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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Em moaned that I left it on a cliffhanger so I've updated quickly lol!

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Chapter Six

You're not quite sure how the icy silence morphed into bickering, you just know it has. You offer to carry Kirsten's bag, immediately regretting it as she snaps 'I can manage.' When you fumble with the lock she sighs impatiently and taps her foot, smiling smugly at your exasperation. Inside you both stop short at the sigh of the double bed and lack of alternative sleeping space, not even a couch. Muttering, storms into the bathroom and you hear a revolted exclamation before she slams the door. It obviously isn't particularly solid or thick because it wobbles worryingly and she reacts crossly to you wandering around the room and making sarcastic comments. Soon you're arguing through the door. You almost feel as though you've missed this. Almost.

You hear another muffled shriek followed by renewed grumblings about the state of the bathroom.

'This is so totally disgusting. I can't believe we're here Sandy.'

You're glad you never broached the idea of your potential summer accommodation. Sometimes Kirsten seems so normal and other times you know there is no way she would ever live in a mail truck.

'Sandy?' Are you even listening to me? What do you have to say for yourself?'

'What do you want me to say? It's not my fault we're here.'

'Oh really.'

'I'm not the one who crashed the car.'

'Because of you.'

'What?'

Kirsten doesn't answer; instead you're greeted by the sound of the shower. When she emerges, you're unprepared for the sight. Her legs are long and tanned below the too-short towel, hair wet, plastered dark gold against her head and dripping diamonds down her smooth back.

'Oh…um…I'll uh, let you get changed,' you stutter, trying to stop yourself checking out your ex-girlfriend's body as you hurry out of the door, missing the awkwardly amused smile she gives you.

Several minutes later you realise you neglected to take the key with you so the only way you can get back in is if Kirsten lets you. And that seems highly unlikely. After contemplating knocking and deciding against being rejected or ignored, you sit down on the kerb outside your room. You figure you may as well wait and see if Kirsten comes looking. Her voice startles you when she does.

'Oh so you're sulking out here now?'

You don't bother to turn round so she marches into the parking bay in front of the sidewalk and stands, hands on hips, surveying you.

'Well?'

'What?'

'There's a spider.'

'Oh so that's why you came out.'

'Partly.'

'It's not my problem.' You lean back and light up just to piss her off.

'So you're not gonna go get it?'

'You're a big girl Kirsten,' you declare through a puff of smoke, 'I think you can handle it.'

'What is wrong with you?'

'Nothing. You're the one who's been in a horrible mood since we got here.'

'Hello? Have you even seen this place? We're in skank central.'

'It's not that bad.'

'Not that bad? I counted four different types of mould in that sorry excuse for a bathroom. Plus an infestation of ants. There's no AC, the bed smells like beer and there;'s a giant spider in the middle of the floor,' she whines, voice rising in pitch with each complaint.

'You're acting like a spoilt brat.'

'I just don't like spiders.'

'Uhu.'

'Sandy!'

'I'm not gonna take it back.'

'I always knew you help my family against me, where I come from.'

'You know I don't. How could I with mine the way they are, me from the Bronx?'

'Well take it back.'

'No because it's true. This isn't anything to do with your family or Newport or the damn spider. It's about the way you're acting.'

'You can't talk to me like that any more,' she declares, tears at the corner of her eyes betraying the vicious tone. She turns sharply on her heel and back into the room, banging the door shut behind her. You're locked out again.

You hear renewed mutterings, several thumps and the repeated slap of a shoe against the floor; sounds like she decided to deal with the unwanted arachnid herself. The next thing is the distinctive sound of a sob. It is immediately silenced when you call her name and so you go back to smoking and watching the empty road. You don't say anything when she reappears, quietly opening the door and sitting tentatively beside you.

'I'm sorry,' she says at last.

'Spider gone?' Reflexively you stub out the cigarette knowing she hates them.

'I didn't want to kill it but I had to. Sandy are you listening to me? I'm sorry.'

'I get it. Apology accepted and whatever. I'm still not taking it back.'

'No it's okay. You're right.'

'You're welcome.'

'I'm not…like that all the time though am I? I mean…sometimes I'm not that bad…right?'

'Most of the time…'

'Sandy! I can't help it.'

'Let me finish! Most of the time you're fine, just sometimes you act all…Newport.'

'And what's that supposed to mean?'

You ignore it, not wanting another argument on an empty stomach. 'Hungry?'

'Sort of.'

'Well we have the culinary delights of the vending machine, in other words ding-dongs or cheese-sticks.'

'Ew!'

'And there you go again.'

'What?'

'Acting all superior.'

'I'm not. I'm simply registering my delight.'

'What do you want?'

'Why are you doing this?'

'Huh?'

'Saying things to rile me and then backing off.'

'I'm not doing anything other than trying to get a snack.'

'Oh yeah.'

'Yeah. Now, ding-dongs or cheese-sticks?'

'You know you are.'

'Ding-dongs?'

'Why won't you just admit it?'

'Cheese-sticks?'

'Sandy!'

'Kirsten! Ding-dongs or cheese-sticks?'

You both glare at each other for a moment until she exhales loudly in exasperation and turns away. 'Cheese-sticks,' she calls over her shoulder. 'I hate ding-dongs.'

Cheese-sticks it is.

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Why is the rum always gone? My reviewers drank it all. It was a gift.

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