Gabriel and Shea walked along the beach, side by side. "So, where are you from?" Gabriel tried. Shea laughed. "I doubt you've even heard of it." she replied. Gabe was confused. "Why not?" Shea laughed again, softly this time. "I'm kidding. Actually, I'm from San Francisco. I lived there all of my life, until...well, until recently." Gabe smiled. "I've lived in Santa Carla every day since the day I was born. My parents were high school sweethearts, first loves, and all of the corny happy-ever-after clichés you can think of," he offered. Shea's lips twisted wryly. "Don't be so quick to discount the clichéd and ordinary," she replied.

Gabe grimaced. He'd messed up. Again. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to upset you or anything..." He said. "Don't worry about it," she told him. "My parents married because my mother got pregnant with me. Neither of them were too thrilled with the situation. Ever. The first chance I got, I took off. You get over things." Shea told him. Gabe looked confused for a moment, then realization dawned upon him. "Wait a second! You mean you're a runaway? Where do you sleep? How do you eat? How are you supposed to take care of yourself..." Shea looked suddenly angry. "I've HAD to take care of myself for as long as I can remember. There wasn't anyone who gave a damn if I ate, slept, or even if I came home at night. I'm no worse off than I've ever been!" Her footsteps quickened, and she began to walk away from him.

Gabe jogged the few paces he needed to catch back up with her. "Hey, wait, I didn't mean that the way it sounded," he told her. "It's just... you shouldn't HAVE to take care of yourself. And I can't help but wonder what would happen if someone tried to hurt you or something." Shea calmed down a bit. "I know what it's like to be afraid. I know what it's like to be on my own. This way is easier. Sometimes when it's between the hell you know and the hell you don't, ignorance really is bliss." Shea suddenly grinned. "And you thought your life was full of clichés!"

Gabe grinned back at her. "Besides, I'm not sleeping in the gutters or foraging through trash cans. Our kind tends to travels in packs."

"Your kind?" Gabe asked, amused.

"Yeah, our kind. I live in an abandoned building with some friends of mine. Other...runaways. We don't all have the same story, and we don't even know the story of one of them, but we have an understanding. Not so much a family, but it works." Shea explained.

Gabe smiled. "So, in your own way, you're kind of living like rock stars."

Shea laughed. This time, she really laughed, full-bodied, with her heart in it. "Yeah, that's us. We're rock stars all right. What about you, anyway? What's your story?"

Gabe shrugged. His life wasn't anything to be ashamed of; in fact, many kids probably wanted to be him. When stacked next to the life of this exotic, independent nomad, however, it seemed incredibly boring.

"There's...not really much to say. Senior this year, grades are okay, not really big into extracurriculars or anything." he finally said.

"Oh, come on. There has to be more than that. So you do nothing in your spare time but try to pick up girls on the boardwalk? Because if so, I'll be highly offended." Shea even managed to affect a haughty tone to her voice.

Gabe couldn't help but laugh, if a little self-consciously. "Well, I do have a motorcycle. At the present, it's more like a motor, and a cycle. Actually, it's more like a collection of parts in the garage that don't seen to want to work as a whole."

Shea burst out laughing. "So, do you come from a couple of Hell's Angels, or something?"

Now it was Gabe's turn to laugh hysterically. "Far from it! My mother's a teacher, English if you want to be precise. She tells me I'm going to kill myself on it. My little sister, Lucy, loves it. Any opportunity I have to work on the bike, she views as her opportunity to sit in the garage and give me a detailed description of a day in the life of a ten-year-old. My father, well, my father is my father. I think he was born uptight. I couldn't picture him on a motorcycle if I tried. He tells me how high the insurance is going to be on it, how my having it will raise the medical insurance, and so on and so forth. He's a publisher who is in dire need of a sense of humor."

Shea, eyes twinkling, asked him, "If they hate the bike so much, why don't they make you get rid of it?"

Gabe smiled conspiratorially at her. "My grandmother. She has a "boys will be boys" philosophy which I am very grateful for. She told them that if they made me get rid of it, then it was only fair that she inform me of their wild teenage antics." At this point, Shea was laughing so hard, she was wiping tears from her eyes. She motioned to sit down, and the two of them sank down into the sand. Relaxing back into the sand, Gabe continued, "Somehow, I highly doubt that they've done anything all that shocking, but I think they're a little paranoid I may turn out like my uncle, so they're not willing to push it." He looked at her mischievously. "Actually, there's a part of me wondering if there's not something they're hiding that I'd trade the bike to know." Shea fell back onto the sand, giggling. "At least they sound entertaining," she said. "I guess they have their moments," Gabe said smiling, and looked down at her. His green eyes met her dark ones, and his smile wavered slightly. His eyes grew more intense. "I thought your eyes were black, but they aren't, are they? They're brown, just dark brown. Like amber in shadow." Shea smiled softly. Gabe leaned down and over her until their faces almost touched. Her gaze warmed under his, and he said, "I was right. Just like amber." He pressed his lips to hers, softly kissing them again and again. He kissed the corners of her mouth and caught her lower lip between his lips. Her hands came up around him, one under his arm and the other to entwine in his curly brown-black hair. Gabe slid his arms under Shea, and around her.

Shea whimpered softly, and Gabe intensified the pressure of his lips. Shea's lips parted, and Gabe's tongue slipped inside, sweeping along her lower lip before sliding up to mate with hers. His hand slid down to her hip and held her to him. They remained like this, kissing, breathing, until cold water suddenly came splashing up and around them.

Gabe gasped. Shea screamed. A strong rogue wave had come slid up the shore and effectively (and literally) put a damper on their activities. Gabe blinked saltwater from his eyelashes as Shea wiped it from her face silently. They looked at each other. Almost simultaneously, they began laughing. "Hey," Gabe said jokingly, "At least I'm pretty sure you'll never forget me." Shea giggled and brushed a wet curl off of his forehead. He pushed himself up off of the beach and then lifted her to her feet. His leather jacket was still dry, but his jeans, like all of Shea, were soaked. She wrung water out of her hair and top, and rubbed water off of her skin. Gabe pulled off his jacket and wrapped it around her. "Aren't you cold?" she asked him. "No... I don't really get cold that easily," Gabe replied.

They made their way back to the boardwalk. When there, Gabe suddenly reached for Shea's hand and pulled her to him. "I want to see you again," he whispered to her. Shea smiled. "I don't exactly have a telephone or anything," she replied with a smile. Gabe frowned. "Then meet me here. Tomorrow night. Same time." Shea, still smiling, nodded. Gabe, relieved, smiled back. She pulled his jacket off to give it back, but he stopped her. "I don't want you to get cold. Besides, it's a way for me to convince myself you'll show up tomorrow." Shea giggled. Gabe kissed her softly. "Goodbye, Gabriel," Shea said, and turned away into the night.