"Fulton!" I call as I walk through the Reeds' front door.

"Den!" he calls back. "Bring me a beverage!"

I pop my head into the den and raise my eyebrows. "Excuse me?"

Fulton, sitting on the couch with an XBox controller in his hands, doesn't even glance up from the TV. "Bring me a beverage, for I am your king," he intones.

"Certainly, my liege," I reply with an eyeroll. I head to the kitchen and grab two sodas from the fridge. Back in the family room, I flop down next to Fulton.

"So." He nudges my knee with his. "Where's Loverboy?"

I can feel my cheeks flush. I have spent so long hiding my feelings for Averman that it feels kind of strange to have everything out in the open. I crack open my can of Sprite and take a swig. "He picked up a shift at the theater," I explain. "And I haven't really hung out with you in a couple days. I missed you, dude." I've spent the past couple days, when not with Averman, talking about him with Julie and Connie. I've never been particularly close with either of them - friendly, yes, but not close, not like I am with Fulton or Luis or even Russ - but they're the only other girls I really know, and I don't feel comfortable dishing about my relationship with any of the guys. Factor in the fact that I doubt Fulton wants to gossip about it with me, and that's why I've been MIA this week.

"Well, you're here now. Wanna shoot each other?"

I grab the other controller from where it's wedged in between the couch cushions and proceed to spend the next hour getting shot to death, like, a million times. I even manage, to my complete lack of surprise, to get my guy killed while Fulton is on the phone with Portman and paying more attention his conversation than the video game.

Fulton hangs up. "Portman's heading over. Got some smoke."

I nod, trying in vain to get my guy out from the rock he's trapped behind. "Maybe if I get high, I can actually beat you," I suggest as my army dude finally jumps free. I make him run towards Fulton's guy, shooting haphazardly, and fall down dead with a shot to the chest.

"Wouldn't count on it."

My phone rings, and I blush again when I check the call display. It's my boyfriend! I sing to myself. "Hi," I say when I answer.

"Hey, baby," Averman says on the other end. "What're you doing?"

"Hanging out at Fulton's. Playing Call of Duty. Getting my ass kicked."

He laughs. "Sounds like fun. Listen, we're really dead around here, so I'm going to be leaving in about ten minutes. I just have to mop up in theater four and then I can go."

I hesitate. Everything I've ever read in Seventeen assures me that it's normal, in the beginning of a relationship, to want to spend every waking moment with your guy, so I'm not too concerned about my borderline obsessive desire to be with Averman 24/7. I don't, however, want to totally neglect my friends - especially since I have so few of them. "I haven't really been here that long," I begin.

"We're all friends here," Fulton reminds me with a gentle elbow to my ribcage. "It's cool if you want to have him come over."

"But do you want to meet me over here when you get off?" I finish.

"Yeah, cool. You guys want popcorn?"

"Tell your boyfriend to bring some popcorn!" Fulton says.

"Yes, please. Butter and salt?"

Averman laughs again. "Sure, baby. I'll see you soon."

We say our goodbyes and hang up as Dean walks into the room. He fist bumps each of us in greeting. "What's up, dudes?"

"Averman's coming over," I beam. When I cannot actually be with Les, the most pleasurable alternative, for me, is talking about Les. I'm aware that others might find the subject less fascinating than I do, which is why I only talk about him with Julie and Connie, but I'm making an exception because I'm still excited that he's coming over to see me.

"Right on," Dean replies. "Is he bringing popcorn?"

I roll my eyes towards the ceiling. "Guys, god, yes, he's bringing free food for your consumption."

"Hey, you're going to want some munchie food in about twenty minutes," Dean reminds me. He pulls out a joint and a lighter from his pocket and sparks it up. "So," he says as he takes the first hit. One eye is closed; the other is looking at me.

I narrow my eyes. "So...what?"

He passes the joint to me. "So you look totally giddy schoolgirl."

I hit the joint, coughing up a cloud of smoke as I exhale. "And?" I take another hit before passing to Fulton. I feel like I'm blushing again, but it could just be the pot hitting my system.

"Nah, it's cool. Happy Maggie beats Mopey Maggie by a fucking long shot."

"Thanks, I guess?"

Fulton shakes his head, coughing slightly. "He's right. You're way cooler this way. I don't want to slap as much sense into you when you're not being all sad puppy." He looks up as a knock sounds on the front door. "Come in!" he shouts.

"Hey!" I hear Averman call out. "Den?"

"Yeah!" Portman answers.

"Bring me a beverage, for I am your king!" Fulton bellows.

Averman takes a seat on the couch next to me. "Get real, Cake Eater." He drapes an arm over my shoulder and greets me with a light kiss. "It smells like a Phish concert in here," he adds as the joint comes his way.

I reach across him to take the joint from Dean. "Does it bother you that I smoke sometimes?" I ask him. It's not like I'm one of the burnouts at school that spend more time in the parking lot than in class. I get high at the occasional party, and every once in a while besides that when Portman is able to score a bag, but I'd wager that I only get stoned about a dozen times a year. I drink even less than that, and I don't smoke cigarettes, and I don't sneak out of my house, and I obey my mom, and I get okay grades, and I'm not having crazy sex and getting knocked up, so I figure that as far as teenage rebellion goes, I'm pretty tame.

Les shrugs. "You know it can really fuck up your game."

Portman, who has just shoveled a handful of popcorn into his mouth, laughs so hard that he spits some popcorn right back out. "It can really fuck up your game, Spazway!" he echoes, laughing around a mouthful of food.

"I can barely walk and chew gum at the same time," I respond drily, "so that's not really a concern of mine."

"And...well, it can lower your sperm count."

I stare at him, blank faced. "Yeah, I don't have one of those, either."

Les smiles at me, slightly sheepish. "Right. Well, that's why I don't smoke." He brushes some hair back from my face before settling his arm around my shoulders again. "But what you do is what you do. It doesn't bother me."

I grin up at him and snuggle my head against his chest. "Thank you, baby."

He plants a kiss on the top of my head. "You're welcome, baby."

Dean groans. "You guys, shut up. You're making me want to go out and hunt down a fucking baby unicorn or something."

"Jealous," I tease, throwing a piece of popcorn at Portman's open mouth. I miss but nail it on the second attempt.

"Yeah, I'm really jealous of Averman. You're a four-eyed fucking ginger with freckles and you work at a movie theater, earning your weight in free popcorn."

Next to me, Fulton shakes with silent laughter.

"And I'm not jealous of you, either, Spazway," Dean continues. "You're, like, my stupid little sister, only you're not even related to me. You can't even skate!"

Fulton laughs out loud. "Okay, that was pretty weak. But you struck gold with Averman."

Portman hangs his head in mock dismay. He perks up when Fulton mentions my brother.

I freeze, a handful of popcorn midway to my mouth. Did I just hear what I think I did? "Charlie wants what, now?"

Fulton shrugs one shoulder and looks over at me. "It's not like we're gonna do it, Maggs. Have some faith."

I narrow my eyes and drop the popcorn, indignant. "I can't believe my brother wants you to spy on me!"

"It's not spying, exactly," Fulton clarifies, adding, when I shoot daggers at him with my eyes, "but it's pretty damn close."

I shake my head in disgust. "Whatever, he's asking you to keep an eye on me and make sure I'm not the only pregnant sophomore at Eden Hall, is what he's doing. He seriously thinks you're going to tell him what I'm doing when we hang out together? Tell him Les and I are all over each other, all the time. Tell him...tell him I let him get to third base on a regular basis, and it doesn't matter who's around. I just can't help myself," I add, sarcastic and angry.

"Really?" asks Portman, at the same time Averman is quickly disagreeing with my tactic.

"No, not really," I snap. "Don't tell him fucking anything, okay? We're not doing anything, but even if we were, it wouldn't be his business." My face feels hot, and I wish desperately that I was born an only child. Somewhere, deep underneath the rage and humiliation, I know that Charlie is only trying to keep me safe. The fact that he's being so underhanded about it is what has me seeing red.

"Settle," Fulton orders, pointing a finger. "You're our bro, Maggs. I already told Charlie he needed to trust you."

"It's me," Averman interjects, sounding uncomfortable. Well, and can you blame him? "He doesn't trust me to not corrupt his little sister."

"Nobody is corrupting me!" I exclaim.

"His intentions are good," Averman says.

I pull away from him enough to turn and look him in the eye. "My mom always says that's what the road to hell is paved with. Right now, Charlie's laying his own path."

"Baby, calm down." Les touches his fingertips to my jawline, making sure he has my attention. "Look, I'll talk to Charlie, okay? I'll make sure he knows that what's between you and me is just between you and me. It'll be fine. Trust me?" His eyes are locked on mine, unwavering.

I grumble and sigh before reluctantly nodding.

Les grins. "That's my girl." He goes to stand. "I think I'm going to go pay a visit to your brother. Walk me out?" He says his goodbyes to Dean and Fulton, and I walk with him, hand in hand, to the Reeds' front door.

"Les," I start, but he interrupts me before I can say anything else.

"Maggie, listen to me," he says, his face so close to mine that I feel like I'm seconds away from kissing him again. "I'm going to talk to Charlie. I'm going to play nice. I am going to very calmly, very politely remind him that he is not part of our relationship, assure him that I'm not..." he breaks off, trying to think of the right words. "I'm not besmirching your virtue, or whatever," he finally says. "And I'm going to make sure he realizes that he has nothing to worry about. Okay?"

I lean forward, my lips almost touching his. "Okay," I whisper against his mouth. I can feel his lips, firm and authoritative, and his tongue darts out to touch my own. I can feel the butterflies low in my stomach kicking into overdrive. My hands toy with the hem of Averman's t-shirt and I take a half-step closer, pressing myself tight against his chest. I can feel his heartbeat up against mine, and I swear it's beating every bit as fast as mine is. I slip one hand underneath, pressing it flat against his stomach. My palm rests right above the waistband of his jeans, and I blush when I get a momentary thought of what's underneath. I nervously slide my hand up until I can no longer feel denim on my hand.

"Maggie," he half-whispers, half-groans as he pulls away. "I'm trying to convince Charlie that your virtue remains smirch-free." He kisses me one more time before stepping across the threshold and scooping his keys out of his pocket. He grins widely. "I better go while I'm still telling him the truth."