A/N: This is basically a snapshot of a rather eventful night in 17 year old Skylar's life. I hope you enjoy it.

SANTANA

November 2027

Skylar looks frustrated, even from a distance. She's been marked by a much bigger girl all game, and I can tell she's getting tired of being roughed up every time the ref isn't looking. Quinn is absolutely beside herself watching our daughter get pushed and pulled. She's trying hard not to start yelling at the referee, a bad habit that has earned her many a baleful look from Skylar from across the field. But in a game like this, in the playoffs, with all of Sky's hard work on the line, I'm surprised Q has held off this long. Brittany stands on the other side of my fretting wife, her hands wrapped around Quinn's arm nervously. Britt might actually be worse at watching these games than Quinn is, constantly hiding her face or holding her breath when the ball gets close to Sky's feet. Puck is the definition of calm, which is why I like to have him next to me during games like this. He has told me before that he's more nervous watching Skylar play than he ever was in his own games, but on the surface he looks as serene as pond water.

The two blondes next to me are even worse with our daughter's team down a goal in the second half. Skylar is a senior this year, so this could very well be her last game. I know that as the captain and leading scorer, she feels a tremendous responsibility to carry her team to the next round.

Quinn squeezes my hand violently when the ball is played through to Skylar, who juts a foot to the right to toss the ogre who's marking her off balance and then takes off quickly in the other direction, the ball close to her feet as she looks around for the best play. She sends a curved pass to her teammate jetting along the sideline and then takes off at full speed to the opposite goal post. I'm amazed, once again, at her speed. The ball is in the air, lofting towards her destination, defenders and the goalkeeper all moving to direct it elsewhere. The crowd swells with expectant cheers, watching our girl jet smoothly to where the ball floats downward. She jumps, her abundant athleticism apparent in her graceful leap, and meets the ball perfectly with her forehead, sending it cleanly into the corner of the goal before she collides with the goalkeeper, sending them both falling horizontally to the ground.

Everyone is cheering around us, but Puck, Quinn, Britt, and I are frozen, our eyes glued to Skylar lying on the ground. For a half beat none of us breathes, but then our superstar pumps her hands in the air as her teammates come sliding in around her to celebrate her goal. They pull Sky to her feet and she jogs back towards her half of the field, her eyes up on the stands until she sees us. Skylar pounds on the number three on her chest and then raises her hand to sign "I love you" in sign language, just like she does after every goal she scores. She wears the number three because it represents both her three parents and the Unholy Trinity, which Skylar thought was just the coolest when Britt told her about the nickname for our high school trio. We raise our hands up, sending the gesture back to her, and I don't think I could be any more proud of our thoughtful, talented 17 year old daughter.

"Scoring for the Warriors is number 3, Skyyyyylar Loooopez!"

A large collection of boys start chanting Skylar's nickname, and I smile at Brittany because it always makes her proud that her designated name for her niece has caught on so well.

SKYLAR

"SKYYYYYYYYY-LOOOOOOOO…SKYYYYYYY-LOOOOOOO…SKYYYYYYYYYY-LOOOOOOO…"

I smile at the chants of the guys gathered in the stands, but I don't look up at them because the absolute hottest guy alive is sitting amongst them and I'm afraid I'll make eye contact with him. I don't have time to be distracted by him right now, not when the clock is ticking down and the game is tied. We're less than 3 minutes from sudden death overtime and I really don't want it to come down to that.

As soon as the ball is in play I step close to the Yeti I've been taking on all night and keep no more than an arms distance between us. I'm faster than her, so I can front her and not be worried she'll beat me in a foot race, if they want to play the ball over our heads I'm sure I'll beat her to it. My positioning effectively removes her as a factor, and I can hear the frustrated grunts from the Incredible She-Hulk behind me as she tries to get open. She grabs a fistful of my jersey and pulls me backwards suddenly, then breaks for the goal while I stumble to catch my balance.

I'm going to kill this bitch.

Once I've got my feet under me I'm off, letting my legs go all out to close the gap. The ball is played a beat too late and I intercept it with a quick slide. I know we don't have much time, so I scan the field for someone to send the ball forward to. I see Jackie streaking as hard as she can towards a gap in the defense and I send the ball to her feet. She collects it neatly and fires a quick shot that the keeper deflects and then falls on top of. As soon as the ball is put back in play the ref whistles the end of the game, and we have a 5 minute break until the start of sudden death.

QUINN

Watching Skylar play soccer is the most nerve wracking, exciting experience. She's so grown up and talented, sometimes it's hard to believe that she's my little girl, the same green eyed beauty that stole my heart on the day she was born. She's older now than I was when I gave birth to her and, incredibly, taller than both Santana and me. Time has definitely flown, but I'm happier now than I've ever been.

I squeeze Santana's hand and glance over at her. My favorite brown eyes gaze steadily back at me, and we exchange a knowing glance. We don't even need to say how proud we are of our daughter anymore, we just give each other this look that says it all. My wife links her arm with mine and then reaches to do the same with Puck. I turn to Britt and hold out my elbow to her, but she just wraps both arms around mine and buries her face in my shoulder as Skylar and her teammates take the field.

"Britt! Have a little faith in our girl! Skylar is going to win this one for her team," I chide teasingly, shrugging my shoulder to get Brittany to look up.

Bright blue eyes peek up at me and then she lifts her head to give me a full grin. "Well, duh, Quinn, I know that. But Skylar always seems to score whenever I'm not looking, so I figure I should keep not looking."

"She can't ever score while you're looking if you never look, though!"

Brittany looks unconvinced, but leans her head on my shoulder so that she can look out at the field. We watch together as my slightly taller doppelganger lines up for the starting whistle.

SKYLAR

I glance up at my moms in the stands, flanked by my dad and my favorite aunt. I may have grown out of calling them "mommy" and "momma," but when I look up at them surrounded by my classmates' parents it's impossible not to notice how young they really are. All of them have sacrificed in one way or another to help raise me and give me the brightest possible future, but my moms have especially given everything for me. I found acceptance letters for both of them to really good colleges in a box once, but they gave up those opportunities to stay close to home where Gram and Gramps and Dad could help take care of me while they got their degrees. My mothers are insanely talented women, they could have done anything, but they chose stability for me over their dreams. I'm going to win this game for them. I'm going to win it and go to the state finals so I can get more visibility and maybe a full ride to college.

I tap my "3" three times and take a deep breath, then instinct takes over as the whistle blows. My teammates and I move neatly, always seeking space and creating angles to move the ball quickly. Our conversations are mostly non-verbal, eye contact or a hand gesturing to our feet, but occasionally the smooth movement is punctuated with a "yes, yes, yes" or "man on" when there is something one of us doesn't see. I hear my coach yelling "Lopez" and I see instantly what he is seeing. I can steal this space. I'm faster, more efficient with my movements than the other girls. I dance on my toes for a second, feinting to my left before sprinting hard across the center of the field, taking an inexplicable opening just as my fellow captain and best friend, Jess, serves the ball up over the defensive line. I'm through the defense and after the ball, I just have to beat the goalkeeper to it now, but it's moving faster than I would like. I push harder than I've ever pushed my legs before and get some air time as I jump to meet the bouncing ball solidly with my left foot, right when the keeper comes diving at my legs. The ball is past her as I hit the ground and I quickly hop back up to my feet just as the net catches my shot.

We won. We fucking WON.

"GOAL SCORED BY NUMBER 3, SKYLAR LOPEZ! ASSIST BY NUMBER 14, JESSICA RODRIGUEZ! THE WARRIORS WIN, THE WARRIORS WIN!"

I sprint wildly towards my teammates as I whip off my jersey '99 World Cup style, waving it over my head as I jump into Jess' arms. I wrap my arms and legs around her, pressing my face into her neck. We fucking did it. She holds me up as my team surrounds us, screaming. I'm hoisted up like I'm crowd surfing and I hold the back of my jersey up to the stands, presenting the "LOPEZ" and "3" on it as I smile broadly at my family, who are waving and screaming, and holy shit Ma is up on Dad's back while Mom hugs Aunt B and they are going NUTS.

I hold up my right hand to sign "I love you" to them and they immediately all return it. I suddenly feel like crying, looking at them. I know I've made them proud tonight.

SANTANA

We've hugged Skylar and taken a bunch of pictures, and she even withstood a mini lecture from her father about running around on the field in her sports bra. Quinn and I put the kibosh on that quickly though, if male soccer players can yank their jerseys off after every goal, there is no reason why a female soccer player can't. Now we're waiting for Sky while she talks to an extremely cute young gentleman with Jess and a bunch of other friends. I watch for them for a moment, suddenly noticing that Jess' eyes-

"You guys are seriously okay with her talking to this kid who just saw her running around half naked?" Puck asks, clearly nervous.

I turn to him and smile, giving him an elbow. "I don't recall you being this opposed when Q, Britt and I were running around in those tiny Cheerios skirts."

"That's not the same thing and you know it," he scoffs, eyes widening, "That kid she's talking to has exactly one thing on his mind, trust me."

It occurs to me that Noah would know better than anyone what that fool ass child is thinking about our little girl right now, especially after she just ran around in a sweaty sports bra on a chilly November night. My mouth snaps shut just as Quinn slips her hand into mine.

"Okay you two, let's tone down the overprotective craziness a little bit. Skylar is a very smart girl who makes good decisions. We have to trust her or she'll just rebel and behave worse than she would have if we gave her room to make mistakes."

"Quinn, you're the smartest girl I know and you still got pregnant at 15," I mutter nervously, my eyes glued to my daughter, who is thankfully now wearing her warm up sweats. I see Noah nod agreement with me out of the corner of my eye and I feel a little guilty for bringing it up like that.

My wife sighs and leans against me. "I also had the smarts to come to you and ask for help, San. Try to think what we would have done if your parents told us we couldn't be together. It would have been Juliet and Juliet drama that may or may not have ended up in dead bodies. We have to give her space to grow into, she's 17 years old. We've done a good job, she's a good girl."

I let go of Quinn's hand and instead loop my arm around her waist. I know she's right about this, but good Lord it's hard to be a parent sometimes. I silently thank the heavens that mine are so amazing.

"Do you think she'd tell us if she was, you know…active?" I ask quietly. Quinn and I both lost our virginity to Noah at 15 years old. There's a reasonably good chance that Skylar could be having sex already.

Brittany apparently overhears and snorts as she rolls her eyes at me. "Really, Santana? Did you tell your parents when you started having sex with Puck? Or when you and Quinn started getting it on pretty much every single day? Let's be realistic here."

Quinn and I exchange a glance and then look at the ground, because Britt is right. We have a close relationship with our daughter but no kid wants to ask their parents for advice about sex. My wife's head snaps up just as mine does and I know she's thinking exactly what I am.

Skylar would go to Brittany.

We give our best friend a long look and raise our eyebrows at her, waiting for a confession or an indication. Noah watches for a moment before he seems to catch on too and joins in browbeating Skylar's godmother. Brittany gazes steadily back at us, her face calm and passive, showing nothing.

Finally I have to ask. "Come on Britt. We need to know. We're her parents."

Brittany shakes her head at me and looks back over at Sky. "If I broke her confidence she wouldn't come to me anymore, Santana. I understand where you are coming from, but you're going to have to trust that if I thought Skylar was engaging in behavior that was in any way dangerous, I would come talk to you about it."

"So she is?" I somehow ask the question despite my throat tightening.

Brittany looks confused. "Is what?"

"Having sex!" I whisper-shout, slightly annoyed, just as Skylar jogs over. Her face falls when she catches my words to her aunt and she looks grossed out.

"Can we maybe not talk about that here, Ma? Kind of gross. However, since I'm never one to let an opportunity pass, this seems like the right time to ask if I can go out tonight with some friends, since you and Mom apparently want to have…alone time…tonight."

I almost laugh at how off base Skylar is in her assumption. I look at my "give her room to grow" wife and wait expectantly. Quinn nods once.

"Yes, you may go out, but you have practice for your club team tomorrow so you can't stay out too late. Let's go with 10:30."

"10:30? Come on, Mom. Practice isn't until 11:30 tomorrow morning. Let me come home at midnight, please?" Sky gives a little pout that looks exactly like her mother when we were teenagers.

"11, final offer. If you're even a minute late, Skylar Emily Beth Lopez, there will be unfortunate consequences for you," Quinn counteroffers.

Skylar grins broadly. "Deal."

QUINN

Within 30 minutes of Skylar leaving to meet Jess, Santana and I are naked and sweaty in our bed, catching our breath. We normally find plenty of time for sex, but it's definitely become more difficult as Sky got older and had more on her plate. Somehow, unexpectedly, San and I became total soccer moms, always driving our daughter to practice or games or going to tournaments in other states. We try to go as a family, but sometimes we rotate who takes her. Noah works weekends a lot, so whenever he has a free one he likes to be the one to take Skylar wherever she needs to go, which gives me and my wife an occasional date weekend to spend alone together.

It's amazing to me, as I run my hand up and down Santana's soft skin, that I'm still mesmerized by her. Santana's lips anywhere on my body still sends heat shooting through me, her hands still raise goosebumps wherever they trail along my skin, her eyes still capture me with their depth and expressiveness. I first kissed her lips in the summer of 2009 and in the 18 years since I've never wanted to stop. She's an absolute miracle, this woman. I don't think I'll ever be able to get enough of her.

"What're you thinking about, pretty lady?" Santana asks, grabbing the hand I've been running along her side.

I smile softly. "How amazing you are."

My wife rolls her eyes at me and leans in for a kiss. Her full lips taste like sex and it's intoxicating just thinking about the things she does to me. I can tell by the smile forming on her lips as we kiss that she knows exactly what I'm thinking: I'm nowhere near done with her tonight.

18 years. 18 years.

I glance at the clock. It's 9:15. Almost two more hours.

SKYLAR

The music is so loud downstairs that I can still make out every word of the song that's playing. Jess and I came to a party at one of our richer classmates' two floor apartment. I've been upstairs in a bedroom for a few minutes with the guy I've had a crush on for a while. His name is Matt, and he's so hot. Kind of on the dumb side, but if he was sexy and smart I'd probably have melted a long time ago.

"So…which one of your moms is like…your real mom," he asks me with a completely straight face.

Okay, maybe this isn't going to work out after all. I fight the urge to roll my eyes at him, but can't keep the bitch tone from my voice when I respond.

"They're both my real mom. If you're asking which one of them gave birth to me, then that would be the blonde one that I look almost exactly like."

I can tell the boy wonder genius doesn't pick up on my not-so-subtle snark, but I do notice for the first time that he actually looks a little nervous, nodding his head a little too emphatically. "Cool, cool. I gotta tell you, both your moms are smokin' hot. And whoever that other blonde lady was at the game tonight? Also hot. I guess it makes sense that you're by far the hottest girl in our school."

Matt leans in to kiss me, and I let him, because he's cute, he hasn't crossed the threshold into unlikeable yet, and I've had a drink or two. Plus, who doesn't like being told that they're hot?

He's good, he's actually really good. His kiss is gentle and patient, surprisingly sparing in tongue use. That's usually the biggest drawback to kissing boys. I've kissed girls too, and they are definitely better about keeping the slobber to a minimum. But Matt is on point, his lips wrap carefully around my bottom lip before he pulls back slowly.

"Wow," he says, a slight smile on his lips. I decide that I don't mind his slowness so much and I smile too before leaning back in.

Round 2 is just as good. Matt leans into me and I lay back on the bed, letting him climb over me to continue our kiss. His hand is at my waist where my shirt has slid up a bit, and his fingers graze lightly over the exposed skin. It feels amazing, but then his hands begin to travel up my torso. I know I have to slow things down now, or else I'm going to lead him on when I have no intention of sleeping with him.

I gently press on his shoulder and he pulls back to look at me questioningly. I sort of shake my head before I can speak and his face falls a little.

"I'm sorry," I say quietly, "I'm just…not tonight."

"Okay," he responds simply, rolling to the side to let me up. "So uh, do you want to go back downstairs? Maybe dance with me?" Matt's face is adorably shy. He's actually growing on me. Maybe he's not so dumb after all, just awkward.

I'm surprised, to be honest. My parents have insisted my entire life that I should never feel bad for saying no, particularly my father. Dad has readily admitted to me that he was not always a gentleman with the girls he dated as a teenager, but he also stressed to me that I need to respect myself and be willing to draw the line where I felt comfortable.

Still, to shut a guy down and have him seem so cool about it is kind of unexpected, which is actually really sad, but welcome to being in high school. I told my moms once after a stupid dramatic break up that I was going gay because boys sucks so bad. It was actually kind of hilarious to see their faces. I don't think they know I've kissed girls, but Aunt B does. She's my go-to advice person when this shit gets confusing, which it definitely gets confusing as all hell when you like kissing boys and girls. Aunt Brittany understood though. She always does.

"Yeah. Let's dance."

It seems like we've just started dancing when I realize that a full hour has passed. I'll give this dopey cutie this much: he's a great dancer. I've been dancing my entire life, basically trained in the art of moving my body by a professional (thanks Aunt Britt), and I have never had a guy keep up with me like Matt has. I hate to grab his hand and lead him off the dance floor, but I've got to collect Jess and head home now so that I won't be late.

"I gotta go," I yell to Matt. "Have you seen Jess?"

He nods and puts his mouth to my ear. "I saw her like, I don't know, maybe 2 minutes ago. She went upstairs with Dex. She looked kind of drunk."

My eyes widen in horror. Dex is my ex-boyfriend, and there is no way Jess would be going anywhere with him unless she was extremely drunk. He's an asshole. We broke up because I wouldn't fuck him.

I turn and dash up the stairs, leaving a confused Matt behind. I don't bother knocking, I just push open doors in my frantic search for my best friend. I find her in a bathroom behind door number three, trying to push Dexter away from her as he pulls at her skirt. He smacks her violently just as I step in the room.

There are no words, only actions, and my mom's voice in my head.

"Never hit first, but always hit last."

I think she'd agree that this is an exception. I throw a punch that reverberates through my entire arm when it hits Dex's surprised, stupid face. He stumbles back against the shower door and I follow him, driving my knee into his stomach so hard his whole body rises. Dex coughs and falls to his hands and knees. I want so badly to drive my knee into his face, but I don't.

Instead I turn my attention to Jess. "Let's go."

Dexter gets up and grabs my wrist as I turn to follow my best friend out of the room, so I drive the heel of my hand into his nose, sending blood everywhere. He releases me to bring his hands to his face and I put my hands on his shoulders for leverage before kneeing him in the groin as hard as I possibly can. My ex-boyfriend crumples in a heap and I pull my foot back to kick him.

"Stop the violence."

Aunt Britt. Damn it. I stop my foot mid-air and walk out, grabbing Jess' hand as I go. She is looking at me like I'm a fucking Avenger come to save the day.

"Sky!"

"What?" I'm pulling Jess by her hand down the stairs. I wave a goodbye to Matt and drag her out the door toward the elevator so we can get out of here and go home.

"You just…you just kicked the shit out of Dex!" My best friend doesn't seem that drunk. Which is confusing, because why the hell else would she be with Dexter in the bathroom?

"Yup." I glance at her sideways, trying not to jump to conclusions. She knows he's an asshat. She wouldn't hook up with him, even just to make out. She catches my eye and stops moving, pulling me to a stop as well.

"He was just supposed to show me to the bathroom. That's it. He followed me in and then you showed up and went all Hulkamania on his ass. I wouldn't do anything with Dexter, Sky. I'm not interested in him."

I nod, because I feel bad for even wondering when he was clearly attacking her. Shit, her face. I reach out and gently touch her cheek.

"Are you okay?"

Jess reaches up and holds my hand in place, her eyes intense on mine. "Thanks to you, yeah. You were awesome back there."

"You would have done the same for me," I reply, feeling a little bit awkward with the way she is looking at me.

Jess is gorgeous. Like really, truly, probably-going-to-be-a-movie-star-someday, gorgeous. She's looks kind of like a young Shay Mitchell. I had a crush on her for the longest time, but I'm 99% sure she's straight and I've tried not to think about her that way since sophomore year (too often, anyway), nor have I ever told her about my feelings even though she knows I'm into boys and girls.

Jess laughs and lets go of my hand. "I would have tried. You fucking did it though. You laid him out. Where did you learn to do that? And how did I not know you were secretly a badass?"

I shake my head and walk to the elevator. I push the button and ignore Jess as she looks expectantly at me, waiting for an answer. I roll my eyes when we finally step in to the elevator and start explaining.

"My dad worried that I might get a lot of shit for having two moms, so he made me learn how to defend myself from when I was like…I don't know…8 years old maybe? Anyway, so in between soccer and dance lessons with Aunt Britt, I've also been studying mixed martial arts for a long time, just in case. I don't make a big deal of it because why would I? I never really thought I'd have to use it."

Jessica is gazing at me like I'm an entirely new person, and I shift a little under the weight of her stare. I glance sideways at her again. "What?" I ask nervously.

"I'm just…impressed…that's all," Jess replies, her deep brown eyes still on me.

I'm thankful when the elevator doors open and I have an excuse to move away from the look she's giving me. I know that look all too well. She's my best friend…and I just made out with Matt…and it's so fucking cliché to be into girls when you have two moms…and I can't just be her experiment. Aunt Britt keeps telling me not to worry about any of that extra stuff and just follow my heart, but it's so hard.

Jess takes my hand and the lead, marching off towards the nearest subway stop. We only live like a block and a half away from each other, so we'll stick together all the way home. I pull out my phone, we have 20 minutes to get home, we're screwed if the subway is even a second late. I check my other pocket to see if I have any cash for a cab, but only find my metrocard and 3 dollars. I keep my eyes pointedly away from looking at Jess. She must notice because she squeezes my hand and throws me a quick, almost apologetic smile.

We're silent during the subway ride, my discomfort growing with every stop. I want to get home so badly, but at the same time don't want to have to hug Jess goodbye, with all of her heavy looks and gentle hand squeezes. It feels a lot like flirting, but it can't be. It's Jess.

At the midpoint between our apartment buildings we stop moving and turn to each other. I look at my phone. I have 5 minutes. Easy enough if we just hug and go. I reach my right hand up to tuck my hair behind my ear and Jess gasps, grabbing my wrist gently.

"Sky…your hand…"

I pull it back and inspect it. A little swollen, maybe a bruise tomorrow. Nothing big. I shrug and stuff it in my jacket pocket, offering a smile. "It doesn't hurt, and I'd do it again in a heartbeat. No worries."

Jess is back to studying me intently. She's exactly my height, so it's impossible to miss her eyes on my face. "Look, I…" My normally confident best friend falters, and my stomach does a flip. I know this look, this awkwardness. I can't stand it anymore, because it's terrifying. It makes me feel…nervous, and hopeful for something that is a terrible, terrible idea.

"Jess, you don't like girls. You've never been into girls," I say flatly, as if reminding her of something she already knows.

"Yeah I know that, Sky, but shit…I'm fucking attracted to you and you're a girl, so…"

My heart is beating erratically as I shake my head. "No you're not. You're attracted to me protecting you from Dex, and that's logical, because-"

"Damn it, Skylar, it's more than just you beating the shit out of Dex! It was on the field today when you took that game over and won it, basically all by yourself. It was when you jumped into my arms half naked and sweaty and all I wanted to do was hold your body to mine. It was a thousand times when your eyes flashed green like sea glass when the light hit them, or when you laughed at something I said. It's those stupid cartoons you draw in my notebook and the way you try to sing like a normal person even though you're fucking good… because, seriously?! Who is a star athlete, draws like an actual artist, and can sing like that, all while being easily the most beautiful girl I've ever seen? You beating up Dexter was just the moment I realized I couldn't keep hiding that I feel this way about you. I...I'm…fuck Skylar, I'm so crazy in love with you it's ridiculous."

I'm gaping at Jess, caught somewhere between kiss her and run the fuck home NOW. How could I possibly miss all of that? And my moms, they've met Jess…where was their legendary gaydar for this? It's obviously not something new. "Why didn't…I mean you know that I like girls so why didn't you say something?!"

Jess shakes her head and looks away. "Because you liking girls isn't the same as you liking me, and I didn't want to fuck everything up."

My phone buzzes with a text from my mom and I don't even read it before hastily telling her where I am and that I'll be up in a minute.

I regard my best friend and feel the raging debate within me. Of course I'm attracted to her, but she's my best friend and we're in high school. She looks defeated, like she just told me her biggest secret and I laughed in her face. I can't let her walk away feeling like that.

"Hey," I say softly, "come here."

She steps into my arms and we hug for a long minute, but I know I have to make the next move because her chips are all on the table. I close my eyes and see the happiness my moms share, the possibilities. Yeah, odds are it won't last, but what if it does? What if Jess is my Santana or Quinn? I'll never know if I refuse to find out. Aunt Britt told me to follow me heart.

I take a deep breath and pull back from the hug, softly capturing my best friend's lips with my own.

SANTANA

I go to the window and swing it open to yell down at Skylar to get her ass upstairs before Quinn and I ground her for blowing curfew. As soon as I stick my head out though, I see my daughter pull out of a hug and gently kiss her best friend. My mouth drops open and I yank my head back inside, slamming the window shut.

"What's the matter, love?" Quinn asks, studying my expression.

"Umm…I think we should give Skylar an extra couple of minutes."

My wife narrows her eyes. "Okayyy. Why?"

"She's with Jess."

"So? She needs to get upstairs, now."

I shake my head slowly. "No, Quinn, she's with Jess. They're downstairs, right now."

I almost laugh as I watch my explanation dawn on Q, her eyes widening comically.

"Holy shit! Wait…no…how could we miss Skylar being into girls?"

Just then the front door opens and our daughter walks in with the dopiest smile on her face. She tries to keep a straight face as she apologizes for being late, but the smile keeps sneaking back up on her. I elbow Quinn when I notice she's wearing a knowing smile and nodding along with everything Skylar says. We let her go to her room without any lectures, and she sort of dreamily thanks us before walking away.

"Well, shit," I say, shaking my head. "That just happened."

"Skylar…but…Jess…they're best friends," Quinn replies, almost as if she can't believe it.

I start laughing as I grab Quinn's hand and lead her to our bedroom. I can't stop laughing, actually, and I climb under the covers still shaking with uncontrollable giggles until my wife has finally had enough.

"What are you laughing at?"

I snort, because for some reason that just makes it funnier to me.

"This is seriously the most delayed déjà vu ever, Q. Skylar and Jess Rodriguez? Think about it. Our daughter, who is basically the spitting image of you, is getting her mack on with a rather beautiful Latina girl she knows from her high school team. Sound familiar at all?"

"Oh…My...GOD."