I couldn't believe it. HIM. The guy from the airport. If I hadn't been trying to keep my emotions in check, I probably would've swooned. Or not, because...well, that stuff only happens in the movies. And very cheesy romance novels.

Not that I've ever read one or anything.

I instinctually—though this instinct had sprouted only recently, meaning about a year ago—took in his stance and determined it to be unthreatening. My heart rate slowed some, and I felt myself grow more relaxed. I actually had to squelch the urge to leap forward and hug him, which was outrageous. I didn't even know him.

It was around this time that I realized I had been staring at him, wrapped up with my idiotic thoughts in Lala Land. I felt a blush rise into my cheeks immediately and I quickly looked at the ground. I tried to think of something to say, but came up with nothing. I was already standing, staring at the hottest guy in the world. And I wasn't. Saying. Anything. What the freak was wrong with me?

Well, I know the answer to that one, I thought grimly. And it's something this guy is probably never going to know...or want to know.

Honestly, I hadn't really date much if at all after Dylan happened. Not because he threatened me (which he did) and I was scared he would come after me or my family (which I wasn't). Not because I was too emotionally scarred or depressed or emo. None of that crap. I just didn't have the desire to. Obviously, not everyone in the world was like my ass of an ex-boyfriend, whether I wanted to believe it or not. But there was always that slim chance, that possibility...and it wasn't like a boyfriend was a necessity for college. I hardly had enough time for myself.

"Not to be cheesy," Airport Guy said sheepishly, interrupting my reverie, "but...haven't I seen you somewhere before?"

I couldn't help it: I laughed. Surprisingly, it came pretty easily, especially considering my previously darker thoughts. But wait...what if this was just a line? He'd acknowledged that with his little introduction, but still. Paranoia reared its ugly head in my mind. What if he didn't really care where the hell he'd seen me? Was this even the guy? And if it was, where were his two—

"Hey, you found her!" an incredulous voice exclaimed. My head automatically whirled to the place the sound came from, so fast I thought for a second I might develop whiplash. Because I remembered those words, the connotation...what was to follow.

Stop! I chided myself. He's not Dylan or any of Dylan's dumbshit friends! That wasn't even possible...

This assumption proved to be true, as the blonde who had been with my guy—and he was my guy—at the airport now appeared in front of us, followed quickly by the third one; the brunette. I heard my friends get up quickly. Tall, Dark, and Handsome coughed nervously. He was...embarrassed? By my friends? By his? The words played back in my head and I realized what Blondie had just said. My eyes narrowed.

"Found me?" I asked suspiciously, ignoring the looks of my friends and the slightly pained expression that flitted across...his...face. Okay, running low on nicknames for my guy. This had to stop. I turned my head to look at him and finally replied to his question: "Maybe. I see a lot of people. Who are you?"

Well, crap. That hadn't come out the way I'd anticipated. He probably thought I was some kind of selfish bitch now. Great...

Luckily, he didn't seem to mind.

"I'm Nick," he introduced. I smiled internally. Nick. Nick was cool. I could like a Nick. "But my friends call me Fang."

Line! my brain screamed. I mean, honestly, who the hell said that? The only thing I could think of were pickup artists, which just made my skin crawl. Ugh.

"And these," this so-called "Fang" continued as my anxiety and suspicion rose, "are my two untasteful pigs of friends."

"Love ya too, bestie," the blonde one said sarcastically. He stepped forward a little, and I couldn't help stepping back out of intimidation. He had a good four inches on me, and I was on the taller side for my age. "I'm Jeff."

"Iggy," Brunette said, stepping forward as well. I uncertainly looked his way.

"Bless you," Nudge said, and she and Ella giggled. I then realized with a jolt that my two friends were standing at my sides and not behind me. I really needed to be more observant. Enough of this "in my head" crap.

"No, no," the corrected quickly. "That's what we call him. Jeff. Iggy. Weird. Like him. Um...I'm Sam."

Well, then. Guess this was a meet and greet. And it was our turn. My friends replied instantly.

"Ella."

"Tiffany...but I guess you guys can called me Nudge."

I hesitated before noticing my friends' expressions. I had to give in now. Sighing in defeat, I said, "Max."

There was silence.

"That's a cool name," Fang finally replied, obviously trying to keep the conversation cool now that we'd finished with the name-giving. I could tell he was semi-grappling with the idea of asking for my full name, which most people autmatically assumed was—ugh—Maxine.

"Just Max," I clarified, deciding to be nice. Better not make this guy sit around guessing all day. And I didn't want to get off to a bad start. Well, and worse than it already kind of was, what with the awkwardness.

Nudge interrupted the slight pause, which I was actually grateful for.

"So are you guys from around here?" she asked, and the blonde—er, Iggy—spoke up.

"You saw us at the airport," he replied, not quite sarcastic, but not outright explanatory. "No frickin'—"

"What he means to say," Sam suddenly interceded, "is that we're from the mainland like you guys...at least, I'm assuming you are. Not Arizona, though. We made a connecting flight." He smiled sheepishly at the space to my right, where Nudge was standing. "We needed a break from college. Well, they did. I'm just here to be the filter-slash-guardian Iggy never had."

Nudge laughed her bell-like, trilling laugh that meant she was actually amused. I saw something going on here...

"Cute," Iggy snorted. "Now that we're done with our little powwow, can we all do something fun?"

"We could—" I started at the same time Fang began, "Do you want—"

I blushed for the SECOND time and motioned for him to continue. Iggy whispered something to Sam, who glanced at me, grinned, and whispered something back. Fang whirled.

"Knock it off, douches!" he snapped. Ooh, badass. The thought made my giggle. Who would've thought that I, Max Martinez, would ever fall for a bad boy? I then winced at a sudden memory of Dylan, and I randomly—and somewhat logically—wondered how strange my random mood swings seemed to the guys standing in front of us. But they didn't seem to notice.

"As I was saying," Fang continued, turning back to us. "Would you girls be interested in joining us for lunch?"

Nudge and Ella glanced at each other and chorused, "Sure!"

I wasn't so convinced. But I was hungry and they had offered, and it wasn't like a date or anything equally as mindless. Ha. Me, talking about mindless. Me! The one who'd just been thinking about a guy she'd only seen once before now in an airport and how hot he was and how she would totally date him and how she...eh. My talking in third person. Never a good sign. But really. I'd never heard of a "triple date" before, and I wasn't one to break new ground. Then again...we could just be six acquaintances going out for lunch. So I came up with another one of my brilliant replies.

"Um..."

"She'd love to!" Nudge interjected. I thought about turning to glare at her for making my decisions, but I found that my eyes had wandered back up to Fang's face. Further, I couldn't bring myself to take my eyes off said face. I might've been imagining it, because I was severely intoxicated by his very presence, but he seemed to be having the same problem. And, as everyone started chatting and getting into a little huddle as we trudged back towards the wee restaurants surrounding the resort, he gave me a sort of crooked smile that, for some unexplained reason, gave me a warm and fuzzy feeling in my stomach.

Huh.

"This is totally crazy," Nudge commented as we finished up our food. What? I thought. The fact that we're all eating together with our perfect other halves or the fact that you haven't shut up for this entire meal? She and Nudge were almost done with their club sandwich, and I was just licking from my fingers the ketchup that used to be a hamburger and fries. The guys had ordered mahi-mahi (Iggy), barbecue ribs (Sam), and a Big Island Burger with all the toppings (Fang). And they'd eaten every last bite, proving that this was seriously the best restaurant in all of freaking Honolulu.

"It is," Sam agreed. I couldn't help but feel slightly awed at the fact that he was the only person here who didn't seem to display a single ounce of frustration toward Nudge for her...um...chattiness. "I can't believe we're all at the same resort...kinda freaky if you really think about it."

"I'm trying not to," Iggy replied brightly, shoving the last of his fish into his mouth with his fingers. Ella stifled a giggle with her sandwich, but I could tell he noticed because he looked at her. It was my turn to giggle. They were so meant to be best friends. Or maybe they were siblings, separated at birth. Well, maybe not. They were different in almost every way, from physical to psychological, but they really seemed to be hitting it off. We'd been talking about Hawaii and our interests and everything in between for about—I checked my phone under the table—two hours now, and nobody had spontaneously combusted or run away screaming.

Good signs, good signs.

"So where exactly are you guys from?" I asked casually as I pushed my plate away from me. We were sitting at a medium-sized, rectangular table: girls on one side, guys on the other. It made it more...friendly. The only thing was, it was kind of small. And cramped. And as I manhandled the plate, it hit Fang's with a loud clang. I realized we'd finished at the exact same time.

"Sorry," he apologized quickly. He didn't move his plate, though, as he sat back slightly in his chair. "We're all from New York."

"New Yawk, New Yawk," Iggy clarified. We all nodded, but I was kind of confused. Where were their accents, their rude personalities? And I hadn't exactly seen them drive yet, but if they were from NYC...

"We moved there from different places quite a while ago," Fang explained in his low voice, noticing the unspoken questions that must have appeared on my face. "I was about fourteen, and I was the first of us to move. It was kind of..." He broke off before restarting. "Anyway, these two idiots moved up a year or so later. Same building."

"And before you ask," Iggy cut in, "no, we're not criminals, and no, we're not horrible drivers. Well, I'm not, anyway."

The others ignored the jab blatantly, obviously used to such remarks from their friend.

I leaned back in my chair, content and full. This was such a nice place. We were situated on a veranda of sorts...a good-sized wooden platform that stood about a foot up from the sand. A wood railing lined the edge, and it had cute lights dangling from it that would probably look a lot prettier if it were darker. Of course, a thatched straw overhang provided some shade, though the angle of the sun made it impossible to block entirely. Little tropical plants hung from the decorative rafters. Overall, though, it was the view that made the outdoor restaurant picturesque. The deck opened onto sand, and the sand merged into the sapphire blue ocean. I sighed in contentment. This was the life.

"And where are you from?" The voice finally got through to me, and I realized I'd missed part of a conversation.

"Arizona," Ella replied, finally finished and wiping her hands on her napkin. I looked down at my shorts and realized I'd just been wiping ketchup and grease on them instead of being a lady and using a napkin. Oops.

"The Phoenix area," Nudge added helpfully. "But we basically live in the middle of nowhere, kind of. It's...pretty boring. But there's a pool opening up in the neighborhood soon, so that'll be nice. We'll have somewhere to go when they cut the AC in the summer."

"Cut the AC?" Sam asked, sounding incredulous. "Doesn't it get to like one-fifty there?"

I laughed, finally rejoining the conversation. "Not quite. But the heat does suck, and they have to turn off the air based on a grid to make sure the power doesn't get shot or something. Otherwise we'd all be without it 24/7. So...it works out in the end, I guess."

Now that I was finished talking and we were all done eating, we'd reached an awkward transition phase. Fang broke it.

"How about we just walk down the beach or something?" he suggested, and Nudge squealed before quickly correcting herself at the bemused looks she got from everyone around the table.

"Sounds romantic," she said cheesily, and we all shared a good laugh, earning us several glances from people at surrounding tables. Hmm. I hadn't even noticed they'd been there until I was actually focusing on it. That was weird.

Claustrophobia began to set in, however irrational. I'd come to hate being surrounded by people. Especially of the male persuasion. And ones with brown-blonde hair. And blue eyes. And perfect muscles. And steely looks. And weapons of mass destruction that could be anything from spoons to belts to...

But mostly anyone. Really.

I stood up quickly, almost tripping on my chair, spitting out the first excuse I could come up with: "I have to change. Be right back."

I then practically sprinted out of that place, launching myself over the railing with one arm like I could do gymnastics worth shit. Pretty impressive, if I do say so myself. But right now, I didn't care about impressing people. I didn't even think about anyone who was still at the table, probably wondering why a lunatic like me was hanging out with such normal people as Ella and Nudge.

Or maybe they believed you, a little voice in the back of my head whispered. Maybe you're not as bad a liar as you think.

I winced and stumbled momentarily as a memory pushed through my calm(ish) facade.

"Oh, Max," Dylan crooned, stroking my cheek gently as I lay paralyzed in horror on the floor. "You know you can't lie to me. I'll always know."

"I've lied before," I managed to spit. The effect was ruined by the sob that wrenched its way out of my throat and the tears that were streaming down my face like there was no tomorrow. And who knew? Maybe there wouldn't be. Maybe.

"You're a horrible little bitch," he spat right back, his change in demeanor expected but still frightening. His hand disappeared and came back at my face with a vengeance, and I whimpered as my head was cracked to one side.

"I'm s-sorry..."

I felt one small tear find its way out of the corner of my eye, and I wiped it away furiously with the palm of my hand. Idiot! Why did I have to go and ruin what had been practically the perfect day?

Maybe Dylan had been right.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Okay, okay, I know it's a horrible ending, but we needed something to sort of transition Max into the next chapter, which is going to be a complete flashback to when she was still with Dylan. This is in reply to the comment we received about wanted to delve deeper into the whole Mylan (Dax? Heheh, Dyx. =D) relationship that backdrops the story. So, commenter, your prayer has been heard and answered! While you wait several years for the next chapter to appear (just kidding...), read these comment replies! One of them might be to you!

Jay Cahill: Wow, thanks! Love the enthusiasm! This chapter was for bandnerd21, but the next one will be dedicated to you...though I'm not sure how happy you'll be about that, what with YANG writing it and everything...hope I didn't disappoint.

Fang's MINE: Glad to have you with us! Hopefully you'll keep reading. This is an update! =D

Stella Uzumaki: The next chapter will be for you...sorry, Jay. I noticed the lack of background, too, and hopefully the next will fill in the void. Hope this chapter keeps you happy until then, and thanks for the wonderful review!

JealousMindsThinkAlike: Thanks so much for your review! It means a lot...keep reading, my dedicated little fan! =D

Thanks again, guys! Hope you liked, and I'll—actually, Yang will—update ASAP!

-YAY