Nathan Prescott floated back to consciousness with two realizations: one, that he was still alive, and; two, that he was still Nathan Prescott. The last was a notion he could contend with only once a day, so he set aside any thought of going back to sleep.

Wan morning light leaked through his shutters. He sat up, pushing past the cobwebs in his head left by the Diazepam, and reached for his music player to shut off the whale songs that he used to help him sleep. He raised his bleary eyes to the far wall and, through the dim light, gazed at the image of a girl bound Shibari-style, her face hidden and turned away from the camera. Completely anonymous yet charged with eroticism—a true Jefferson classic. When his mentor gave it to him as a gift, he had it blown up and mounted on his wall so he could look at it every day. He could imagine it was anyone, and often did: Rachel, that Jesus whore, Vic sometimes. One day, he swore, one day, I'll make one just like it.

Not for the first time, Nathan wondered what it would be like to have Mark Jefferson as his real father, and not that ogre brooding in his castle on the hill.

No, don't think of him like that—Jefferson's voice in his head. It will make matters worse between you if you fall to hating him. Don't hate him. Strive to make it so that he will have no choice but to love you.

That was when Nathan decided to pick up the camera. His father loved art, pushed him to learn from Jefferson. Maybe if he became an artist, too—

But he wasn't getting any photography lessons now, and perhaps ever. Jefferson had put a hold on their sessions, hadn't even spoken to him in over a week. All because Nathan had failed to lure Rachel to his last Vortex party so they could—

Nathan pressed his palms against his bleary eyes. Rachel. How different would life be if they had gotten together? And yet every time he tried to get close, she would laugh in his face and dance away into someone else's arms. How was it possible to hate someone and yet want them so much at the same time?

Enough. He had an hour till his first class. Nathan threw off the covers and pulled on his clothes. He glanced at his prescriptions on the bedside table and decided, no, he was not taking any more fucking drugs today. Doctors were already treating him like he had one foot in the goddamn sanitarium. He didn't care if he had another episode or what. He'd disappointed his dad enough anyway—what was one more thing?

He was about to grab his toothbrush from the cabinet when rapid knocks rattled his door. "Yo, Nate! You up?"

Nathan grimaced. It was too early in the day for Hayden's bullshit. "What do you want?" he shouted.

"Bro, chill. Just wanna know if you got a bit of that fine kush left over. I'm good for it."

Just weed. Alright. Nathan cracked open his door to reveal Hayden, grinning like a kid going to Disneyland. "Kinda early for you, isn't it?" Nathan grumbled. "You burn through that last batch I gave you already?"

"It was good shit, you know how it is. Craving's outta control, man. So?"

Nathan poked his head out to see if the hallway was clear, though he didn't really need to. Anybody who was somebody in this dorm knew he was dealing. It had gotten a lot easier once he'd pushed Rachel out of the game.

He stepped aside to let Hayden stroll in.

"You a lifesaver, Nate."

"Wait here. Don't touch anything." Nathan hurried over to his trophy case, where he pulled out a small lock box from behind a framed "Best Son" certificate that was signed by Sean Prescott. If his father only knew what it was used for.

Opening the box, he retrieved a packet of weed and tossed it to his customer.

"Muh man!" Hayden snapped up the crinkly plastic bag and dropped a few crisp bills on the side table. "Thanks a lot, Nate. You made my whole morning."

"No doubt."

"You got a steady supply of this shit. Your supplier must be fuckin' loaded, huh?"

In the pregnant pause that followed, Nathan realized it was an actual question. He scowled. "I don't talk about that."

"I was just thinking that if ever you ain't around, and it's like, an emergency, I might need a backup, you know—"

"I just said I don't talk about that."

"Hey, hey, it's cool. Just makin' conversation." Hayden held up his packet. "Look, we got some time. Wanna smoke a bit before heading out?"

Nathan took a deep breath. He really should have thrown this moron out; Hayden had no idea when he was overstaying his welcome. Still, a little smoke might chill them out before the day began. It was a hell of a lot better than his prescription shit.

He had just opened his mouth to say so when a loud ringing sound emanated from behind his cabinet. Hayden blinked, then flashed a toothy grin. "That ain't your ringtone, Nate. You had a girl over last night or what?"

Nathan's face turned into an ugly mask. "Get out!"

If Nathan hadn't been so anxious, Hayden's look of bewilderment would've made him laugh. "Wha—hey!"

"Out!" Nathan grabbed his elbow, turned him around, and bum-rushed him out into the hall.

Locking the door behind him, Nathan hurried to his cabinet, pulled it away from the wall, and reached for the burner phone taped to the back panel. He cursed himself for not putting it in silent mode, but then, he didn't want to miss a single one of Jefferson's calls.

Nathan ripped the phone from its plastic bag and answered, "Hey, I'm here."

"Hello, Nathan." The warmth of the voice on the other end felt like Christmas morning. "I trust you're well?"

Nathan nodded even as he said, "Yeah, yeah I'm good. You, uh, need something?"

"I need your help, Nathan."

I need your help. He'd never heard anything more beautiful. Mr. Jefferson needed him, still trusted him despite his fuck-ups. Nathan couldn't help grinning, his heart marching to a painful drumbeat in his chest.

"Listen carefully now," Jefferson went on. "Things are moving at a rapid pace and we must keep up. I have some things I need you to do. For safety reasons, you may not write these instructions down. You'll just have to remember them. Understand?"

"Yes."

"Very good." Jefferson talked. As Nathan listened, the smile melted away from his face. After he repeated the instructions to Jefferson's satisfaction, he put the phone down and fell to sit on the floor.

They were really going to do it. They were going after Rachel again.

Part of him wished it were someone he didn't know well. Why not a different nameless, faceless girl from this fucking town? But another, baser part of him, the part that looked at the naked girl on his wall and felt a dark stirring in his belly, knew he wasn't going to refuse.

Not on his life. Not Jefferson.

A moment later, he picked up his other phone and pressed a number on speed dial. "Hey. You got a minute to talk after your first class?"

His gaze crawled up to the picture on his wall, and his mouth twitched into a smile. "I know a way to get back at Rachel Amber."

As soon as Max exited the bus station, she spied the golden-haired girl in the blue plaid shirt and trendy torn jeans. Rachel leaned against her Volvo, a pensive look on her face as she spoke on the phone, but her eyes lit up the instant she spotted Max.

"You made it!"

"Oh, hey!"

Rachel ended her call and hugged Max as soon as she was within arm's reach. "Your trip go okay?"

"Yeah, yeah, it was good." Max still hadn't gotten used to how blithely Rachel skipped over personal boundaries—or how quickly Max would let her. "Sorry for getting here on a Saturday. My mom swore there was going to be a storm last night and wouldn't let me go."

"No worries, Max. What matters is you're here and we can start making the most of it. But first things first..." Taking Max's bag, she stuffed it in the back seat, then surprised Max by pulling out a guitar case. "This is for you."

"I—what?" Max's jaw dropped as Rachel popped open the case. Inside, a polished acoustic guitar glinted in the sun, its body peppered by an assortment of little paintings and stickers: roses, butterflies, lightning bolts, and in one corner, a cartoon of Hawt Dog Man saying "Neat!"

"Chloe found it in the junkyard," Rachel said. "She repaired and decorated it herself. I bought new strings and had it tuned."

"It's...it's so cute!"

"Glad you think so because I can't tell if it sounds right." Rachel held the case out to her. "Well? Don't just stand there, doofus. Give it a try."

Barely believing her eyes, Max cradled the guitar and slipped the strapped over her head. She strummed a few chords, plucked her way up the F scale. Each sweet note seemed to hum in her heart. "It's perfect! I can't believe you two went this far!"

Rachel beamed as she straightened the strap on Max's shoulder. "Chloe said she missed your last five birthdays, so this is her way of catching up with your gifts."

"But...but I said I'd be the one to do the catching up for her birthdays! I—" Max hung her head. "I feel super lame right now. All I brought with me from Seattle was ginger beer!"

Rachel laughed as Max put the guitar reverently back in its case. "Somehow, I knew you'd find a way to make yourself feel bad over this. Hey, look at me." Setting the case down, she took Max by the shoulders. "Chloe and I are so fucking proud of you. What you did with Laura Nuñez? No one else could've done it. And I want you to know we know that.

"Listen, that was Juliet on the phone just now and, no joke, she's over the moon. She didn't spend more than ten minutes asking clarifying questions—most of what she needed was already in your interview."

"Oh, that's great," Max replied. "I'm sure Juliet'll make a killer story—um, no pun intended."

Rachel gave her shoulders a little squeeze. "If we bury Jefferson, it's all because of you. This guitar doesn't even begin to cover that and everything else you've done." She steered Max to the passenger seat of the car. "So maybe you could, I dunno, give yourself a tiny bit of credit?"

Max felt the heat creeping up her face and just nodded, eyes sliding away from Rachel's fond gaze. "O-okay. Thanks. "

"Stellar. Now, hop in. I got my own thing to show you."

"Oh? What is it?" Sitting down, Max strapped herself in and watched as Rachel ran around to the driver's side and got in.

"This." Rachel picked up a half-full water bottle.

"Are you gonna recycle that?"

"Droll, Max. I see you and Chloe have more in common than just being pretty."

Max shut her mouth so fast her teeth clicked. With a satisfied smirk, Rachel uncapped the bottle. "After my first disastrous experiment with the parking lot tornado, I decided to start small. So I filled up my parents' bathtub and after a full thirty minutes of training...I had to pick up a mop and clean up.

"But! I decided to go even smaller and used a glass of water instead. And that's where I learned to do this!"

Rachel held the bottle up by the tips of fingers and watched it intently. Max once again found herself admiring the way the other girl seemed to shift her whole being into focus, hazel eyes narrowed, like a cat about to pounce.

Then Max's breathing stilled as the water began to swirl. A tiny whirlpool appeared in the center. "Rachel...?"

"Shh. Concentrating." Holding the container steady, Rachel lifted her other hand, palms up. The liquid vortex leaped to the neck of the bottle. "How's that?"

"Are you cereal?! That's fucking amazeballs!"

Rachel's pleased chuckle sounded like music. "Did someone say balls?" She lifted her hand higher, fingers undulating. "I present to you—the solar system!" And the water lifted itself out of the mouth of the bottle, coalescing into tiny spheres that hung and spun in slow orbits through the air.

Staring in disbelief, Max reached out a hand to touch a shimmering droplet. The water flowed around her index finger and reformed into a sphere before continuing its way. "Rachel, you learned all this on your own?"

"After you taught me that mind hack back at the Aerie, I found I could apply it with water. It took some work but I got the hang of it. Told ya I'm a quick study." Her eyes softened. "But it's hella easier to do when you're around."

Max smiled back, fervently hoping that she hadn't turned too red.

"Now the hard part." Rachel closed her hand into a fist; the floating water reformed into a single spinning blob. "If I can just put the genie back in the bottle..."

The liquid lowered itself, jumped twice, and exploded, spraying their faces and clothes. The two looked at each other for a moment before cracking up.

"I'm so sorry, Max," Rachel snickered, reaching for the glove compartment. "Here's some tissue. Guess that still needs work."

"Rachel, that was sick! I can't believe you made such progress!"

"Again, couldn't have done it without you." She handed Max a tissue before wiping her own face. "Okay, let's save the self-congratulatory speeches till after we've beaten Jefferson. Chloe'll meet us at her house. She said she's got a treat for us."

The ride to Arcadia Bay was both short and pleasant, with a spring breeze bringing the scent of pine, the late morning sun glittering on the waves, and Rachel singing along with the radio. Her happiness proved infectious—Max soon found herself singing with her, until their slightly off-key duet dissolved into giggles.

As they swept into town, Max thought to ask the question that had been bugging her most of the week. "So, um, last Wednesday you mentioned you had an idea about when Jefferson might make his move?"

"Yeah." Rachel slowed down as they turned out of the Bay Drive. "I was gonna wait till we're with Chloe, but I might as well give you the bullet points. Max, did you ever hear about the Grand Prom?"

"Doesn't ring a bell. What is it?"

"You might say it's the 'prom to end all proms'—organizer's words, not mine. A little more than two years ago, Blackwell Academy decided to start a transition from being a regular high school to the exclusive, two-year senior-only institution it is now. They stopped taking in freshmen and let the remaining batches finish their years. I made the jump into the senior-only program myself after completing 12th grade last school year. I also attended my senior prom.

"Now, next weekend, the last high school senior batch of the old Blackwell system will have their prom. But it will also be the last one in Blackwell Academy, ever. So someone hit upon the idea of making it the biggest in the history of the Academy. Every student currently studying is invited, and they're setting up the gymnasium for the event. Dana's on the committee, so I know a bit about what's going on."

"So you're thinking Jefferson's gonna try something there?"

Rachel nodded once. "It's an opportunity. He knows he can't get to me in the dorms or elsewhere on campus, and I sure as hell won't meet him outside ever again. But a party this huge—well, let's just say not everyone's going to be aware of what goes into their drinks. Or what happens in the afterparties." She scowled. "I think he might try something."

"You kinda lost me there." Max kept her voice low and calm, but her heart was beating double-time in her chest. Suddenly, the car felt confining, dragging her toward some shapeless doom. "If you think he'll try to get at you there, why are you even going?"

Rachel ticked off her fingers. "Well, firstly, if I'm not there, there's always the chance he'll target someone else. The rest of our merry band—Hayden, Juliet, and Warren—are coming, so we can keep an eye on him. And, just maybe, we get the chance to catch him red-handed.

"Secondly, as Dana told me last Thursday, I'm a guest of honor. As last year's prom queen, I was asked to help crown the new one."

"...This sounds dangerous, Rachel. Maybe you shouldn't go."

"There's a third reason."

Max turned in her seat to face her fully. "I don't like that evil grin of yours."

"I think the prom presents us a valuable opportunity, Max. I plan for us to go on an excursion."

"An excursion?'"

"Tell you more in a minute." Rachel pulled into Cedar Avenue and parked in front of Chloe's house. "Let's talk more when Chloe joins us."

As they alighted from the car and approached the front door, Rachel halted on the lawn, looking down at her tennis shoes. "Max?"

"Hmm?"

Rachel raised her head to speak but stopped, biting her lip. Then she flashed that radiant smile again. "I know it's not the time, at least not yet. But...once this shit's all settled...could I ask you to teach me photography? As I won't be spending time with Jefferson, like, ever."

"...Sure, Rachel. I mean, I'm not exactly a pro, but I guess I can show you the basics."

"I think that's all I'll need then. C'mon." Taking Max's arm, she led them through the front door.

As Max stepped into the hall, her nose caught the familiar scent of sizzling meat. Her eyes widened, her mouth watered, and her worries evaporated. She zipped past Rachel towards the open glass door that led to the garden. Chloe stood barefoot on the grass in front of a smoking grill, wearing her usual tank top but also her pirate hat and bandanna. She turned at Max's gleeful shout: "Are you making Chloeburgers?!"

Chloe grinned in answer and waved her spatula like a cutlass. "Am I Captain Bluebeard, Scourge of Arcadia Bay?"

"It's been ages! I can't wait to have 'em again!" She stepped through the doorway, but Chloe held up a hand.

"What's the passphrase?!"

Max pouted. "I'm the First Mate! Do I really have to?"

"Aye! We can't compromise matters of security! Spit out the passphrase, or I'll have ye walk the plank!"

"'Victoria's a salty monkey.' Permission to come aboard?"

"Permission granted, and, oof—!" Chloe opened her arms as Max ran in for a hug.

"Thank you for the guitar! It's just too adorable and you're beyond awesome!" She had the presence of mind to disengage from Chloe as Rachel appeared at the door, but Chloe gripped her shoulder to keep her close.

"What in the world is a Chloeburger?" Rachel merely asked.

Chloe braced a hand on her hip and puffed out her chest. "Only the most mouth-watering, best-tasting beef patties in the whole town."

"No joke, Rachel," Max chimed in. "She used to make them all the time when we were kids."

"Oh? Even better than the Two Whales?"

"Bitch, please! Those greasy jokers can only dream they could cook a meal half as good as this!" Chloe stepped aside, grandly gesturing to the six patties sizzling on the grill. Each was the size of her palm and molded into the shape of a heart.

Rachel chuckled at the sight. "Big words, Chlo. Guess we'll see if they live to the hype." She made to enter the backyard but Chloe held up her hand.

"Passphrase?"

"Are you shitting me? I was literally three feet away when Max said it."

"You get a different passphrase."

"We never agreed on one!"

"Make one up. Something that will prove it's really you."

Rachel rolled her eyes. "'Captain Chloe has the biggest booty in all of Arcadia Bay?'"

"Aye, that's both true and something you'd say. Permission granted!" She reached out and pulled Rachel into a hug. "Hope ya scurvy sailors are hungry. Aside from Max here, you'll be the only other person in the world to ever taste my culinary masterpiece."

"Gee Chloe, aren't you underselling this just a little bit?"

"You'll be eating your words as well as my burger once you get a taste. Now sit your asses down." Chloe steered them to the plastic benches of the picnic table that had plates, buns, and bottles of ketchup and mustard.

It took only a few bites for Chloe to make her case.

"...Okay, holy shit. Chloe, you weren't kidding," Rachel exclaimed, licking juices from her fingers. "That was fantastic."

"Heh." Chloe puffed up her chest. "What'd I tell 'ya?"

"I mean, how much weed did you put in this?"

"How dare you." Chloe threatened her with the mustard bottle, while a shrieking Rachel shielded herself with her napkin. "Say, Max, did Rach tell you about our plans yet?"

"Up until the part where we're supposed to go on an excursion." Max turned to Rachel. "Care to enlighten me?"

The blonde accepted a second burger from Chloe, sniffing it appreciatively. "It's simple: we need an alibi. The idea is that we attend the prom, then we disappear for a while. If enough people see us, we'll throw off any suspicion that we've been anywhere we weren't supposed to. Say, at a certain site in the middle of the woods."

Max's eyes widened. "You want us to spy on the construction site."

Again that impish smile. "Of course not, Max. Chloe and I have been spying on that place all week. And learned next to nothing. No, we're thinking of something more along the lines of...a heist."

"Whoa, hold up—we're going to steal something? From Prescott?"

"In a word, yes. We're looking for building plans, documents—anything that will tell us what he's doing. And maybe something that can implicate him as well. We know the foreman keeps his files in the office. We want to look in there."

Max's hands involuntarily crushed the napkin in her hand. "But the guards..."

"I've seen their patrols," Chloe piped up. "Nothin' I can't handle." She set another burger in front of Max, who suddenly didn't feel like eating.

"But if we get caught...Chloe, Rachel, this sounds horribly risky. Is it really necessary?"

Rachel fixed her a solemn look. "I think so, Max. It bothers me how much we don't know. Why did Sean Prescott bring Jefferson to Arcadia Bay? How are they connected? Why insist on building somewhere that would bring him legal problems? And why build it in a hurry? What does it all mean?

"Something's very wrong here. And it has to do with that thing being secretly built in the woods. I can feel it. We need to find out everything we can—and quickly."

Chloe covered Max's hand with her own and said, "Don't worry, you won't have to come along. Rachel and I can go to the site on our own. You can wait in our getaway vehicle where it's safe."

Let them go with that crazy plan without her? Max shook her head. "I don't think you guys should go on your own."

"Rachel and I know our way around the site. We can handle it."

"Actually, Chloe," Rachel interjected, "I kinda do want Max to be there. We could use an extra pair of eyes, and we've already established that having her around helps me control my powers, if we should need them. It'd be great if she were part of our crew."

"Uh, how about no. Max is going to start in Blackwell next school year. The two of us get caught, we can weasel our way out. She gets caught, her parents won't let her come back to the Bay and she can kiss her scholarship goodbye."

Rachel shrugged and took a bite from her burger. "So none of us get caught."

"How is that a plan?"

As the two began to argue back and forth, Max found her getting irritated. "I'm right here you know," she said. "Let me decide how I can help."

"She's got a point," Rachel affirmed. "Well, Max, you've been our MVP so far. What do you say?"

Max thought for a moment. She still had doubts that this was necessary, but if they were set on going, what could she do?

Tuhudda's words rang in her ears, seemingly from the far end of a tunnel. "You will face wickedness like you've never seen. Layers upon layers of evil."

Rachel was right; something was very wrong here. If they were to stop it, they needed to peel back the curtain.

She took a deep breath to tamp down a jab of anxiety. "I'll go with you. I want to help."

Rachel nodded. "I know, and you will." She took another bite from her burger, chewing thoughtfully. "Hmm, that reminds me. Chloe and I are going together, but since you're going to the Grand Prom too, Max, you need a date."

Max blinked. "Oh, uh—I guess?"

"So, got anyone in mind? I think Hayden's got a date already, but Warren might be free. You should go together—as friends, of course."

Chloe choked on a mouthful of her burger. "Hold up," she coughed, thumping her chest. "Can't she go on her own?"

"She's not a Blackwell student yet, Chlo. Someone needs to take her. Besides, the more eyes we have on the ground, the safer we'll be." Rachel nudged Max's shoulder. "How about it, then? Want me to ask him for you?"

"Ah, no, it's fine. I have his number. I guess I could ask him myself."

Chloe looked like he had just chewed a hot pepper. "Isn't there anyone else?"

Rachel threw her an impatient look. "What does it even matter?"

"Just—if you put Max with an uber-nerd with Warren, she'll be bored shitless by the end of the night!"

"Hey, Warren's a cool guy," Max interjected. "We can talk about sci-fi movies and video games, as least." Chloe's only reply was a scowl.

Rachel clapped her hands together. "Great, that's settled. We've got alibis, we've got transport covered, and then immediately after the heist, we show up at Hayden's afterparty to keep our cover story intact."

"Yeah," Chloe grumbled, stabbing her fork into a bun. "Cool."

Max sighed. She hoped she'd made the right decision. Unlike her and Chloe's heist at the principal's office, there would be no rewinds to save them. Rachel's abilities would have to be enough.

Completing their plans left their afternoon free, so they changed into shorts and sandals and hit the beach. Chloe drove them to a secluded area, a small stretch of sand on the north side of the lighthouse.

"So pretty," breathed Max, shielding her eyes as she watched the glittering tide. High above, a seabird cawed a welcoming cry as it knifed through the breeze. The ocean sighed; the wind was sweet and invitingly cool. As they strolled towards the surf, Max found the grit of the sand between her toes as familiar and comforting as it had been when she was a kid.

"Finally, some sun!" Rachel set down their blanket and her Bluetooth speaker down on the ground. "Gotta say, this place is just gorgeous!"

"Captain Chloe always delivers." Chloe parked the cooler beside the blanket. Max set down her new guitar case. "Long Max Silver and I've scoured every inch of this town. We know all the best spots."

"My compliments to you, Captain." Rachel stretched her legs on their blanket and set her phone to play some tunes on her speaker. Chloe settled beside her, popping open a beer. Max opened up her guitar case and sat on Chloe's other side.

"It's strange," Rachel said as she scanned the horizon. "I always thought nothing beats the view from Santa Monica Bay. But...this beach is breathtaking. I wonder why I never noticed before."

Chloe gently bumped her shoulder with hers. "Maybe it's the company that makes it better."

"True." Rachel leaned over and smiled at Max. "Glad you're here, Caulfield."

"Alright, that's it!" That started a tickle war between them, and when Rachel fled to the surf and Chloe pursued, it quickly escalated into a water-splashing war.

Max watched them from her place on the blanket, fingers strumming her new guitar. The music from the speakers drowned out any tune she could muster, but that was alright. Her thoughts were elsewhere.

Abruptly, the track switched on Rachel's phone. "Oh, this song's my jam!" Rachel jumped up and down, water splashing around as she lifted her arms overhead and swayed to the beat. Chloe quickly joined her, the pair rocking out beneath the afternoon light.

Max had witnessed this scene before in her previous timeline—a picture of Chloe and Rachel dancing on the beach, without a care in the world, the sunset turning them into golden silhouettes. They're gorgeous, Max thought, and she had to drop her gaze to her guitar. She couldn't look at them for long; it felt like an intrusion. She wondered how much longer it would take before the sight of them together lost its sting.

The song soon ended. To her surprise, the next track was much slower—just a guitar and a woman singing a French ballad. Max strummed on, trying to find the chords to follow the song, but a shadow fell on her.

"My Lady Caulfield," Rachel said in an exaggerated English accent, bending to look Max in the eye. "You have yet to take part in our festivities."

Max grinned, ducking her head to hide the warm rush to her face. "Ah, I fear I must decline on account of my two left feet, Lady Amber."

"Well, that will not do at all. We must correct that deficiency, don't you think, ere the night of the ball." She swayed with the music and extended a hand. "Shall we dance?"

Max's heart caught in her throat as her gaze switched from the proffered hand to Rachel's amused face. She knew it was a dare, she knew it. Just as Choe knew—she was grinning like an idiot where she stood in the waves. Swallowing her nervousness, Max took the slender hand, letting Rachel pull her to her feet, and lead her to the water's edge.

"First, we hold hands, here. You put your hand on my shoulder, like so. And I'll put my hand on your waist. Now, follow my lead."

Together, they slow-danced on the beach as the waves lapped at their toes. Max felt warm and light-headed, like she'd taken a sip of wine. She tried to follow the beat, watching her feet to avoid stepping on Rachel's. She managed a single glance at Chloe. Her friend was no longer grinning; she watched them intently, expression unreadable. But Rachel led her on, smiling confidently, and if Max found her eye-catching from a distance, she was utterly mesmerizing up close.

They swayed with the song, and soon, Max found that she could keep up if she listened to the music.

Prends ma main

Car je suis étranger ici,

Perdu dans le pays bleu,

Étranger au paradis

"Looks like you're getting the hang of it," Rachel said, pausing to give Max a twirl.

"Um, you're a good teacher," Max laughed, her voice a little too loud in her own ears.

"Mm-hmm. Plus, I can multitask. Look down."

Max did, and gasped. Their feet were no longer touching the sand. The water beneath them had melded into a pliant, semi-solid surface. It was like walking on a firm bed.

She glanced up at Rachel. "How did you—"

"I told you. It's easier when you're around."

Max looked around the beach, but thankfully there were no intruding eyes. Just the open sea, the breeze stirring the waves, the rustling of leaves from the nearby trees.

Rachel whispered in her ear, "Don't look now, but there's this scary blue giant watching us."

Max suppressed a laugh. "Oh?" she whispered back. "Is she really that scary?"

"She can probably bore a hole through our heads with that look of hers. Sorry, but I'm gonna have to sacrifice you to escape."

With both hands, she spun Max to the right. When Max blinked in the afternoon sun, she found herself in Chloe's arms.

"So is this a private party," the taller girl drawled, "or can anyone get a dance?"

"I—" Whatever Max was going to say vanished from her head. She was dancing. With Chloe. Together they did a slow spin above the still water. Less graceful than with Rachel, but Max was past caring; her heartbeat had jumped from a march to a wild gallop.

She yelped when Chloe dipped her; her hair brushed the hardened water beneath them. From her upside-down view, she caught Rachel rolling her eyes.

"Oh, you think you can do better, huh?" Chloe retorted, pulling Max back up and sending her spinning towards the blonde. "Let's see it."

Rachel caught Max's hands without missing a beat. "Easier done than said."

Again and again, Max found herself shifting from one partner to another. She couldn't bring herself to speak, only to nod, wide-eyed, when Chloe asked if she was alright.

Can I have this? She wondered to herself. Can I really have this?

There was no answer except for the cool water lapping at her feet, Chloe's warm hand in hers, and Rachel's song crooning in her ears.

Et si tu veux bien de moi,

L'étranger dans ton paradis,

Alors nous irons, je crois

Plus loin que la vie.