To TJ or not to TJ

Summary: Sandy and Kirsten in college. There's a TJ trip but they've just broken up and don't feel like going, what happens if their friends persuade them…

Disclaimer: If I owned the OC I'd have a yacht with a swimming pool on by now.

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OK I'm being bloody generous so leave me a review lol!

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Chapter Five

It takes an hour on the same straight road to find a gas station with a mechanic. You promise to meet the rest of the group in TJ once the car's fixed and they carry on, leaving you and Chelsea with a sweaty trip back up the road in a tow truck.

'So why did you elect to stay behind?' she asks. You sigh, realising this is gonna be one long hour.

'Keep Paul company,' is your nonchalant answer.

'Mmmhmm. Nothing to do with Kirsten.'

'Look, I know you're mad with me, think I should leave her alone but…'

'I don't think that.'

'You don't?'

'No. Seems to me like the pair of you need to talk.'

'Uh…no. Probably learning to get along without having to avoid each other will be enough.'

'And is that what you want?'

'What choice do I have?'

'More than that one.'

'To you maybe. You're on her side.'

'Not really…not until I hear both sides of the story.'

'Not interested in telling it.'

'You don't even want a chance to put this right?'

'Not when you're not being met halfway.'

'You know, I thought you were more of a man than that Sandy Cohen.'

'Sorry to disappoint you too,' you say crossly, hoping she'll shut up.

'Can't you just tell me what happened?' No such luck.

'No.'

'Please?'

You narrow your eyes but relent slightly. 'She wanted to make plans for the summer, I overreacted. End of story.'

'I know it's not.'

'You do? I mean…what?'

'It's not because that's the bit Kirsten tells.'

'She just…a lot of things were said.'

'Sandy!'

'Seriously, that's all there is to it.'

'And you listened to everything she said when she was angry?'

'Well no…I was saying things back.'

'The pair of you are so immature.'

'Yeah, well it's easier this way.'

'Really?'

Lying is getting increasingly hard. 'Sort of.'

'By easier you mean…let me see, lonelier and more miserable?'

'I'm fine.'

'Humph.'

'I'm fine being miserable.'

'Well Kirsten isn't. You owe it to her and to yourself to at least talk.'

'Not that simple.'

'That's not the point. You're sorry right?'

'Well…yes.'

'And she regrets what happened. She really is sorry.'

'I don't need apologies and certainly not second hand.'

'Well you haven't let her do it herself.'

'She hasn't tried.'

'Fine The pair of you can be miserable and when you both die cold and alone I will feel justified in saying 'I told you so'.'

'You are so melodramatic.'

Chelsea doesn't answer, turning to the rather amused driver and pointing out the stranded car up ahead. Paul and Kirsten are still sat beside it when you pull up; the former fanning himself with one hand and waving with the other, the latter still looking decidedly pale. The next half hour is spent manoeuvring the car onto the truck, the mechanic having agreed with the previous diagnosis of broken axle. He says he'll have to have it in the garage overnight and offers to drop the four of you at the nearby motel.

Much to your and Kirsten's displeasure, Paul and Chelsea organise it so the pair of you are squashed into the back seat of the cab. They obviously expect you to talk so you both sit in stony silence for the entire ride. If you do every get round to talking, and sitting close enough to smell her shampoo is making your resolve weaken, you'll do it far away from the eavesdropping ears and prying eyes of your respective best friends.

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You can't believe what your so called friend has just done. Her and her stupid, scheming boyfriend. You and Sandy had hung back as the other couple had headed into the motel, wanting to keep your distance from the intermittent ass-grabbing, making-out and general teasing that had ensued. That self-preservation technique had been a mistake, a big mistake. The manipulative pair have booked two rooms and disappeared, leaving the key on the desk and the receptionist with strict instructions not to be swayed on the room situation. You wonder how much they paid her. Several minutes of fruitless argument with the receptionist later, you both finally heed her, undoubtedly false, protestations that the motel is full, take the key and head outside to find the damn room. Looks like you and Sandy are sharing a room whether you like it or not.

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