Everything froze. The sound around me dropped, the cold air was no longer eating at my skin, the salty, sea air no longer subconsciously made my nose want to bleed. There was nothing else in the world except Dwayne, me, and our lips joined together. I had no idea what I was doing, I just stood there like a bump on a log, making a pretty damn good impression of a gaping fish.

My nervousness was building up, so much that I felt almost sick. Butterflies were nothing compared to the apprehension I felt. And I stood corrected. I felt extremely sick. Now sit back, relax and cue the embarrassing scene where I push away from Dwayne and practically launch myself over to the nearest garbage can, spending some one on one time as I threw up the contents of my stomach.

I didn't go back to the boardwalk for a whole two weeks following that night. Hell, I barely left my room. I was so mortified - an extremely attractive person of your preferred sex kisses you, and you repay them by knocking them away and throwing up? Where is that socially acceptable as a normal thing? On what level of normalcy does that lay?

I couldn't even look at Dwayne for the rest of the night, which for me was short lived. After my whole incident, I asked him to take me home. I apologized. And I went inside. That was it. I felt horrible, and I knew that it was an accident but that didn't make it excusable. It came off as so terribly rude, and I just wanted to bury my head in the sand.

And he didn't try to contact me either. No showing up at my door (or back for that matter), no throwing rocks at my window, no boom-boxes blaring some lovesick Metallica song. And I didn't expect him to. I behaved to wrongly to him, I was unjust - my punishment was something a little more personal however: my own self loathing as I overthink about that night, a continuous, vicious cycle in my own head.

A double-knock sounded at my door, and I groaned from my heap on the bed. I burrowed underneath my covers, "go away, I'm not in the mood." I mumbled, though the person - whom I found out to be Sammy - ignored me and came into my room. "I said go away." I grumbled, content with being in my little burrow of a pity-party and not having to talk to people. Especially people *cough* Sam *cough* who would make fun of me for it.

"Sophie, it's been two weeks." Sam stated, coming to sit by me on my bed. "So what?" I muttered, monotone. "So what? Are you kidding?" Sam scoffed, "you never come out of your room, barely even for food - and it's all because of what ever you're not telling us happened that night you came back from a job interview on the boardwalk." He rambled. I sighed, "what is your point?" I could feel anger and resentment behind my words, seeping through my teeth like venom.

"My point is that you need to tell us what happened - if not mom or Michael, then at least me." Sam had always come in second for keeping secrets, with me in first of course, and I knew I could trust him to keep his big flapper shut. However, that didn't mean he wouldn't have a good laugh to further humiliate me. I paused for a few beats, raising my head from my covers and pillows that I made into a small fort around it.

"Promise you wont laugh?" I negotiated, and we locked pinkies on it. I rubbed my face with a groan, "that night... I didn't go for a job interview. I went out with some friends." I began and he raised a brow. "You have friends?" The look I gave him shut that remark back into his mouth. "Sorry, sorry, continue." I sighed, "anyways, before I left, this guy that I actually really really liked, he kissed me."

Sam pretended to gag, "eugh, with your death breath?" I socked him in the shoulder, "will you shut up and let me finish?!" I snapped, and he laughed before raising his hands in surrender. I felt my face heat up and I covered it, my voice muffled but still understandable. "And then I puked from being so nervous. In a nearby trash bin." I said.

It grew quiet, and I peeked out from behind my fingers to see Sam holding back his laughter. I appreciated the effort. "And now I feel horrible. I don't even have the nerve to show my face." I whispered, running my hands through my knotted bird's nest I called hair. I didn't think I took a brush to it in a week. "Well, big sister," he began, standing up. "I think you should go up to this guy, after you brush your teeth of course cause, you know, ew, and then just plant one on him. Michael and I are going to the boardwalk and you're coming." Sam finished, grinning cheekily as he exited my room and shut the door.

I huffed, taking my rightful place back within the safety of my covers, the hell I'm going.

Kinda short, but just a filler chapter to keep you guys going. So sorry! - Kari