Sweat drips down Kenny's exerted face, his lips parted with breathless grunts as his red boxing gloves collide into a crammed punching bag. The chain overhead rattles as the heavy bag swings with each fist. He sidesteps around it and continues jabbing with fierce accuracy. Cold sweat soaks his forehead as he bypasses the swinging bag for a short break.

Elle watches from afar, bronze curls prim and lips tight. She steps forward and helps undo his gloves. Once both are off, he brushes her away and reaches for his dripping water bottle. Her eyes narrow. "Are you preparing to batter, Dominguez? He's quite nice, Kenneth. Keep well. I doubt father would want harassment papers thrust in his face."

He swigs water and wipes his face with a backhand. "Mind to your own business, Elle," His foreign accent is immensely thicker with exertion. "There's no need to hurt that Dominguez. It isn't part of my well-being." He takes another mouthful. "Miss Blackwell has already shown me the consideration I desire. So keep to yourself. It isn't your business as I said."

She rolls her eyes and pushes away his clammy gloves to lean in closer. "That's how it all begins. Somehow I end up being brought into it." Her eyes soften with sincerity. "Please don't get too close to her, Kenneth. I don't trust her."

By the order, his eyes blacken with hatred. "Do not tell me what I can and can't do." He forces on a glove and doesn't reach for the other as he buckles it. His fingers fumble with the hooks and he eventually gives on them. "You've screwed up many times but I've never brought any of it up."

"And you're screwing up now!" she hisses, eyes darkening in the same emotion. "You're over here hiding everything from the girl and she barely even knows your name! You're just as sick!"

He rolls his eyes and stands, bringing his free hand across his bare chest. "Thank you. I don't receive that as often as I'd like." He adjusts the buckle on his glove awkwardly. "You're over here falling head-over heels for the Dominguez, who you just happened to meet, uh, how long ago? Two days? Talk about spreading yourself too thin."

Their spat attracts the wondering eyes of the others around them.

"I wouldn't exactly be talking," she retorts, her teeth snapping like a shark readying to attack. "you've met Miss Blackwell in the same day and you're already trailing at her feet like a common beggar!"

His teeth grit coarsely. "There's quite a difference between a filthy womanizer and a mere girl."

Her eyes slit until he's barely able to see the tree greens of them. "Not when that girl was once as sick as you."

The last remark seems to blow his top and though he manages to keep his frustration silent. His eyes dull with uncontrolled emotions and he thrusts a bandaged hand toward the exit of the gym. His breath hitches and she sees his brow lower, mouth staying firm.

"Leave. Now." he sneers and with that, she knew it was no longer simple and she whips around on her heel, making her way out with the calmest of steps. She doesn't look back to Kenny's face, mostly because she wouldn't be able to bear his ice. But she still couldn't help but feel for him.

When Kenny sees Elle disappear, he quickly returns to exercising. The others around him turn back to their equipment and partners. He sighs and slides off the glove, leaving both rubber garments on the waxy wood of the floors.

He holds both bandaged fists forward and begins across the floor swiftly, launching willing fists into the heavy bag. He punches with all his might. Until he feels his fingernails burn deep in his palms, his knuckles bruising, fingers coming close to breaking –

Another punch, a grunt of pain. He was too good.

An uppercut. She was too good.

Two swift jabs, the bag swings off. They were too good.

The bag twists back for him, he blocks it away with his hand. The weight crushes his little finger and he just manages not to scream because he knows better.

But not good enough.

X

Claire's indoor pool was empty when Steven drags Bryn through the round doorframe. The pool rimmed in sparkling marble and the chlorine-infused water glistened. With a pose through the air, Steven jumps in with a victorious yell, splashing ripples. Bryn jumps when the water comes close to catching her and she holds her cream-and-smoke guitar out of reach. She glares at Steven and occupies a seat close to a window.

"Bryn! Bryyyyn!" Steven yells, splashing and holding a hand out to her. His hair stuck to his forehead in a wet mop with some curls already forming. She meets him with narrow eyes. "Come on! You know, you want to! It's awesome in here!"

"There's a word on the tip of my tongue," she tells him, voice thick with sarcasm. "And it's ... um, no." She directs to her Bikini Kill T-shirt and leather pants. "And if you hadn't noticed, I'm not exactly dressed for the occasion."

His eyes widen and he grins, directing to his soaked plaid and jeans. "I'm in here in this!" He unbuttons his shirt and throws it off, leaving his chest bare and a clump of green plaid on the tiles. "And I'm still awesome!"

She rolls her eyes and shifts her guitar. "Breaking a window and getting your shirt wet doesn't exactly make you awesome."

He shrugs, ripples circling him. "Had to do the impossible. The door was locked and I probably would've cracked."

"Aw." She mock-pouts. "Poor little Steven couldn't wait because he really wanted to raid Claire's fridge."

Steven's eyes blaze with solemnity. "Yes. But she didn't have any normal food so that sucked. Caviar tastes like someone's gross-ass Nikes." He blinks and casually scratches his hair. "By the way, where is everyone? Floria and Matt went M.I.A. as soon as we got in."

"Harper's coming with Javier and Tinsley." Bryn advises and mirrors Steven's confusion. "And I don't exactly know where Claire and Dean are but I'm pretty sure Claire will kill you when she sees the window."

He smirks and backstrokes. "I guess I'll have to break another window to escape, then."

"I doubt you'll even make it," Bryn quips and shuffles through her pocket for a guitar pick. "Claire's such an ass. She'll probably just chase after you until she kills you with one of her needle-sharp Manolos. She wouldn't even need a knife."

His smirk stays when he halts his movements. "If she does, I'll let you have my McDonald's gift card."

"Oh yes, Steven. Because after you die, I'd want to go to McDonald's and buy myself a value meal."

"I know you will. So ship some McNuggets to heaven, okay?"

The front door suddenly swings open and shuts with a violent slam as Steven suspends himself onto the pool edge. Bryn looks off from her guitar to hear a familiar jangle of keys and clicking heels.

"Where are you, you stupid slob?"

Bryn smirks and leans in her seat. "I'd run, Steven."

For a moment, Steven looks ready to react but regains his stance easily and slides back into the water calmly, shaking his head as he sinks in. "Nah."

Within the ongoing silence, someone enters and Bryn is first to stare. Dean stands in the doorframe, brow furrowed as he catches eyes with Steven and Bryn silently. Clad in denim and plaid, he smiles at Bryn. "Cool to see you here." he replies, careful to keep his voice low as not to give away Steven's place. "This doesn't exactly seem like your thing, though."

"It isn't." she says and strings a few casual cords. "I decided to hitchhike with my idiot-friend here."

Steven kicks up water with a roll of his eyes.

Dean smiles. "I would've gone on the Jitney if it weren't for Claire. She's so against public transportation."

The brunette blinks and lowers her guitar. "What's the Jitney?" Steven smirks. "No, seriously."

He turns away from the girl and to Dean. "Ignore her. She's a foreign dumbass." He swings himself onto the ledge and ignores Bryn's glare. "Plus, who takes Jitneys anymore? Surfer vans all the way."

Dean's smile widens and he's ready to speak until –

"Dean, did you find that Brooklyn slob?"

"I'm from Queens, actually."

He turns away and shouts out the door. "No! I'll keep looking!" He turns for the door and smiles between Steven and Bryn. "Good luck hiding."

Steven salutes to Dean, expression blank. "Enjoy that bitch."

X

Groggily, Harper enters Claire's Hampton home. Observing the furniture and wide doorframes keenly, eyes narrow as he props his two duffel bags on the cream wood floor. Tinsley and Javier enter shortly after. Javier turns to the broken window and smirks knowingly.

"Well, Bryn must be here." he claims, glancing out the crushed window.

Tinsley smiles. "Obviously." She turns to Harper, who stares ahead into the kitchen, eyes oddly dull. "Hey, Harper. You okay?"

"Fine." he answers, his breath sounding caught as he hefts his bags. "I'm going to put my things in the guestroom. I'll be down in a little." Without waiting for an answer, he leads himself up the stairs in search of an empty room, boots clomping until they're no longer heard.

Her eyes instantly meet Javier's, broad with worry. "You don't think he –"

But he shrugs, hefting his backpack up on one shoulder. "Who knows, Tins? After all, you were the one, who admitted to not even being sure of your feelings for him. Maybe he heard you through his snoring." He narrows his eyes darkly. Tinsley scowls. "You may want to find out before he hangs himself in the broom closet."

She doesn't bother to reply as she hurries in search of him. Javier turns from her fleeing form to hide his widening smirk.

Claire approaches from the kitchen, clad in a pretty coat, blouse and a long skirt with cutout heels. She observes his appearance before smiling approvingly. "Well, you look surprisingly good."

"I always look good," he adds, smirk in place. "I can't say anything about you though. Despite your face, you look like you just came from Britney Spears's gas station."

Her smile weakens but stays. "Yeah, I know. I've been searching for that blonde druggie, who broke the window. My poor home is basically becoming a prison infested with Brooklynites." She rolls her eyes. "Once I find him, he'll be killed. But, anyway, I was talking about you questioning Tinsley's relationship with Harper."

"Oh, so she told you?"

"Had to force it out of her." she admits and bites her thumbnail. "Which is odd because I usually never have to fight to get drama out of Tinsley through texts. You must've really upset her."

He shrugs and fixes his tie. "I wouldn't exactly call the truth upsetting."

"You must've simply made it upsetting being you."

"Yu know me so well."

It wasn't like he'd entirely meant to upset Tinsley. She made absolutely no sense on the ride over, especially since she didn't even know her feelings for Harper. What was the use of spending all that time together when she was unsure about how their relationship would progress?

Girls made no sense, sometimes. Especially ones living on the UES.

You didn't see him blurting his feelings out to Bryn or Elle randomly. He didn't even know if he loved Bryn since they only knew one another for very few months.

Yet he still let his true feelings for Vena loose easily.

And we all saw how that turned out.

"And we also know who you came here for." Claire chimes, voice perky and strong in a high soprano. "She's a certain brunette I'm good friends with. A tad over five feet, wears a lot of red lipstick, smokes weed just as much as you?"

Bryn has a cigarette in her mouth when she enters the main room. She takes a drag and holds the cigarette in her fingertips. "We're not exactly friends, Claire." Her breath reeks of cigarettes and apples. She returns the cigarette to her lips, looking like a flapper waiting at the corner of a Parisian block. "If you hadn't noticed I am oh-so-rebellious that I kill you Upper East Siders for breakfast." She smirks gladly at Claire's unamused expression.

Claire's face is bone white, her eyes and mouth the only color on her face as she lifts a brow. "Was that supposed to scare me?"

"Nope," She slides her lighter from her back pocket and flicks it on, brings the flame close to the sleeve of Claire's coat to see the girl jump back with a yelp, clutching her forearms and turning to glare at Bryn. Her eyes reflecting frustration like glass as she holds herself. "I'd prefer that did."

"You're insane, Bryn!" she barks, voice reaching a frighteningly high pitch. Slender fingers shivering on the tops of her arms.

Bryn doesn't necessarily have an offended reaction but her response is delayed. Her face contorts with a few different emotions and her eyebrows lower slowly. Within her time of silence, her mouth finally curves and a smirk is in place moments later. She shuts her eyes and her smirk stays as her eyelids flutter and a simple brow raises.

Wisps of smoke escape as she speaks. "That the best you got?"

With an irritated groan, Claire stomps off, avoiding the shattered window and Bryn's eyes as she hurries up the stairs. Manolos clicking along the steps.

Javier looks to Bryn when he finds that Claire has disappeared from sight. "A normal girl would've been embarrassed."

"Well, I'm not a normal girl." she breathes, lowering her cigarette with a sigh. "I thought you would've figured that out by now."

He strides forward and his arms encircle her waist, fingers fluttering over her ribs and stomach, carefully pushing her back against the wall. "I've realized. Now, would you mind showing me what abnormal girls do for fun?"

Her smirk widens the slightest and her painted lips resemble ones of a flawless porcelain doll. "They screw hot blonde playboys and wear leather at their favorite clubs on the UES." She reaches to loosen his tie and suddenly pauses movement. One name, one mere name soaks every fiber of her right mind, ringing and buzzing in her ears like a swarm of murderous bees.

Kenny.

When his mouth came for hers, she ducked under his arm and brought the cigarette back to her lips.

She saw his face, his expression contorting with frustration and confusion. She couldn't say anything, mostly because she hadn't known exactly why she had done that. She didn't like Kenny, did she? Why would he drop into her mind so suddenly? That had only happened with one other person.

She forced her lower lip between her teeth and bit back emotion. She didn't need this. She didn't need him.

Before awkward conversation could begin, her cell rattles in her back pocket and she slides it out, staring down the screen thoughtfully.

"I have to take this." She nearly tasted the venom on her tongue. "You'd be better off hanging with Claire for the rest of the trip."

Finally, he speaks. Her phone still shivering as he arches a brow. "Are you kidding?"

She'd never felt so regretful as she heads into the kitchen, answering the call on its last ring. "Hey, Kenny. How's it been?"

Spotted: Rocker B ditching the prized J for the always available K. Let's just hope she doesn't throw in the towel just to reach her British beau so easily.

X

"It's boring despite this being the most popular part of New York."

"I like it, actually. The maid makes wicked hot chocolate."

Matt smiles and leans forward, hauling his elbows on his thighs as he turns to face Floria. She sits beside him on the porch as they watch cars zoom down the road. The sun dangling and glittering in the sky like a diamond hanging from a thread. The sunlight reducing a few slats of ice to puddles as they look on in interest.

"Who knows? Claire probably told the maid to make it for you and laced it." He watches with a smirk as Floria looks away with a roll of her eyes, lashes fluttering. "You'll die in your sleep and be stashed away in a meat locker and never be heard from again."

Floria shifts her weight and brushes the curls out of her eyes as she looks ahead. "Nice to know you helped her secretly plan my death." She crosses her legs in front and clicks her heels together. "I'll be sure to dodge an anvil later on because I doubt I'll just spring up like a Looney Tune."

"Don't worry. Your hair will probably set it on fire before you come close to any brain trauma." She self-consciously reaches for her unkempt ringlets as she locks a glare on Matt. "Aw. Did that make little Flora sad?"

"Floria, asshole. I'll be sure to murder you in your sleep tonight." She blinks suddenly and a smile comes to her. "We should stop talking about death and everything. We're very dark people like Charlie Sheen and his crazy ass ex, Brooke whatever."

"Because I'd seriously beat my wife's ass on Christmas."

"I wouldn't be surprised."

"Excuse me?" He smirks and leans towards her as she looks away just managing to hide her laughs, a flush on her face. "What's that supposed to mean? Do I look like some sort of woman beater?"

"No," she adds and turns to him, eyes lustrous like gems. "you look like a homeless woman beater. Seriously, dude, you could dress much better. I think a lot more chicks would like you if you didn't look like some sick-looking vampire." She ponders in silence before turning to him with an unfazed smile. "No offense."

He rolls his eyes and feigns a wider smirk. "Sure, sure, because that's the perfect thing to say to one of your closest friends." He glances back ahead and pushes a fist into his pocket in search of a cigarette. "especially when on vacation with them."

Her heart falls into her stomach and she ignores it with a shrug. "Since when were we just friends?"

"I never really saw it either." His voice seems almost closer and she fears to meet his eyes since her previous words.

And when she finally looks for his eyes after he'd spoken, she found his mouth on hers. Erotic mouths combine in a dance of plunging tongues and whooshing hearts. In each year of knowing Steven, the Blackwells, and him, she would've never expected the guy she used to make mudpies with would kiss her.

You know what they say, F, expect the unexpected.

So in this case, you better get used to it.

Floria laces her fingers through Matt's tousled hair, ruffling the ends and battling his tongue with just as strong brutality. He leans over her and she bumps her arm against his. Their foreheads touch and they fight their inner ecstasy and greed, just as he reaches to seek his hand under her shirt. He stops abruptly.

A flash of familiar honeyed waves descend the stairs inside with an unusual grim expression and head for the dining room. Matt broke their kiss almost instantly. His hands leaving her as if they were never there.

He pushes himself from her and watches as she rearranges her clothes.

"This shouldn't have happened." he advises, toying with a button on his shirt. "I'm sorry."

She already seems perfectly composed, taking on the appearance of the calmest socialite who just discovered her hidden sex tape. "No, it's cool. It was just impulse, right?"

"Yeah." he agrees, reluctantly. "That's all just ... impulse."

Why did he always have to do this? Every time he had a near flawless relationship with a friend, it was battered and ruined like the one he once had with Tinsley. All they'd done before was share a kiss and instantly their friendship was gone. Slowly, it'd rebuilt itself but nothing was ever the same.

Now, it was incomplete as a puzzle is.

He hated puzzles.

"I'm going back in. You coming?" he calls in her direction, awkwardness continuing on. "Think I'll get a drink or somethin'."

But she knows he isn't.

"Nah, it's cool," She fakes a grin and watches him believe it with the brightest of eyes. "I'll come meet you in a little. Just enjoy yourself."

He smirks and heads in, leaving her thoughts askew.

And once the door is shut and she spots him heading for the kitchen for an actual drink. She scoots closer to the railing and buries her head in her hands. Tears pouring down her face in shiny streaks.

X

Harper had found his guestroom shortly after arriving in Claire's Hampton home. He has never wanted to head back for home – New York – so quickly.

He was grateful for Claire and letting him stay but he felt out of place. Homesick, almost. Especially after hearing what Tinsley said about him during the drive. His heart may as well have been punctured with a million needles.

To think that he just had to expose his feelings for her barely within a year of being friends.

She'd be better off with Matt, anyway. They had a much thicker history. They'd have a better chance.

Just a while ago, Tinsley came knocking at his door, pleading for him to come and talk to her over drinks. She knew. She finally realized he'd eavesdropped on their conversation. He was surprised he hadn't lost it when she came to see him, pleading her useless case.

She still spoke through the door and tried for apologies and such, saying anything that came to mind it seemed. He'd only listened for the first apology before plugging his ears. Call him a kid if you would. He was desperate.

And even though he knows he's acting like a jerk and ignoring one of the closest people to him, he just can't help it.

But, hey, there's no law for it.

And he's H and when you have those type of looks you can do whatever the hell you want.

Someone knocks on his door and he startles, hesitating to answer. He unlocks the door and opens it to reveal Claire. Her coat discarded and her tresses in a neat ponytail.

Well, it was her house.

"Hey, Harper," she says, tone startlingly sultry and little. "I got worried. You've been up here for nearly two hours. I would've seriously thought you would've hung yourself from the shower rod." She forces a laugh and allows herself in. "Well, how're you feeling?"

Waaaay to start conversation, Queen C.

"A little better, actually." he replies and picks his thumbnail. "I just took some extra time to rest."

She nods and hangs back for a moment. She has to refrain from mentioning Tinsley. "Oh, that's good. I hope you got enough rest." She ponders in hesitance. "I think you should come down for dinner. With everyone here there's gonna be a huge feast."

He looks away and breaks his fingernail accidentally. "Sure, I'll be down in a little. Thanks."

Again, she nods and her cold features soften. "I'll always be here for you, Harper." Her voice is serious and not dripping in iciness. "Just as long as you stay trusting me."

He stares at her a second wordlessly before retreating back to his bed cluttered with clothing and an iPod tangled in headphones.

She leaves and shuts the door behind her, making sure to keep it unlocked.

He would come along eventually, right?

X

The dining room was impeccable. It was nothing like the shabby one connected to a kitchen in the Blackwell Mansion. The glass table was clothed in lace, a dripping chandelier decked in Swarovski crystals dangled overhead, and folded napkins were set on the table beside each chair.

The kitchen was currently occupied by Steven and Javier. The food was fresh and warm, boiling and sizzling in bowls of glass. Steaming varieties of pasta, smoking sausages and meatloaves, saccharine shrimp cocktails, and dishes of cool salads spread across the marble counters. The chefs left their shifts early, a boost in their paychecks.

Steven grabs a tiny loaf of sour bread and bites into it – not even bothering for butter. "Damn, this is good!" He turns to Javier, who is finding himself a drink. "Seriously, you don't get this food where I'm from!"

"Brooklyn, right?" Javier asks, sipping from a goblet of wine. He balances his plate heaped with rigatoni and hunks of pork. "At least, that's what Claire's been saying."

"No!" His face darkens and he jerks his plate, the strawberry gelato dangerously wiggling on his dish. "I'm from Queens." He frowns at Javier's disbelief. "Looks can deceive."

Javier turns away to gather some utensils. "Apparently, and speaking of," He looks back to Steven. "have you seen Bryn? I saw her disappear on her phone a while ago and haven't seen her since."

He shrugs and takes another bite of bread. "Who knows? Bryn's always disappearing. She's probably on the phone with Kenny. They've been going nonstop since our ride." He cocks a brow and the corner of his mouth twitches in a smile. "Why not just ask her out if you're so into her? You're taking forever, dude."

"Because I don't ask people out."

"Neither does Bryn. You'll miss your chance if you wait forever."

Bryn enters the kitchen at that moment. Her Blackberry bulging from her pocket and an empty plate in her grip. "Hey, guys," she breathes, swiping dollops of ravioli onto her plate and looking between them. "you guys been in here long. What's been up in here?"

"Harper," Steven lies. "he's been all upset over something Tinsley said."

"He stresses a lot over you." Javier offers and collects another wineglass. "I almost considered giving him some of my pills."

Bryn chooses a shrimp cocktail, jabbing a finger in the glass and licking the sweetness off her fingertip. "Do it next time. He'll need it." She walks over to Javier and snatches his plate, her hand brushes his palm and lingers too long after her steal. "If I scream in fifteen, send a search party. Alright?" And she bolts for the stairs and disappears.

"And, man?"

Javier crosses his arms. "What?"

A grin finds way to Steven's face. "She definitely likes you, too."

X

Harper finds a plate packed with nourishment in his face. His mattress shifts and Bryn is instantly beside him, her own plate and a full glass in hand. She doesn't look questioning and he pauses the Airborne Toxic Event on his iPod. Bryn introduced him to most bands, really. Most American, which were surprisingly good. Fall Out Boy, Green Day, No Doubt.

He looks to her and his eyes widen with confusion. She smirks and watches him stir the salad awkwardly. "Thanks, Bryn," he replies sincerely, a faint smile debuting. "I'm sorry for not coming down. I was feeling pretty down."

She shrugs and drains her glass. "What're twins for?" She laughs when she sees him hide his chuckles with a mouthful of lettuce. "Yeah, shut up. You got me talking like you now."

He swallows some salad and touches his temple. "Remember? Twin thing. We could hear each other."

"I am so glad you can't hear what I'm thinking." Harper nudges her shoulder and scoots away, stabbing a matter of tomato slices. "My thoughts are the complete opposite of your innocent beliefs. You'd be surprised at what goes on."

"I'd rather you not enlighten me." he adds, shoveling tomatoes into his mouth. "Considering what you think about."

"My mind only. What comes to it stays."

"Like it'd want to leave, anyway."

She smacks his ribs playfully and he chuckles, nearly throwing her to the floor with a weak fist as tomato sauce spills off her plate and onto the carpet. She yells and bursts into laughter, grabbing a shrimp from her glass and tossing it. It falls on his leg and he throws it back, more accurately. This time, it sticks to her thigh. Their laughter is stronger than ever.

After all, who needs love when you have family?

X

I hope you all liked the chapter. And here's the song I would dedicate for this chapter would be Gwen Stefani's 'Luxurious.' It has meaning in some way in my definition – luxury, champagne kisses, etc.

Seems fitting enough, right? Enjoy the chapter!