Note: To the Guest who asked about Alpha and Omega, these are their codenames. As mentioned in the first chapter, the Alpha before the new one got blasted with acid on the face. Amy isn't allowed to know their names so she just calls them by their codenames. And yes, they are Amy's bodyguards.

And special thanks to emotionalminesweeper who is hella rad and awesome.

xxx

"It's been a year, Reagan. You need to let it go."

Reagan chugged another tall drink of something that glowed a bright neon green. She wasn't even sure if it was safe for consumption if the burning in her throat was any indication, but it dulled her brain and made her entire body feel numb even for just a moment. She'd drink it even if it were poisoned, especially if it would help her drown out Shane's words.

She liked him better when he flirted with all the guys at the bar and left her alone.

"Not a year," she found herself muttering, making Shane arch a brow at her. She shook her head and a laugh bubbled up inside her, despite absolutely nothing humorous happening. Or maybe it was because the entire party was a sham. It was hilarious how they thought they'd get any decent form of music when Reagan wasn't the one spinning. Really, the current DJ was a joke.

"Not a year," she repeated, finishing the rest of her drink and momentarily finding herself engrossed with the glowstick liquid tucked on the bottom of the glass, sealed off from the rest of the drink. "A year, one month, three weeks, and five days."

Gods, even when she was intoxicated, she couldn't deny that she's pathetic.

When she ran out of the dance floor and into the nearest bathroom stall to puke her guts out, she told herself that it was just because she'd drank too much.

It definitely wasn't because of the pitiful look Shane threw her way. Definitely not that.

xxx

Shrimp Girl.

Reagan's eyes snapped open and she immediately regretted it. For some reason, the sun had been transported inside her apartment and was dead set on burning her eyeballs. That was the only explanation.

Okay maybe not the only explanation.

There was still the possibility that Russian assassins were using some new form of torture device that would turn her blind. And drill something nasty in her head. Her head was killing her.

What had she done last night?

And that was when the memories started flashing back, like a montage in a film, complete with its own background music. Only, this one wasn't some sappy romantic love song or even an energetic pump-it-up drum filled song. No. For her it was Frédéric Chopin blasting Piano Sonata No. 2 in B-flat minor, Op. 35.

Of course Reagan knew her music.

Shrimp girl.

Sure, Reagan had a tendency to give people nicknames, but even she knew that particular one was bad. And even after she'd barged inside the girl's apartment like some drunk idiot.

Oh wait. She had been a drunk idiot.

It only goes to show that nothing good ever happened when she thought about Sadie.

A knock resounded on the door.

See?

She was thankful that at least her eyes had adjusted to the light already and she was able to stand with just a mild headache coming on. Seriously, what had she been drinking?

"Well, don't you look like shit."

She would roll her eyes if that wouldn't have caused an impromptu vomiting session on her carpet. She liked her carpet, thank you very much. It had cost a small fortune but it was worth it. So, instead, she only stared at the Shane, who had apparently decided that he wouldn't be waiting outside and let himself in.

He didn't have a key, so how on Earth did he get inside?

He seemed to have sensed the question forming on her still hazy brain. "Your door was unlocked."

She almost slapped herself, but thought better of it. Of course her door was unlocked. Of course that particular titbit of information slipped her mind the day prior. Of course she had chosen to climb up the fire escape and attempt to shimmy inside her apartment through the window.

Of course her drunk self would mess things up and go inside another person's window instead.

Shane watched her mentally beat herself up with an amused smirk. "Anyway, Count Drunkaton, do you have any idea what you were drinking?" When Reagan lightly shook her head no, Shane's smile widened. "Dutchman."

"Fuck," Reagan groaned as she plopped down on her couch with a resounding thud. "That shit is vile. Why didn't you tell me?"

In lieu of an answer, Shane walked over to her fridge and began to rifle through its contents. He made a noise of triumph and took out a bottle of orange juice. "You needed something hard enough to knock that bitch out of your system," he finally answered, handing a newly poured glass of OJ to Reagan. "Apparently, all it did was knock you out for two days."

"Two days?" Reagan sputtered, orange juice flying in the air.

Shane grimaced in disgust, but nodded. "I'm kind of surprised no one's robbed you yet."

Reagan wiped her mouth and made a flourish with her hand, careful not to spill the remaining juice in the glass. "It may not seem like it, but this is actually the safest neighbourhood in Texas."

Shane rolled his eyes but didn't contest it. The people who lived in Reagan neighbourhood knew each other from the day they popped out of their mothers' wombs. If anyone were to disrupt their peace, they'd get kicked out or ostracised with no hint of hesitation.

Speaking of…

"Apparently there's a new girl in your building," Shane trailed off, eyebrows wagging suggestively. He'd been attempting to set Reagan up with girls left and right the past year in an attempt to get positive lesbian juju back into his life. Unfortunately, none of his prior attempts had worked, but news of the new girl gave him hope. If what the stoners told him was right, the new girl was a total hottie.

But Reagan was already shutting down the idea before it even began. "No." Her tone brooked no argument before a cloud fell over her eyes and she frowned. "And there's a new girl? Please don't tell me she's blonde and wears a shrimp shirt."

At that, Shane arched a perfectly sculpted brow. "I don't know about a shrimp shirt but yes, blonde hair was mentioned." When Reagan groaned again, he just chuckled lightly. "Do I want to know?"

"Of course you do," Reagan fired back, "but I'm not telling."

There was something devilish about Shane's smile, and had Reagan not been subjected to that sight a million times before, it would have sparked a chill in her spine. Unfortunately, all she could do was sigh in defeat and curl up on her couch. "I'll find out soon enough," was what Shane had said before he took his leave.

That left Reagan to rest her still throbbing head on her knees.

The fact that she'd missed a catering gig floated in her mind. She won't be expecting any offers from that job soon.

Sighing, she stood up and headed to the shower. The Dutchman had done shit with helping her rid her mind of Sadie, but she can't even remember thinking about her at all when she made a fool out of herself in front of Shrimp girl. She smirked to herself. She wasn't taking that as a sign, but she was definitely going to be paying her new neighbour a visit soon.

Just to smooth things over.

xxx

Afternote: I've always loved the idea of Reagan and Shane being friends. And don't worry, Sadie won't be much trouble here. And hey, Reagan and Amy will properly meet each other in the next chapter, so there's that. Plus, more light on Amy's situation. Next chapter should be up this time tomorrow.

Also, I never knew titbit was a word until LibreOffice (set to English UK) decided that tidbit wasn't.