Standard disclaimers apply

Usually, Lucas looked forward to shore leave. It was the only time he was able to get off the boat, stretch his legs (as it were), and do something other than troubleshoot computer problems and argue with his roommate.

Well, he still argued with his roommate, but least the scenery was different. And Miguel could usually be counted on to trade whatever he was drinking for whatever non-alcoholic pansy soda Lucas was drinking. So yeah, generally, life was good on shore leave.

But not this time.

This time, Lucas found himself having to hang out with her. With her perfect hair, her perfect body, her perfect… Lucas stopped himself, realizing how ridiculous he sounded. She wasn't perfect. She couldn't be perfect – nobody was. So why was he so damn jealous? He was smarter than her, wasn't he? He'd been on the boat longer – they'd been his friends first. They certainly wouldn't dump him in order to hang out with her, would they?

Somehow it didn't seem that way as Lucas followed the small group from the dock to Port o' Call, their usual first stop for the evening. He'd spent the entire day watching them play volleyball on the beach, and she was… good. Lucas had decided he wasn't really interested in watching his friends oogling Liz Peterson's perfect body, so he worked on finishing his notes for a grant proposal Wendy wanted him to submit.

"What do you want to do after this, Lucas?"

Lucas turned and tried not to scowl at Liz's question. What did she care what he wanted to do after this? After all, it was all about her – at least as far as his friends were concerned.

"What does it matter?" he snapped, furious with himself for acting so childish. He should just get a tattoo across his forehead that said, Doesn't play well with others. She was trying to be nice, he told himself. Why couldn't he try to be nice back?

Because it didn't work that way.

Liz looked a little hurt, and Lucas felt a tad guilty – but just a tad. "Well," she said, "because I care what you want to do." She put her hand on his shoulder, and Lucas struggled not to pull away immediately. "I know you don't like me," she continued, lowering her voice so the rest of the group couldn't hear. "But I'd really appreciate it if you gave me a chance."

Lucas stopped and faced her, effectively dropping her hand from his shoulder. The girl was perceptive, he'd give her that. "Look," he said, "it's not that I don't like you…" But it was, so he let himself trail off. "I think I just want to get some sleep."

Liz nodded, still looking a little insulted, and Lucas jogged away to catch up with Miguel. "Hey, I'm gonna go back to the boat," he informed his friend. The fact he was going back to the boat in order to pout about not being able to hang out with his friends without her there pissed him off, but what else could he do besides suck it up and deal? Lucas Wolenczak wasn't particularly good at sucking it up and dealing, so he chose the admittedly more melodramatic route.

"Why?" Miguel asked curiously. "It's dollar shots at the Port." He narrowed his eyes at Lucas. "You never miss dollar shots. Are you feeling okay?" His tone was good-natured, but his eyes were worried. Lucas hated it when Miguel did that – sounded one way and looked another.

Lucas shrugged, trying not to turn around and glare at Liz. "I'm just tired, and I'm sick of following her around."

Miguel shook his head. "You've gotta get over this thing with Liz, Lucas," he said. "She's not out to get you, and it's not like we're not still your friends."

Although this had pretty much been what Lucas had been telling himself, the teen couldn't help having to swallow a ball of anger that had somehow gotten lodged in his throat.

"I don't feel like arguing," Lucas countered. "I'll see you back at the boat." And with that, he turned on his heel and walked in the opposite direction, back towards the boat.

Instead of going directly back – which would look suspicious under the best of circumstances – Lucas decided to take the long way around, over the boardwalk and through the small arcade. Hands shoved in his pockets, still fuming to himself, Lucas was paying less than close attention to his surroundings. He'd been down this path probably a hundred times – there was no point in paying attention. Besides, he had too much to think about.

About how she was infiltrating his life.

About how much of a jerk he'd been lately.

About how a hand was clamped over his mouth…

What the hell?

TBC...