Yeah, I would have to agree with you there ma'am. This story had most definitely "fizzled out," and I'm not proud of it, but I have read enough bad writing to know it when I read it...or write it. Oh well, that's what I get from trying my hand at actually writing a plot into my fic's, but I have learned my lesson. I should just stick to fluff, and so that's what I plan to do here. Plus, judging from the reviews I received thus far, I think that y'all are in favor of my doing so. Or at least I hope so. Don't take that as boastfulness, because I am probably the most modest person you will ever meet. (but then again, saying so doesn't really sound very modest of me, does it?) ANYWAY... I know that you can't really call this thing I am doing an "epilogue," because who the hell ever heard of a multi-chaptered one of those, but I don't know what else it to call it. So how about you just read and review it regardless?

Oh and I am confused. An account? Who are "we?"

And the skinny dipping idea? Hilarious, I never thought of that!

Disclaimer: Someone else's

As if I would really end it there! Silly readers, how I love you all so...


I gave a few more half-hearted, feeble kicks into the air just to prove that I wasn't going to go without a fight, though I doubt they were any good at convincing him. He knew me, and he knew that I was enjoying this much more than I was willing to admit.

I mean, what was not to enjoy? I was with Craig, alone, and on my way to an abandoned pool at three in the morning. (Hmm, sound familiar?)Oh yeah, I had definitely made the right choice in coming here. It was dark in the hotel room when Craig left with me over his shoulder, but I swear I saw a smirk on Marco's face as we passed his bed. Damn those acting skills he picked up from doing a little bit of Shakespeare back in high school. He's going to have a freaking field day with interrogating me when I get back.

But my good mood took a turn for the worse after we were out in the hall and making our way for the elevator. Craig pretended to trip and fall in order to illicit a very uncharacteristic squeal from me, (which, I'm ashamed to admit, he succeeded in doing) a thought suddenly struck me as hard as if I had actually slammed face first into the cheap carpet beneath us.

Had he had been planning this little scenario all along?

What this what he had had in mind last week when he called up Marco and offered him those damned plane tickets? Had everything leading up to tonight been a devious and elaborate ploy to get me naked? Was he horny and lonely due to his long separation from Miss Santos and planning to take advantage of the feelings I had so foolishly shown at the wedding gig last year? Or was this outing nothing more than a late night notion born of insomnia and boredom?

Surely the latter was true. Obviously. I mean, he had already told us how stressed out he was over writing lyrics to a song the label was pressing him to record. He was simply in need of a break, that was why he invited us here, and that is why he is taking me out for a late night (early morning?) swim. It was silly of me to think that he could possibly consider me as a real girl, a do-able female to be ogled and manhandled. After all, I was "Nash" his buddy, his pal, his faithful drummer sidekick. Guys didn't want to see their high school chums stripped down and soaked to the bone.

Well, guys other than Marco, of course.

And anyways, I didn't want to be manhandled, and I certainly did not wish to be ogled.

But then again, he had swiped that room card from Marco...

And he had stared at me in a manner that certainly was more than friendly at the pool last summer...

Dare I say he even ogled me?

I really didn't mind that too much...

God! Now here I am, back to square one. Ellie Nash, surprise, surprise, is once again befuddled by the actions of Craig Manning. Some things never change.

Sigh, my confusion might not have changed, but our scenery had. He carried me through the last in a series of doorways, and once outdoors we were able to whisper a bit more freely.

"Oh wow, are we going to go swimming in the middle of the night Mr. Manning? Golly gee, you certainly are a remarkably original young man, where in the world did you ever come up with such an idea?" I remarked from my inelegant position, the snide comment aimed at the small of his back.

"If you must know, I heard a rumor that this weird girl I went to school with used to sneak into some stranger's pool late at night to go swimming. I thought it sounded kind of fun, so I was wondering if you wanted to try it out with me?"

"It doesn't look like I have a choice, now does it?"

"Well, no. I was just asking so that you would think I was a gentleman. But about that girl, she ended up getting caught, so we need to be sure to be a bit more careful."

"I don't think that should be too hard, I mean, those redheads are pretty oblivious."

I said it with my usual sneer, the one he must know by now meant I was kidding, so I was a bit taken aback by his response. From vantage point the expression on his face was hidden from me, but yet again I had a pretty good idea of what it must look like once I heard the unexpected tone his voice took on.

He made a gruff "humph" in the back of his throat, and replied almost under his breath with a slightly bitter tinge, "Not as oblivious as brunettes though, evidentially."

Wait, was he talking about Manny? Or Ashley? Or could it possibly be...himself?

But of course, we had reached the locked entrance to the pool by then and he didn't say anything more on the subject. He set me down, (quite gently, I might add) and laced his fingers together to give me a leg up over the barrier before us. I paused for a second, looking anxiously over my shoulder in the shadows behind us, but soon my bare foot was in his hand and I heaved myself over the wrought iron bars. He scrambled up over the fence right after me, and once he hit the ground he began to pull off his clothes. There was a momentary flutter of apprehension in my stomach, where I yet again pondered the peculiarity of our current situation, especially with what all has happened between us since last summer. But then he shot me a sideways glance and smiled one of those smiles, and my hands were pulling at the waistband of the boxers I always slept in.

What the hell? Why does this have to feel so fucking right? Why can't it feel awkward or uncomfortable, or anything that swimming practically naked with a one of my closest friends, who happens to be a boy, who happens to have taken my best friend's virginity and who I happen to have a minor obsession over, should feel like? If only it felt like that then I could just walk away, just turn around leave him and all the conflict and drama that came with him behind me. If only I could not feel that dangerous, magnetic pull from him that gripped stronger at me with every smile, every laugh, every second that we spend together. Things would be so much easier for me if the emotion flowing coursing through me veins right now was one of apathy, or maybe even revulsion.

But it's not. The feeling coming over me is something smooth, and easy, and a perfect fit. I know I should feel out of place, but I don't. Instead I feel as though here, at an off-limits hotel pool a few hours before dawn, is the only place in the entire universe that I could possibly be at the moment, the only place I am meant to be. This feeling is why we stayed friends after I embarrassed the hell out of myself back at the wedding, because despite what happens between the two of us, we just get each other. We get along.

But I guess that how it is with best friends. Not boyfriends.

A splash jolted me away from my pathetic little emo kid whininess and back down to earth. Stupid Ellie. Craig Manning is in his boxers, soaking wet, and waiting for you to get in the pool with him. Why waste time fixating over what has already been? I need to turn my attention to what is to come.

Damn, I forgot how nice the water feels.


This is fun to write. Is it fun to review? Try it and find out!