A/N: Do me one favor – write a brilliant fanfic with all the drugs, sex and swearing you want. But please don't make that the only shit in the story. And give it a good title, not something ridiculous like "Duncan's Heroin" or something. Short accounts of one-night stands are the only stories I get when I look up Rated M. But please put some other element into it. Thanks, ya'll.

I dropped my bags on the floor of this massive house. I was in North Carolina as I promised Duncan a couple of weeks ago. My parents were staying in a nearby hotel, and promised to "check in often". Surprisingly enough, they allowed me to stay with him for the week. Usually they went against sleeping over a guy's house in any, any circumstances.

The house was a huge place. I immediately took notice to the screen door way in the back of the place – it was a few dozen feet beyond the front door, past the wide-screen TV and Wii system. Duncan opened it for me as if it were no big deal. I took slow steps through the amazing, straight-out-of-the-catalog backyard. It was mostly concrete – no grassy areas of sunshine or anything. Where I was standing, it was underneath the huge deck above. It was pleasantly shady. The hot tub was placed here, too, along with the grill and outdoor shower. Past the small gate lied the huge, in-ground, crystal-clear pool that I was so envious of (the closest we got to a pool was the neighbor's kiddie pool that flooded the yard every time they emptied it out). Past that was a small wooden bridge that led you over the sand dunes and to the beach. The fucking beach. It wasn't even a public beach. It was a long, empty, private beach shared by the houses going along the coast.

This was paradise. I never, ever saw a house as glorious as this. Duncan passed it by as "nothing much". Even though I know for a fact that we both hated the beach and the sun, I have to admit, this house was absolutely amazing.

I led myself out to the beach, while muttering to myself, "This place is so fucking awesome."

"Not really, you get tired of it after a few days." Duncan interrupted me. I shook my head. It was impossible to get tired of this place. I mean, the first floor of this place was games and shit. The second floor was bedrooms, but they also had a nice sitting area and hammocks outside. The third floor was the kitchen, living room, and office space (aka, where the router is).

My room was right next door to his on the first floor – my room consisted of only two twin beds, with a small TV on top of the dresser. I put my suitcase on one and lied down on the other as I got myself situated. Duncan and I spent all the time possible by ourselves and away from his cousins – Anya was sitting on the couch texting some jock (or so I suspected), Izzy was probably out doing some crazy shit, and Steven was sitting on the computer, burning his eyes out while playing Tetris online. So we spent our time sitting on the beach, catching up on stuff and kissing occasionally.

I followed Duncan into his clean, pristine white room (totally not him at all). I sat on the bed and asked, "Do you like it?"

He sat next to me and put his arm around me. He simply replied, "No."

I grinned and laid my head on his shoulder. "I miss you. I fucking hate New Jersey."

"I fucking hate North Carolina."

His parents couldn't force him in North Carolina. I bit my lip. "Can I kidnap you and bring you home?"

He grinned. "Please."

After a very short silence, he asked, "How's Bridgette?"

I thought about her. Trent had an impromptu proposal – which she oddly refused. It wasn't like, on-one-knee. It was just an innocent question ("Since you're carrying my kid and all that, maybe we should get married?" "No, thank you, Trent."). But other than that, nothing much has changed. She's of course been having pain-in-the-ass mood swings, but she's happy. Even though she's also nervous and scared for the future, she was still in high spirits. I think it's mostly due to the fact it's summer, and Meredith was staying for three months. The girl hardly visited. "She's doing good."

I sat in the guest room. It was dark, and I lied on the bed, eyes shut. I couldn't fall asleep for some reason. I look at the door. A little sliver of light was under the doorway. I sighed, and tried stuffing my face into the pillow. Then, my phone vibrates. I naturally expect it to be Duncan – I get a lot of texts from him – but it's Alexander (the emo kid next door).

"So how's the Carolinas, dearie?"

I answered back, "all right", turned my phone off, and tried to sleep yet again. I turned to the light underneath the door. With Duncan directly next to me (room-wise)…it was very tempting to just go next door.

So I did – I simply got up, opened the door, and shut my eyes (the light in the hallway was irritating).

With my eyes still closed (the following was a challenge), I stumbled to the light switch that turned off the low-hung light over the pool table (yes – they have a fucking billiards table). My eyes relaxed, and I proceeded to go next door. The room was dark, but I could barely make out the outline of the bed. I simply sat there and said, "Hiya."

"Hey." He said it plainly and clearly. I expected it to be rather drowsy, because it's about eleven o'clock, and the day was pretty fucking long for me. Clearly he's been up. In a somewhat teasing manner, I lied across his chest and asked, "So. What's up?"

"Not much." He held me closer. "Just waiting to get out of this hellhole."

I smiled, sat up, and kissed him. I missed his presence back home. I missed the feeling of waking up and immediately grabbing the keys to hop on over to his house. I missed hearing his voice talk to me directly and not through a phone line. Plus, I missed not having to naturally glare at his parents every fucking time I see them gallivanting through the supermarket.

Milk the week for all it's worth, Gwen, because it's all you're going to get for a while.

A/N: Plus, for a specific "fan", shut the fuck up. im not updating cuz, guess what? my already 1/2-bionic mother is getting fucking surgery and im failing half of my classes. the economy is taking a toll on my family, and you dont need to know the rest. why? because i dont care if i "'lose a fan". id rather deal with my mother, my father, my failing household and my PREGNANT BEST FRIEND are taking a huge portion of my time away. I'm not asking for sympathy. I'm asking that the real "fans" (or so you call yourself), to stick through thick and thin. This is a difficult time for me and the last people I'm going to deal with are assholes on the Internet. So STFU.