Vaughn couldn't remember a Summer quite like this one.

It was his third as a travelling animal dealer, and it was as he disembarked the ferry and headed towards Mirabelle's shop while filing through his wallet that the thought struck him.

This Summer was only two-thirds over and he'd already earned more than he had any other season so far. Granted, it wasn't enough for him to consider himself "well-off", but he had extra cash for the first time since he'd moved out on his own.

His occupation was never going to leave him with cash to burn, no, but he knew under the right circumstances, if he were to deal with more-than-able ranchers on a more-than-occasional basis, that he'd at least climb out of the red and be able to treat himself to a nice meal, or maybe get his boots the resoling they were in desperate need of.

And if he were to be honest, his increasing income all hinged on the two days he spent here, on the Sunshine Islands. Word of Chelsea's almost-instant success had spread; even Vaughn had to begrudgingly admit that she knew what she was doing much more than any of the other "ranchers" who'd passed through, or even more than that bum Jack in Mineral Town, who was more interested in using his crops and animal products to woo the town's girls.

It'd all started with the Horse Festival a season ago. Vaughn hadn't spoken to any of the other participants afterwards, but Barley, the winner of the race, and Mineral Town's own animal expert had been more than impressed with the way Chelsea had handled her horse, saying she was a "natural" with animals. Vaughn grunted out an "Uh-huh", knowing if there was one person who was ever less wrong than he, himself, was, at least pertaining to animal husbandry, it was Barley.

Yodel Ranch was where Vaughn had gotten his boot in the door, so to speak. Barley was in dire need of some assistance around the farm, with his wife and daughter no longer there, and little May taking up more time than he'd expected. He was stretched thin, between the animals, the financial aspects, and keeping in contact with current and prospective customers. And Vaughn was freshly eighteen, legally able to make what had been his life into an actual living. While the position didn't provide him with the travel he so desired, living in Mineral Town with complete strangers and free room and board at the Inn was far better than the only other two options that he could surmise: stay in his hometown of Nightshade, a proverbial ghost town with even less promise than people, or return to Foxglove, the suffocating, poisonous city where he'd spent several years of his childhood.

He didn't believe in fate, or anything close to it, but he ended up being dealt a pretty lucky hand. After his year in Mineral Town, Barley informed him of a travelling position (Vaughn wasn't so sure that it had previously existed as much as Barley was just making it up on a whim and hoping it'd turn out for the better, with Vaughn's already-short fuse whittling down under the confines of Mineral Town and only Mineral Town).

Moving out, moving on, constantly so; that was his life, that was what made him, for all intents and purposes, satisfied. And while others probably would have looked at the hours and hours of travelling he soon undertook as a way to meet new people, forge new relationships, he saw it as the opposite. He never had to really get to know anyone outside of a business setting. No, who he really grew close to were the livestock, the beasts that never saw him or anyone else for their pasts or flaws or successes or possessions. They never asked him if anything was wrong, or wanted to talk about their day, or felt the need to criticize him for shallow reasons. They were creatures of habit, as was he, and that similarity was, what he felt, earned his respect for them and vice-versa.

However, the Sunshine Islands were slightly, just slightly different, than all the places he'd been before. The people actually, well...they weren't so horrible, at least those he had to do business with. Not that he outright hated anyone he worked with, and it wasn't as if he considered any of the Sunshine Islanders friends, nothing as disgustingly sentimental as that. It was just that, if he were to fill out any work forms and list an emergency contact, he might very well consider naming Mirabelle.

Mirabelle, while having a much more positive outlook on things than he considered healthy, showed him the same hospitality Barley had, always leaving a place for him at the table. Which he seldom took, but every now and then, when Julia wasn't there to talk his ear off over something incredibly inane, he would join her. Vaughn had been surprised the first time he'd done so, that she would keep silent unless there was something about business that needed to be discussed. But he supposed that he acted as Julia's foil, with his natural reticence a welcome interruption to her daily life.

And then there was Julia. Boy-crazy, motormouth, sweet-and-empty-and-bouncy-as-a-marshmallow Julia.

Long-legged, dewy-skinned, doe-eyed Julia.

Hurdling-towards-him-and-flapping-her-hands-like-a-mentally-deficient-chicken Julia.

"Hey, wow, about time you showed up! It's way past lunch time!" He side-stepped her, trying to make his way to the kitchen, in need of something to quench his thirst after hours spent swamped in brutal humidity, but she countered, blocking his way.

"Gosh, it sure is hot today, I bet I know what you need!" Julia coiled her arms together, further accentuating her already noticeable cleavage. The customary retort Vaughn always kept at the ready fizzled away, and he lowered his hat until it touched the bridge of his nose, just in time that Julia wouldn't catch the trace of heated embarrassment that crept up on him. From the kitchen he could hear voices, and none of them were Mirabelle's.

He stood stuck in his tracks for a few moments before Julia dug her fingers into his arm and dragged him into the kitchen, wherein sat the owners of the voices he'd just heard: Pierre and Chelsea.

"Got our last taste-tester, Pierre!" Julia trilled, and roughly pushed Vaughn down into an empty spot at the table. At everyone's place was a sandwich plate and a fork neatly set beside it, and in the middle of the table sat a pan filled with something that was entirely covered in a variety of plump berries. Pierre sliced and served a wobbly, creamy square onto each plate, and Julia was at the sink pouring glasses of water for everyone. Chelsea was diagonal from him with a pencil in hand, staring down at an open newspaper, and she looked almost as uninterested in being there as Vaughn did.

Vaughn watched as she scribbled something onto the newspaper, and realized it wasn't just any paper; it was the crossword puzzle that he'd been working on over breakfast! What was she doing?

Just as Vaughn thought to open his mouth to tell the farmer to keep her mitts off his things, a tall glass of water came crashing down in front of him, and Julia seated herself beside him.

"Okay everyone, time to dig in!"

Vaughn blinked at her, as if she'd told a joke he didn't get.

"Today's Elliot's birthday!" she rambled on. "I asked Pierre to make something super-special for him, so he did! This is the first time he's ever made it though, so there's no way we're letting it get served untested! You try it first, Vaughn, you're even more picky than Elliot is."

"'m not hungry," he protested lamely, but he could feel his stomach rumbling, begging for sustenence.

"That's the best time to eat, when you're not starving!" Pierre waggled his pie server in Vaughn's direction, reminding Vaughn of their eventful first meeting, where Pierre had swiped his toast in an attempt to Gourmet-ify it. His eyes locked on Vaughn, ablaze with the tenacity of a wolf sinking its teeth into its prey- or in Pierre's case, a puppy attacking a chew toy. "That way you really savor all the tastes and textures, instead of just gobbling it down!"

Julia giggled and at the same time, the blob on Vaughn's plate wiggled under its own volition, as if it and Julia were one and the same. Vaughn stabbed it savagely. Just as he brought it to his mouth, Julia snapped her fingers in moment of clarity. "Oh! And this is for a party we're having at the diner tonight for Elliot! You should come, Vaughn, it'll be so much fun!"

"Yeah, Vaughn, so much fun!" Chelsea spoke up, affected and perky and dripping with a playful sarcasm that earned a mockingly offended huff from Julia.

He shoved the dessert in his mouth, to do away with the unexpected smirk that had formed.

It tasted perfectly fine at first. But all at once it melted into a slime, and Vaughn tried to swallow it, but all he could feel was a burst of tiny berry seeds, coarse, reminding him of animal feed.

He threw his fork down and tried to wipe the the seeds off his tongue with a napkin, and took a huge gulp of water. "This sucks. Y'sure you didn't make this, Julia?"

"Hush up, you think everything sucks. I'm sure it's not that bad." Julia went to pick up her fork but Pierre's hand stopped hers, as he too had taken a bite of his creation, and like Vaughn, found himself unable to swallow it.

"Oh, no, now what are we gonna do?" Julia moaned.

Vaughn muttered "kill me" under his breath and off to the side he heard a suppressed snicker from Chelsea. Across the table, Pierre didn't look the least bit wounded by the fact that his dessert had flopped; on the contrary, his tongue was poked out, his eyes distant, clearly mulling over how to remedy the berry disaster.

"Does Elliot like carrot cake?" Pierre exclaimed suddenly, turning to Julia. "Not to brag or anything, but I've had many people tell me it's the best carrot cake they've ever had!" As excited as he sounded, Vaughn figured it wouldn't matter if Elliot liked carrot cake or not; Pierre would go and make one anyway. His stomach lurched at the thought of it. Sitting there pretending to be a real cake, when it was nothing but carrots...

"Yeah, he does like it, but..." Julia sighed heavily, tracing a finger on the lip of her water glass. "But shoot, I wanted to try something brand new to surprise him..."

"Julia, I don't think he's going to care too much what sort of cake it is when you're going to all this trouble to throw him a party in the first place." Chelsea offered.

"I guess you're right." Julia acquiesced, and as before, the light must have clicked on in her head and her eyes bulged, a grin appeared. "I haven't even picked out what I'm going to wear yet! Chels, you should stay and help me choose -"

"I don't think so." A voice cut in from the doorway. Mirabelle stood with her hands at her hips, determinedly frowning at her daughter. She didn't sound very threatening, exactly, but Vaughn had never known the older woman to cut to the chase so quickly; this time she meant business.

"What? Mom, this is important!" Julia whined.

"More important than doing your job? Julia, there's a whole bin full of feed for the new calves that's been sittin' on the porch all day." Vaughn winced; he'd seen it earlier too, but hadn't paid any mind to it, thinking it was just extra stock. Shit, if he'd known that was actually to put out for the calves, he would've done it before he came in. It would have taken him all of fifteen minutes and possibly saved him the trauma he was currently experiencing.

"But Mom! I did everything else, I'm just taken a lil' break! Gosh. I'll do it before the party tonight." Julia slouched in her chair, arms crossed, pointedly not looking at Mirabelle. As irritating as Vaughn found Julia's bubbly side, at least it didn't set him on the verge of second-hand embarrassment, what he was feeling now as she sat there with her lips tugged into a pout.

"You'll do it now, missy."

This was getting, to put it mildly, retarded.

"I'll do it." Vaughn volunteered, standing up at the same time. He readjusted his hat and turned to the sulking blonde that was beside him. "Plan yer damn party, Julia."

Julia all but dove at him for a hug. He tried to dodge, but she ended up latched to his arm. "Thank you, Vaughn! You're the best!"

"Whatever." He was the best, but he didn't need Julia to tell him that. Just hearing "thank you" when he wasn't even doing anything extraordinarily special...people were far too easily pleased. He shook her off (not without some sniggering from Pierre and Chelsea), and in a flash was out of the kitchen, across the shop and out the back door. Lifting the crate of animal feed in his arms, Vaughn drew in a deep breath, much like a convict being released after years in prison. The air was thick, warm, but it was quiet, peaceful.

He used his toe to pry the barn door open, noting how relatively clean (it was a barn) it was. He'd spent all morning shearing the sheep, and hadn't even checked in on Julia here in the barn. She had to have woken up even before he did in order for it be this tidy. The frustration that had amassed from the whole dessert fiasco ebbed away, even more so as he approached the two eager recipients of the feed he was carrying.

"Hey guys."

The two calves, one a tawny brown and the other spotted black-and-white, lowed in appreciation as he dumped their food into the trough. He stood there for a few seconds, watching them go to town on their meal, when he heard the barn door creaking behind him. He thought it was just a gust of wind, but when he checked behind him...

Chelsea.

"I don't need your help." He growled, more from the principle of her being there in the first place than at Chelsea herself. Mirabelle thought Julia could handle this responsibility on her own, but deciding Chelsea needed to be sent out to assist him?

Chelsea took a few steps closer to Vaughn and shook the newspaper - the crossword puzzle she'd taken it upon herself to work on- in his face. "Clearly you do. But who said I'm here to help you?"

Vaughn tore it from her and gave it a quick once-over: it was nearly complete. "Why else are you-"

"I wanted to get out of there too, you know. I came over early this morning to get chicken feed and somehow, four hours later, I'm still here playing unofficial party planner. I mean, Julia's my friend and I want to help her but...well, you were there. I have a lot to get done today, still, if I'm gonna go tonight." Chelsea laughed airily and threw a glance back out the door. "Poor Pierre. He was there this morning when I got there."

Vaughn stuffed the paper into the inner pocket of his vest. "Somehow I think he'll manage."

Chelsea hummed softly in agreement. "I wanted to see the cows too. I should have a barn up by the end of Summer and I heard Julia and Mirabelle say you guys have some calves..." The spotted calf mooed, in its pathetic love-me-hug-me way, catching her attention. She clasped her hands together, making an odd screechy noise, then pushed Vaughn aside to get a better look. "Awwww! He's so cute!"

Vaughn's mouth twitched, amused. Here Chelsea gave off this rough-and-tumble tomboy impression, but she was really just like every other girl. Inexplicably drawn to cute, fuzzy, baby animals.

"She. Mirabelle only sells females," he corrected her as she crouched in front of the pen, rubbing the calf's head.

The calf's tongue slurped out, all over Chelsea's hand, and she giggled. "You grew up around animals, didn't you?"

"Yeah. On a farm."

"Me too. Or, I didn't live on a farm, but my neighbors had a farm and always let me help with the animals."

"Okay."

She got back to her feet, brushing her hands off on her shorts. "But I guess all the farmers in all the towns you go to say that, that they have experience with animals."

"They don't say much to me at all. You're the only one who feels the need to ever say anythin' to me." Vaughn replied coolly. Chelsea squinted at him for a second, as if trying to decide how exactly to take what he said. Ugh, just like a woman to read into everything. He didn't mean anything by it, good or bad. Just what he'd said: she was the only farmer who talked to him.

"If I'm not mistaken, you're the one who began talking to me, Vaughn." She cocked her head and gave a cheeky smile.

This was entirely true. He had walked her home and he had let his emotions get the better of him for once, and brought up the wrong subject at the wrong time, initiating this whole game of talking around the truth. It was bothersome, like a wound that wouldn't heal, that would keep getting scratched open, and the worst part was that it'd been self-inflicted. He hated talking to people but what he hated even more was people being wrong, especially when it affected him; he'd rather correct them and have them dislike him than let them continue on awry and be dragged along. But Chelsea'd taken his advice as an invitation of interest. And he wasn't uninterested in her success as a rancher, seeing as how he directly depended on it to a degree. He just wasn't about to get as involved as she seemed to expect.

He didn't reply to her. He didn't want to, as the subject teetered so precariously close to that of her wonderings of the Harvest Goddess. Talking her was so terribly unpredictable in that, when he was honest with her, and she him, it was almost like having a normal conversation. And when they weren't, it was this sickening game of dishonesty. While entertaining to a point, to put her in her place, half-truths were the sort of things Vaughn abhorred. Either you tell the truth or you don't open your mouth to begin with.

He suddenly became acutely aware of the silence that was hovering over them, the one that he was in control of, and it crescendoed into a deafening static in his ears.

Thankfully Chelsea either recognized how uncomfortable he was, or was just as put off in her own right.

"I mean, everything you said that night, don't think I disregarded it or anything. Because you were right, that I couldn't forget about my farm. You didn't give me a real chance though, y'know. You were pretty much a total-" she paused, lips pinched shut as she searched for the right word. "You were basically a jackass about it."

"If speaking my mind makes me a jackass, fine by me."

"Fine by me, too. Vaughn, I've sort of figured out you're a jackass about a lot of things. I don't take it personally." She took a step back after she said it, as if anticipating some sort of violent reaction from Vaughn.

He blinked profusely, like he'd just been splashed with ice water. He was well aware that he was, as she said, "a jackass about a lot of things", but he rarely, if ever, meant any criticism in a personal manner.

It was just beyond weird that anybody else would be so discerning of it as well, without making him out to be this cold-blooded jerk. The people of Mineral Town had made up their minds about him (no thanks to Jack). They didn't care for him much, besides Barley. Fine, whatever. If they mistook his honesty for cruelty, that was their problem, not his. What bothered him is that he couldn't even have an opinion anymore, that it was disregarded simply because they didn't like him. You didn't have to like someone to treat them with respect, but they'd missed the memo.

It'd become easy to expect the same from others; most cases he was proven right on some level. Vaughn used the heel of his boot to drag a line over the hay-covered floor, face tilted down so his hat obstructed his view of Chelsea.

"I didn't mean to say anythin' at all," he mumbled down to his boots. "I just didn't want you to be like Jack - he's the farmer in one of the other towns I work in - wastin' his time thinkin' some Harvest Goddess is there to help him and driving the town into the ground, then sayin', 'Oh, well, the Harvest Goddess never showed up to help me.'" By the time he finished his sentence, he was looking directly at Chelsea; he knew his resentment probably sounded channeled toward her, but really, Jack made him so damn mad and this was the first time he'd said as much.

"I'm not this Jack person," she replied gently, though with a tinge of hurt in her voice.

"I know that now. You actually give a damn. I never know when I go back to Mineral Town if it's still gonna be there or not." He wasn't exaggerating, either. There were so many times he expected to return to Mineral Town, only to find Jack's farm abandoned. There were several times in the year Vaughn had lived there Jack had shirked his duties in lieu of pursuing the local bachelorettes. Now some of those girls were taken, but Jack remained lackadaisical as ever.

"Well, the Sunshine Islands aren't going anywhere, I can guarantee you that." The calf whined for attention again, and Chelsea happily obliged, patting it and cooing as it nosed at her.

Vaughn supposed she meant it as encouragement, though she sounded very half-hearted, as if trying to end the conversation.

Chelsea separated herself from the calf with a disappointed sigh. "I need to get going. Stuff to do and all that." Vaughn watched as she retreated back to the barn entrance. With her hands firm on the handle of the door, she paused, turning to look back him. "Hey, you should stop by my ranch sometime."

"What for?"

But she was already gone.


Evening fell over the Sunshine Islands, the pitch black of night spilling over the fading orange-red glow of the sun. A crisp breeze, the first hint of the approaching Autumn, caused Vaughn to keep one hand stationed on his hat as he made his way to Halia's.

The lights were off inside when he arrived. The door was locked, and no one answered when he knocked. Julia had said something about inviting everybody to the party, and here Vaughn thought she just meant the Islanders she was close with, the ones their age. Not everybody.

But observing his surroundings, he saw that the cafe wasn't the only place that was deserted. All of Sprout Island was blanketed in darkness. The only light was that of the full moon overhead, and the lights of the nearby Inn, which were on permanently. It was almost spooky, the utter stillness.

He was the only person on Sprout Island. He had to hand it to Julia; despite how frazzled she'd been that morning over planning the party, it took some sort of talent if she had indeed managed to rope everyone into coming. He didn't understand it, why they would go, if they weren't friends with Elliot. Didn't they have their own lives? What was in for them to take that time out of their day?

All he wanted to do was eat, and he even considered stopping by the diner for some free food, from the party. But the image of him entering that crowd of people, who would all try to say "hi" to him, and engage him in mindless chatter...he could make do with whatever Mirabelle had left in the fridge.

When he returned to the shop, one peek in the window informed him that wouldn't be an option either, at least not one that boded well for his sanity.

Julia was at the kitchen table, talking animatedly with Mirabelle, Natalie, and Lanna. He may as well throw himself to actual wolves, as intrude on their conversation.

A barely audible whishing sound drew his attention away from the spectacle in front of him. Chen was outside his shop, sweeping the porch. Vaughn ambled on over to him, hands stuck in the pocket of his black jeans. The lights were still on in the shop, and Vaughn knew it wasn't midnight yet, time to close. Maybe he could grab a bar of chocolate or two to hold him over until morning.

"Good evening, Vaughn." Chen looked up from his broom, and Vaughn nodded back in acknowledgement before retrieving his wallet from his jeans.

"Mind if I buy some chocolate 'fore you close?"

"Sorry, but we're out until tomorrow."

"Out?"

"Pierre bought all the chocolate for one of his recipes."

Vaughn's fingers clenched into his wallet, and he stuffed it back into his pocket. That damned chef was always talking about making people enjoy "the wonder of food", but all he did was make Vaughn's eating experiences miserable, or in this case, non-existent.

At that moment, Chelsea came bursting out of the door, a small dog at her heels. "I found them, Chen! They were hidden behind all the corn seeds! - Oh, hey Vaughn.- So I left the money on the counter for you. Sorry again about stopping by so late."

"It's perfectly alright, Chelsea. Anything for my best customer," Chen replied kindly before he turned back to Vaughn. "Sorry about the chocolate, Vaughn. Next time you want some, it'll be on me."

Vaughn grumbled out a "Sure, fine" as Chen headed back into his shop. He didn't want chocolate in the future, he wanted it now. But he knew it was the most Chen could do, and he respected the merchant's work ethic enough (though letting Pierre buy all the chocolate left him pretty confused) to accept the offer.

Chelsea had already started off towards her ranch, but her dog lagged behind, curiously sniffing around Vaughn's boots. It let out a growl, then a squeaky bark that caused Chelsea to stop, whirl around.

"Miller, come on!"

But the dog wouldn't obey, bounding around Vaughn's feet and yapping. Chelsea came jogging back and hooked a finger into the dog's collar. "Ugh, I'm sorry. I swear he listens better than this most of the time."

"No, s'alright." Vaughn knelt down, so he was face-to-face with Chelsea, and patted the puppy on its muzzle. "Didn't know you had a pup." Vaughn moved his hand from Miller's muzzle to his back, broad strokes inciting the dog to thump his tail enthusiastically.

Barley had a dog, Hanna, who was extremely lazy but still loyal. She was old, and not in the best health, but despite that, Vaughn had formed some sort of attachment to her. He hadn't had a pet since he was a kid; if there was one thing he hated most about the time he spent in the city, it was how poor of an environment it was for having a pet, and just animals in general. It was...well, nice to see a dog out like this, out in fresh air and not confined in a cramped apartment or a "yard" that was little bigger than a closet.

"Yeah, I got him a couple weeks ago from Mirabelle." She smiled fondly at her pet, and straightened back up. Vaughn couldn't help but notice how ridiculous she looked, wearing an obscenely large orange hoodie zipped halfway over a black tank top and (he assumed) her shorts. It ended right above her knees (far past her shorts), and she was swimming in the sleeves, with the cuffs bunched back in her fingers. Vaughn knew he'd seen it somewhere else, that it wasn't hers, but couldn't place it.

Miller lollopped back over to Chelsea, pawing at her shoe as if to say "okay, I'm ready to go." Chelsea kept her eyes on Vaughn, lips pressed into a thin smile. "I'm glad you didn't go to the party."

"'Scuse me?"

"You would have died, Vaughn. I think you would have actually died," she stated very matter-of-factly, and Miller started yipping again. "I think you would've rolled your eyes so many times that they woulda fell backwards into your skull and like, given you some weird brain trauma."

"That bad, huh?" It was a pretty rhetorical question, as yes, he could imagine perfectly well that it was that bad.

"No, I had fun, mostly. You wouldn't have. It was a little third-gradeish, with the cake and ice cream and cheesy decorations and all that but it's a nice break, working so hard, I need those sort of things."

"Ranchers shouldn't take breaks."

"Oh, well, thank you Mr. Authority-on-Everything-Ever-in-the-World. I'll have you know I finished everything up before I went, and even then, I got there late."

"Then what were y'just doing, if you finished everything?"

"I decided on the way home to stop by Chen's, start growing some grass so it's ready for when my barn's built. I think I'll have it up a couple days before I thought I would. I can't wait to get one of those calves you guys have over there."

He still couldn't believe it, that she truly was this invested in her farm. She was so close to Denny, to Julia, who worked hard but seemed far more concerned with having fun. Sure, Pierre had a honed discipline when it came to his occupation, but still, Vaughn believed that who a person was friends with said a lot about them. Though he was beginning to think (and he couldn't commit to it, because it was such a foreign concept) that she was starting to view him as a "friend".

"That's...that's probably a good idea, yeah," he agreed, the words slurred with reluctance.

Chelsea twisted the drawstring of her sweatshirt absently around her forefinger, and Vaughn wondered if she was just as surprised by his response as he was at himself for giving it. After a moment's silence, she cleared her throat. "Hey, so, I'm glad I ran into you, though. I have something for you, if you want it."

"You have something?"

"Yes...?"

"For me?"

Instead of answering him, Chelsea zipped open her rucksack and pulled out a crummy-looking magazine. "Here," She lobbed it to him, and that's when he saw it was a digest of crossword puzzles. "I meant to give this to Julia at the party to give to you, but she seemed...preoccupied."

"Why?" Vaughn paged through it; there were only a few puzzles started. Despite its sad condition, it was new.

"Because you need the practice," she told him, a knowing laugh punctuating her sentence.

"Maybe if certain people wouldn't take mine, I could."

"Then consider this a fair trade-off, how 'bout that?"

Vaughn continued checking through the book, scoffing when he saw pencil and not pen in the puzzles that she'd attempted. Obviously she wasn't as masterful as she'd like him to believe. "You always use other peoples' gifts before you give 'em to them?"

"Yeah, right," Chelsea replied sardonically. "Like I'd buy that for you. I got that before I came here, so I'd have something to do on the boat. But I'm never going to do it now, I'm so busy. I could've just thrown it away, but I thought you'd like it."

Vaughn folded the magazine in half, then tipped his hat in her direction. "Thank you for your trash, Chelsea. I guess I'll see you 'round."

"Sure."

They parted ways, and Vaughn again was struck with the thought that no, he really had never had a Summer like this one. Only now he didn't know if that was a good or bad thing.


Wow, I'm so sorry for the delay, everyone. Usually Vaughn chapters, I look forward to writing, but I got sidetracked by some AP/ToT stuff I'm working on...and going from writing AP/ToT's Luke to him...lol, a bit of an adjustment, so yeah. Um, let's see. Well, I'm really glad I took my time on this, because it was very different than what I originally had planned, and I hope you like as much as I do. And in case you are like me and too lazy to do the math, yes, Vaughn is younger in this fic (21) than he is typically depicted in most fics. Idk, I just don't see him as being that old. I've essentially just called myself old, but yeah. To me, he just gives off the vibe of an overly-jaded college-aged guy (I know too many of them lol :X).
And the Mineral Town thing? Well, there's a few Mineral Town characters in SI (and a few links between them & the SI characters if you play through the game/unlock events) so...I'll just say that Mineral Town and its people will be reoccuring and eventually extremely important. :). Um and I think last chapter I said I'd explain the Shea thing a little but this was supposed to be a Chelsea chapter...then I changed my mind, whups. Oh well, I know I have some Vaughn fans out there (airtrafficstreamsand Yami's Girl 117, I'm looking at you) that didn't mind one bit that it ended up a Vaughn chapter. ;)

Anyway, thank you so much to everyone who reviewed on the last chapter, it's nice to see more Will (and Will/Chelsea) fans out there! Don't worry, Will's absence (mostly? ;) ) will be made up for next chapter. Thanks for reading, and thank you so so much to everyone who has reviewed/favorited/alerted so far. It means a lot to me!