Disclaimer: Sarah Dessen, my favourite author, has always inspired me, but this is neither based on any of her stories or a continuation of her work.

(Still Salley's POV, Still July)

Chapter 3

The next day we drove the shiny, red golf-cart to the shared, beach-community pool and jumped in, washing away sand and anything else the sea splashed on us from our walk on the windy beach. By the time we were ready to go home, it was almost dark. The two of us wrapped ourselves in towels, and I drove us home.

When we got back, we had four messages on the machine. I pressed play, and we both sat down in the two white wicker chairs on either side of the phone.

"Four new messages," spat out the robotic voice.

"First new message: 'Hey, Baby, I'm just checking in with you guys. Hope y'all are having fun and staying safe! I love you.' That one was my mom: my perfect, suburban mom, complete with dinner parties and PTA meetings.

"Second new message: 'Hello. Would you like to receive fifty percent off of your car insurance? Give us a call at 1 (800) 754-2990.' I hate telemarketers…

"Third new message: 'Thank you, Miss Johnson, for your input on our restaurant survey. Tell your waiter about your contribution next time you visit, and we'll give you ten dollars off your next meal.'

"Fourth new message: 'Hello, Roxy, this is your mother speaking. I just got fired today, and I was wondering if you could come home early. Maybe we could-' " And before I knew what Roxy's mom was going to suggest, Roxy pressed 'Delete' without hesitation.

"She's supposed to be at the doctor's office," Roxy said through gritted teeth. Roxy kept track of every detail in her mother's life: doctor and dentist appointments, job interviews, bills, medication, dry-cleaning, laundry, and cooking. You see, Roxy's father, Michael, left when Roxy's mother, Lori, was eight months pregnant. When Michael left, he crushed Lori's world, and she was on more medication than all the celebrities in Hollywood. Lori didn't have a job, and she didn't get one, either, until Roxy wrote her a resume and took her to several interviews. Basically, Lori and her daughter switched roles, leaving Roxy with no time to grieve over never knowing her other parent. All of this made Roxy grow up way too fast, her mother not noticing or just not caring. Finally, Roxy put her foot down when her mother suggested Roxy get a job instead so that Lori could 'relax' and 'be peaceful' and 'move on.' Eventually, Roxy pulled some strings with a parent whose kid went to our school, and Lori began work at the local donut shop. Apparently, baked goods were not Lori's thing.

"I bet she doesn't even know what day it is…" Roxy said under her breath, as she stormed angrily up the stairs and shut the door to our room. It kinda scared me when I saw Roxy display any kind of emotion; usually it was anger. But I knew what to do: just stay clear for about ten minutes, and she'll come out as if she hadn't a care in the world. She'd probably offer to cook, too, to keep herself busy. So the night wore on, and Roxy reacted exactly as I planned she would. We both went to bed early since nothing was on TV, and slowly we drifted into Dreamland.

Roxy met two guys today while I was at the basketball court practicing lay-ups and hook shots. When I came back, one was 'helping' her put on tanning lotion, and the other was grabbing a Coke from our cooler.

"Salley, this is Chad, and this is Peter," she said when I walked over to our seats. Chad and Peter waved and smiled.

"Chad's a surfer, and he's here from Hawaii," Chad nodded proudly, finishing Roxy's shoulders and handing back the lotion.

"And I'm Peter. I'm not a surfer like my brother here, but I get away with it because I'm cute." He grinned, and I saw how cute he actually was in his own little dorky way. His hair was dark brown and very curly, and he had precious blue eyes. Wait, I had a boyfriend.

Before I knew it, Chad and Roxy were in the shallow end of the pool dunking and splashing each other flirtatiously. Thank you, Roxy, for leaving me by myself with a cute guy and no idea what to say. And as if cued in by my thought, I felt a wave of warm water spray my face, courtesy of Roxy.

"Jump in! The water's perfect," she said happily, getting out and diving in again. I looked at Peter.

"I'm game," I offered, "if you are."

He grinned and held his arm out for me. "Always, my lady," he said in a cute but awful British accent. All of a sudden, I felt surrounded by wet warmth. I breached the surface and looked around: no Peter, no Chad. And where was Roxy? I tread water as I turned 360 degrees, but saw no one. Then out of nowhere, I felt a strong tug on my foot that pulled me beneath the surface. When I bobbed back up, I heard the laughter of my best friend and two certain cute brothers.

"You guys are so mean!" I said jokingly. Finally, Chad and Peter left when it started to get dark, somewhere around 7:00 PM.

And that was it. I didn't anticipate us seeing them ever again, but that's what it was all about with Roxy: no awkward encounters, no sticky breakups. To her, it was all about the moment. She's all about the 'here' and 'now.' The future can wait; after all, it's never going to get here. And if that's the case, we have to focus on every individual moment, every breath, and every heartbeat.

I never could understand how Roxy had the nerve to start a conversation with two totally unknown, cute guys. You would think she'd be intimidated, but no, not Roxy. She could do anything once she made her decision about it, everyone else be damned. Or at least that's what I've always believed. I never underestimated her, that's for sure.

Chapter 4

When I woke up around ten, I decided to call Dylan. First, I called his house to see if they'd left yet. I dialed his unforgettable seven digits.

"Hello?" said a woman's voice from the other line.

"Hi, Mrs. Matthews. I guess you haven't gone anywhere yet, huh?" At first she didn't answer, and when she did she sounded unsure,

"Uhm… no. We haven't left."

"Good! Can I speak with Dylan, please?"

"Oh, I'm sorry, Dear, but he won't be back for a while, didn't he tell you?" she asked.

"Yeah, he did, but I thought he said you were going, too." I'm so confused.

"Nope, me and his father are staying home this time," she explained.

"Oh, well I guess I just got our signals crossed and misunderstood. I'm sorry for taking your time."

"No trouble at all, really. Good-bye, Dear!" Hmmm, I could have sworn he said… oh, never mind.

I walked over to the desk where mine and Roxy's laptops sat and pressed my orange power button. While it was still starting up, I heard footsteps coming down the stairs.

"Hey," Roxy said as she walked into the room.

"Hey! What do you wanna do today?" I waited for her answer as I logged onto my account.

"I kinda feel like just driving around and chatting and stuff. Maybe bring the iPod." That sounded good to me.

"Good idea! I'll be there in a second; you can go ahead and start the golf-cart if you want. I'm just gonna check my e-mail." Roxy nodded and went out the back door with the little green key to the golf-cart.

"Hey, what took so long?" Roxy asked when I finally came out to meet her in the driveway, eyeing the tennis rackets I was holding.

"I just hadn't checked my mail in a long time, so I had a lot in my Inbox." She scooted over and handed me the keys. I started it up and backed out of the garage very smoothly, thank you very much. I pulled onto the street, and Roxy turned on her iPod speakers and started to play something I didn't recognize by the Killers. After driving through our subdivision, I turned onto the road to another.

"Hey, that looks like D…" Roxy started, but her voice trailed off.

I was paying close attention to the road, but I looked up long enough to see the silhouette of a guy in front of us. He was pretty far away, though, so I couldn't tell who she thought it could be.

"Who?" I asked.

"Oh, nothing! I'm just seeing things," she giggled. I ignored her randomness and pulled into the beach tennis club, and I stuck the keys in the pocket of my jacket. We walked to an empty court, and I handed Roxy her racket and a ball.

"You can serve first," I explained. To this, she grumbled. We both knew the dangers of her and anything that requires athletic ability. But I had immense fun watching her swing her racket into the air three feet away from the ball. She was so bad.

After torturing her with a sport, we strolled into the general store for a drink and some sugar. I walked up to the counter with my Pepsi and Skittles, and I handed three dollars to the cashier. Roxy came up behind me with a bottle of water and Raisinets. We took our snack outside and sat on the edge of the pool, legs dangling. The sun was beginning to set, early as usual; it was only 6:40-something.

I drove us home and changed into my pink pajamas as soon as I set foot in our room. I was exhausted, and I didn't think it would ruin my life if I went to bed early once again.

Chapter 5

I didn't want to go to the party, but Roxy finally convinced me 'it would be fun.' The two guys she met at the pool, Chad and Peter, invited us to a cookout they were having. So I put on a cute, yellow sundress that screamed "Wear me to a Beach Party!"

Apparently, I was wrong. When we got to their condo, everyone was dressed like Roxy: jeans, low-cut tanks, heels, and big jewelry. I knew as soon as I walked over the threshold that his was not the family cookout from Suburbia I had imagined. The whole house was dark, only lit by people's cigarettes. Even if all the lights were on, you couldn't see because of the smoke. There was a beer keg by the wall that seemed the centerpiece of the party, plastic, red cups half-full strewn on the floor and tables. A group of guys was playing Quarters on the back deck, curses and laughter filling the house.

"Don't leave me!" I cried, surprised at my fear. Roxy was obviously embarrassed a girl in a frilly, yellow dress was clinging to her arm, and she smiled through gritted teeth as she shoved my arms away.

"Hey, guys, you want some beer?" a drunk Chad asked from behind, snaking his arms around Roxy's waist. She looked uncomfortable but made no effort to push him away.

Before I knew it, Roxy was gone, and I was left to sit on the couch alone. It was itchy against my calves, and it smelled like sweat and alcohol. I could hear a radio playing loudly from somewhere, and I tried to make out the lyrics. But my thought process was disturbed when I heard an unforgettable, high-pitched squeak that was Roxy's laugh. Looking around, I saw a couple making out on the stairs and people talking loudly over the buzz of the party, but no Roxy. Then I found her: she was sitting on Chad's lap with a quarter, ready to test her soberness. And right then I prayed for her bold personality so I could pull us away from this place.

I wondered where Peter was, the seemingly mature, older brother. And as a sign from God himself, I suddenly spotted him leaning against the stairwell. I may not be the most out-going person alive, but I saw my goal and made a bee-line for Peter.

"Peter!" his brown hair swished to the side as he turned to see my desperate face.

"Peter, please tell me this party is not your style, and please tell me you can help me get Roxy home!" He grabbed my hand and led me out to the front lawn before answering.

My conscience told me from the second I walked in I needed to get out as soon as possible. And dammit, I wasn't going to let my best friend float back into this kinda scene.

"I'll drive you home, Salley, don't worry. Then we can come back and get Roxy, okay?" he spoke so gently, as if one wrong word could break me into pieces.

Roxy's POV

Even with seven Budweiser's in my system, I could think clearly long enough to see Salley was gone. Last time I saw her, she was perfectly safe and unaccompanied on the couch.

Couches are nice. Safe. Cozy. Warm. Sittable. Sit on them. Soft.

Wow, I was drunk… Maybe I shouldn't have left her by herself; she was new to the un-chaperoned parties that didn't involve hors d'oeuvres and social mingling. But she was a big girl, she could handle herself. Nevertheless, I didn't want her "going to see something upstairs" because I wasn't quite sure she knew what that meant.

"Baby, are you still playing?" Chad asked, snapping me back to the Real World.

"Oh, yeah, but play this turn for me. I have to use the Little Girls' Room." So I got up from the table and walked down the hallway and up the stairs, tripping only twice, thank you very much. I was a little wobbly going down the hall looking for Salley. Instead, I was greeted with a pleasant but shocking surprise.

"Hey!" said the voice of Dylan Matthews from one of the empty bedrooms.

"Omigosh, hey!" I said as I collapsed down beside him on the king-sized bed with a tacky, blue down comforter.

"Does," I started, but was interrupted with a hiccup. "Has Salley seen," I tried but hiccupped again.

I got distracted from the thought when Dylan said, "You look extremely tempting in this lighting."

"Why, thank you, Mr. Darcy," I said, coining character names from our school play, Pride and Prejudice. "You don't look so bad yourself," I smiled, and he put a gentle hand on my cheek. His palm was cool, and the tingling feeling caused warning alarms to go off in my head.

"You know," he started slowly, sweetly. "I think Mr. Darcy and Elizabeth are better for each other than Mr. Darcy and Jane."

In my drunken moment, I didn't comprehend his metaphor, so I let myself go, caught in a moment.

Waking up in an unknown and strange bedroom was a feeling all too familiar to me. Bits and pieces of a faded memory came into my mind slowly: the party last night, what happened? I remember looking for Salley upstairs and not finding her.

Then, all at once, a million realizations hit me fast and hard. This bedroom is mine, I'm at the beach house, Salley and I went to a party last night, and Dylan was there…

Dylan! The memory once faded was now too vivid for pleasure: the warmth of his breath on my chest, his cool fingertips on my hips, the way his hand hit a pulse point at the nape of my neck... and how much of a fucking slut I truly was.

I had slept with my best friend's boyfriend.

The same best friend that had probably driven me home and held my hair out of my face while I purged those seven beers. The same best friend that was loyal to me since Day One in English class in the sixth grade. The very same best friend that had never ever, ever, ever, ever, ever, ever, ever, ever, ever, ever given herself over to a guy and especially not my boyfriend! Suddenly I heard flip-flops going thwap, thwap down the stairs.

"Hey," said Salley coming through the door and sitting beside me on the bed. She sounded calm, not mad in the least. "Peter told me that Chad slipped you a little too much to drink. Hangover much?"

Come to think of it, I felt awful. My mouth was dry, and I felt hot and sticky. And to top it all off, I had a migraine that was just lovely.

"I have some chamomile tea brewing for you. I'll go see if it's done yet," she said, leaving for the kitchen.

It hurt me so bad that she was being so sweet. I'd almost rather have her super pissed off. She had no clue about anything that happened at that party. As far as she knew, Dylan was in Nevada, he was a virgin, and Chad forced that alcohol down my throat.

"Here we go!" she handed me a white cup and saucer filled to the brim with a steamy liquid that was always comforting to me.

"Hello?" said the voice on the other line.

"Hey, Dylan. How do you feel?" I asked.

"Like crap."

"Me, too. So… I was just wondering what you were doing down here. Aren't you supposed to be in Vegas with the family?"

"I only told Salley that because I didn't want her to flip out and cling to me 24/7 if she knew I was here," he explained.

Whoa, that caught me off guard.

"Oh, okay…" the awkward silence was killing me.

"Do you remember what… what happened?" he asked, finally breaking the dreadful lapse of words.

"Yeah."

"Well, don't be too hard on yourself. I think Mr. Budweiser played a pretty big part in this one." And even though I knew he was right, his earlier statement brought me to a confusing crossroads: I think Mr. Darcy and Elizabeth are better for each other than Mr. Darcy and Jane.

"We both know this isn't going to get any easier, and it's no use being awkward about it," I told him, getting straight to the point. "The main thing is that Salley doesn't need to find out, and we shouldn't let this become an obvious struggle to keep down."

"Agreed," he said.

"Cool."

But it really wasn't cool, it was dreadful.

"So I'll talk to ya later, okay?" he said.

"Yeah, later…"

And with that, we hung up. After just one night, things had changed: Dylan had gotten more action with his girlfriend's best friend in one night than he had with his actual girl friend in almost four months, and now we both had to lie to the girl we loved the most.

And now I was scared to death for my Salley-girl because he said he 'didn't want her to cling to him 24/7.' I wasn't sure what that meant, but I prayed it didn't mean he was falling out of love. I sure as hell didn't love him, and I wanted Dylan to love Salley. But whatever happened, I swore to myself that I wouldn't let this happen again.

Salley's POV

The whole room smelled like fingernail polish, and I immediately got a slight headache. I could hear women hollering from the back, and I turned to Roxy.

"Bikini wax," she explained.

We had only two more days before school started so we decided to have a girls' day out: pedicure, call Dylan, manicure, shopping, check in on Dylan, and eating out. Roxy and I had both decided – and swore over the Holy Dove Chocolate Bar – that we wouldn't tell the parents about our little beach party adventure. It wasn't Roxy's fault someone spiked her drink a little too much, but it would be hard to explain, nonetheless. So that was one problem smoothed over, and I solved another one. Apparently Dylan was in Vegas without his parents. I thought they were going on the trip, but they were just going to the airport with him.

And with my now resolved problems, my perfect summer wound to a close.

Penny for your thoughts? I'd love a review! or even a flame :) Tell me what you think!