"Seriously, this is why we're dating." Bryn accepts the paper bag of pancakes that Kenny hands her, hands radiating their golden heat. Kenny smiles and loops an arm around her shoulders, marching them to school. "By the way, you still sick? I can't really have pinkeye germs on me, if you are."

Kenny arches an eyebrow and directs to his glasses. "Why do you think I'm still wearing these?"

Bryn spins out of his grip, holding the pancakes at a distance. He laughs and gestures her over. "I'm kidding," he says and gesture again, to which she doesn't waver. He rolls his eyes and his smile dissolves. "You're acting like I'm gonna kiss you with my eye. I'm not sick anymore."

She points to the garbage cans on the curb. "Those are probably cleaner than you."

His eyebrows narrow before a smirk bursts on. "Because I know how you're never drug-tested every time you leave for school."

"Harper actually brought me a breathalyzer." Kenny collapses into laughter. "Seriously, I never use it though. It's the biggest waste of life."

They continue on, she still keeping a good range away. "As if it's actually a waste of money." he assumes. "You're set for life, my doll."

She slowly approaches and indicates herself. "Really? What's my name?"

He blinks. "Bryn, I hope."

"Correct. That's how it stays." She replaces herself beside him. "You don't see me giving you a nickname."

He smiles to please her. "That's because Kenny doesn't go with anything."

"It goes with South Park," She shrugs and stops to think. "and it goes with Bryn."

"And you say I'm a romantic." His smile softens and he reaches to put an arm around her, to which she allows for this time. "You are such a good girl."

"I'm as much of a good girl as Lindsay Lohan." She pouts, her mouth pursing into a dramatic line. "Come on, we have to go. I'd rather not be late to school … for now, at least."

He exaggeratedly straightens his St. Jude's tie, doing the same with the buttons on his blazer. He's sure he can see her struggling to hide a smirk, fiddling with some Brody Dalle pins on her jacket. "Alright, fine." His shoulders slacken affectively. "Just to let you know, you're missing out."

"You're good," she says and begins to laugh. "You're so good."

She watches him corner her against the brownstone next-door, his hands closing the distance between them and their mouths following. The inferno in their kiss scorches her mouth and insides, he pulls her in and rumbles her emotions, and just as she's reaching for his tie –

Sometimes, I give myself the creeps. Sometimes, my mind plays tricks on me.

Kenny startles before realizing what it is. "Green Day, huh?"

"Oh, yeah. Sorry." Bryn silences the ringer to find a new text from Floria. Why'd she have to bother her now? She was in the middle of early … activities with her boyfriend. She didn't have the time for little reminders and invitations to Rodney's. Maybe she could invite Kenny tonight. "Hold on. Lemme check, it might be an emergency."

She opens the message and sees a forward to a gossip blast and you wouldn't believe it. Really? Really, Flor?

Bryn rolls her eyes and waits for the webpage to load. "My best friend is such a dumbass." The site slowly comes into focus, so she distracts herself with Kenny. "She's sending me some gossip blast. It's so stupid, trust me. Almost every girl in Con …" Her words fall dead.

"Are you okay?" he asks, seeing her expression not differ. "Bryn?" He leans in to investigate her phone.

Couple Alert!

New couples sprout like illegitimate celeb babies. You enjoy them but not forever. That's exactly the thing with our newest hookup, which I'm nonetheless glad to be announcing first and foremost. Take that, Us Weekly!

I, hereby, announce the beginning of what could be just another Kim-Kris: Elle Mac – oops, Cullen & Javier Dominguez. Throw confetti, pop champagne, happy dance to Sexy and I Know It!

… or just sob your eyes out because our favorite bachelor is no longer single.

And below, is a picture of his sister, Elle, and the bastard, Javier. Kissing.

He returns his eyes to Bryn and sees her in complete shock, arms frail as empty garden hoses.

It feels better to know he's not the only one losing it.

X

Harper cleans his lacrosse sticks with a dishrag before he can leave midmorning lacrosse. Everyone has already exited the field, including Coach Harmon. The sky has become a humid indigo, the grass is choppy, and his knee is more alienated than ever. Looking and feeling battered with an iron club.

The week after the Hamptons came and went. He and Tinsley enjoyed many more outings and Bryn eventually persuaded him into not believing the pregnancy rumor, which she never happened to elaborate why it was sprung. He didn't ask, nor did he want an answer.

It was the way to go, as far as he knew.

He shoves his equipment in a bag and zips it, slinging the strap on one shoulder. He squints in the horizon and notices Tinsley's familiar silhouette. He smiles widely and waves her over.

She does so and kisses him passionately as they meet, peaks of tongue brightening the interaction. They break off and share large smiles. "Harper, you wouldn't believe it!" she exclaims, a contagious grin spreading across her face. "You're now look – what happened to your knee?"

Damn, she noticed it, too. "Oh, just fell on the field sometime before." She doesn't appear convinced. "Don't worry about it. I'm getting it checked out soon." Ugh, lying. The beginning stages of Bryn. "What's up with you?"

She drops the subject. "I'm one of the new interns for Rogue." Her grin reappears, bordering on immediate caution. "It's unbelievable but mind-blowing. I haven't really told many people yet. Only Matt, because I ran into him, like, a second ago."

For some reason, this gives him a trace of jealously. Why did Matthew have to know before him? Tinsley wasn't dating him. No matter whom she saw first, it should've been him. It should've been him.

"My mom is throwing a little celebration in The Dutch. For my achievement." she continues, her voice displaying a touch of misdoubt. "I'd love for you to come. It gives you a good opportunity to meet my family."

Family: a scarce memory of what he once had. He didn't have much in his thoughts or reality of a family. His sister, Bryn, was all he really had. Dad's gone. Mom's never really around. So in conclusion, it isn't exactly much.

Relationships aren't easy. Nothing's a game in the romance world. You can't just succeed and basically possess things like in a monopoly. He can't trust anyone, really. Parents are either dead and/or careless, Bryn is oblivious, and Tinsley is … questionable.

Everyone's questionable around this time, always revolving a cycle of mistrust and dishonesty.

He's always stuck in the middle. Trapped in the whirlwind that is his life.

He realizes she's still waiting for an answer, patience thinning. "Okay, that's agreeable? Say around seven-ish?"

"Perfect." Her voice is venomous, sizzling like the wildfires in his brain. "I'll text you directions." He watches her leave and slumps against the bench again, seeing her disappear is an old memory.

Monopolies aren't easy either.

X

"Toss it, man!" Steven gestures with maddened fingers at a little boy he found in Central Park, who has freckles and well-conditioned curls and a Frisbee. "Come on! Toss!"

The little boy, probably around eight, nods and throws it. The orange disk cartwheels in the air before Steven jumps and catches it in both hands, he smiles his gratitude. "Good one, dude."

Matt reclines on the border of the Bethesda Fountain. It's around lunchtime and the fountain's waterfalls spray overhead delicately, his aviators reflecting solitude. Javier leans against the ledge, watching the sights of the park and embracing the familiar noises: birdcalls, rustling of bare branches, tourists snapping pictures of the fountain and the tallest trees.

"He's like a kid," Javier says, raising one eyebrow. "If that's any surprise to you."

Matt shifts on the fountain, his legs dangerously stretched over the rippling water. "Not really," he says, tilting his shades to acknowledge his risen brows. "Steven's always acted like a big kid. It's his thing. Believe it or not, he's surprisingly mature. He's the oldest out of all of us."

Javier leans in. "Really … how?"

"I don't think you'd really want me to explain the physics." He sets his sunglasses back in place. "He failed a grade. So he's nineteen."

The words come before he can stop them. "Is that why his parents disowned him?"

Matt waits a minute before replying: "Partially. His parents are assholes, which is basically it." He tucks his arms behind his head. "They always yelled at him when he got a bad grade, cursed him out when he didn't do something right, treated him like outright dirt. It was kind-of a relief to see them finally breakoff to me."

"Are you close with your parents?" The curiosity is overwhelming. He usually isn't this questioning. However, since he doesn't have many friends, he isn't exactly used to this.

His head lolls as Matt searches for a response. "Eh, kinda," he deducts. "More my mom, than my dad. It's hard to explain, you know. My parents aren't going on their twentieth year of marriage. I got good ol' divorcées that had me before they were twenty."

His throat tightens. He didn't know any of that. "I'm sorry. That sucks."

Matt's returning smile is bitter, as if he just drank vinegar. "It's not as bad as it seems. Trust my brother and my real family." And he directs his fingers to Steven and further, just as he finishes the small game. "They're all I really need. Compared to the assholes of the world."

A poisonous laugh escapes Javier. "I have to agree with you there."

Steven hurries back. "Matt, man, I'm drained. I could just –" He smiles mischievously. "I could just do this!" He shoves Matt with both hands, who grabs Javier's arm as not to lose balance. He looks relieved until he hears a shallow plop.

He searches his pockets and his expression angers in a teeth-baring frown. "I'm gonna kill you!" Steven is already running when he fishes his phone out of the fountain. He places it on the stone to dry and shakes his head in a vicious string of curses.

"Was that waterproof?" Javier asks.

"No. Watch my stuff. I'm gonna go kick some ass." Then he's gone, too.

Despite himself, Javier smiles and nods, doing as told.

So that's what brothers are like.

X

"You never told me you were a teacher."

Hunter lowers his clipboard and smiles, an attempt of sensual charm. "Technically, I'm a coach." he replies coyly, gesturing into the field and the maintenance man, who was currently repainting the boundary lines. He returns his gaze to Floria, her fallen jaw revealing disbelief. "Aren't you supposed to be getting to class?"

Her jaw clenches in a childish huff. "Aren't you supposed to be attending to a team?"

"Later." Hunter's eyes shift beyond her shoulders. She doesn't dare ask. "I'm serious. Do you not have class or should I have to write a detention? I'm more than prepared to do so."

Floria backs off, her eyebrows pinched. What's with his attitude? She's done nothing wrong to him. Since he'd been lying to her, she should have his reactions. He was no better than her, the betrayer.

Her reply is hateful. "Then do it, teach."

His knuckles whiten as he clamps the clipboard, mouth becoming a grim scowl, and eyes unfurling ecstasy. And within this, she wants to kiss him. She wants to kiss the coach. She wants to be trouble, she wants –

"Hunter, darling!"

They startle at a woman's presence. Her peroxide blonde hair fastened with pins into a Chignon, she wears minimal makeup and a shirtdress, hung off her arm is a Hermès Victoria bag, and on her finger is a stunning ring. Glittering as the galaxies must do.

"Oh, I know, I've came so early." she chirps. "But I just decided to because I'd left work extremely early today. Those little girls were being rotten again. I'm glad I don't have any," She notices Floria and her expression darkens, her lip curling in disgust. "Speaking of, who might she be?

Hunter's smile subsides and he doesn't look at all like himself. The solemn in his face, the hardening in his jaw, the twitch of his nose, the stiffness of his mouth. He doesn't look like the friendly coach, the good guy, the "teacher who cares." He looks like nobody. He looks like nothing.

"She's just a kid, Ruby." Her heart sinks. She turns to Hunter and sees him avoiding her, erasing her from his trace of thoughts and possible self. Ruby looks over her critically. The coach's wife would have to.

Floria forces a smile. "Yeah, I'm sorry." Her throat is constricted but her words are calm. "I just came to ask Coach Harmon about my friend on the lacrosse team. Sorry for interrupting."

Ruby's tone is clipped. It should be. She's a professional. "It's fine," She waves as a token of goodbye. "I'd say it was a pleasure. Ruby Harmon. Good to meet you."

She can barely nod. Humiliation flames her heart. She hitches her bag onto another shoulder and heads for her courtyard, shoulders limply still as she's off.

Why didn't she suspect this? It was obvious a man like him was married. He was basically St. Jude's royalty. How couldn't she predict this? The questions further her deeper in shame.

She takes a risk and turns back. Ruby is chattering and clasping his hands, beaming like a newlywed. Hunter, however, is distant. And when he notices her staring, he manages a little smile.

Some part of her wants to smile back. But the other, wants the opposite. He embarrassed her. He was ruthless and for this, she doesn't want him anymore.

So she turns on her heels and exits the field.

Not even caring how his smile melts.

Well, maybe, a little.

X

"We need to talk."

The authority in Dean's voice stuns her. Claire rises and excuses herself from her minions. The pregnancy test had turned to be negative and she screamed to Bryn in delight, inviting her over and drinking peach schnapps until the next morning. All's been good, other than the total isolation from Dean.

Not that it's entirely a problem. He was the one to nearly-impregnate her with a Brooklyn child. The thought of Combos and attending Gap sales made her want to gag.

She fakes innocence, despite everything. "Is there something wrong, Dean?"

He ignores her. Once when they're a reasonable distance off, he speaks. Looking like the opposite of himself. "So when did you think you were going to tell me about this –" He points to her stomach, his eyes dark. "this dilemma?"

Not even she can control her gasp. Dean's eyes soften but don't fully-change. "I can explain … it wasn't real. The test was a negative."

"I'm pretty sure you wouldn't have told me either way." His voice is light, tenderized with distrust. "And that's what hurts most."

If it were impossible, she'd think her heart could've blown into bits. Maybe it did. She's never paid any attention to cardiology physics. "It wouldn't have mattered," Her throat closes. "I could've gotten rid of it."

"Good thing it didn't exist." He shakes his head in disgust and stares at the courtyard for distraction. "I thought I could trust you. I really trusted you and you betrayed me. You're just like everyone else."

"No, I'm not!" She struggles with her voice and to have it at a reasonable volume. "I've never been like that."

Dean's mouth curls in a tongue-gnawing snarl. "There's no use in lying anymore." He fans a hand around himself, trying to rid himself of sweat. "Whatever we had … whatever friendship, relationship, interest I've had in you is done. We're over."

He doesn't wait for her protest. Not that she'd have anything after that.

She sees his eyes enlarge and narrow in a finale. He awkwardly adjusts his schoolbag and heads off again, his footfalls thrumming a pattern.

"Dean, wait –" Her stiletto boots clap forward as she reaches a hand for him. Her fingers flop in defeat at their distance. At the distance she created.

A simple tear escapes an eye. She dries it before it can ruin her mascara. Her first job is to be a queen, a ruler. Not a whiny girl, who sobbed over breakups and Titanic reruns.

She returns to her clique with a vengeance. Being queen is what matters.

X

"Oh, Harper, I've heard plenty about you." Harper doesn't even have to introduce himself before Tinsley's mother, Franca, steps in. "Tinsley has spoken highly of you. I know you're captain of the St. Jude's lacrosse team, Luciana and Jackson's son, and a boy with a heart of gold. I can see why Tinsley chose you."

Tinsley blushes, twirling her outdone waves. "Mom …"

"Nonsense, sweets," Franca shakes her dark honey curls and places a hand upon Harper's shoulder. Her hand is festooned entirely in fancy diamond rings. "Harper is quite the glorious one. There's no use in lying to him. Wouldn't you say so, Tyler?"

Which is who, Tinsley didn't tell him about. Tyler Hastings: her thirteen year-old brother. He holds no grudge because if it were possible to hide Bryn, then he probably would've done so.

"Yeah." he grumbles and fidgets with his colorful wristbands. "Are we gonna eat now?"

Tinsley looks close to chastising Tyler until Harper intervenes. He's used to oblivious little siblings. "Yeah, buddy. I'll treat you to dessert, only if you're good." Harper smiles timidly and continues. "And maybe, I'll tell you about some of my lacrosse misadventures."

Tyler's face alights like a shooting star. "Awesome!" He grabs Harper's wrist and leads them in. "Come on, I gotta lots of stories, too! Have you ever played Halo?"

Franca sighs dreamily and cups her face. "Wow. He's certainly great with kids."

Tinsley's heart flutters, the ice in her thaws. She was stupid to have judged him. He's so much better than she thought. Being great with kids would probably be his best trait.

"Yes." she agrees with a nod, her silver feather earrings swinging. "He definitely is."

X

I'm a cold heartbreaker
Fit to burn and I'll rip your heart in two
An' I'll leave you lyin' on the bed

Steven, Matt, and their bandmates are on Rodney's stage. They never dress for their performances as dry-ice smoke clouds their feet, ecstasy-ridden teens dance foolishly. Girls toss their multicolored hair, boys pump their fists and scream the lyrics, their jewelry jingles as the music does, and sweat glistens off them. The air smells of euphoria, cheap perfumes, nonalcoholic ciders, and musk.

"They're great. I feel ashamed to never have seen them." Kenny admits to Bryn. He's dressed in a Kings of Leon shirt and jeans and ancient sneakers. "Maybe one day I'll see you gracing the stage?"

Bryn nods, directing him a smirk. "Much more than one day. I'm always up there. Matt just really needs a chance to flaunt his talent. He's real shy when it comes to doing so."

"I wouldn't think so. His aura illuminates the opposite of timid." His logic makes Bryn laugh and she playfully elbows his ribs. In return, he closes in for a kiss, which she immediately deepens with a slash of ruthless tongue.

Click, clank, click –

"Ay, Kenneth. I've been searching for you everywhere."

They pause to find a girl with flawless bronze curls and intense eyes and an English accent, scrutinizing them. Kenny holds a protective arm around Bryn. Maybe she's seen her somewhere.

Kenny exhales like Harper does when he's distraught. "Elle, why are you here?"

Oh, Elle. Javier's slut – correction: girlfriend.

"My darling of a boyfriend invited me." Elle twists her curls and designates to Javier, where he receives two Orange Whips from a bartender. She smiles joyfully and sighs an exaggeration. "And you're Kenneth's girlfriend? I'm sure he could've done better."

Kenny's arm strangles her ribs. She's glad for it because she's inches from ripping the girl's hair from her roots. "Watch it," he sneers. "I don't exactly see Prince William on your arm."

Elle's eyebrows arch. "Oh, that hurts. But your American accent isn't exactly believable."

"What are you talking about? You sound like his stalker-ex." Bryn interrupts. She wouldn't let anyone insult her boyfriend. Especially no girlfriend of Javier.

Her eyes narrow in Bryn's scowl. "I wouldn't exactly talk, if I were you."

His arms slump off Bryn and he disperses the distance between him and Elle. "Mind your fucking business!" And Bryn can hear the hints of a brogue matching Elle's. "What I do ain't yer problem! Stay out of me life! Keep out! Keep the fuck out!"

The music is still roaring. The clubbers are raving and the performers are unknowing. Elle's mouth turns and Javier returns with the drinks, glaring between Kenny and Bryn questioningly. Kenny faces Bryn sadly, his eyes softening with her. It feels like an ending.

"I'm so sorry." He kisses her hands and flees. His honesty is more audible than ever.

Bryn watches him leave. Her chest clenches and her breath freezes. He doesn't see her expression because she's already gone in the crowd.

X

"Harper, are there any universities that you plan on applying for?"

He's inches from stabbing himself with a fork. Franca is pleasant but with all the talk on lacrosse trophies he didn't have, family charity work, and college applications are exhausting. He hadn't even completed a college application and the endless applications were enough to not want to talk about.

Dad was skilled in this. He'd have to answer proudly, too. "Columbia or NYU, I think. I'm working hard on the applications. It isn't one of the easiest processes."

She nods in agreement. Tinsley directs her gaze to her pasta salad. "I understand. I've graduated from Sarah Lawrence and Tinsley's father from Harvard. It isn't at all a ballgame."

How exactly do you understand, Mrs. H?

"Speaking of, where exactly is Mr. Hastings?" Harper interferes, changing the subject. Tinsley's expression deflates and Tyler splurges on a fudge sundae, smudging his hands with chocolate.

Franca shrugs, looking suddenly like a careless teen. She sure did act like one. "He's always in his office, a day-and-night activity for him. But look at this ring!" She holds out her right hand and he admires the chestnut-sized diamond on her finger, banded in platinum. "He's so thoughtful! It's probably one of my grandest anniversary gifts … with the exception of Tyler."

Tyler raises an eyebrow. "Ew?"

If it were possible to explain his boredom, he'd do so. This has to be his worst date/experience of his life. He isn't any good at meeting families but this isn't even remotely average. It's so strange to be here.

"I'm so bored." Tyler groans, scraping his dessert bowl clean. "Can't we do something fun?"

"Agreed," Tinsley's fork clinks across the porcelain and she deals Harper a smile, her eyes apologetic. "Harper, mind sharing some good lacrosse stories with Tyler while Mom and I head to the washrooms?"

Finally, something he was good at. "Of course," He nods as Franca heads for the restrooms. Tinsley lingers behind and whispers her apologies in his ear. He shares his favorite lacrosse story to Tyler, which consisted of muddy uniforms and an uncalled rainstorm.

Tinsley winks as she follows her mother. He matches her with a meek grin.

Maybe this night would be better than he thought.

X

Everyone is outside. The performance ended with a bang. Rodney and his staff hand out paper lanterns to the clubbers. The spheres alighting like fireflies as they're released into the evening. People ooh and aah as the taillights fade off. Some drunken idiots bid them farewells as they disappear.

Javier exits the club, searching for Matt and Steven. Elle fled after Kenny, whispering ruefully as Kenny fled without any evidence. He saw Bryn's face contort agony as she fought into the crowd, cursing herself and everything else. He'd go after her, if she'd listen. But, that was an inevitable expectation.

He looks around and notices Bryn. She's mixed within the crowd, venting to Floria. Her eyes are red, as if she'd been weeping. She stares off and cleans her eyes, her hands withdrawing puddles of blue eyeliner.

Floria embraces her with one arm, nuzzling her curls into Bryn's shoulder. He doesn't see either of their faces, nor does he hope to. He never could tolerate tears.

Steven and Matt clash past him. They block his view of the girls and he forgets about the lanterns. Mostly everyone is retreating back in the club in the hopes of an encore as they cheer on the guys: clapping their backs, shoving their biceps, nudging their stomachs. Neither of them pay mind.

Javier can't extract his gaze. Isn't spying a sin?

Rodney exchanges little nothings with the group. Matt explains and nods him off.

"Come on, Bryn. It's a little tiff," he hears Floria say. "Nothing totally – shh, shh … Jett, come on."

Matt moves beside Bryn. Steven caresses her hair and murmurs nonsense. He can finally see her and wishes he hadn't.

She's collapsed into Floria, her hands barring her face from their eyes. Sobbing like a child, seeming nothing like herself, nothing like the rowdy punk he met in the club. Was it that long ago?

"Everyone l-lies to me," Bryn's voice is muffled but clear, her sobs are heartbreaking. "This has t-to be … his doing. I … I –"

And he never thought it were imaginable to sense an ache, until his heart hammers and stings more than it did with Vena's proclamations of infidelity.

"I thought we were forever."