Lorien Legacies High School

by Anonymous-read

Exactly what it sounds like. My take on what the Lorien Legacies characters would be like if they were regular humans going through high school. Disclaimer: I don't own Lorien Legacies

26. Chapter 26

Marina

The first thing I notice when I trudge down the stairs on Friday morning is the smell of burnt toast. It's not an uncommon thing since our toaster is probably the most unpredictable utility known to man. Sometimes it stops almost as soon as it starts, popping the bread up when it hadn't even had a chance to brown yet, or sometimes it'll keep going for so long that the bread comes up looking more like a piece of charcoal than actual food. I'm not sure what kind of mechanics lie behind the issue, but I don't want to figure it out. The trick is to stop it after two minutes, but people often get distracted. One of those people, more times than not, is Ella.

I wrinkle my nose as I enter the kitchen, fully expecting to see my sister standing in the corner and scrolling through her phone, oblivious to her ruined breakfast. Instead I find mom by the counter, cursing to herself as she hurriedly stops the machine by pulling up the lever. I watch, slightly amused as our toaster proudly presents her charred bread, complete with a little ding sound and small stream of smoke. Mom sighs.

She takes the ruined food and brings it to the garbage while I walk into the kitchen, making her look up. "Oh, hi."

I give her a small smile, if only because it looks like she's already having an unpleasant morning and a frown won't help matters. "Hey."

She returns the expression, but it disappears again as she looks back down at the toaster, now looking so innocent as it sits there on the counter. You'd never know it just turned her breakfast to ash. "I think it's broken." Mom states.

I laugh a little and head to the fridge. "It's been broken for ages."

"Oh."

I distantly wonder how long it's been since she's made toast while I grab an apple out of the fridge, figuring that's the end of that interaction. But then I turn to see her staring disappointedly at the machine, shaking her head. I guess she really wanted that toast. I grab a couple pieces of bread and put them in the toaster for her.

She seems skeptical, but doesn't question it. "Why are you up anyway?"

I give her a look. It's not like her to ask stupid questions, or even questions in general. "For school?" I answer.

"I guess you didn't hear then." She says. "School is cancelled today. I thought Ella would have told you."

After she says it I remember that there was a snow storm in the forecast for today, one with a lot of wind and a huge dump of snow. I was disappointed when I woke up this morning and saw that not one snowflake had fallen overnight, and just assumed school was going ahead. Even when I look out the window now the only sight that greets me is one of a peaceful road with little to no snow on it.

Mom must see my confusion because she continues, also looking out the window. "Yeah, it's supposed to get bad in about an hour. Too dangerous for you guys to drive home from school I guess."

I nod absentmindedly before there's a dinging noise, and both Mom and I turn back to the toaster as it pops up the two pieces of bread I put in all of two seconds ago. They're not nearly done yet.

My mother's eyebrows furrow as stares at it. "What...?"

"I told you," I say, unsurprised as I head over and push down the lever again, "broken."

"Well I didn't think it was possible for something to be that broken." She mutters quietly, like she talking to herself. She looks surprised when I chuckle, like she forgot I was still listening.

A beat of silence falls as I move back to the fridge to put the apple back seeming I'll have lots of time to make myself something now that I don't have to go to school. It feels weird, to be talking to Mom so casually, like we do this every morning. Often we end up in the kitchen at the same time in the mornings, but we don't speak. It occurs to me that she's been better lately. We also haven't fought in months. Maybe she's starting to put in an effort, and if that's true then I find it's only fair that I put one in too.

"So, is work cancelled too?" I ask, leaning my hip against the counter.

Again, the surprised look flashed across her face for only a second before she recovers. "No, I still have to go in. I'll probably be back early though, depending on how bad it gets out there."

I nod and look down, wondering what else to talk about. Thankfully my phone chimes from the counter before anything can get awkward, signalling a text message. When I check it I find that I actually have a couple. The earliest one is from Riley, sent at 7:10, and just says "SNOW DAY!". I decide that a smiley face is good enough response for that one and move onto the latest text. It's from Maren, telling me she's on the way to Riley's house and will pick me up along the way. She doesn't say why but I don't ask since she's probably already driving. It's not uncommon for her to send vague messages like that anyway so I don't really question it.

"Um, apparently I'm going over to Riley's today." I say.

Mom raises an eyebrow. "Apparently?"

"Yeah. Maren just told me she's on the way to pick me up." I shrug. "I have a feeling I don't have a choice."

She laughs a little and nods knowingly as she takes a glass from the cupboard. Sometimes I forget that she actually knows what my friends are like. I guess she'd have to since they've been coming over since kindergarten, but it never occurs to me these days that she'd know their personalities almost as well as I do, or that she'd even bother to remember.

"Well if the storm gets bad, wait until the morning to come back." She advises. I'm not shocked at her concern. Even if we don't talk much she'll still tell me to be careful driving before I leave the house, or to watch out for ice in the driveway. I guess she feels like some things are more important to say than others.

"Yeah, I will." I say. I turn to leave the kitchen before remembering her breakfast, and look over my shoulder. "Oh, and you can probably take up that toast now."

I've already started climbing the steps by the time I hear the ding of the toaster, followed by a grateful, "thank you". I can't help a smile at the small bit a progress with her, even if it is a couple years late.

Knowing it'll only take Maren five minutes to get here or less (she has a heavy foot when driving), I rush to do my hair and then grab a sweater and go right back down the steps to put on my coat and boots. As I suspected, it doesn't take much longer for a car to honk outside my house. I send Mom a quick wave before leaving.

As soon as I close the door behind me, Maren's already looking over and raising her eyebrows, apparently disappointed with my time getting out. I roll my eyes and make my way over, dodging a small pile of snow that someone neglected to shovel.

"Hey." I greet when I open the door.

Maren barely looks at me as I sit inside. Apparently she's not in the mood for smiling today either because her face remains expressionless as she answers with a flat, "Yeah".

She pulls onto the road while I press my lips together at her attitude. Even for her this is worse than usual. "Why are we going over to Riley's?" I ask.

It take a moment for her to answer. "To talk about some stuff I don't want Mom overhearing." She finally says.

"Oh." I draw a conclusion almost immediately. Carefully I continue, testing how much anger she's harbouring. "So it's either about David or John?"

She sighs and shakes her head, looking worn out. I realize it's not anger she's keeping in, but stress. "Both actually."

"Oh." I repeat, slightly shocked she admitted what was bothering her so easily. Even though I'm worried, I refrain from questioning her about it, knowing she's planning on discussing it anyway. Asking her about it before she brings it up herself is a sure way to irritate her, so I hold off.

"The storm is going to start soon." She says suddenly. "Any minute now."

I look out the window, but still, nothing seems amiss. "It's not supposed to ramp up for another hour yet."

"Oh, really?" She says. Then she smirks in that cocky way she always does when she knows she's right. She might be stressed, but she's still Maren. "Wanna bet on it?"

I don't hesitate. "No."

She laughs and I stare stubbornly out the window. There's still not a snowflake in sight. Surely she can't be right... right?

Of course, nearly two minutes after that, snow starts falling, being whipped up by a strengthening wind and thrown into the windshield. Maren turns on the wipers, the beginning of a smirk starting to come across her face.

"I told-"

"Don't even start." I warn.

To her credit, she actually doesn't say anything else, just putting up a hand in surrender while she uses the other to make a one handed turn into Riley's subdivision. She parks on the curb outside her house and we get out amidst the steadily increasing rate of snowflakes. Despite how I kind of resent how right her weird weather sense turned out to be, I have to admit it's helpful right now. If she hadn't left as early as she did we probably wouldn't have made it here.

Her first knock is a few a-little-too-hard-to-be-completely-polite taps. And then after a few moments her patience runs thin and makes a fist, pounding on the door with all of the intensity of someone who's next tactic is to break the thing off its hinges. She doesn't seem to realize it might be more frightening than compelling, instead just huffing under her breath as she pulls her coat tighter around her to battle the frigid breeze.

"You called to let her know we were coming right?" I ask.

"Yes." She says immediately. Then she rolls her eyes with a huff and I know she's rethought it. "I mean, she never actually answered..."

I let out a sigh. "Are you serious?"

"What? She texted me at like seven this morning. How was I supposed to know she'd go back to bed?"

I arch an eyebrow at her because out of everyone we know, except maybe Stanley, Riley is the most likely to lie in bed for half the day. Maren knows too, she's just too stubborn to admit it.

"What are the chances the door is just unlocked?" I suggest after she takes a step back in frustration, looking like she might kick the door down. I'm sure she's more than capable, but I'm willing to try other options first. I also know there's a spare key under the mat, although since it's covered in a thick layer of ice and snow, I might let Maren destroy the door before I go digging around for that.

Maren slowly turns to look at me, her eyebrows raised in approval. She puts a hand on the doorknob and twists. The door opens.

"Are you fucking kidding me?" She mutters, shaking her head as she goes inside.

I decide not to think about how dangerous it is for them to keep their door unlocked and just go inside, grateful for the mishap as I enter the warm house. Maren and I take off our coats and boots and go straight to the second room on the left of the hallway.

As suspected, Riley is under the covers of her bed, but she's not asleep. She's clutching a pillow over her head, probably in an attempt to block out Maren's incessant knocking. Apparently it also blocked out the sounds of us entering the house too because she appears none the wiser of our presence. Maren shoots me a look that's half-angry and half-amazed at the lengths our friend will go to stay in bed. Instead of doing something normal, like calling out to announce our arrival, Maren just ambles into the room and heavily drops down on the other side of the bed.

In a flurry of motion, Riley rips the pillow off, pushing herself up and snapping her head toward the movement. Her hair is falling all over her face due to the hurried movement and she looks prepared to jump off the bed in escape. Maren just puts her feet up on the bed and leans back into the headboard, casual as she takes in Riley's wide eyes and disheveled appearance. Then she smirks and points at her.

"Ha, I scared you."

Upon realizing there is indeed not a dangerous intruder sitting next to her on her own bed, Riley huffs out a breath and gapes at Maren in a mix of confusion and irritation. "What are you even doing here!?" Maren full-on grins in satisfaction, glad her efforts to scare her have finally yielded some results.

"I was in the neighbourhood." She replies lightly. Riley breathes heavy for a moment before dropping her face into her pillow, letting out a groan into it. Maren crosses her arms, unaffected. "Seriously though, you're one unlocked door away from getting murdered." Riley grunts in response, uncaring. "And your driveway isn't shovelled." Another grunt. "And the leak in your bathroom has gotten worse."

"Yeah, I'm just gonna tune you out right now." Riley mumbles into her pillow. "I don't like to talk about how my life is falling apart until at least ten. Or nine-thirty on Mondays."

Maren just grins wider, glad to be a source of annoyance. I roll my eyes. "Shouldn't you be up already?" I chide.

Apparently she hadn't realized I was here too, because she hurriedly looks over her shoulder, spotting me leaning a shoulder into her doorframe. She squints in deepening confusion. "... What is happening?"

"You need to get up." Maren says. The sentence gets another groan out of Riley, deciding sleep is more important than the two people that just showed up to her house uninvited.

"I think we all need to go back to sleep."

"Well you don't make the decisions here." Maren says.

Riley pauses. "But... it's my house?"

"Doesn't matter." Maren gets up from the bed smoothly. "Oh and I never had breakfast yet so some bacon would be great, thanks."

She breezes out through the door, leaving Riley to look after her, confusion written all over her face. The poor girl has only been up for one minute and has already been victim to a home intrusion, life criticism, and a breakfast order.

"But... it's my house." She mumbles defeatedly. Giving up, she shakes her head and burrows back under the covers.

"We're over here because we need to have the talk with her." I say.

"The talk...?" For a moment she's oblivious, but then she jumps up again, propping herself on her side the look at me, suddenly wide awake. "Like... the John talk?"

I nod and follow Maren's path down the hall.

"I'll be out in five minutes!"

Stanley

It was nine-o'clock when Joseph called me. His voice was far too cheerful for the hour, and I blocked out a lot of stuff except for a few details. In the end I got that he wanted me and John to come over, and that his mom was going to make breakfast for us. The latter is really the only thing that made me get up. It didn't take me long to get ready knowing I'd be getting the worlds best french toast the sooner I'm there. John isn't quite so fast.

So that's what led me to standing out in the falling snow, wind biting my face and repeatedly ringing the doorbell of house number 160 on Evergreen Crescent at 9:30 in the morning. Because nothing—nothing—gets in the way of a man and his French toast. Not even a lazy friend.

Finally after about seventeen rings and a couple knocks, the door opens and Henri stands on the other side, looking weary and disheveled. Obviously I woke him up, but I'm sure if he knew the circumstances he'd understand. Probably not.

I put on my most innocent grin. "Hey, Henri! How're you doing?"

All he does is press his lips together in a sad excuse for a smile and opens the door wider so I can come in. He yawns as he closes it again. "John is upstairs, still asleep." He rubs his eyes and shakes his head. "Try to be quiet when you leave." And with that he turns and leaves, apparently not in the mood for conversation. I don't blame him.

I take off my shoes but only un-zipper my coat, praying this won't take long. Their stairs are carpeted and creaky, but I skip them two at a time in an effort to follow Henri's orders and be quiet. Then I head to the second door on the left to find it's closed. I don't even knock before pushing it open.

John's room is as anyone would expect: Tidy and normal-sized with plain brown walls and a hardwood floor. He has a desk in one corner, his laptop and couple of textbooks stacked on it, and a dresser in the other, a laundry basket full of clean clothes along side of it, waiting to be put away. My room is decently organized too, but only because a professional comes in every week to clean it. Other than that I'm sure it would be a sore sight. It's not surprising John's room is tidy and clean though. He's always been the most adult-like out of the three of us.

Knowing he's a light sleeper, I stroll in and start flipping through a couple pages of math homework he has laying on his desk. I notice it's the same one I was given, and he has most of it done. Score.

"Stan?"

I turn from my snooping to see him looking blearily at me from his bed, hair pressed to the side of his head, eyes squinted and swollen from sleep. He looks like a wreck. "Sup, Sleeping Beauty?" While his tired mind processes my presence, I take my phone out of my pocket and snap a few pictures of the finished pages of his worksheet. "You need to get up pronto. Donna is making French toast and I'm not letting your tired ass make us late." Done with my copying, I turn around, only to find him face-down in his pillow once again. "Dude!"

"Shut up."

"I don't think you're understanding how important this is." I drop down in his computer chair and look around for something to throw at him. "It's Donna's French toast, man. I'm pretty sure someone wrote a song about that shit."

The pile of sheets rises and falls in a heavy sigh. "You know nobody wrote a song."

"Well they should." Finding a random piece of paper, I ball it up and toss it at him. It hits his head but he doesn't move. I watch him for a moment, waiting for any delayed reaction, but nothing happens. I roll my eyes and turn slowly, looking for something else. "Anyway, so why didn't you answer your phone?"

"Hm? Oh it-" I throw an eraser and he flinches when it's hits him. Progress. "It must've died." I nod and pick up a pencil sharpener, giving that a toss too. He actually yelps when that hits him, reaching a hand up to rub the back of his head. I guess it was a little heavier than I thought. "I'm going to kill you."

"Get up." I counter. Still, he doesn't move, and the room fills with a few moments of silence.

A ball of rubber bands hits home and he turns his head to glare at me. "I'm going to kill you."

"Well do it after I get my french toast. I wanna die happy."

He huffs. "Fine." I smile in satisfaction as he pushes the covers off and gets up, looking all the levels of exhausted. He drags his feet as he leaves and directs a lazy point at me. His eyes are still closed and he yawns as he talks. "But I'm only getting up because you're too annoying to deal with."

"It's what I'm here for." I call back.

I lean back in his chair once he leaves, squinting at the doorway. He's usually not this hard to get up, and not much puts him in a bad mood. I distantly wonder what's up with him, but decide not to ask now. Being a supportive friend is a lot of work, and I know need some energy, or at least some breakfast, before I go helping anyone with their emotional problems.

When he's ready and we head down the stairs, I start to think I might ask him about it on the way the Joseph's. But then he steps outside and squints at the snow falling while muttering a curse and that thought goes away. I guess he needs some breakfast too.

Marina

"It's starting to get bad out there." Riley states as she enters the kitchen, squinting out the windows to battle the morning light. She's not lying. The storm seems to have kicked up in record time, transitioning from light flurries to heavy flakes in the few minutes it took her to get out here. The wind is supposed to get worse too.

"Yup." Maren agrees, looking outside from her spot at the kitchen table. Despite coming here for the sole reason of talking about stuff, she's seeming to take her time actually getting to the topic.

"Right, anyway..." Still in her sleep clothes, which consists of track pants and a large t-shirt that's too faded to pick out what was originally on it, Riley opens the fridge and pulls out a drawer. "You wanted bacon, right Maren?"

"Yup." Maren repeats.

"Cool." Riley nods and grabs a pack out of the fridge. Then she heads to the pantry cupboard, opening and peering inside in contemplation. "And... pancakes? No wait, waffles!" She grins, and I'm not sure why exactly she's so excited about the prospect of having waffles but she continues. "Steph bought a waffle iron last week and I haven't had to chance to use it yet." She presses her lips together. "Pancake mix is the same as waffle mix, right?"

"Well, kind of but not really." I reply. She's already standing on her toes to grab it though, so I have a feeling my words are falling on deaf ears. "Although you can turn pancake mix into waffle mix if you-"

"Meh, it'll be fine."

I roll my eyes and give up, knowing the waffles are going to floppy and dense instead of light and fluffy. But then, even more concerning is when Riley opens the fridge again and decides that balancing eggs, milk, pancake mix and bacon all in one handful is a good idea. Somehow she manages to get them all to the counter in one piece.

"So, how are we all doing this morning?" She asks out of the blue. She glances very obviously at Maren before leaning down to one of the lower cupboards to pull out the waffle iron.

Maren is still looking out the window, but she shrugs. "Alright."

"Same." I reply.

"Cool, cool. So, Mar, do you oil this thing before you use it or what?"

I resist the urge to ask her if she's ever cooked before and instead nod my head. "Yup." When she goes to open yet another cupboard, I continue. "But you might want to get the mix ready first."

"Ah, right." She points at me, apparently showing gratitude through it, before quickly grabbing a bowl. She mutters directions to herself as she reads them from the back of the box, drumming her fingers on it.

"Hey, R, did you know we started a new unit in math?" Maren says randomly. She glances away from the window just in time to catch Riley's eyes darting up and her tapping fingers to stop. "You know, it has the exclamation points in it."

Riley blinks at her for a moment, then nods. "Yeah, factorials." She smiles a little too excitedly. "Yup, interesting stuff. You're gonna like it."

Maren just makes a hum of either agreement or disagreement and watches as Riley looks back down at the box. "Well, John came over to give me some worksheets."

She seems almost smug as Riley makes a high-pitched sound that I think is supposed to represent surprise. "Did he? That's nice of him." She turns around and pops the top on the mix, starting to measure out the powder.

"Yeah, it was." Maren nods, way too casually for the conversation. Now I know something is up, because Maren never mentions John casually, and Riley is focusing way too hard on dumping out some powder. "But it was weird because usually Mr. Collins gives them to you to drop off to me."

"Yeah, that is weird. Totally, super weird."

She finally gets enough mix dumped out a quickly deposits the box back on the counter. Shockingly, her rushed movements and short responses don't ease Maren's suspicions. I would laugh if I didn't feel so bad for her. The thing is, Riley doesn't like keeping secrets, or being stressed, or doing things without permission. So when she feels guilty about something, it shows with blatant obviousness. Clearly she is feeling guilty about something right now. I don't know what it is, but judging by Maren's show of furrowing her eyebrows and crossing her arms, she knows exactly.

"Well, he's a weird guy." Maren says.

"Totally." Riley nods.

"But you know-"

"I gave the sheets to John!" Riley spins around with wide eyes, as though surprised at her own outburst. Maren is clearly unsurprised, only arching a knowing eyebrow as Riley continues her panicked rambling. "I'm so sorry. He was worried though! Seriously, you should have seen him! Then he said he'd bring you soup, which was a terrible idea because you don't even like soup, so I figured I had to let him bring you something so he could check on you. But now I know I'm terrible and stupid and—you know what? I'll actually just leave if-"

"Oh my God, stop. It's fine."

Riley does stop, frozen with her mouth open, ready to spew more words. A click is audible when she closes it, furrowed eyebrows replacing her panic. Her eyes dart to mine, checking if she heard correctly, and then back to Maren. "It... is?" She asks hesitantly.

Maren nods and looks back to the table. Whatever amusement she had over sending Riley into a guilty frenzy is now gone, and she now wears a small frown. She usually gets as much enjoyment in freaking Riley out as Riley gets making her angry over small issues. To see it so short-lived is concerning.

"What happened?" I ask.

"Nothing." She says immediately. Then she looks away, hesitating. "Well... something."

Furrowing her eyebrows, Riley starts dumping things into the pancake mix that I'm sure she didn't measure before turning around again. She decides to hold the bowl in front of her while whisking, and even though I really don't think that's a good idea considering she's prone to dropping things, she's not the one I'm worried about right now.

I turn back to Maren. "What happened?" I repeat, although it's gentle. Clearly she's conflicted about even talking about it anyway, the last thing I want to do is set her on edge.

She sighs and rests the side of her face on a fist she has propped up on the table, eyes darting toward the window. "I... may have yelled at him."

From where she's leaned on the counter, Riley raises a curious eyebrow. "May have?"

Maren rolls her eyes. "I did." She clarifies. "And about something stupid." Cringing in what I can only take to be a mix of embarrassment and remorse, she sighs again through her nose.

"Okay, start from the beginning." I say.

Her eyes dart to mine, apprehensive. But after a second she sits back in her chair and starts talking. It's not a very long story; not even a minute, but it goes through a lot of ups and downs for something so short. As I listen I go from glad John showed up, to angry that David did, to anxious during the fight, and ending off at sad when John leaves.

When she stops she just kind of raises her eyebrows, not knowing where to go. Meanwhile, Riley has completely stopped mixing the pancake batter, whisk laying limp in her hand as she still gazes on in intrigue as though waiting for Maren to continue. Maybe she thinks there'll be a happy ending. Maybe John punches David in the face and returns victorious before confessing his undying love, and they all live happily ever after. I don't think that's what happened however, because Maren looks as though she's done talking.

"So..." I state eventually, giving myself some time to pick sense out of the whole thing. Maren pays close attention, hanging on my words. "You yelled at him because... he does too much for you?"

She sighs heavily in a way that tells me I'm not completely wrong but I'm definitely not right. "No... I mean—well... yes. But it's not like I wanted to, you know?"

I hear the whisk being moved in the bowl again, which must mean Riley has finally decided to tune back into life and continue mixing the batter. It's probably a good thing to get food ready quickly. Maren is already confused and irritated. Hunger certainly won't help matters.

"What did you want to do then?" Riley pipes up. I can tell Maren hadn't thought about it by the way her eyes widen, but she doesn't immediately dismiss the question. When she doesn't look like she'll answer, Riley speaks again, more cautious this time. "Okay, don't kill me for asking this, but just to be clear... you do like him, right?"

Maren takes a long time to answer, and I can tell she's uncomfortable. To Riley it must not seem like an uncomfortable question, because she practically has a new crush everyday to tell us both about, and she's not embarrassed over that stuff. But Maren hasn't talked about this with us before. This whole 'actually liking someone' thing is all new and she doesn't know how to deal with it. As a light blush rises on her cheeks I chastise myself for thinking it's amusing.

Eventually she rolls her eyes and lets out this long, suffering sigh that has me stifling a smile. "Sure... yeah. I like him. There."

Something that sounds like a squeak comes from behind me, and I turn to see Riley with a grin that's nearly splitting her face in two.

"Riley..." I warn, giving her a look. She immediately presses her lips together and looks down after a quick nod. While she tries to calm herself, I turn back to Maren. "Alright, so I think we need to figure out why you yelled at him." I try.

She scoffs, not moving her eyes from a spot on the table. "Good luck. I can't even-"

"I think," Her eyes flash to mine, startled. "he caught you at a very vulnerable time," She cringes, "and you were embarrassed so you drove him away."

Riley makes a sound of agreement from her place at the counter, pointing at me. "Yeah, that sounds smart."

I just shrug and Maren blinks, eyebrows pinched in, mulling it over. I think she's going through the events in her head again, trying to apply what I said to see if it makes sense.

"Maren," I get her attention again, and when her eyes snap to mine, tired and resigned, I want to grab her hand, but I don't. Maren likes bluntness, so I figure the best way to deal with this is not to sugar-coat it, and just tell her how it is. "If you like John, you need to trust him enough to let him see you differently. And I'm definitely not saying you need to tell him everything, but you know, maybe try to see things from his point of view. He's only trying to look out for you."

She sighs. "Yeah I know." Pressing her lips together, she shakes her head. "So in his eyes, I yelled at him for doing something nice and then kicked him out."

"Pretty much." Riley supplies. I send her a hard look and watch her eyes widen dramatically before she makes a zippering motion over her lips.

"Great." Maren's smile is stressed and sarcastic. Her eyes focus out the window once again, where snow falls in heavy flakes, swirling in the wind. "So how do I fix it?"

Stanley

Two beady eyes stare at me from the corner of the room. I squint back while bringing my french toast to my mouth, equal parts curious and fearful of any reaction my opponent will give. It does nothing, still as a statue, hiding in the shadow of the TV, just staring with haunted, colourless eyes. My toast crunches as I take a bite. He just keeps staring.

I clear my throat. "Joe?"

"Yeah?" I see movement out of the corner of my eye, but I don't dare drift my focus away from those black eyes.

"Why is your cat so creepy?"

As though hearing my words, the scruffy, orange tabby slinks into the corner, watching me the whole time before disappearing from my line of sight completely. I fear for the chair he's chosen to hide behind.

Joseph shrugs from his rocking chair positioned by the arm of the sofa. "He just is, dude."

Usually John would be the first to agree with how demonic the cat is, but he stays silent, sitting on the other side of the couch, looking on uninterestedly as a random show plays on the TV. I don't know what it is, but the footage is grainy and the actors all have really weird haircuts, so it must be some old sit-com. John looks down at his plate and nods. "I'm gonna get more french toast. Anyone want any?"

I hand him my plate but Joseph waves him off. I wait until the creaking of stairs stops, announcing his arrival at the upper level of the house, before turning to Joe. He's already looking at me with a raised eyebrow.

"So... what's up with him?" He asks.

I shake my head. "I don't know. He was really hard to get up this morning though. I had to throw a pencil sharpener at him."

"Well that probably didn't help."

"Had to be done." I dismiss.

He raises his eyebrows like he's going to argue, but then must decide better of it and sighs. "So who's going to bring it up?"

Both of our demeanours change in an instant. Concerned and quiet conversation turns into silent, studious stares from the corners of our eyes. John tends to get a little defensive over changes in his attitude. He won't snap at us or anything, but he certainly won't be pleasant. Neither of us wants to be the one to bring it up, but clearly someone has too. I briefly consider going upstairs to get Donna to help, but then I realize the nicest woman in the world doesn't deserve to be dragged into this, even if she would do it without complaint.

There's a creaking sound that can only be the floorboard at the top of the steps, announcing the start of John's progress back down. "Well one of us has to ask him." Joseph whispers tersely, just as aware as I am that John will be down here in a matter of seconds.

"Great, you do it."

"No!"

"Yes."

"Stan-"

"Don't be a wimp."

"You're being a wimp!"

"Shut up he's coming."

Both Joseph and I settle back into our original sitting positions, pretending to be bored with the TV as John steps off the last stair. He comes into the room, hands me my plate with two more pieces of french toast on it, and sits back down in his chair with his own plate.

"So, should I pretend like you guys aren't terrible whisperers, or should I even ask what's up?" He says.

I send a hard look at Joseph, like it's his fault we're in the situation we're in. His mouth drops open, offended, but I turn back to John before he can say anything.

He arches an unconcerned eyebrow as I lift a piece of toast and point it at him. "Actually, I think we should be the ones asking the questions here."

His eyebrows furrow and I nod, taking a bite of my toast. "Okay..." he says slowly. "Questions about... what?"

"Questions about why you're being stupid today."

Joseph clears his throat. "He means that you seem a little off today." He amends gently.

"No. I mean you're being stupid." I repeat. Joseph sets me with a wide-eyed look that I think it's supposed to make me shut up, but really only succeeds in making me wonder how someone can widen their eyes that much. John doesn't seem as offended, just confused. "So what is it?" I press. "Bad grade? Injury? Something up with BK? Did Henri send you to the grocery store again?"

He rolls his eyes and for a moment I think he'll just shake his head and go back to staring through the TV. But he doesn't, and he doesn't even appear annoyed or defensive. Maybe he actually wants to talk about it.

"Something happened with Maren yesterday." He says.

My eyebrows shoot up. I'm not surprised she's the issue—because, come on, you'd have to be blind not to see that coming—but I am slightly shocked that the issue is arising so early. Usually it takes John decades to make a decision about anything, so he kind of just goes through life building things up in tiny steps until something's been accomplished. This process means that there's never really any defining point of when something changed. But if he had a fight with Maren, then this is a defining moment. Something has to change after this. It either ends up with 'Maren gone' or 'Maren here but in a way that's probably more than friends'. Of course I still don't have all the details, but this could actually be important.

There's a short gasping sound, and both John and I turn to see Joseph with his mouth dropped open. "I knew it!" He exclaims, pointing. John just raises his eyebrows tiredly, as though expecting it. "This is so good! You're both captains of the hockey team. It's like it's meant to be."

"Hey, Joe." I say. He looks at me, excited and absolutely living for this. "Something happened with Maren. Put a sock in it."

His eyes widen, like this idea just sank in. "Something? Like what?"

"Like..." John purses his lips, looking just as confused as Joe, if not more. "I don't know, I went over to her house to drop off some math notes, but ended up tutoring her for a bit. And then someone—something happened, and she just got mad and told me to leave."

"What happened?" I ask.

He shakes his head. "It's not for me to tell you. Kind of a private thing."

"Fair enough." Joseph says. "Can you at least give us and idea about what happened?"

He does have a point. It's hard to give advice on something we know absolutely nothing about. John must see this too, because he pauses for moment in thought, probably trying to figure out a way to word it that doesn't give too much away. "I accidentally found out something I wasn't supposed to find out." He says finally. "And then we had a fight, I think, and she said I should go."

I nod slowly taking in the information. "Well... did you go?" I ask.

He looks puzzled. "Yeah, of course."

Joseph and I suck in a breath at the same time, and John looks at us, startled. Poor guy. He's only had a couple girlfriends, and that was way back in middle school when 'dating' just meant holding hands and avoiding eye contact. In the end, neither relationship lasted long enough for him to fully gain a concept of exactly how confusing girls are. So when he looks at Joseph and I with furrowed eyebrows, begging for explanation, Joseph and I decide, unspokenly, to give it to him.

"You should've stayed. Girls always mean the opposite of what they say." I advise.

Joseph makes a sound of agreement and holds up a finger. "Unless in the case that they mean exactly what they're saying. Which is equally as dangerous."

I nod along but John doesn't seem to be following. His eyes dart between the two of us, desperate and confused. All I have to offer him is a shrug.

"So... how do I know which is which?" He asks.

Joseph laughs. "Oh, you don't."

"Yeah. It's just a huge guessing game."

John sighs and runs a hand through his hair. Then he leans the back of his head against the couch, letting it sink into the cushion so he stares up at the ceiling. He stays quiet for a few moments, and I realize that he's actually in distress. Whatever happened with Maren made him feel some type of remorse.

"So, did she actually mean yes when I asked her out?"

A hush falls over the room in response. That is a big shot for John to take without prodding, and I would never expect him to do it without a plan. I suddenly start to take this whole issue a little more seriously. Because John has had crushes before, but he doesn't do anything unless he has a set plan in place. But he went to Maren's house and asked her out on a whim. I'm not sure if that means he was thinking clearly of not, but he still needs counselling either way.

"Well she said yes, right?" Joseph says. He's sitting up straighter now, paying attention and looking every bit like the supportive friend John needs right now.

I point at John's plate on the table. It's sat untouched since he brought it down. "Are you gonna eat that?"

He rolls his eyes but reaches forward to grab it anyway. "I think so." He answers Joseph as he hands me the plate. I set my empty one on the side table and take his.

"How can you think she said yes? Isn't asking someone out a yes or no thing?" I ask.

He shrugs. "I thought so."

I wait for him to elaborate, but he seems content to let us try and figure it out for ourselves. Crunching into my newly acquired french toast angrily, I groan and point my slice at him. "If you don't start explaining this shit I'm leaving."

"She seemed really... casual about it." He says. I can almost see him going through the events again in his mind as he stares at the living room table. "I mean, I would have expected her to have some type of reaction, you know?"

I can see now why he's so confused. Even if she doesn't know John as well as Joseph and me, I'm pretty sure she knows him well enough to be shocked over him working up the nerve to ask her out. I mean, it's Maren. Any guy would be nervous to ask her out, but John? I can't even imagine it going smoothly at all.

"Okay..." I try to put the pieces together. John being a nervous wreck, Maren being... well, Maren, which is intimidating enough anyway. He was probably beating around the bush and when he finally asked it... "How did you word it?" I ask.

"Um... I don't know." He says. "I asked her to a movie."

Joseph frowns, seeming disappointed. He's usually one for creative dates and grand gestures. Something as generic as a movie date probably disappoints him, but he chooses not to comment.

"And what exactly did she say?" I prod.

"She asked me what movie."

I take a moment to let the information settle, feeling like I'm trying to put together the world's most stubborn puzzle. "Okay, hear me out on this." I say, putting the plate down on the table next to me on top of my other empty one. John's eyes follow the movement. When the french toast gets put to the side, I'm serious. "What if she didn't even know you asked her out?"

At first he seems skeptical, glancing at Joseph for a reaction. But Joseph's eyebrows are furrowed, and he doesn't look like he's going to shoot it down.

"Is that even possible?" John asks.

"Actually... think about it." Joseph shifts, getting excited as his ideas straighten out. "Has Maren ever even had a boyfriend before?"

At first the idea seems ridiculous. Maren, the most popular girl in the school (wether she knows it or not), not ever dating anyone is like the cafeteria not selling pizza. It just doesn't make any logical sense. I'm pretty sure most of the guys on the hockey team are after her, and probably every other guy in the school too. But then the theory suddenly becomes a lot more probable. Because if the most sought after girl in the school was suddenly taken, that shit might actually show up on the evening news.

"I've never actually heard that she's dated anyone before." I say.

John blinks, but reluctantly agrees. "Yeah..."

"What if," Joseph raises his eyebrows, "she didn't know you were asking her out, because she doesn't know what it's like to be asked out?"

"How was the French toast, guys?"

We all visibly jump at the cheerful voice of Joseph's mother, Donna. Somehow she's ended up at the bottom of the stairs, balancing a basket full of laundry on her hip without any of us even noticing. Honestly, with how bubbly she is it's hard to believe she could sneak anywhere. Maybe we were all just too deep in thought.

"Amazing as always." I reply. She smiles, pleased as she walks past to get to the laundry room. "Seriously, you should get that shit patented."

"Language, Stanley." I make a zippering motion across my mouth when she sends me a warning look, and she quickly moves on to the laundry room.

Before she can disappear completely, she pauses by the door and turns to us again, eyebrows pinched in in a motherly concern. "You boys look troubled. Anything I can help with?"

There's a conflicting response of "yes", "no," and even a "maybe" from Joseph. Donna seems concerned and puts down the basket despite John's protest, and he looks at me in irritation. I was the one who said yes, but I don't feel bad. She can only help.

"What is it? How can I be of assistance?" Donna settles onto the empty love seat, daintily moving a couple cushions around before somehow setting her full attention on all of us at the same time.

Since John doesn't seem like he'll answer, Joseph speaks up. "John asked a girl out, and we think she said yes but we don't think she knew he was asking her out on a date."

Donna frowns. "Oh." She studies John, who smiles weakly at the unwanted attention. "Well that's not exactly a big issue at all, is it?"

He blinks at her. "What do you mean?"

"If she didn't know you were asking her out, you weren't clear enough." She says, holding her hands out a moving them decisively with each part of her explanation. "Ask her out again and make it obvious. That's all." Donna smiles, somehow unpacking everything we would have discussed in an hour in the span of a few seconds.

John furrows his eyebrows, and I can tell he feels far from confident. "What if she says no?"

She hums and tilts her head a little in feigned thought. "Well you're quite a nice boy, John. I'm not sure that situation is very likely."

"With all due respect, Miss R," I interject, "Maren is a very different type of girl."

"Oh I see. Well, if she's a different type of girl, maybe you need to ask her out differently."

She raises her eyebrows, waiting for John to agree, or more likely, getting ready to council him again if he doesn't. John chews on the idea for a long time, and even when I'm tempted to prompt an answer to speed up the process, Donna just waits. Patient. Understanding. I find myself thinking that it would be an absolute waste if this woman turned out to be anything other than a person who helps other people. Thankfully she turned out to a guidance councillor.

"Like... make a sign?" John finally asks helplessly.

Donna laughs and I might too if I knew what she was talking about. Unfortunately I'm in the same confused boat as John. "I'm saying, make the date different."

"In other words, don't ask her out to a freaking movie." Joseph translates.

Donna takes a brief moment to look at her son in pride. "Exactly."

"What's wrong with a movie date?" John asks. "It's a classic."

"It's predictable." Joseph argues. He clicks his tongue, bothered at John's lack of knowledge on the romantic front. Then again, I had no idea a movie date was a 'no' either. "The date should match the girl. Maren is unpredictable. Take her somewhere she wouldn't expect."

"Yes!" Donna agrees excitedly. Like her son, she's glad everything is coming together. "Well anyway, it seems like you guys have it all under control, and I have laundry to do. I'll be happy to help if you have anymore trouble."

Even though I have serious doubts about the whole "under control" bit, she leaves the room just as cheerfully as she came in, retrieving her basket of clothes from the doorway of the laundry room before disappearing in there with it.

"Well there you go." Joseph says, as though we've just solved everything. "Now you know what to do."

"I think you're forgetting that she got mad and told me to leave." John reminds him. I had honestly forgotten about that too, but send a judgemental look to Joseph anyway, who seems to shrink back in a guilty cower.

I suggest the next logical thing. "How about you just apologize?"

John looks confused, which is turning out to be his most popular look of the day. "Well... yeah. I was going to do that anyway." He sighs, eyes locked on some point in the distance. "I mean, I really should've just listened to her and stayed where I was. It was rude to-"

"Great!" I grin and hold up a hand. "Save that for her."

He stops talking with a nod, probably bookmarking a couple points in his mind for later.

Joseph tilts his head after a few seconds. "So... why'd you ask us to help if you had it figured out already?" He asks.

John blinks at him. "I didn't ask you to-"

"It was implied."

"No it wasn-" he sighs and shakes his head. "Whatever."

Undeterred with John's exasperated attitude, Joseph jumps right back on the topic with the same level of energy as before. "So when are you gonna do it?

John shrugs. "Tomorrow probably."

Joseph's eyebrows furrow. "Tomorrow... probably?"

John looks back and forth between Joseph and I for a second, and even though I don't know what the problem is now, I direct a stern look at John just to match Joseph. He throws up his hands. "Do I have to have everything figured out now? I mean, we've already talked for a long time. I think we deserve a break."

"We've been talking for three minutes." Joseph says calmly.

I raise my eyebrows. "Oh, so you've been timing this." I shrug, grabbing my french toast from the side table. Thankfully it's still warm. "That's a normal thing to do."

He ignores me and looks at John. The expression on his face is rare: raised eyebrows that are serious but not too serious, and an angled mouth. It means he actually has a decent point to make. "Need I remind you that this Maren we're talking about?" He says slowly. "She's different, she doesn't know you asked her out, and she's already mad at you for something. So do you think you should have every detail figured out before you get over there?"

I see the realization hit him. He blinks slowly and sits up a little straighter, suddenly looking much more serious and... almost scared? "Okay. I'm going to need some ideas on what to say." He looks around. "And a pen and paper."

Maren

"Waffles are up!"

The announcement comes from Riley as she opens the waffle iron to what looks to be a waffle that's considerably more brown than normal waffles. She either doesn't notice or doesn't care, because she just hums something under her breath as she grabs a utensil to get it out with, unconcerned.

"Who wants it?" She asks.

Marina and I share a wary glance while a few beats of silence stretch on. Eventually I raise my hand, hunger overpowering my fear of the strange dish. Riley brings it over and lays the plate in front of me proudly. It occurs to me that she might be considering me a test subject.

"Is this going to kill me?" I ask flatly. Riley gasps in mock offence as I poke it with my fork.

"Absolutely not. In fact, it'll be the best waffle you've ever had. You know why?" She pauses, waiting for a response, but all I do it direct another suspicious poke at the waffle-pancake hybrid. "Because it was made with love."

"It was made with pancake mix, which means it barely even qualifies as a waffle."

"Okay, so it's something new. A waffle-pancake. A waf-cake!" Proud of her chosen name for the breakfast food, she turns and starts refilling the waffle iron with more batter. "And fine, maybe it's a bit burnt, but it's not going to kill you."

I'm no less suspicious, but I take a chunk off with my fork anyway. After a few bites I realize it's not as terrible as I imagined. Good actually. I don't admit that though, choosing to eat in silent surprise as Riley pours more mix into the iron. She finishes Marina's "waf-cake" about the same time the bacon finishes frying.

"So... what are you gonna do about this John thing?" Riley eventually says in a way that makes it clear that she was trying to be casual but miserably failed.

"I don't know." I admit, picking up a piece of bacon. "Maybe I should just wait until school on Monday and see him then."

Marina shakes her head. "That's probably not the best idea. The longer you leave it, the weirder it's going to get."

"Yeah, you're right." I admit. I chew on the bacon in thought. "Can't I just text him or something then?"

Even as the words come out I know it's not the right thing to do. It's only confirmed when Marina arches an eyebrow at me, ever the therapist. "Do you want to text him?"

I let out a sigh of defeat. "Why are you so justified and reasonable?"

"I know, it's ridiculous." Riley pipes up from the counter.

Marina actually seems offended for a second, but then shoots a challenging look at Riley. "I'd like to see you think of something."

Surprisingly, Riley actually puts in an effort. She leans back on the counter as her eyebrows pinch together, looking at the floor for a few thought-filled moments. "Have you considered... asking him out?"

I feel my eyes widen involuntarily due to a weird mix of shock and fear. For a fraction of a second I think about it, but then I imagine a lot of spluttering and awkward hand gestures and I quickly dismiss the idea. Even if I do want to go out with him, I don't want to look like an idiot.

The front door opening saves me from having to give a response. We all seem to turn at the same time toward the sound, even though Marina and I can't see because of the tiniest wall they have between the kitchen and porch. It's like two feet long and I'm not sure why it's actually there, but I blame it on weird, fifty year-old architecture.

"Oh shit, I forgot to lock the door again, didn't I?" It's Stephanie's voice.

I nearly groan until I remember she doesn't know we're in here yet. I mean, my car is outside, but she might be dumb enough not to notice it. Maybe she'll just retreat to her room if she thinks there's nobody around to bother.

"Uh yeah. No big deal except for the fact that I could have been murdered." Riley chides, but she's smiling and sounds nowhere near irritated.

I hear a snort and the sound of winter boots hitting the floor. "Well, someone woke up on the dramatic side of the bed this morning." When she finally appears in the entrance of the kitchen, she's smiling a little, almost amused. But then she spots Marina and me and her face falls.

Riley has assured us multiple times that her sister doesn't actually hate us (or Marina at the very least). She says that Stephanie's coldness towards us just pertains to her desire to annoy Riley in all aspects of life. It must be a sister thing, but then again, I've never seen Marina glare at Ella's friends.

"You guys do have your own houses, right?" Stephanie rolls her eyes and shuffles a little further in to narrow her eyes at Riley. "And why are you using my waffle iron?"

"Because if I don't use it, it will never be used." Riley grins, and I want to squint at the contrast between the two. Riley is relentlessly positive while her sister is nothing but grouchy. It's almost painful to watch, like trying to look between the sun and a black hole. "Why are you back?" Riley asks.

"Because I missed you." Stephanie's voice is so flat I'm sure the accompanying eye roll is actually audible. "They sent us home early because of the storm, duh." I really had been hoping she wouldn't stay, but when she ambles over to the counter and leans against it, I know there's something she wants first. "Make me a waffle."

"First of all, they're not waffles, they're waf-cakes. Second of all-"

"What the fuck is a waf-cake?"

"A waffle made with pancake mix."

Stephanie just looks at her sister for a moment before flapping a hand, as though commanding her to continue. "Whatever. Make me one."

"I can't." Riley replies. After harshly arched eyebrow from her sister, she continues. "We're in the midst of a crisis."

Stephanie wrinkles her nose and glances at Marina and I with apparent disgust. "What? You guys are like, twelve. Nothing happens in your life that classifies as a crisis."

"Well we're having one so-" Riley slides over the bowl of batter. Stephanie makes no move to take it. "Make your own breakfast." The older Pierce looks displeased with the offer and promptly tries to glare a cheerful Riley into submission. "Unless..." Riley raises an eyebrow, "you want to help?"

"You'll make me a waffle if I help?"

"Waf-cake. But yes."

Stephanie seems to debate it, looking up and making some sort of high-pitched noise of indecisiveness that I've heard Riley make on many occasions. After twelve years of knowing them, this may be the only similarity I've found.

"Alright." She finally decides. My heart sinks as she comes over to the table, pulling out a chair. I try to glare at Riley but she's already turned around again. Stephanie drops into the wooden chair and puts her elbows on the table. Her eyes land on Marina, who looks slightly uncomfortable with the sudden acknowledgment. It's uncommon for Stephanie to talk to us, unless, of course, it's to insult me. "So, is it acne or boy trouble?"

Riley laughs. "Why would you just assume it's one of those?"

"You're stupid teenage girls, literally nothing else matters to you guys." She rolls her eyes before staring blankly at Marina for another few seconds. I start to wonder if she just wants to watch the insult sink in, but then she huffs and raises her eyebrows. "Jesus, come on Mariana. I don't have all day."

Marina seems to snap back in. "It's a guy." She says, choosing not to comment on the fact she got her name wrong. Stephanie doesn't address her often, but she's never gotten her name right as far as I can tell. Riley assures us she knows it though.

"Typical." Stephanie mutters, rolling her eyes. "So who is it—Holy shit!" Her eyes practically widen into saucers as her head whips in Riley's direction. The change of demeanour is so sudden that Marina glances at me in a mix of surprise and fear. "Is it that hot guy on the motorcycle?"

Riley furrows her eyebrows, as though confused she's being addressed. "What? No, this isn't even-"

"Ohhh!" Stephanie points at her, suddenly grinning bigger than I ever thought she was capable of. It's not a mystery why. As much as it's shocking to actually see a smile on the woman's face, it's a common look for her when she's embarrassing her sister. And as a wicked glint enters her dark eyes, I suddenly feel sorry for Riley. Not that sorry though. She usually handles it well. "You like him don't you?"

Riley rolls her eyes. "This isn't about-"

"You totally do!"

"It's not-"

"You so totally do! You're blushing."

"Fine, you're right. Me and Stanley are madly in love and we're running away to get married within the week." She raises her eyebrows. "Happy?"

The flat tone actually gets a genuine laugh from Stephanie, and Riley grins too. She's not actually blushing after all, because Riley doesn't get embarrassed over crushes or romance or anything that normal people get embarrassed over. Amazingly, she can ramble on about would-be relationships or walk around a house full of people with just a bath towel on without batting an eye, but catch her giddy about some math or science thing she learned and she'll turn twenty shades of red in an instant. I always thought it was weird, but now as I look at a grinning Stephanie and an exasperated Riley, I realize she's been teased far too much about this over the years to still have humility about the issue.

"Okay, spill. What happened? Give me the dirt." Stephanie goes on. "I need the who-what-when-where-why and I need it now." Riley doesn't say anything, just pretending to check on the waffle's progress while Stephanie rolls her eyes. Then she turns to Marina and me. "One of you has to tell me what happened. Out with it."

Marina glances at me disbelievingly. Clearly she won't be the one to tell her, but I'm still undecided. After all, Riley is the one that enabled John to come over. Marina raises her eyebrows when she realizes what I'm thinking, and I shrug, turning back to Stephanie. "They got drunk and kissed."

The resulting gasp is so loud and dramatic I'm sure the noise disturbed a flock of birds somewhere outside. Stephanie turns her entire chair, wooden legs scraping tile, towards her sister so slow and deliberately even I can help but be amused. I have a feeling Stephanie likes to put on a show.

"My little sister, who's innocent and naive and too pure for this world... got drunk and kissed someone? I can't believe this!"

Riley turns from the counter, lips pressed into a line, setting tired eyes on me. I smirk. After a moment, Riley must decide it would be better just to play along rather than let Stephanie run the whole show. She sighs and leans back on the counter, crossing her ankles.

"It's true. I'm an innocent flower." Shrugging, she continues despite Marina's chuckle of disbelief and her sister's increasingly predatory-looking smile. I roll my eyes and take a sip of my orange juice. "You know, I had never even seen alcohol until tenth grade."

Stephanie makes a noise of agreement and states matter-of-factly, "Or a penis."

I don't exactly choke on my orange juice, because that would be embarrassing, but I do make a very surprised coughing sound before spitting it back in my cup. Marina laughs, although I'm unsure if she's amused by the comment or my reaction. I shouldn't be surprised anyway. Stephanie was always shamelessly blunt, especially when she's aiming to embarrass her sister.

Although despite all the theatrics, the bluntness, and the jokes, Riley didn't turn even the lightest shade of red through it all. Instead she just lets out a laugh. "Wow. You know, I think it's time I tell you that Maren is the one with guy trouble."

Stephanie drops the act so fast I'm sure I got some type of whiplash. Her face reverts back to its usual scowl and I want to cringe as she slowly looks at me. I could barely work up the nerve to tell Marina and Riley about what happened, let alone Stephanie of all people. I close my eyes and shake my head at the turn in the conversation, disappointed beyond belief that my life has come to going to Stephanie Pierce for advice.

"You're having guy trouble?" She asks slowly, as though still processing it. I get her tone immediately and any moment expect the teasing to start about how I'm too annoying to date a guy or something just as juvenile. She doesn't. She looks at me for a few moments, clicks her tongue, and blinks hard. "Are you a fucking idiot?"

I'm pretty sure my eyebrows shoot up to my hairline. "Excuse me?"

"Right, that's a stupid question because clearly you are."

I blink at her, too shocked to think of a retort or to snap at her. It's not like it's the first time I've had exchanges like this with her, but usually I've at least done something to warrant the verbal assault.

She sighs and looks around for a moment as though checking for witnesses. "Look, I kind of a have a reputation to uphold, so this gonna be off the record, alright?" Confused about where this is going, I nod uneasily. She leans forward and lowers her voice. "Maren, listen to me. You're gorgeous, athletic, and the captain of literally every sports team at the school. Girls like you don't have guy trouble." She still has that detached tone in her voice, but she's looking pretty intensely into my eyes right now so I know she must be serious. She widens her eyes for a second like she's trying to clue me in on something, but then gives up and rolls them instead. "This is the part where you ask me what to do." She mutters.

Usually asking Stephanie about anything in general would be a huge 'no' for me, but I find myself curious. Still, I try to keep the interest out of my voice when I ask "What do I do?" After all, I have a reputation to uphold too.

She actually seems to straighten up a little, confident, like she's been waiting for this moment. "You need to realize that you're hot shit, and that guys will do literally anything you ask them to. So go tell whoever it is what you want and how he can give it to you. And I mean like all the details. Guys are stupid, you know." I snort and roll my eyes, not missing her small smile. For a moment that defies all laws of universal logic. Stephanie Pierce looks sincere. Proud. "I promise he'll listen."

"Yeah?"

"Money-back guarantee, babe." She taps the table and leans back again. Her smile is gone in record time, replaced with twisted lips that make her look like she's just tasted something sour. Clearly she's finished with whatever support she just gave me. "Now, back on the record, you're an idiot and you've wasted my time and... I hate you." Sighing and rolling her eyes, she points at Riley. "Hey, Loser. Is my waffle done yet?"

"Waf-cake. And yes, it's done."

"Great." She gets up and goes to Riley, who presents her breakfast, already on a plate. "Thank you." She's almost made it out the entrance of the kitchen when she looks over her her shoulder. "You're all idiots by the way. Except Miranda, you seem to have your shit together." Sending a lazy point in Marina's direction, Stephanie leaves in the same confusing fashion she arrived.

There's a stunned silence for a few moments, at least on me and Marina's end. The girl who I'm pretty sure is made from a mixture of detachment and bitterness just complimented us both in quick succession. It might be the strangest thing to happen in the world. Ever.

Finally Marina looks at Riley and points to herself. "Am I Miranda?"

"Better question, did we just enter the fucking twilight zone or something?" I cut in. Riley laughs and makes her way to the table as though everything is normal. I make an aggressive hand gesture to where Stephanie disappeared. "No, I'm serious. What just happened? Everyone else heard that right?"

Riley snorts and pulls out a chair. "Do you think I would have told her to help if I thought she would just insult you the entire time? I told you, she likes you guys."

"Okay, but am I Miranda?" Marina asks, looking serious.

"Yes." Riley smiles apologetically. "She knows your name, Mar."

Marina doesn't seem offended, actually sitting back with a pleased smile. "I have my shit together."

"Did you actually need Steph to tell you that?" Marina just shrugs, and I can tell that it really did make her feel good to have an adult praise her, even if that adult is Stephanie. Riley turns to me and crosses her arms. Suddenly I feel like I'm being chided for something, although I'm unsure what. "And did you really need Stephanie to tell you you're a catch for you to believe it?"

"Um..." I shrug and Riley laughs.

"You're hilarious. John probably already asked you out and you didn't even notice."

I roll my eyes and shoot a look at her. "I think I would know if someone asked me out."

"I don't think so."

"Well I know so." I say firmly. She wrinkles her nose and shakes her head. And then my voice gets a little louder. "Yes I-"

"Okay, stop." Marina hold her hands out, giving us both a look that holds a mother-like sternness. "I think what she's trying to say is that the only thing keeping John from asking you out is that he thinks you don't like him back."

Riley looks puzzled. "That's actually not what I was trying to-"

"Well what am I supposed to do about that?" I ask Marina. Riley throws up her hands at being ignored, but otherwise doesn't seem that offended.

Marina just looks at me for a long moment, waiting for me to hear something she doesn't want to say out loud. I hate when she does that, because at least if she just told me I could argue with it. It's hard to argue with something when you figure it out yourself. Still, I don't know what she wants me to get. I feel like it must be obvious but I can't seem to...

My eyes widen. "No."

"Yes."

"No."

"Maren, you have to."

I press my lips together and shake my head, looking away. "I'm not telling him how I feel. Ew, that's gross and ridiculous. Besides, what if you guys are wrong and he doesn't actually like me? What if-"

Riley groans. Loudly. "I'm gonna hit you." Both Marina and I look at her in surprise. "If there is one thing anybody knows about anything, it's that John likes you. You can yell at him over stupid things a million times over and John will still like you. Don't be an idiot."

My eyebrows shoot up, surprised by the brash tone. I turn to Marina, who only shrugs and gestures at her. "I mean, I probably would have put it a little differently, but yeah. She's right."

I sigh out through my nose, because deep down I know they're right. It's just nerve-wracking. I've never had to do anything like this before, and the idea of getting everything so out in the open like that is daunting.

"So..." I close my eyes for a second, cringing at my own cowardice, "you're basically telling me to grow a pair."

There's a unanimous answer of "yes", and I sigh. How in the world did I get to the point in my life where I need Riley and Marina of all people telling me to grow a backbone. Usually I'm the one convincing them to stand up for something.

"Fine." I concede, trying to ignore Riley's grin and Marina's pleased look. "I'll tell him."

"Like right now?" Riley asks excitedly.

I give her a flat look. "Yes, I'm going to risk life and limb driving through a snow storm to tell a guy I like him."

"Well it would be like, super romantic."

Marina clears her throat, clearly trying to get the conversation back within reasonable bounds. "Super dangerous too. You have lots of time."

"Yes." Riley agrees. Suddenly a contemplative look comes across her face, and she taps her finger on her chin, setting me with an arched eyebrow. "And I'm still sure there's like a ninety-nine percent chance he already asked you out and you didn't realize."

I groan and she grins, glad I'm annoyed but probably knowing I'm actually not. "There is a ninety-nine percent chance of nothing." I tell her firmly.

She holds up a finger. "First of all, Don't question my math. It's insulting." Exasperated, I look to Marina to stop this nonsense, but all I get is a shrug in response as she lets it play out. "And second, he had to ask you out for something. Dinner, bowling, a movie—"

Marina snaps her fingers, cutting Riley off and pointing me. "It was a movie."

I feel my mouth drop open, not even ashamed that I'm gaping at her in shock. And yes, I know she's practically a bloodhound when it comes to detecting emotions but, Jesus, this is ridiculous. I don't even know what I did that gave me away.

While I try to figure out exactly how far Marina's omniscient powers go, Riley smiles smugly at my reaction. "That would be a yes." She teases.

Finally, I snap back into the world. The glare I send to Marina doesn't seem to affect her in the least so I just throw up my hands, unbelievably confused and exasperated by this entire process. "Fine! Yes, he invited me to see a movie with him. It doesn't mean anything."

"Okay, okay." Riley soothes, holding out her hands. Then she studies me for a second and tilts her head. "But how exactly did he word it?"

I groan, leaning my head back, both for dramatic effect, and because I'm not sure I can deal with much more of this. When I look back up I find Marina stifling laughter and Riley full-out grinning, completely amused by my anguish. I sigh and drop my head into my hand. Riley can't hold it anymore and starts laughing.

"I don't know, he said... um..." I shake my head, hoping to dislodge the memory from yesterday. With everything else that went on I never thought I'd have to remember something unimportant like that. "Something like... do you want to see a movie sometime-"

One of them makes some loud, obnoxious gasp-groan hybrid, and the other just yells my name in a chiding way. The latter is definitely Marina. Either way, both noises make my head snap up, only to be met with wide eyes and open mouths. I wait for them to say something, but all they do is glance at each other, as though communicating something that I don't understand.

"Someone say something." I demand.

It still takes them several more seconds to break out of whatever drama-induced trance they were in. Finally Marina turns to me, a grin threatening to split her face. "Maren, the boy was asking you out on a date."

I'm pretty sure my blood runs cold. "No."

"Maren-"

"No."

"Just because you keep saying no doesn't mean it's not true."

"How..." I blink ahead at a random spot on the wall, "how did I miss that? I thought it would be..." I trail off, not knowing where to go.

Seeing that my sanity is clearly reaching its breaking point, Riley cuts in. "Hey, don't panic. How did you respond?" She asks patiently.

"I asked him what movie."

She looks pleased at my response and continues in the same soothing tone she was using before. "Okay, and how did he respond to that?"

"He seemed a little confused."

Marina nods. "Okay, yeah that makes sense." When I glance at her in fear, she quickly amends the statement, "But it's not like it's the end of the world."

"Yeah, just tell him you didn't know he was asking you out. He'll understand." Riley suggests.

I give her a look, and even I'm not sure if it comes off as more of a glare or an expression of terror. "Wouldn't that make me sound stupid?"

"Aw, Maren." Riley reaches over and puts her hand on my arm. "You're only stupid about romantic gestures. It's part of your charm."

I roll my eyes and she laughs, clearly only teasing even though the 'stupid about romantic stuff' part was completely true. Seeing that I may need a little convincing, Marina jumps in, sounding much more confident. "Seriously, I think he'll just find it funny." She insists.

I only shake my head, not quite sure funny is the way I want to play this, but also not seeing many other options. "Okay, I'll tell him that... or whatever." I make a very Riley-like hand gesture that stops almost as soon as it starts, feeling more awkward now that everything is resolved than I did when I brought it up. Maybe it's because I know it's only a matter of time before I actually have to put this plan in motion, and I'm more nervous about it than I'd like to admit.

After a few moments of silence I notice both my friends are still looking at me intently. I wave a hand, dismissing their concern. "Thanks, that's it."

Marina's eyebrows shoot up at the abrupt end to the conversation. "Oh? Are you sure? There's nothing else you want to talk about?"

I'm about to say no, because really, there isn't. But then Riley clears her throat as she stands from her chair. "Of course we have something else to talk about." She says, walking to the sink and grabbing a pair of dish gloves. She gestures at me with them. "We still haven't figured out what Maren is gonna say to confess her undying love."

Marina laughs, and despite the glare I'm now sending to the back of Riley's head, I feel my face warm. I was wondering when they were going to start with the teasing, and fully suspected Riley to be the one to bring it up first. Honestly, considering how many comments about Joseph I directed at Marina when they first started dating, I figure it's well-deserved. So instead of getting mad, or leaving the room, or shutting them up, I just roll my eyes and lean back into the wooden rungs of the chair, ready to take it.

"Yeah, what are you going to say to him?" Marina says, knowing I don't have an answer.

"I think," Riley cuts in, "you should write him a letter. Then you don't have to say anything."

"Or you could write him a song." Marina suggests.

"Yes! Taylor Swift used to do that all the time."

I roll my eyes, really not wanting to encourage this by participating, but also feeling like there's a point to be made. "And her relationships turned out so well." I say.

"This is different. You guys are perfect." Riley insists. She gives up on the dishes for a moment to face me with a teasing smile. "It's like in the movies when the quarterback and the cheerleader fall in love."

"Except in this case you're both the quarterback." Marina puts in. "Or... you know. Hockey team captains." Riley makes a noise of agreement and points at her.

There's a lull in conversation for a moment. I look at them both—Marina seeming content to sit there, and Riley with her 'thinking face' on—and arch an eyebrow. "Are you done? Do you have it all out?" I ask.

Marina nods but Riley purses her lips, apparently disappointed as she goes back to the dishes. "I'm sure I'll think of something else." She says.

"Can't wait." I reply. They seem content, but something nags at me. I know they helped a lot, and even though I'm not a huge shower of gratitude, I feel like I need to make some type of effort. "Thanks... by the way." I pause, wrinkling my nose. "For... you know."

Marina mocks my expression teasingly, but smiles. "Yeah, we know."

Riley stays silent for a moment, watching the water run into the sink in a steady stream. Finally she speaks up, and of course, in most typical Riley fashion, it has barely anything to do with what I just said. "So, do you want your couple name to be Jaren or Mohn?"

She turns, crossing her arms and fixing me with look of serious consideration. Marina laughs, shaking her head while I try to direct a deadpan at Riley. I'm smiling a little though, and it's for two reasons: One, because 'Mohn' sounds completely ridiculous. And two, because, embarrassingly, 'Jaren' doesn't sound too bad.

Riley wrinkles her nose. "Yeah, you're right. What was I thinking?" She goes back to the dishes again, shaking her head. "Jaren sounds way better."

. . .

I turn the car off and stare through the windshield at the blue siding I've stopped in front of. When I was on my way to this point I thought when I got here some part of me would realize the gravity of the situation and any hesitancy would go away, leaving confidence in its wake. Really it's stupid. It's so stupid because out of everything in my life that I've been nervous about, this moment right here takes the top spot. And it's just words.

And it's actually funny, because I've never been afraid of words; to speak them, or to have them spoken to me. I've never been careful about what I say, and care little for the way people react to what comes out of my mouth. I've never thought that my opinions were something that was better off hidden under nods and fake smiles. So no, I've never been afraid of words.

Of course, that is until now.

I grip the steering wheel and lock my eyes on the front door of the house, a wreath still hanging from it from Christmas. They're just words, I tell myself, but it doesn't slow my pounding heart.

Just words.

I force myself to push open the car door, barely even noticing the chill in the air, and make my way up the shoveled driveway to the path that leads to the front door. I reach it faster than I thought, disappointed as I stand in front of the inviting, red door. I was hoping I would have more time to remember what I planned to say. It wasn't anything complicated. It was something simple and straightforward and it made me feel good because it was a plan. But now as I stand here, ready to put it in action, I can hardly remember ever discussing it. That's my fault though. I probably should have written it down on a sticky note or something.

Just as I'm contemplating giving Riley and Marina a call to go over the words again, a click sounds from the door in front of me. It takes me the entire time from that sound to when the doorknob starts turning for me to realize it's the sound of someone unlocking it.

And now they're turning the handle.

And now they're pulling it open.

My eyes widen as I finally comprehend what's happening, but it's way too late to leave.

The door swings open and as scared as I imagine I look, John looks much more startled. His eyes are wide and his mouth hangs open for a moment before closing. And then opening again. And then closing.

We stare at each other for a long moment: two deer caught in headlights. "Um..." I'm shocked to hear my own voice. "I was about to knock." Technically it's a lie. I was probably going to stand out here, frozen, for another minute at least. But he doesn't need to know that.

John still just stares at me for a moment, and it would be funny under any other circumstance. The poor guy looks terrified. "Right, yeah." He says finally.

I look him over, noticing first that he's wearing a coat and boots, and then that he's holding his car keys in his hand. Then there's a silence; the kind that seems loud and obvious. Yet, despite how uncomfortable it is, I'm not eager to fill it. Because that would mean saying what I came here to say.

But then he sighs, apparently recovered from his shock. "Look, Maren. I'm really sorry about yesterday. I shouldn't have-"

"It's fine." I cut him off because I really can't let him go through with being a nice guy right now. It's really not even something he needs to apologize for, but I have a feeling he won't take no for answer, so I let him have this one.

He seems confused by my easy acceptance of his apology, a crease appearing between his furrowed eyebrows. "Okay..." he says slowly. Then he glances behind him for a moment. "Uh, do you want to come in. It's freezing out-"

"No." I feel a little rude for interrupting him twice in the span of a few seconds, but I also know I need to get on with this or I might just stall forever. And I'm horrible at stalling. "Thanks, but hopefully this won't take very long."

He straightens. "What won't take long?"

I draw in a breath and look at him, which turns out to be a bad idea. I'm suddenly very aware of my fast heart beat, my breathing, and this weird feeling in my gut, like I'm falling through the air. I believe the feeling is called 'butterflies' in books, but I can't help but think that that's not right at all. It's more of a tumbling, spinning, headache inducing... thing. And it's not fun, not at all. It's so strong that my mind goes blank, and for a terrifying moment of grasping for something—literally anything—and coming back with, well... nothing, I think that maybe I'll just leave and avoid him forever. Because that's perfectly logical.

But I've already been silent for too long, and he's looking at me with confused, beautiful eyes, and I decide that I'll do what I'm good at. I'll tell him the truth.

Just words.

"You... stress me out."

His eyebrows shoot up, and okay, I'll admit that could have been a little better worded. "Um... I'm sorry-?"

"You do things that I'm not used to people... doing for me." My words come out sharp for some reason, my tone clipped and business-like. I can't find it in me to search for a reason why. "I'm used to doing everything for myself, so when you do something for me, or stand up for me like you did yesterday, I don't know what to do, and that stresses me out. So I'm sorry I got mad with you yesterday, it's just-"

I sigh, breath unfurling in front of me in a cloud of fog. His confused eyes drift down until I notice he's looking at my fingers, tapping against my thigh. I stuff my hands in my pockets and he looks up again, only for me to look away this time; down at the ground, to the side, up at the sky. Anywhere but him.

"Sometimes, I don't know what to say or do or... think, so I end up doing the wrong thing. And that's on me. It's not your fault." Feeling like I'm circling around the subject, I shake my head, eyes trained on a pile of snow next to the walkway. "Anyway, this has never really happened before... to me. So it's going to take me a while to get used to it. But-" My fists are clenched inside my pockets, nails biting into my palms. "If you still want to go to that movie, I'll come, and I will try to think... and," I clear my throat, "maybe I'll get used to it a little faster." I reluctantly bring my eyes to his. Just words. "Because I like you, John."

I expected something to come from saying the words. Some relief, maybe a metaphorical weight lifted off my shoulders, but all it seems to do is amplify everything. My heart pounds and my stomach suddenly can't decide between falling and squeezing and, fuck, his face has gone blank and he's just staring at me. The silence now is thick and heavy and... endless, and I decide that this is worse than stalling. Much, much worse.

I realize it's not the words I'm scared of. It's this. What comes after.

This is terrifying.

"Unless that's not what you meant." I backtrack. Suddenly my voice is fast and the words come tumbling out as my mind slams into a mortifying reverse. "If you don't feel that way, or whatever, it's fine and you can stop me now and I'll just leave and probably never talk to you again until-"

"Maren, stop."

I look at him again. I'm not sure if I should be relieved or nervous that he's smiling. It's a gentle type of smile, so it's probably nothing bad, yet something in the back of my mind screams at me to run away.

"It is." He says. When I furrow my eyebrows, he rushes to clarify. "It is what I meant. Like, yeah, I was asking you on... you know."

It still takes a horrifying minute for my mind to catch on to what he's saying. "Oh." I manage. He nods. "Well... that's good."

He breathes out, and there's a laugh in it. "Yeah."

I'm smiling, I realize. There's still a lingering nervousness, but it's different now—somehow lighter and less sickening and more... nice? A weird thought comes into my head, that maybe this is the so-called "butterflies" books go on about, and I'm about to dismiss it until I look at him smiling and his eyes actually sparkle and the feeling definitely intensifies. So yeah. I believe that's what this is. My mind is fuzzy.

"Um, were you going somewhere?"

And of course that's the most relevant thing I can scrounge together.

John doesn't seem to mind, glancing down at his coat and boots as though forgetting he was wearing them. "Oh, yeah." He says. The keys jingle as he makes a sort of pointing to the road gesture that stops almost as soon as it starts. "I was actually on my way to your place..." The way he looks at me—tight smile and raised eyebrows—makes me think that he really doesn't want me to ask any follow-up questions.

"Why?" I press immediately.

"Um, well..." His eyes dart upwards, as though the words are written in the sky. Then, seeming to give up, he sighs. "Basically to do what you just did." He clears his throat, looking somewhere to the left of my face. I can't help it. I laugh. "What?" He feigns offence, but it's too much like something out of a rom-com to not laugh at. He holds up a hand, suddenly stern. "Okay, you laugh now, but you never heard my speech."

My eyebrows shoot up, interest piqued. "Well in that case I feel like a missed out. Maybe I should have stayed at home."

The act washes away. "Oh, God no. I'm really happy you came over here. I don't think it would have went well."

"I can't imagine anything going much worse than this."

"What? No it was great." He assures, shrugging. Then there's a familiar look in his eyes, one that's light and fun and makes my heart pound a little faster. "Knowing that I stress you out has been the highlight of my week." I laugh. For once in my life I'm happy to be teased, because this is normal. This is something I can work with. "I do have one more question though..." he sets me with a studious gaze. "did you actually not know I was asking you out?"

I counter his narrowed eyes by pointing a finger at him. My face is getting warm though, and I'm definitely not a fan of it. "That's not my fault. Who asks out someone like that anyway?"

"A lot of people."

I shake my head. "Nobody does."

"Fine, you're right. Maybe I should have taken a page from your book and told you that you stress me out. That would have gone over well." Some indignant sound leaves my mouth against my will and John raises his eyebrows smugly, knowing he's won. He leans his shoulder into the doorframe way too casually to actually be casual and continues talking before I can respond. "So... how does tomorrow at seven sound?"

"For... what?" He just raises his eyebrows at me. "Oh! For the movie. Yeah that's fine. Good. Totally..." I'm nodding way too much, "...yeah."

He has the nerve to smirk, and I think my face is probably as red as I think it is. I blame it on the cold. "Well," he says teasingly, "I'm glad you're so good and fine with it. It's not a movie anymore though."

"Oh?" I say. A snowflake drifts in front of his slightly smug-looking smile, and I wonder how long it's been snowing for without me noticing. "What is it then?"

"For me to know and you to-"

"You don't know yet, do you?"

"I do!" He wrinkles his nose at me, although I still have a suspicion the thought process is ongoing. "Just... be ready at six. Tomorrow."

I breathe out a laugh. "Alright." Hesitant to do anything, I point behind me like I'm asking permission. "I'm gonna..."

"Oh! Yeah, sure. I'll see you tomorrow."

I nod. "At six."

He grins and my stomach flips. So that's new.

"At six." He confirms.

The drive back to the house is much more pleasant than the drive to John's. Instead of feeling as though I'm going to throw up, I just have a smile on my face that fights it's way back up whenever I force it down. It's still not an ideal situation, because I always make fun of Marina when she smiles at a text from Joseph and if anyone found out that the situation was reversed I would definitely lose some badass points.

What's even worse? I can't find it in me to care.

---

Hey guys!

I know I apologize for my update speed literally every single chapter, but it's been extra long this time so I'm, like, really really sorry. Not much I can say except that school is pretty freaking demanding and it's really hard to find the energy to write between assignments and lab reports and tests. That being said, I will still apologize because I know how much it sucks waiting for a new chapter, especially since the last one ended in a cliff hanger.

Anyway, after around four months, the chapter is finally done. I've re-read this thing so many times that my eyes hurt and I can actually recite the entire first scene from memory. This chapter gave me a lot of grief, from deciding which POVs to write from, to even just trying to find a way to end it. I wrote the last bit from the point of view of both Maren and John multiple different ways each, and spent even longer debating which version to use. I've also scrapped and rewritten almost every other part of this chapter multiple times because it just wasn't... right? I'm still not completely sold on it and a few parts are rushed just to get through them, but I really hope you guys at least somewhat enjoyed the finished product.

I really want to thank y'all so much for all the reviews. It doesn't matter how long or how short they are, I am truly grateful for ALL of them!

Speaking of which...

J: David may come back in future chapters, but not anytime soon. Maren's had enough drama for now and I think it's time to give her a little break. Thanks for the review!

yeethaw boyo: Even If it does take me four months to update, I will never leave forever, I promise!

LorienLegaices: Hey, super cool that you've been here from the beginning. The story has been going on for, what? Two years now? More? So anyway, I really respect anyone that has been able to stick around that long despite my terrible updating skills, lol. Thanks so much for reviewing!

YasiYasi: Dude, thank you so much! You made my ego way too big with that review by the way, but I appreciate it to all ends. So happy you enjoyed the chapter and thanks again for the feedback!

Guest (August 31): I love so much how you put everything in list form! So here we go... 1. David and Katerina didn't ever marry, he was just Katerina's boyfriend for a few years. Sorry for the confusion! 2. You're right, six feet is on the taller side for sure. I've had a problem judging what heights classify someone as tall or short in the past. Another reader brought that to my attention a few chapters ago too, which is why I changed Riley's height (in chapter 4 or 5 I said she was 5'6 but that's actually taller than average so I brought it down to 5'3 in... chapter 23?). Anyway, I do that because I'm on the taller side myself and everyone I've been friends with have been around the same height. I'm trying to broaden my perspectives on things like that though, so hopefully someday soon I'll realize what is tall and what is short, lol. 3. Thanks! I mean, I don't typically set out to make people cry, but in this case it's good... right? 4. Proofreading and me have a love-hate relationship. The thing is, I'm constantly re-reading the chapters as I write them, so when I do make mistakes sometimes my eyes are trained just to go right over them. It also doesn't help that I usually do this late in the night, so that's on me. There's a good few mistakes in every chapter, and I only notice them when I re-read them down the road. As for update speed interfering with proofreading, I honestly think it's worse when I take longer to update. When I've been re-reading the same thing over and over for so long I get pretty tired of looking at it and pretty much just give it a quick look-through before throwing it up on the site (that being said I do always look it over the next day, but I still don't get everything). So yeah, grammar mistakes and typos are certainly a thing that make me cringe at myself when I look back on parts of the story, but I try my best. 5. Okay, you're definitely gonna hate me for saying this but I'm not a huge fan of The Office. Don't get me wrong, there's certainly a few funny parts in each episode, but I watch it primarily because Jim and Pam are really cute. So we will have to agree to disagree over the whole Friends vs The Office war, and I hope we can still be friends :) 6. Jix did get together! Yay! 7./the next review: it was in chapter 14 near the end :)

Wow, that response was like, super long. Sorry about that, but thank you so much for reviewing and I hope you liked the chapter!

Ranleyyyyy: I will totally focus more on the other characters (Riley included) now that Maren's drama is over. And Riley will eventually start to go through some stuff, sort of like what you described but not exactly. Honestly, it's kind of scary how accurate people get when they have ideas for what is going to happen, because most of the time I'm already planning something along those lines. I will post more, but I'm not certain on how frequent I will be. I've been struggling to update within a timely fashion since this story began, so be prepared for super sporadic updating. I'm so glad you're a fan of the story! I love feedback and I also love that you're a fan of Ranley (I'm also quite a fan, lol)! Thanks so much for reviewing, and keep the ideas coming, I love to hear what people come up with!

liverlife7: Hey, thanks for making an account to follow and favourite, it means a lot! Somebody else suggested that an Adam/one relationship become a thing a nice few chapters ago, so that will certainly be worked into the story soon. As for the other characters, it's a possibility, but if they do come in it will be much much further down the road, so we'll see. So happy you're enjoying the story and thanks so much for reviewing!

I know I didn't respond to everyone, but I do appreciate every review, even if it's just one telling me to update. They all remind me that people care about this story, and motivate me to write, so thank you all!

Maren and John's date will be next chapter, and hopefully I'll be able to have that up before next semester starts.

Anyway, since this is already a terribly long AN, I'm gonna leave it here. Thanks for reading and I really hope you enjoyed! Leave a review if you feel like it :)