Tick, tick, tick.

The grandfather clock chimes softly, and I unconsciously match my breathing to the ticks of the seconds. My eyes peer through the darkness; 1:30 AM, according to the clock. I look to the others. Nick's passed out on the couch, snoring softly—lucky bastard gets the couch—and Alycia's form is turned from me, her back the only thing I see on the blow-up mattress we share.

I sigh.

Wonder if I'll get any bloody sleep tonight. I'd be lying if I said I was comfortable enough to. After what happened with Mr. Dawson and the newcomers, my nerves are on high-alert.

The scene still plays in my head. Mr. Dawson nearly hurting—no, killing—Travis, Daniel grabbing the gun. Two gunshots. Blood, muscle, crater…

I press my palms to my eyes, rubbing furiously. As if that could get the image out of my head. At least I know we're safe tonight; if anything happens, we have enough people in this house to overpower another infected. And Daniel can pull the trigger.

C'mon, Tina. Get some rest. Just sleep, for fuck's sake.

My eyes shut and I attempt to slow my breathing—would this count as meditation?—and focus on the sounds around me. Gentle ticks from the clock, Nick's snoring, light air. Peaceful.

But another sound follows; silent hiccups. The kind that accompanies tears. I twist under the old yellowed blanket (which is so scratchy that I hope we burn it in the morning,) and look to Alycia's back.

"'Lych?"

No response. I sit up and lean over her back to get a good look at her face. Twin trails of tears stream down her smooth skin, making a small puddle in her pillow's fabric.

Matt.

"Oh, babes." I hum softly. My hand goes to her shoulder and I rub small circles soothingly. "I'm so sorry."

Her hiccups get louder as she turns to face me. "He doesn't deserve that!" Her arms fling around my sides tightly, sobbing into my t-shirt. "He's such a good person! Matt never did anything wrong. Why," she stops from a moment, running a palm over her eyes, gasping for breath, "why him?"

"No one deserves that." I whisper into her hair. My hands hold her tightly as I lean into the mattress. She turns in my arms so she can cry into my shirt, and I hold her close. My hand strokes soothingly up and down her back. "Not him, not Susan, no one. Sometimes, bad things happen to good people."

"He," she hiccups, "He doesn't deserve to die."

"You're absolutely right. He doesn't. And I wish I could change it."

"Do you…" Her breathing slows a tad, and she rubs at her eyes with a free hand. "Do you think he's in pain?"

"No. Susan doesn't look like she's in pain. They're just… gone."

The thought of Mr. Dawson hangs in my mind; he couldn't feel anything, could he? He was shot in the face and still kept on his feet. He couldn't. Definitely not. And if Matt has the same thing…

No. I can't let myself spiral down that rabbit hole.

"This will all blow over soon." I say. My hand runs through her locks, adding, "I'm sure there's already scientists working on a cure. It'll get better in a few days."

"No, it won't."

"It will." I wholly believe in the statement. "It has to."

Her arms don't move from my figure, only adjusting so she can be more comfortable. My hand pulls from her hair, instead going to rest at her side. "You seem so sure."

"I have to be. I'm scared of what's out there if I don't."

"I'm scared, too."

"C'mon, girls, up and at 'em." Madison taps our shoulders. Oh, no…

I groan and pull the scratchy blanket tight to my chest. "Five more minutes, please."

"Sorry, Tina, but we gotta get going. If we want to beat the traffic earlier is better. Everyone else is already up."

Alycia sighs. "Early. Too early…"

Madison yanks the blanket fully off, and we both cry at the cold air. I shove my face into my pillow, the cry turning into a screech. Too cold, and far too bright. "One of you, go pack clothes. The other can help Travis with the food. Tina, we'll stop by your apartment before we leave. Sound like a plan?"

I hold a thumbs-up, my head still against my pillow. "Aces."

With what little energy Alycia has before coffee, she pulls her head up from her pillow. "And the Salazars?"

"Still in your room. Daniel's cousin is going to pick them up in a few hours. We should be gone long before then."

"Okay, okay." Alycia hums in defeat. She holds out a groggy hand that her mom grabs and is pulled up to her feet.

Fine. Time to face the day.

I pull myself up from the mattress, stretching my arms above my head. A few satisfying pops sound from my back. "Do I need to make coffee for you guys?"

"Already have a pot going." Madison says. She kneels to the mattress and tugs the opening of it; a small hiss of air follows. "I left out a pack of your tea but I haven't made it yet."

"Alright. That's my first task of the day."

"Ready to go?"

I nod, adding one last can of green beans into my cardboard box. "Yeah, Travis. Which car am I hopping into?"

"You'll be with Maddy and the kids." He stalks over and grabs the edges of the box, but doesn't lift it up just yet. "Hey, you were with Alycia last night. She okay?"

I let out a heavy puff of air, my shoulders sagging with the movement. "I… I dunno, Travis. She's heartbroken, that much I'm sure of."

"Are you okay?" He asks tentatively. I look at him, a furrow in my brow. "Maddy told me about… the phone call yesterday." He explains, his low voice comforting. "I want to make sure you're alright."

A rush of sadness hits me. Don't cry, don't cry…

"I'm… fine." I say lamely.

He raises an eyebrow. "Right."

"What do you want me so say?" I reply hotly. "That I'm heartbroken and I can't stop crying and I can't believe that they're—" I choke back the word. I can't say it. If I say it then it becomes true.

"That's not what I want to hear, but it's more believable, Cristina." He says softly. A hand goes to my shoulder and he soothingly pats it. "It's awful, and I'm so sorry for your loss."

"We don't know if they're dead. They could be fine."

"Well, no matter what happens, just know that we're here for you." His arms go around me and he gives a tight hug, and when he lets go his eyes reach mine earnestly. "All of us. You always have a place here. We won't let you down."

Awe, such a mush. It brings an actual smile to my face. "Thank you, Travis. Honestly."

"Anytime." He smiles back. "Now," he grabs the box of cans and hands it to me, "put these in the back of Maddy's car, please?"

"Of course." I bow slightly, and head outside.

In a few seconds, I toss the food into the car and hop in the backseat beside Nick. My eyes give him a quick once-over. He's shaking as he looks out the window, but I assume it's normal when going through detox.

"You didn't change before leaving?" I ask teasingly, eyeing the clothes. They're the same ones he took from the hospital. He really should. They're not his style.

"Something wrong with geriatric chic?" Nick says, his still gaze focused out the window. I wonder if his skin is so ashen from the color palate he's wearing or if it's just him.

"On my 90-year-old gramps, no. On an otherwise healthy nineteen-year-old, yes."

"Sorry to disappoint."

I frown. What, no teasing reply? What'd I do? "Everything okay, yan—"

Madison hops into the front seat and starts the car, effectively killing conversation. Nick's stare out the window turns into a glare. Oh. Well, at least he's not mad at me?

Madison and Travis—who's already situated with his son and Liza in his truck—lock eyes. "Where's Alycia?"

Travis shrugs, rolling down his window. "She's not with you?"

"Uh," I answer, "No? Last I checked she was still inside."

"C'mon, Alycia, let's go!" Travis calls at the front door. Madison beeps the horn impatiently. "We're leaving!"

Alycia pulls through the front door—I'm sure suppressing an eyeroll—with her phone and earbuds in hand. "I heard you." She shoves an earbud in.

"I had to pee." She adds as she opens the door.

A heavy sound beats in the air before she hops into the seat and yanks the door shut. Helicopters? I furrow my brow. My eyes look out the window and sure enough, there are at least a dozen flying overhead.

As the car begins a slow roll out the driveway, I think, this might be the last time I see this house. Hell, it could be the last time I visit my apartment, maybe even Los Angeles. It puts the whole predicament into perspective. We're losing our whole lives for this bloody virus.

We better find a cure fast.

My eyes peer through the window as we follow Travis' truck down the street, turn a corner and get to a small intersection. The sound of the helicopter blades whir in my ears. Sheesh, there are so many. It's like all of National Guard decided to fly.

"Shit." Madison mutters. As Travis drives through a set of lights, Madison yells out her window. "Patrick! Hey, Patrick, wait!"

I follow her line of sight and quickly take in the older asian man pulling out of his parked car. With a smile on his face, he pulls out a briefcase from the passenger seat and starts a trek to his front door. Bollocks, Susan's husband.

In a split-second decision, Madison whips a turn to her street and abandons Travis' truck.

Patrick cheerfully calls, "Susan! The flight was cancelled, I can stay the weekend!" as he heads to the backyard. Where Susan is. Shit!

With a harsh jerk, Madison parks the car on the street. Shaky hands unbuckle her seatbelt. "Stay in the car!" She shouts before throwing the door open and running to follow Patrick.

Alycia, Nick, and I side-eye each other for a total of three seconds, then jump to follow Madison's retreating form. "Patrick, Patrick wait! That's not your wife!"

"Susan?" He doesn't listen to Madison; all his focus is on the animated remains of Susan. The infected limps to him, growling. "Honey? Are you okay?" He holds out his arms to give her a hug, brows furrowed in concern.

"Patrick!—"

—THWICK!

It barely registers that Travis and his family are behind me, catching up. All I focus on is the slow drop that Susan's body takes, and the new hole in the middle of her forehead. Dead. She's dead.

The spike of adrenaline rushes through my veins as my brain catches up. It was a gunshot. A gunshot killed what was left of Susan.

Who the hell has a gun?!

Patrick cries out, dropping to his knees to grasp at his wife's body. My heart twinges in pain as the sorrow washes over his face. Alycia's hands go to cover her mouth in shock.

Is that what I'm in? Shock?

It's not as bad as yesterday, when I saw Mr. Dawson die. No, that was much worse. At least Susan's death was quick and clean. Mr. Dawson suffered—if he could feel anything, that is.

A flood of green spills in behind the house. Men decked in army camouflage. Every single one wears a gas mask, rifle in hand, and goggles covering their face. What, do they think the infection is airborne? They're wrong.

I feel strong hands grab at my elbows, one soldier on each. "Hey, stop!—" They're harsh as they pull me backwards with the rest of the group.

"This is for your protection, miss." One says, his voice altered with the mask on. When they let me go, I'm barely steady on my feet. Doesn't matter. The shock still coursing through my veins takes precedence over whatever I'm feeling. The gunshot still echoes in my head.

Slowly, I take in the new surroundings. An intense wave of green men and women are scattered throughout the street. Dozens—maybe 60 or so—soldiers. There are large military vehicles, all a distinct shade of beige blocking the roads.

A soldier walks past, no gas mask on. The leader? Harsh lines are etched into his pale wrinkled face. Years of frowning, I assume, as that's what he's sporting as he looks to me and the rest of the group.

Still wearing that frown, he turns to one of his officers—a woman, sporting a tight bun of blonde hair and a clipboard in hand. "Put them on the list."

"Sure thing, Moyers." The soldier nods.

Whatever that list is, I'm not sure I want to be on it.

"Come with me," The blonde soldier commands. My eyes flick to Madison and Travis; they're already talking to another soldier. Madison gives me a reassuring smile, so I nod and follow the soldier a few paces from the house.

The petite blonde taps her pen against the clipboard, grip tight. Her eyes focus on the page, not bothering to make eye contact. "What's your name?"

"Uh," I stammer, "Cristina Waters. I go by Tina."

Her pen digs into the paper as she writes my name. "From across the pond, I see."

Ha ha, very funny. "I moved here with my parents a few years ago."

"And where's mom and dad?" She looks up from her paper, her eyes focusing on me.

"They, uh," What do I say? "they're MIA."

"And that means?"

"It means they went to the UK three days ago. I don't think they're getting a plane back."

"Sorry to hear that." No, you aren't. "Who are you living with, then? You by yourself?"

"I've been with Travis Manawa and Madison Clarke. Though my personal items are still at my apartment."

"I see." She scribbles onto her clipboard one last time before harshly clicking the pen closed. "This means you'll be stationed with them from here on out. Go to the house. Wait until we give the okay for you to come out. We find you; you don't find us. Got it?"

I blink at the sudden authoritative tone, but nod and quickly hustle to the house.

Alycia's on the porch, her arms crossed. I go beside her, noting, "You seem peachy."

"Just… Concerned." She answers, sounding distracted. Her eyes focus on Madison by a couple of the soldiers, seemingly chatting away. By the frown on her face, it's not a good conversation.

"Why?"

"You think they're the cavalry? They're just gonna… swoop in and save us from whatever the hell this is?"

I shrug. "They'll try."

She huffs in disagreement, looking to the road. "Then you have more faith than I do."

NINE DAYS LATER

"We have power yet?"

Ophelia shakes her head. "They're getting later and later."

I huff, adding, "You think they'd have it under control by now."

My phone rests on Alycia's dresser, completely dead. I was hoping I could play a few rounds of Fruit Ninja before getting ready for the day. Or at least before heading to grab the supply packages at 10. Looks like that's not happening.

Ophelia rests a hand on her mother's shoulder, giving Griselda a warm smile. "I'm sure they're doing their best." Griselda's hand goes to Ophelia's, giving her a reassuring squeeze in return.

Daniel heads through the open door, a bowl of cereal in hand. He murmurs something—I'm sure in Spanish—to his wife. He sits beside her on the bed, offering a spoon of the dry puffs. Guess we're out of milk. Great.

"Has Liza come by yet?" I ask. Ophelia shakes her head.

"She'll be by later, I'm sure."

"She cares for many now." Daniel says, filling another spoonful. "She is the only medical care in our zone."

Even though they promised us doctors days ago.

They're making a lot of promises they're not keeping.

"Right, right," I nod. Don't get too jaded, Tina. The day is still young.

Griselda raises a hand to Daniel, speaking to him softly, and suddenly I feel like an odd duck out. I'm intruding in their family breakfast. So I do what I came here for; head to the dresser and grab a shirt and set of jeans for the day. Fruit Ninja will have to wait.

"I'll see you for the supplies?" Ophelia asks.

"Of course. Ten minutes to ten."

Should give me more than enough time to get ready for the day.

I trek to the downstairs bathroom, barely swinging the door closed; no one would use it this late in the morning. Get changed, throw on deodorant. Just like every other morning.

My eyes gaze over my reflection in the mirror and I frown. The bags under my eyes have grown. Maybe one day I'll sleep in a normal bed again and get proper rest. My poor, poor back.

The state of my hair upsets me, too. My deep red hasn't been touched up—I was supposed to make an appointment before the world ended, so the color was already fading—and its officially lost its shine.

The bleach blonde underneath is starting to show and brown roots are growing in, which was unfortunately expected. Mentally I sigh. I think hair dye is last on our army buddies' list of things to grab.

Maybe Daniel will help me out, I think with an inward chuckle.

My hand parts through my locks, finding more brown streaks underneath the layers. Maybe it's time to let it grow back. Don't think I have much of a choice now.

Alright, enough fussing. You still have the supply pick-up.

Curiously, I twist the knob of the faucet and fill my hands with a generous amount of water. When I splash the cool liquid on my face I immediately gasp, regretting the decision.

"Fuck!" I grumble. Cold. Too cold. I jerk the knob shut and grab a hand towel to dab at my face. It's not like the make-up commercials. I don't feel, "refreshed." I feel cold, dammit! "Stupid bloody water… What a waste of my time."

I dab the towel by an eye as the bathroom door gently swings open, revealing Nick. I blink. A bare-chested Nick. "Thought I heard someone berating our water."

"Well, when it acts like a twat it gets treated like a twat."

"Did it offend you?"

I shrug with a smile and set the hand towel back on its hanger. "I'm offended by unfrozen ice, yes." With a coordinated hand I grab my toothbrush and use it to point at his chest. "Got a photo shoot later?" I add an eyebrow wiggle for effect.

He rolls his eyes, but smiles nonetheless as he treks further into the room. "Ha ha, very funny. I was actually going to enjoy a morning swim. Just gotta brush my teeth."

I let out an, "ah," of understanding and take a step away from the sink, offering space as I grab the toothpaste. I squirt some on my brush before handing him the bottle.

"Thanks," He says, repeating my actions.

The second I finish I throw my toothbrush in its holder and clean my cheeks with a towel. He's just about done when I head for the door.

"Enjoy your swim." I say, feet already past the doorframe.

"We can be friends, y'know."

I frown, pausing. "We are. Friends."

"Last I checked, friends don't avoid each other."

"I'm… not…"

My eyes flick back to him; he's wearing that stupid bloody smile. "You're a shit liar, T. Is this still about trying to score off you? I apologized."

"No! No, not that. I just…" I huff, suddenly finding the interior design of the room interesting. "This is weird, okay?"

"You mean the world ending, or?"

"I mean, this." I gesture in between us. "We don't talk for a whole bloody year and now we're five feet apart all the time. We were friends, and then we weren't, and now we're flatmates. It's just… weird. I don't know how to act around you anymore."

"I thought we were doing just fine. Before the cold shoulder, that is." Nick quirks a smile at the end. I let out a chuckle before he adds, "It's nice, hanging out with you again."

I smile. "It is. I'm sorry, if I made you upset."

"If you want to make it up to me, come with me to the pool."

My demeanor shifts instantly. I teasingly cross my arms, my hip resting comfortably against the doorframe. "And what? Reenact the Water Gun War of 2008?"

"I kicked your ass then, and I'd do it now."

I scrunch my nose playfully. "I don't think it exactly counts as, "kicking my ass," when you broke three guns in a row. More like sabotage."

"There weren't any rules against it, were there?" He quirks an eyebrow up.

"Didn't think there'd have to be one, but that's true. And while I appreciate the offer, I'm not sure. That water's probably freezing right now; you know how much I loathe the cold."

Nick shrugs as he looks to me, signature smirk blessing his face. "Come keep me company, at least? I promise there's no water guns this time."

"We'll see. I'm grabbing rations with Alycia and Ophelia, but maybe after."

"Sounds good. Tell our friends in green I say hello." The end of his sentence drips with sarcasm as I turn and head out the door.

"Can do!" I wave over my shoulder and trek to the kitchen where Ophelia already stands. Her back is rigid and straight as her hands wring around a jacket, fidgeting. Why?

Then Alycia, Madison, and Travis come into view. And it looks like they pissed off Alycia. Oh dear. My playful air is cut as I hear her voice, loud and fuming.

"Just stop. Stop this domestic bickering like it's normal!" Alycia shakes, furious. "Like your normal people in a normal kitchen. It's not normal. Stop it. Stop acting like it is."

Madison and Travis's stances droop, heavy. Their eyes look me and Ophelia, and Alycia's follow.

Awkward.

"… Ready to go?" Ophelia breaks the silence tentatively.

"Please." Alycia answers, footsteps heavy as she walks over. The three of us leave the kitchen and head out the front door, walking to the front gate of our, "perimeter."

"What was that about?" I ask cautiously.

"I'm tired of people being fake." She answers heatedly. "Our lives aren't normal anymore. They keep acting like nothing's wrong when it is. This," she gestured to the crowd gathering around the supply truck, "isn't normal. That disease isn't normal. We shouldn't be playing it off. We lost normal when we lost our friends."

"I see."

Before I get a chance to add anything our friend in green—commanding officer Moyers—hops onto the back of a truck, letter in hand. He bellows out, "Alright, listen here folks! As commanding officer of this detachment, I am proud to announce that we are infect-free for a six-mile radius around this perimeter! We are on the offensive. The tide has most definitely turned."

Some of the residents offer half-hearted claps at the speech. I just stare. No need to inflate his ego. We haven't seen any infected for a few days; it's not news.

"Alright, command asked that I read from the following," he waves the paper in hand before listing off, "Be advised: the DZ remains off-limits while hazmat teams dispose of any bio-hazardous material."

"What bio-hazardous material?!" Some woman from the crowd calls out.

"Hey," Moyers points down angrily, "I'm supposed to read this, you're supposed to listen, okay?"

Murmurs quietly begin in the crowd, the general populous uncomfortably fidgeting and angry at the officer's words.

"When will you get the phones up?" Another citizen asks.

The officer ignores the question and goes back to the paper. "Anyone attempting to compromise or circumvent the perimeter of this camp will be detained."

"Are we being relocated?" An older gentleman asks.

The officer scoffs. "Sir, this is a secure position, so no, you're gonna stay put."

He looks back to the paper. "Curfew will remain in effect until further notice. The new health screening policy will continue. Sanitation, water treatment, and other services will return as we approach total containment."

Ophelia steps up, raising her voice. "Sir, we need medicine. What about that?"

"We are working on that! So keep boiling that water. You will also find several iodine tablets in your weekly rations."

"What about the people outside the fence?" A man to our right asks. His voice is quiet, but the firm look on his face shows determination. "What did you do about them?"

The crowd agrees with the citizen, many shouting in encouragement. Some even begin chanting, "Where! Where!"

Oh, little militia, you are not keeping this crowd happy.

"FOLKS!" Moyers slams the paper onto a trunk on the back of the truck, fuming. "Listen up! You are in one of twelve safe zones south of the San Gabriel's, okay? So you guys are the lucky ones! You guys! You get—you get to stay in your homes, ride this thing out, all right? So relax; count your blessings. Be nice! So I don't have to shoot ya."

I can't tell if he's joking on that last bit. I hope so. But the sentence makes my stomach churn. What if he wasn't? Who would stop him?

"Can I have your name, miss?" One of the men asks me. Finally, supply time.

"Cristina Waters."

He checks my name off his list, hands me a box of supplies, and shouts, "Next!" over my shoulder to dismiss me.

I pull away from the front crowd and linger, waiting for Alycia and Ophelia as they get their own boxes. Though it seems like it may take some time. One of the guards gives Ophelia a shy smirk as he jots down her name, and she gives a smile in return. Oh, good lord. Alycia catches up and waits beside me, watching the interaction between Ophelia and the soldier with a smirk.

"—Tina? Is that you?"

The question comes from directly behind me. I know that voice all too well. My eyes widen, like a deer in headlights.

"… Is that…" Alycia asks, twisting her head to look at me.

I shut my eyes in horror, murmuring, "Oh, bloody hell."

"It IS you! Hey!" A hand goes to my shoulder, and I turn to look at its owner.

I force a tight smile as my eyes reach blue ones. "Rhea! Hey, how've you been?"

"Ohmygod!" She gives me a tight side-hug. "I thought you and your parents woulda jumped ship at the first sign of trouble! Glad to see you're okay."

My heart stings at the mention of my parents, but I nod. Don't want to start anything with Rhea bloody Ardnois at 10 in the morning. I pull away, taking a semi-generous back step toward Alycia. "Glad to see you, too. How's your family?"

"Oh," Rhea waves a hand nonchalantly. "They're fine. Scott's running a temp, but he always gets a cold this time a year."

Scott's her younger brother—about six or seven now. Super young. She loves him with all her heart, which might be her only personality trait. At least it's a good one. "Awe, poor babe. I hope he gets better soon."

"You and me both."

Ophelia strolls over to us, box in hand. "Ready to go?"

I nod eagerly (Ophelia has saved the day!) and jerk my head at her. "Yeah, sorry, Rhea. We should head back."

Rhea nods in return. "Yeah, yeah, sure. Of course." Then a generous smile spreads across her face. "I'll see you around, then."

"Mmhmm." I pull away from her and Alycia and Ophelia follow behind my lead, my feet taking generous strolls to get far far away.

"Who was that?" Ophelia asks. I sigh heavily.

"Rhea Ardnois. Breaker of girl's hearts. I went on a couple dates with her before immediately running in the opposite direction."

"Oh… Ouch."

"Yeah."

Alycia pipes in as we turn onto our street, "And still she thinks you two are friends."

"Well, I'm too nice to tell her to piss off, so…" I trail off, shrugging. We make it to the house fairly quickly, and I set my package on the kitchen's countertop with a huff.

"Let's see: the Clarke and Manawa packages include," Alycia starts, pulling out items as she goes along, "peas, chicken soup, pork n' beans, water, batteries, a new flashlight, toothpaste, aaand soap!"

"Congrats," I laugh. "Ophelia, you want to go next?"

"Sure." She chuckles as she sets the box on the counter. She opens the top and begins rifling around. "We have a bunch of gauze wraps for mama, some food, water, laundry detergent..." She pulls up something from the bottom. "Clean clothes. Neat."

"That leaves the Waters box for unveiling." Alycia rests her weight against the counter, arms crossed in amusement. "Go on, dazzle us."

"Alright, ladies, the moment you've been waiting for!" My chipper voice exclaims, and I add a jovial flourish and point to the box. "Who wants to guess what's in this mystery box? Place your bets! Guess right and win a prize!"

"And what would that be?"

"My unwavering amazement!"

Ophelia scoffs in amusement at my overly-cheery announcer tone. "Lemme guess…" Her index finger taps against her cheek thoughtfully. "Actual comedy?"

"Ouch." I clutch above my heart, wincing, "That stings." Then return to my chipper voice. "But it's still a guess! We'll have to see. Alycia, love, you have a guess?"

A wicked grin sets on her face. "A vibrator, hopefully. I have batteries, I need to put them to use."

Immediately my cheeks turn red as I burst out laughing. Ophelia and Alycia join in; good, a laugh is what we needed.

Even when I'm done laughing, I still grin. "Is that your final guess?"

"Damn right it is!" She cackles. "Now open the friggen box."

"Alright, alright." I nod, and pull the top off. "We have… Couple cans, waters, a flashlight, some batteries. You wouldn't need to use yours!" I rummage deeper, getting to the bottom. "And shampoo and conditioner! Awesome."

"Sorry, ladies." I stride to them and pat their shoulders forlornly. "That's the game. No prize today, but there's always next time!" I give a dramatic bow as they laugh at my antics. "Thank you, thank you, I'll be here all week."

With a flourish of my wrists, I spin around and strut away from the pair. "Though I must take my leave from this fabulous crowd. More excitement awaits today."

"Wait," Alycia pulls me back, "Where are you going?"

"The pool. Your brother invited me."

"Oh god, it really is freshman year all over again."

"Wait, what happened freshman year? I'm missing out on some details." Ophelia looks between us with bright eyes. Oh, lovely. A gossip.

I shake my head. "Nothing, Oph—"

"Oh, it totally was not nothing!" Alycia interrupts with her wicked grin.

"'Lych…"

"You call that entire year nothing? I had to deal with you giving him googly eyes for months."

Ophelia grins knowingly. "I think I'm catching up."

For the love of—

"C'mon, it's nothing. We're friends."

Alycia deadpans, "You really expect me to believe that."

"Oh, bloody hell." I drop my head into my hands, face red from embarrassment. "I don't have a crush on him anymore."

"Does he know? That you had-slash-have a crush?" Ophelia asks.

"No? Why would he?"

"Ever thought about changing that? If you say something he might—"

"No. And you won't either. Or I'll cut off your pinky fingers."

She's scrunches her nose in confusion. "Oh…kay. That's oddly specific."

"But is it an effective threat?" I raise an eyebrow. I'm done talking about my nonexistent love life, thanks.

"Fine, yes." She giggles. Then she turns me around and pushes me to the door. "Now go! Have fun."

"I have condoms if you need 'em!" Alycia teasingly shouts.

As I stroll out the door I flip her off. "I hate you all!"

"You love us!" She blows a kiss and winks.

I keep my middle finger raised as I pass the window, and sure enough I hear Alycia cackling again. How rude. That was the worst fifty seconds of my life.

When I make it to the pool, I'm greeted with an empty floaty. The clear rectangle bobs in the middle, abandoned by its user. I frown. Where'd he go?

Oh, well, at least I can get some sun. I pull a beige poolside chair from the shaded grass and bring it to a sunny spot by the water. Then I slide it all the way down so it lays flat on the concrete, and rest on it. I pull my hair away from my face, allowing the sun to beat down on my pale skin. Ahh. That's a plus about Los Angeles. It's almost always sunny and bright.

I lose track of time as I relax, nearly falling asleep under the beam of the sun. This chair is about as comfy as the blow-up mattress, anyways.

"T, hey! I was hoping you'd show."

I bring my hands to my face, shrouding my eyes as I open them. Nick's shadow looms over me, providing comfort from the direct beam of the sun. He's still in just his swimming trunks, though he's almost completely dry.

"It's rude to keep a girl waiting, yank." I raise an eyebrow, but smile.

"Sorry." He chuckles, taking a few steps backwards. "Let me make it up to you?"

I sit up straight in the chair, letting my eyes adjust to the sun. "I never said I'd go in. I was just going to keep you company."

"Come on, T, that's the fun part. Don't you want to get wet?" Nick winks teasingly. Oh, bloody bastard.

I cough at the subtext in his words, stuttering, "I think I'll stay on land where it's dry."

"Suit yourself." He shrugs. Then he turns, runs, and jumps into the pool. I screech at the splash.

Why I was expecting anything different, I'll never know. Of course I get drenched.

When he resurfaces I yell, "Bloody hell, Nick, I'm soaked!" My shirt clings to my skin uncomfortably, and I peel it from my stomach. "It's freezing! Ugh, why are you such an asshole?!"

He slicks his hair back, laughing heartily. "Sorry, T."

"No, you don't get to say sorry, you dickhead! Seriously, now I need to change. These are Alycia's clothes, you know!"

"I'm sure she'll forgive you."

"I won't." I eye him, though my real anger dissipates. "You're still a dickhead."

"Oh, yeah? And what're you gonna do about it?"

The words play in my head as he pushes away from the edge and backstrokes into the middle, that stupid smirk on his face.

You know what? Fuck it.

I stand and yank my shirt over my head, feeling relief from the wet fabric. Then I undo the zipper and button of my jeans, and shimmy them down my legs. People wear less at the beach all the time! Besides, panties and a bra are the same thing as a bikini. I look over to the pool, finding Nick's gaze on me. My confidence boosts as I note the blown pupils and how his jaw goes slightly slack.

I smirk. "Like something you see, yank?"

His confident stare is back, along with a smirk as he treads the water. "I don't know. Maybe you should come closer."

Well played, Nick. Well played.

And I do.

I make a quick run up to the pools edge and jump in, screaming out, "Cannonball!"

The water is freezing when I go completely under, and I gasp. There's water going up my nose, burning my nostrils. The air is pushed out of my lungs. I'm cold, I can't breathe, and I can't open my eyes underwater. And I love every second.

My feet pound against the bottom of the pool, propelling me upward. When my head breaks the surface, I squeal. "Cold!" But I'm laughing as I push my hair out of my face. My hands ball into fists and rub at my eyes, allowing some form of comfort against the chlorine.

"See? Fun." Nick treads the water towards the deep end, smirk ever-present.

"Okay, you were right. Congratulations." I stick my tongue out, the taste of chlorine dancing on my tastebuds. My hair spreads out in the gentle waves in a halo. Whatever was left of my color was gone now. Worth it. I keep close to the shallow end and tread the water, doggy paddling through.

"Finally, you admit it. Sometimes I am right."

Nick grabs at the floaty in the middle and slinks over it, his body weight bringing it to a 'U' shape. It'd be easy to yank that right out from underneath him…

As I begin to float on my back I ask, "What, do you want a prize?"

"I'm always in the mood for free stuff. What do I win?"

"Come here and find out."

Nick grins at the confidence in my words, and his hands pad at the water to drift to me. A little closer. Just a teeny bit more…

Just as he's an arm's length away from me I gingerly grab at the floaty, as if using it to anchor myself. I smile—cheekily, at first—but it turns wicked in seconds. Nick has no time to register before I yank at the floaty and he sinks into the water with a splash.

"Yes!" I let go of the floaty and pump my fists in the air. "Ha, I just did that!"

He surfaces with an angry huff. It makes my grin grow more.

"Not funny, Tina!" Nick growls as he rubs at his eyes. A hand flicks back strands of drenched hair.

"I thought it was hilarious."

"You're so—you're the dickhead now."

"So it's not fun when you're on the other side, Nick?" I grin impishly. With a playful vigor I slap at the water between us to splash him. "Ah, I love karma."

"Ohhh, now you're gonna get it!"

I squeal as he splashes behind me—an attempt to swim closer. Nuh uh, mister. I wildly beat my hands against the water's surface to blind him, but he doesn't stop. He presses forward, eyes shut and arms flailing at me.

"Hey! Personal space!" I cackle, and attempt an escape. But alas, I'm not a strong enough swimmer to put distance between us. He continues forward, and—fuck. My back meets the edge of the pool, and I'm trapped as Nick's hands go to either side of me.

"Hi there, yank." I say sheepishly. "Whatcha doing on my side of the pool?"

"Just raising a little anarchy." Nick gives a devilish grin. "Gotta love karma, right?"

Don't you dare.

His hands grip my sides tightly, and—in a single beat—he picks me up and tosses me into the middle. I scream as my head goes underwater, my eyes shutting tightly while water flies up my nostrils. Alright; you win this round, yank.

As my head breaks the surface I bellow out, "Oh, this is war!"