an excuse for anything. Not for asking you to tour with us for two months, not for having dual level silly-string fights, and definitely not for almost crushing you."

"Well, it can be an excuse in some cases," Chelsea said softly. I felt her hand on my cheek, warm in the chill of the night.

"Like what?" I asked breathlessly. I hadn't noticed how close our faces were until now. I found myself staring her lips, tipped up in a smirk.

"Like not saying how much you like your best friend because you thought it would ruin your friendship, or sitting through Home Alone five times in one night, or vandalizing a friend's house at three in the morning." She shrugged.

I tore my eyes off of her lips and looked her in the eyes. "So it's a good enough excuse to kiss you now?"

"I'd say so," Chelsea smiled, leaning into me. Her other hand slid to the back of my neck, pulling me towards her. I let my hand slide into her hair, twisting the curls around my fingers. Her eyes dropped to my mouth, and I smirked, the knots in my stomach turning into butterflies.

And then we were kissing, her lips on mine, my mouth on hers. And it was worth every second of every time I had decided against telling her how I felt about her. I ran my tongue over her bottom lip, and she smiled against my mouth as I pressed her body against mine.

When we pulled apart, she looked me in the eye and said, "I've been wondering what that would be like," she blushed. "Kissing you, I mean."

I rested my forehead against hers and kissed the tip of her nose. She giggled. "I love you, baby," I whispered. "Does this mean you'll come with us on Warped?"

"Yeah, I guess it does. Love is an excuse for that, right?"

"A reason," I smiled, kissing her again.

She kissed me back, her hand gliding from my cheek to my shoulder. "I love you, too, Jack," she grinned. Her hand on the back of my neck slipped down my back, picking at something behind me. "But…" she said slowly. "Love is also a reason to do this." And she sprayed my head with blue silly string.

I laughed out loud, wrapping my arms around her waist. "Chelsea…" I sighed.

"Oh, Jack, don't be a baby," she laughed.

"Funny," I deadpanned.

"You love it," she said, wrinkling her nose.

"Yeah, I do," I smiled. Excuse or not, this summer was going to be great.