Hi, everyone! Welcome to the first actual full-length chapter of Touch The Flame.

Disclaimer: I can't afford to own Big Time Rush. Therefore, I do not own them. Nuff said.

Warnings: Language and sexual innuendos.

Jatie4Ever: Thank you so much! I'm so glad you like it so far :) And thank you for reviewing! It means so much.

Ezra: Awwww, thank you so much! I'm so happy to hear that! It's totally fine :) I'm 19, to answer your question. I definitely will keep writing :) Thank you again, and thank you for reviewing! I appreciate it :)

THANK YOU to everyone who has reviewed, alerted, or favorited this story already! For those of you who, you know, didn't see my A/Ns and have no idea, I was so, so nervous about putting up the preface, so you guys really helped me get my nerves together. I can't thank you all enough!

So, if it seems like not a lot actually happens in this chapter, it's because it doesn't. More stuff will happen in the next two chapters. This is just kind of setting up the basis for everything.

Anyway, enjoy!

Chapter One: The Beginning

(Late August)

James's POV

The town was just as I remembered. Small. Clingy. Clique-y. The kind of town where everyone knew each other, and knew about everyone else's business.

Such as the fact that my father, the man who left Brooke Diamond, cosmetics company owner and business extraordinaire, for a woman fifteen years younger than him, was in the hospital now, with lung cancer.

Oh, and the fact that the estranged son was now back in town so that he could be with his father during his last months, and would be attending Canton Lake Community College, rather than the University of Los Angeles, where he had spent the past three years, trying to get away from his parents and stepmother.

And yes. That estranged son is me.

I stood at the cash register in the Canton Lake coffee shop on Main Street, listening to the people all around me muttering about my mysterious reappearance. As far as they knew, I was gone for good, trying to make it as a model and pop star.

Obviously, those dreams were being put on hold for the time being. And being a model? Forget it! Give me another four years and I would be over the hill for a model...well, if I was going to model anything good, anyway. At twenty-one, my life was wasting away. I was back, stuck in the same old small town I had tried to escape from three years ago, and at my mother's, stepmother's, and father's beck and call.

Especially my father's.

It never ended with him. Even dying, he still managed to figure out some way to keep me trapped here, being the laughing stock of the town because I wanted a new life, a life that existed outside of Canton Lake, Minnesota. A life that included following my dreams, dreams that didn't involve running the local diner.

The cashier summed up the total of my order of a nonfat tall latte, and I paid her. She flashed me a winning smile, and I smiled back flirtatiously, hoping that I could at least get some brownie points from the female population of this town, between the ages of sixteen and thirty. Well, thirty-five if the woman was really hot. And considering my mom kept her cosmetics business headquarters here, it was entirely possible. She was the role model, the one who every woman wanted to be.

And my father had been the person who every other man looked to when it came to deciding between their wife and mistress. And my stepmother was the one who all young women copied when they were gold digging bitches in search of a rich husband. And then there was me, the one who slept with about 90% of the girls in high school...

Yeah, we were just the perfect family.

"Thanks," I said to the cashier.

"No problem. Your order will be up shortly. Is there anything else I can do for you?" she added sweetly.

I widened my smile. "I'll let you know."

She giggled and smirked at me. "You do that."

"Pathetic," a voice behind me said as I stepped aside to let the next person order. I turned around to find a tiny brunette lifting large sunglasses off of her face and placing them on her forehead. "You've been back in town for - what? Two hours? - and you already have a booty call lined up. That takes some serious dedication. And some serious whoring," she added disgustedly.

I smirked at her. "Well, well, well, if it isn't little Katie Knight? Jealous, are we?"

She snorted. "Over who gets to sleep with you? Puh-leeze. There are reasons why vibrators were invented in the first place - so that girls didn't have to rely on guys like youto get them off."

I crossed my arms and looked at her. "Still as snarky as ever, I see."

She smirked at me before ordering her coffee and paying for it. "What can I say? It's a God-given talent. Just like you being an absolute pig is a hell-given talent."

"Haha, so witty," I retorted.

She grinned. "I know."

"Nice to see you still love insulting me."

"Nice to see you still have no idea how to deal with a girl who doesn't want to sleep with you."

"You were fifteen when I left - I wouldn't have slept with you anyway."

She rolled her eyes. "Please, you'd sleep with anything who had the legs for a skirt, a chest for a tube top, and the butt for skinny jeans."

"And you definitely did not have any of those things."

She glared at me, eyes filled with fire. "Ever get dick enlargement surgery? Because you're acting like an even bigger one than you used to."

"One tall nonfat latte," the cashier called, giving me a sweet smile, and I took it from her, returning her smile.

"One low fat mochaccino and one tomato and swiss," the cashier called about ten seconds later, and Katie stepped forward to grab her drink and sandwich.

"Well, I'm out," Katie announced to me. "I only stopped by for some caffeine and food. I've gotta get to work. Later." And she swished out of the coffee shop, her short skirt swirling around her long, tanned legs.

Huh...I might have to rethink the whole Katie Knight-isn't-hot thing.

Not that I would ever sleep with her anyway. She was Kendall Knight's little sister, and Kendall had been - still was, technically - one of my best friends. I had grown up with him, from peewee hockey, through elementary school, through those torturous years of middle school where you had to kiss someone or else you were uncool, until we were seniors in high school and ruling the school.

Good memories.

Katie was three years younger than me, which would put her at about eighteen now...

I left the coffee shop, walking out into the muggy, humid, late August Minnesota air. The sky was heavy with dark clouds, threatening a late summer thunder storm.

I headed for my old pickup, the one my mom had kept and was letting me use while I stayed here, waiting for Dad to either recover or...well...not to recover.

I got into my car and drove back to my mom's house. It's a large brick job, with a Victorian look to it. Very intimidating, which means it fits my mother's personality perfectly.

My mom was inside the house, in her office, when I walked in. "Did you get your coffee?" she asked me, and I nodded, holding up my cup.

"Oh good." She chewed on a pen cap for a few seconds, before snapping out of her work-induced funk. "Savannah," she said my father's wife's name with her usual disgust, "needs you to come over and sort through your father's things with her."

"He's not dead!"

Mom gave me a long look over her reading glasses. "I know that, dear, but your father will be staying at the hospital permanently, so Savannah wants to bring some things in to make his room more cheerful and homey."

"It's a hospital. The only place less homey is a graveyard."

Mom looked at me reprovingly, pursing her lips. "Just try, okay?"

"Christ, Mom, I haven't even been back in town for four hours and I'm already getting sucked into the never ending cycle that is my father and Savannah!"

"It's not a cycle, James. It's life."

"Yeah, it's hislife. It's not mine!"

"You're his son, and he needs your help!"

"He's never needed my help before! Why should this time be different?"

"He's dying, James!"

"I'm perfectly aware of that. And I'm supposed to give a fuck? The man never gave a damn about me, so how the hell am I supposed to give a damn about him?"

"Just go help your stepmother!"

"Fine!" I stormed out of the house again, and drove to the sprawling mansion that was my father's. He built it out of his divorce settlement. I don't even know how he managed to get any money out of the divorce, considering he was cheating and all that. And he never had to pay child support, since my mom had all that money. The most I ever got from him was the occasional birthday card with a twenty dollar bill stuck in the envelope. When I would spend weekends (which were rare and far between) with him and Savannah, he would always make sure to criticize everything about me, and then go out to his country club and play golf. I actually almost felt sorry for Savannah, since Dad always told her to entertain me. She tried, she really did, but the most bonding we ever did was when we discovered a mutual love of Charmed.

After that, we had absolutely nothing to talk about.

I parked the pickup in the driveway and climbed out, walking up to the front door. I rang the doorbell. About two seconds later, the door opened, and Savannah came into full view. She was ten years older than me, at thirty-one. She had married my dad at twenty-two, when I was twelve.

She was still ridiculously beautiful, tall, lean, and blonde, although there were tiny lines around her eyes now, no doubt from worrying about my father and her inheritance.

"James," she said with a small smile. "Come in. It's so good to see you."

I stepped into the house and smiled back. "It's good to see you too."

She reached forward and hugged me tightly. I hugged her back, although I have to admit that the sudden contact was a little uncomfortable, considering how tightly she was holding onto me.

I finally managed to push her off of me and she smiled, a little sheepishly. "It's just really good to see you. You've grown up so much!"

"Ummm...thanks...So, my mom said you needed help going through my dad's stuff?"

"What? Oh yeah. Come on, let's go up to our - well, your dad's and my - room. We can start with his clothes."

I nodded and followed her up, wondering just what my stepmother was up to.

"So, how's Dad doing?" I asked as we walked up the stairs.

"He's...managing. Fighting. But not really...winning."

"Ah. This must be so hard for you," I said, trying to sound sympathetic.

She eyed me. "Yeah...Mostly I'm just lonely."

"That sucks. I mean, it's a pretty big house to be alone in."

"Exactly! Without Ben – your dad – here, I have no one to talk to. None of the housekeeping staff speak English."

"That makes it...hard."

"It does," she agreed as we reached the landing. She led me down a dark hall, to a closed door. "Here we are."

The room was large, and covered from head to toe with lavender and pink. Apparently my father had let Savannah decorate.

Savannah began pulling out clothes. "We should only bring comfortable ones to him," she informed me, "since he's pretty much completely stuck in bed."

"Okay." I held up a t-shirt and a pair of sweats. "Like these?"

She nodded. "Yes, perfect."

We continued to go through my dad's clothes, eventually coming up with enough clothes to fill a large duffel bag.

"Thank you so much for doing this," Savannah gushed as she walked me to the door. "I really appreciate it."

I smiled at her. "No problem. Anything I can do to help, just let me know."

She paused and then leaned her head against the open door, gazing at me, enraptured, for a few seconds, before standing on her tiptoes and kissing me on the corner of my mouth. "I'll definitelylet you know," she replied, a wicked gleam in her eyes.

Before I could say anything, she closed the door in my face.

Did my stepmother just hit on me?

Katie's POV

The nice thing about work: It isn't home. Not that home's so bad, per se, when, you know, no one's there. But the second Mom and Dad get home, the fighting starts. Kendall's lucky. He's living in an apartment building just off of campus. I'll be able to move into a dorm next week, since classes start soon at Canton Lake Community College, but until then, I'm stuck living in this hellhole.

My parents are going to be getting divorced anytime now, it's so obvious, even if they won't admit it. They fight like cats and dogs, kicking and screaming and throwing things at each other for days on end, and then we have a week's resting period, where they are delicately polite to each other, they do whatever the other one asks, and Mom serves decaffeinated Earl Grey Tea and homemade cookies.

I can always tell how bad the fight's been by what kind of cookies she's made.

When they're bad, she bakes oatmeal raisin.

When they're really bad, she bakes snickerdoodles.

And when they're horrendous, knockabout blowout, she bakes chocolate-chocolate chip cookies.

When I walked into the house, I could smell the sweet, warm aroma of chocolate cookie dough and melted chocolate chips.

It didn't surprise me though. The past week or so, Mom and Dad had been screaming bloody murder at each other until four in the morning, when Dad would either A) fall asleep on the couch, or B) storm out of the house and drive to his office, where he would crash on the couch there...or option C), which I preferred not to think about it. Even though his back was in waaaay too good a condition for a forty-two year old man who had been sleeping on a couch every night for the past seven nights…

"Hey Mom," I said as I dropped my purse on the armchair in the living room. I could tell she had been cleaning, because everything was spotless. Not a speck of dust sparkled in the sun-streaked air that filtered in through the open windows and white lace curtains.

Mom was in a white summer dress with green flowers on it, which offset her long, curly red hair nicely. She gave me a disapproving look. "Please bring your purse up to your room," she said. "I want the house to be perfect for when your father gets home."

I rolled my eyes. Truthfully, I really hate it during these make-believe sessions. I mean, at least when they're fighting, she's not acting like a Stepford wife. Plus, that's when the house actually feels...honest. I mean, it's horrible when they're screaming obscenities at each other, and it scares me shitless, but at least she isn't worried about where I leave my purse, or how perfect the house is for when Dad gets home. Because honestly, he doesn't give a damn. He doesn't give a damn about how nice the house is, or where my purse is, or what kind of cookies Mom bakes.

All he cares about is work, and...if I'm right - which I don't want to be - then his secretary or whoever the hell he's banging. God. What is with men? Why can't they ever just stay true to one person their entire lives? Look at James Diamond's parents! Hell, look at him! As much as he might hate to admit it, and he never will, he and his dad are one and the same. The only difference is, I think James is smart enough (I know, I never thought I'd ever say it either) to know that he isn't marriage material, and will therefore stay away from all white dresses, black tuxes, and ministers at all costs.

Sadly, his father and mine were too stupid to realize they should have stayed away from all those things as well. Apparently, they liked the taste of wedding cake too much to resist.

I shouldn't complain, I really shouldn't, because if my dad hadn't decided he wanted a bite of wedding cake (which we're using metaphorically, of course, in case any of you out there is confused), Kendall and I wouldn't be alive to this day. And that would really suck. We would be nothing. We would be less than nothing. Well, maybe not, if you believe in reincarnation. Then we'd either be cows in India, or floating around up in heaven with God. But I'd rather not get all religious. The point is, no matter what you believe, we wouldn't be here.

"Katie," Mom said warningly, seeing my eye roll.

"I'll take my purse up to my room," I replied quickly, not in the mood to piss her off.

"Thank you." She pursed her lips again, and I could tell her entire body was tense.

I grabbed my purse and headed upstairs to my room to drop off my purse, before going back downstairs to snatch a chocolate-chocolate chip cookie.

Mom was slipping them into a cookie jar. I immediately grabbed one and took a bite of it.

"Would you like some milk with that?" she asked me at once, already pulling out a tall glass.

"Ummm...sure..."

She poured me a glass of skim milk, the only kind we have anymore since Dad once informed her that any other kind of milk went straight to her hips and thighs. I might've kicked him, except I'm supposed to show respect for my parents. It's too bad my dad makes it so hard to do. And then there's my mom...I love her dearly, but the way she lets Dad walk all over her is just pathetic. I mean, she really doesn't during the fights, but she won't put her foot down either. She never tells him to stop being a cunt, or else she's leaving him, or to get the hell out of the house, or anything like that. She never gives him an ultimatum. I'm not saying that she should, but considering some of the stuff he's yelled at her, and the stuff she's put up with, it's about time she does something.

But she won't. She never does.

I don't know what she'll do when the truth (which I hope really isn't the truth) about Dad comes out and she's forced to face the music. I really don't. She'll be heartbroken, torn to pieces. Kendall and I'll have to scrape her off the floor and re-inflate her before she'll even look human again.

"Here you go, sweetie," she said, smiling cheerfully at me, although the smile didn't quite reach her eyes.

I took the glass from her. "Thanks, Mom."

"You're welcome."

I dunked my cookie in the milk and took another bite. "So...Dad's at work? When is he going to be getting back?"

"He said around five," Mom answered as she began to clean up the kitchen. "So we can all have a nice family dinner! I called your brother, and he's going to try to come over."

"Oh, okay."

"We're having pot roast tonight," she added, "with baked potatoes and peas and carrots."

"How very...suburban."

She smiled happily - well, fake happily since, once again, her smile didn't reach her pretty green eyes - and said, "Thank you!"

Like she thought it was a compliment.

I glanced at the clock. It was almost five now...If Dad was true to his word, and during these times of fake-peace, he always was, he would be home within about five minutes.

"How was work?" Mom asked conversationally as she slid the roast into the oven, along with the baked potatoes.

"It was fine," I replied, finishing off my cookie. "We got a new shipment of shirts today that I think are going to be really popular. They're peasant blouses, and who doesn't look good in a peasant blouse?"

"Girls who don't have the bodies for them?" She gave me a pointed look.

"I have the body for one!"

"You do now. You didn't when you were fourteen."

"And that was four years ago! God! What is with people bringing up my lack of curves today?"

"Who has mentioned them?" Mom asked curiously.

I immediately clammed up. If I mentioned I had run into James Diamond at the coffee shop, she would immediately smirk knowingly - and she would actually mean the smirk. You see, I had a tinycrush on James when I was in middle school, and partway through my freshman year of high school, before I realized what a womanizing pig he was. And Mom, bless her, has never let me forget this unfortunate schoolgirl crush. Which means that anytime I bring up James for one reason or another, she immediately gives me this look, like she's just so sure I'm totally and completely in love with him.

Hah! Yeah! As if.

He's vain, egotistical, thinks it's his born right to sleep with whoever he wants, whenever he wants, and treats girls like they're leftover beef that has been left out in the sun for too long.

You get the idea of his actual personality.

But most people don't see. Or, most girls anyway. I'm the only one, and that's because I had it shoved right in my face. But in my freshman year of high school, he was considered a god. And no one would ever listen to me when I informed them that they were waaay off on that assumption. It's probably one of the reasons why my high school years sucked so much, because I insulted King James in my freshman year. That negative blight followed me throughout the next few years, even though James, my brother, and their two best friends, Logan and Carlos, graduated at the end of my freshman year.

Amazing how he manages to screw things up even when he's out of the state.

It must be a talent.

I headed upstairs to change out of my Off The Rack clothing store uniform – really just a black t-shirt with the store's name spanning across the chest in hot pink, and a hot pink skirt that I had bought there. We were encouraged to wear clothes that came from Off The Rack, in order to help with sales.

I changed into denim shorts and a Daughtry concert t-shirt.

I was just brushing out my hair when I heard the front door open and my dad calling out to the house that he was home.

I glanced at the time on my digital clock and saw that it was 5:00 PM exactly. The man had impeccable timing.

I could hear my mom greeting him formally, saying something about what we were having for dinner, and that Kendall would be joining us.

I heard my dad reply just as politely, and rolled my eyes. Who were they kidding? Either they needed to go see a marriage counselor, or they needed a divorce. Personally, though, I opted for option number one. I didn't want them to get a divorce.

I felt my stomach twist itself into a knot at the very idea. Other people's parents got a divorce. Not mine. And I wasn't right about my dad's affair. I couldn't be.

I decided right then and there that they were just going through a rough patch. That's what Kendall had been saying for the past six months, ever since the fighting began, and I had been trying to convince myself of that.

They still loved each other, they just didn't know how to express it.

That's what I decided.

It was probably the only thing that gave me the courage to set down my hairbrush and bound out of my room and down the stairs to greet my father.

"Hi, Dad," I said when I reached the living room. He was slipping off his shoes, and Mom was hanging up his suit jacket.

"Hi, sweetie," he replied, although there was a distant look on his face. He had had that look off and on since the fighting began, and that look alone was enough to terrify me. It made me wonder if he even wanted to be around me anymore.

"How was work?" I asked, doing my utmost best to keep the cheer in my voice, even though I felt my throat catch slightly at the beginning of the sentence.

"Fine," he said, and then turned to my mom. "What time's dinner?"

He never used to ask her this. We used to eat whenever she finished dinner, but during these periods of lying calmness, she would set a certain time, usually at six.

And sure enough, she answered, "Six-o-clock. Will that work for you?"

"Yes. I have some business I need to take care of before dinner, though."

Like counseling hotel reservations for you and your bimbo? I thought bitterly, and then quickly shook myself out of it. That wasn't it at all. It wasn't. It couldn't be. He meant something to do with his work.

My dad is a partner at Steel and Knight, a law firm that specializes in cases regarding businesses suing other businesses. As a result, he was always busy with work. Which meant that there was no way he could even have the time for an extramarital affair.

I immediately felt better.

Nevertheless, I felt my throat catch slightly again as I watched Dad go into his office and close the door, while talking into his Blackberry.

There are some situations kids should never be in, no matter how old they are, and this was one of them.

Kendall showed up at 5:55, walking through the front door casually with his hands in his baggy cargo shorts, his graphic t-shirt hanging over his wiry frame.

"Hey, Big Brother," I greeted him cheerfully.

"Hey, Baby Sister," he replied, giving me a one armed hug. "Mom in the kitchen?"

"Yep."

"And Dad's in his office?"

"Uh huh."

Kendall's eyebrows knitted together. "Ah."

"Yeah."

"How bad was the fight?"

"Mom made a double batch of chocolate-chocolate chip cookies."

Kendall winced. "Oooh…"

"I know."

"And we're having pot roast, baked potatoes, and peas and carrots for dinner."

"Sounds very…suburban."

"Exactly."

"Great. Just great."

"Kendall!" Mom cried as she walked out of the kitchen. Kendall gaped at her.

"Mo – Mom! You're wearing a dress! And your hair's not up in a bun! And you're wearing makeup!"

Mom pursed her lips. "Yes Kendall, it's nice to see you too."

"No, I mean…We're not having guests, right?"

"No…do we have to have guests for me to make myself look presentable?"

Kendall just stared at her in shock.

Mom gave him a reproving look before saying, "Come on you two, come set the table."

Kendall immediately headed for the kitchen, but I pulled him back. "She means the dining room table."

Kendall gawped at me. "You're kidding. We never eat there! Only at Thanksgiving and Christmas and on birthdays and when she's trying to impress Dad's parents!"

"I know."

"But – "

"Part of living in the Jones family." I grimaced at him before heading into the kitchen to grab the plates, silverware, napkins, and glasses.

At six-o-clock exactly, we all sat down to eat.

Mom immediately attempted to pry a little further into Dad's work, and Kendall and I both tried our luck at getting him to say something other than "fine" and "good" and "never better", but no such luck. He was completely shutting us out.

Kendall began to ask Mom about her life, but except for the usual "housekeeping" "shopping" and "gardening" (which is completely stupid, because who tries to keep their garden alive in late August?), she wasn't releasing any unnecessary information either.

Great.

Everything in our family was on a need-to-know basis.

Finally, Mom asked Kendall about his life. Thankfully, he wasn't going on our parents' standard, and he was pretty open about it.

However, it wasn't until Mom asked him if he would be able to stay for dessert and an episode of Grimm that he announced, "I actually can't. James is back in town, and a bunch of us are going down to the lake tonight."

I felt my stomach twist slightly.

Mom immediately brightened up. "James Diamond? Well, how about that!"

"You didn't know?" Kendall said. "I talked to James today, and he said he ran into Katie at the coffee shop." He grinned at me.

Mom immediately looked over at me. "You didn't mention that!"

I shrugged. "I forgot." Lie.

Kendall smirked slightly, and then addressed me again: "Do you want to come with us?"

"Oh, I – "

"Come on, Baby Sis! Some of your friends from high school will be there, and a bunch of college kids! You can meet some of the people who you'll be on campus with!"

I sighed. "I don't – " the idea of spending an entire evening with James was as sickening as they come.

Mom nodded encouragingly. "You should go. It's a Friday night, and you don't have work tomorrow. Go out and have fun with your friends and brother."

"Fine," I huffed out. "But if I come back drunk off my ass, just remember, you encouraged it."

Mom smiled sweetly at me. "I'll keep that in mind. And I know you won't be 'drunk off your ass' – you're much too responsible for that." She threw a pointed look at Kendall, who shifted uncomfortably in his seat.

"It was one time!" he finally hollered.

"Yes dear, of course."

Once dinner was finished, Mom insisted (per usual) that Kendall and I help her clean up, since Dad was so busy with work, and then Kendall shooed me upstairs to change into something appropriately party-material.

"And remember," he called after me, "we're going down to the lake, meaning we'll probably be swimming!"

"Yes, Captain Logic."

I ended up wearing a hot pink and black bikini that I had gotten from Off The Rack, the denim shorts I had been wearing earlier, and a purple and black plaid button up shirt with the sleeves rolled up to my elbows and the tails tied. I slipped my feet into a pair of black flip-flops, added some makeup and earrings, brushed my hair out again, stuffed a change of clothes, amongst other necessities, into a tote bag, and headed back downstairs.

"I'm ready, let's go."

Kendall nodded, and we said goodbye to our parents before heading out to his car.

I slid into the passenger's seat and Kendall got into the driver's seat. "Ready, Baby Sister?"

I buckled in. "Ready, Big Brother."

He started the car and I immediately lunged for the radio.

In Canton, the only station that plays any decent music is the college one.

The Naked and Famous song Young Blood was playing, and I immediately turned the volume up so that it resonated through the Ford Explorer.

"Why'd you invite me?" I asked, kicking my flip-flops off and resting my feet on the dashboard.

"What do you mean? You're my baby sister – "

"You've never invited me to this kind of thing before."

"Well, you weren't in college then." He grinned at me, but I wasn't buying it.

"Kendall – "

"Fine. I figured you needed a night out of the house. I mean, I could feel the tension between Mom and Dad the second I walked in the door. You must be on pins and needles."

I looked out the window as the song changed to Joe Brooks Green Eyes. "A little."

"Why didn't you tell me?"

I turned back to glare at him. "You never asked. Whenever I brought it up, you'd always just blow me off, say it wasn't a big deal. Well, maybe it is a big deal, especially for those of us who have to put up with it."

Kendall sighed. "I'm sorry, Katie-Kat. It was just easier to separate myself from what's going on at home."

"Lucky you."

"Katie – "

"Just don't shut me out again, okay?"

He nodded. "I promise. I won't."

"Good."

He nodded again. "So, uh, dating anyone?"

"Nope," I said unconcernedly, still staring out the window. We passed by maple trees, hanging with brown leaves, surrounded by dark gold grass that looked as rough and dry as desert sand. The sky was a deep blue, and I knew within a couple of hours it would be turning to a majestic purple.

Kendall turned onto the gravel road the led out to the lake. We passed by more trees, and more grass. Everything about it felt dead, but looking up the sky, there was a certain contrast, an openness about it, a vitality. And in the distance, the lake shimmered, a medium blue. Looking at the dead trees framing it, it appeared, like the sky, beautiful and strong and wild.

After being trapped in a house with two people who treated each other like strangers, and only getting out for work, it was like heaven.

Only I'm pretty sure heaven doesn't involve people pulling up to the edge of the road, yelling and whooping and pulling out a beer keg.

Other people were setting up a large speaker set, and connecting their iPods to play in a rotation. Someone had brought a large barbecue (how were they getting all this stuff in their cars?) and others were lugging out coolers packed with hamburgers, hot dogs, different kinds of salad, and just about everything else you could imagine.

Kendall grinned at me as I slipped my flip-flops back on and we climbed out. "Ready?"

I nodded. "Of course. Since when am I not ready for something?"

He snickered. "I'm sure there have been a few times."

I rolled my eyes. "Are you going to go help?"

"Nope. I didn't volunteer to bring anything – except for my amazingly gorgeous baby sister."

"Flattery will get you everywhere. Now, what do you want?"

"Talk to James?"

"What? Why?"

"Because it's about time you two made up."

"You know, there was a time when you were thrilled that I hated James."

"Yeah, when you were fourteen and he was sleeping with every girl he passed in the hall at school."

"But now I'm eighteen and he's twenty-one you have no problem if he tries to sleep with me?" Which he won't, I added to myself mentally, with a slight touch of bitterness.

Kendall smiled happily. "That won't be happening. You're not his type."

Don't I know it?

At that moment, I saw James pull up in his blue Chevy pickup. Speak of the devil.

"Go and talk to him," Kendall nudged me.

"No! We haven't said one civil word to each other since I was fourteen!"

"And he's been gone since you were fifteen! Maybe something's changed."

"I doubt it. When I ran into him at the coffee shop he was still the same pig-headed jackass he was three years ago."

"Nice to see you keeping an open mind."

I threw him a nasty look. "Fine. I'll go talk to him. Keep this in mind when you're shopping for a Christmas present for me."

"Naturally."

I heaved out a heavy sigh, squared my shoulders, and headed towards James's truck.

I was so going to kill Kendall.

(*)(*)(*)(*)

(Present Day)

"You know what's crazy?" James said to me as I reached the part about wanting to kill Kendall.

"What?"

"The way Kendall and your mom were so determined that we get along."

I shrugged as I wrapped his shirt around me a little tighter. "They're both crazy. We can probably blame this entire mess on Kendall."

"Oh, definitely," he agreed. "If it wasn't for him, well, maybe things wouldn't have happened."

"Exactly."

We fell silent for a few minutes, and then James prodded me in the ribs.

"Hey!"

"Are you going to continue or not?" he wanted to know.

"Fine…" I took a deep breath and continued, remembering how I felt, and what I was thinking, as I had walked towards him.

So...what'd you guys think? Was it okay? Did you like it? Hate it? Love it? Let me know! I love hearing from you guys, and the review button gets super lonely, so it needs some love. :)