Warning: Savor this update. There's no telling when the next one will be.


We Fall Between

Lauren has created a monster and that monster goes by Henley Sheppard. Her eyes are evenly traced with black lines, dramatic color smeared across her eyelids and her lips are lightly glossed. She earned the heels she's wearing by helping Lauren with an essay on colonization of early Eastern America and walks with the confidence of a bitch that knows she's hot. Lauren didn't completely change Henley. No one can make Henley tone down her automatic grammar snob corrections or get her to turn off the History Channel, but Lauren convinced Henley to live outside her comfort zone and updated her wardrobe.

When Lauren forgets her planner at school and has no idea what assignments are due tomorrow, she drags Henley to Taft. Lauren complained when Henley insisted on dressing up and begs her to go to Barney & Noble afterwards. As Lauren leads the way to her locker, Henley looks around, fascinated, like Jane Goodall in the wild.

"It's exactly how I imagined public school to look," Henley muses.

"Far from your snooty private school?"

"Remarkably."

Shane steps into their path with a lacrosse stick resting on his shoulder. His eyes are on Henley, who's oblivious to the attention as always. Henley is the type of girl who's definitely left a trail of broken hearts in her past and probably doesn't even realize it.

"Hey," Shane says. "Who's your new friend, Lauren?"

Lauren's arm snakes through Henley's, yanking her closer. "Mention muffins or the buttering of muffins and you'll need a new face when her stilettos are done with you," Lauren warns him. "Quit while you're ahead. She's out of your league."

They fly past the Royal asshole and Henley doesn't argue. Shane isn't even remotely her type. Henley is more attracted to leather-bound gentlemen. Books, that is.

Lauren singles out her locker and twirl the knob. Suddenly, Henley shakes Lauren, almost making her fumble before getting the last digit of her combination.

"Exceptionally handsome gentleman caller coming this way!" Henley whispers.

Lauren swears that if the "exceptionally handsome" gentleman caller (Really, Henley? Does she have a glass menagerie at home too?) is Ike, she will literally gag. What a weird couple they'd make. With or without the heels, Henley is taller than him.

Wearing a fitted sweater with alternating stripes, Max walks over. Lauren rummages through her locker, being purposefully avoidant. She knows she can't blame him for what transpired between her and Kaylie, but it does take two to flirt and Max Spencer is the reason Kaylie and Lauren had the stupid fight in the first place. Not to mention the role his newly ex-girlfriend played in all of it—Royal Puppet Master Maeve.

"You missed the meeting," Max points out. "I find broken nails just as tragic as the next guy, but it's sort of apart of your deal with Matsui that you attend."

"If I were you I wouldn't trade in my camera for standup anytime soon," Lauren says. "I got an emergency phone call from my dad in Chicago. You can talk to Ms. Bell, Matsui's secretary if you want. She can vouch for me."

"Saved By the Bell?" Max jokes. By not reacting, Lauren is doing everything in her power to make Max as uncomfortable as she is right now. "Just don't miss another or I'll have to report you to Matsui and neither of us want that, okay?"

Lauren shrugs him off and it makes Max frown. While other boys are clueless in situations like these, Max can tell Lauren's upset with and he doesn't like it. When Max notices Henley watching them, he gives her a friendly smile.

"Hi. I'm Max. I don't think I've ever seen you around. Are you new to Taft?"

"Just observing," Henley answers.

"Henley, don't talk to him," Lauren warns. "Someone might see and assume you're flirting. Then we'll have a school-wide crisis on our hands. Trust me, he isn't worth it."

"Laur-ren." Max separates her name into two syllables, drawing out each in a soft voice. What he's doing is really kind of cute and him being exceptionally handsome doesn't hurt. "What happened with Kaylie sucks, but taking it out on me isn't going to change anything and it won't make you feel better. Breaking up with Maeve wasn't something I planned…"

"So you're single?" Henley asks. Lauren shoots her a look before glaring at the photographer.

"Don't tell me how to feel, Max," Lauren snaps. "And you're wrong. It doesn't suck. It's great."

"I know what'll cheer you up." Max excitedly rubs his hands together. "I owe you a date with my darkroom. And spring break is coming up so—"

Henley snorts. "That's a euphemism I've never heard before."

"No," Max says. "It's not a euphemism. I—"

Max doesn't get to finish his sentence when Queen Maeve marches up to him and shoves a long, thin box of colorful macarons into his arms. Maeve doesn't look like she put too much effort into how she looks today, a big departure from the norm. Despite her elegant strut, Maeve doesn't seem to be handling their breakup with much grace.

"Stop showing up at my house," Maeve says. "Stop talking to my mom. Stop giving her gifts to give to me. Stop harassing Kaylie, asking how I'm doing. Just stop, Max."

"Maeve, I meant it when I said I still wanted to be friends," Max argues. He tries to hand the box back, but she refuses. Both seem to have forgotten Lauren and Henley completely. "Come on, May. You love these things. I thought it'd cheer you up."

"I don't need cheering up, especially from you," Maeve says. "I didn't just fail a math test. My dog didn't just die. You ripped out my freaking heart. Just leave me alone." Maeve is about to walk away when she realizes Lauren is there. Maeve lets out a laugh that screams emotionally unstable. "Of course you're hanging out with her. Of course!"

Ignoring Maeve, Henley turns to Lauren. "Can we leave now?"

"Give me a sec," Lauren says. "I swear I left it in here somewhere…"

"Maeve," Max says gently. "Let's find somewhere else to talk."

When he goes to take her arm, Maeve frantically tears away.

"So, Lauren, it's a shame you're still not talking to Kaylie," Maeve says. "Not to be blunt, but why don't you, oh, apologize for being a slut and maybe if you're lucky she'll forgive you? You can't exactly suppress your compulsion to hump everything in sight. It's in your nature. Lord knows Lee has a soft spot for you. I'm sure you'll find some way to worm back into her life."

Lauren ignores her and continues her search, violently shoving books, papers and tubes of lipgloss around. Max is silent even if he's the only one with some power to tell Maeve to back off. It turns out that Henley is the one bold enough to look straight at Maeve and with a glare.

"Lauren, are you going to let her talk to you like that?" Henley asks.

"I'm sorry, I just refuse to stoop down to her level of pathetic," Lauren replies. It's the mature thing to do. Her and Emily have been having a lot of little talks late at night, Lauren half-asleep and Emily wide awake. They agree that having self-respect is more important than having the respect of others.

Maeve cackles in a Wicked Witch of the West way (and not the awesome Wicked version, but the straight up Oz bitch who deserved to melt). "Sweetie, you wish you were on my level. You wish you were good enough to lick the ground on my level."

"Maeve, stop," Max tells her. "Let's—"

"How does that even make sense as an insult? Who would want to do that?" Henley shoots back. "You're a bitch and I don't like you."

Maeve laughs again. "Where'd you find this one, Tanner? An Aspergers support group or a casting call for affectively disturbed hoebag?"

Lauren slams her locker. "Say what you want about me, post it on Social Lounge, shout it from rooftops, I don't care, but don't talk about my friends like that. Henley is hot and smart. Don't even pretend you can't tell. Why else would you be so threatened by someone you've never met? So while we study and get into legit universities, you have fun shoving your toothbrush down your throat, prepping for your bulimic bitch casting call."

Maeve gets the wind knocked out of her. It shows how powerful the right words (or the wrong ones) can be. The biggest surprise is the way Max flinches.

"You don't even know what you're talking about," Maeve says defensively. "You don't know my life. You have everything wrong."

"I'm sorry," Lauren says mockingly. "Do you just use your finger? My bad."

Not making a sound, not even one last insult for the road, Maeve turns away, her hair fanning out like a super villain cape. Max calls out after her, telling her to wait, but she doesn't listen. When Lauren Tanner cuts you deep it's best to walk away and nurse the wound, but never admit that's what you're doing. Girl world. What a cluster fuck of head fuckery.

Henley whistles, long and slow. "Colorado Barbie's got bite."

"It comes with the Dream House." Lauren smiles to herself and continues her search through her trashed locker. "I really need to get Ike or Emily to organize this thing for me."

"You just don't know when to stop, do you?" Max asks. The two girls almost forgot he was there, a witness to an every day girl-on-girl crime.

"Don't," Lauren says. "She started it. All because we were standing next to each other?" Max doesn't say anything, just chases after Maeve. "Denial should be a seven deadly sin. I'm already expecting the Social Lounge notification, Max and Maeve, in a relationship again!"

Once Max walks away, Henley asks, "What was that all about?"

Lauren is pleasantly surprised when Henley doesn't insist on giving her the history of the Seven Deadly Sins, first in English and a second time in Latin.

"Why, Henley, I don't know what you're talking about."

"Your Maury-esque love triangle."

The blonde cracks a smile at the reference. "You watch Maury?"

"Daytime television is lacking. Ice Road Truckers doesn't do it for me and Anthony Bordain makes me uncomfortable. I've only seen maybe five minutes of Three Babies, Three Angry Moms, Is Shawn the Father? And then I was done." Lauren finally finds what she's looking for so they can leave. Taft is a hell during and even after its hours of operation. "He's cute, but his attraction to bitches is disappointing."

Lauren laughs. "It isn't a love triangle. That would require me having feelings other than hatred and spite towards one of the two and that isn't true."

"Well, I'm pretty sure all of that wasn't solely for entertainment purposes. If so, that means you Colorado kids need to get out more and that's coming from me."

"Hen, you remember me telling you about Kaylie, right?"

"The girl I replaced?" Henley asks, fact checking, not joking around. It isn't very Henley to joke like that in the first place. It takes Henley's question to make Lauren realize that she hasn't talked to Kaylie ever since that stupid fight. Are they really at the point of drifting?

"The bitch girlfriend is Maeve, Kaylie's non-Four bestie," Lauren explains. "Apparently, me being banished from the top of the social pyramid and having my best friend turn against me isn't enough? Maeve has to accuse me of stealing her boyfriend too. It's like she makes up reasons to torture me."

"Well, he was flirting with you."

"Henley, you can recognize flirting?" Lauren adds a little hop to her step as her voice rises in exaggerated shock. A little dramatic flare in the aftermath of a crappy confrontation never hurts. "Something you picked up at CU Boulder?"

Lucky for Henley, it's the only thing she picked up unlike a number of unlucky undergrads. Lauren considers it a mission accomplished.

"I know flirting when I see it. My brother wrote the tutorial. I've seen him try and fail on numerous occasions." Something in the air shifts at the mention of Razor. "How does Ray factor into all of this?"

"No triangle means there's no reason to factor anyone into anything."

"What about Jake?"

Lauren smiles to herself at the thought of the wrestler. "Nothing's going on with Jake. We're just friends. Let's not forget Razor isn't even talking to me."

"Because of me."

"Because of everything," Lauren says. "Other than texting and talking and video chatting online, I haven't seen him since the summer. We have our own separate lives and we're living them separately. Plus, Emily doesn't think he's over his ex."

"It's funny that Emily can see that in someone else, but she can't see it in herself. She's still hung up on Damon, which is both unfortunate and understandable, but, for what it's worth, I do think Razor is over Jody, romantically speaking, but they're important parts of each other's lives. And that's forever. I never understood that, how some people, when relationships go wrong, they go on like the other doesn't exist anymore. That doesn't make sense to me."

"Change is scary. Sometimes a fresh start is just easier. Fact."

"Change is inevitable," Henley counters. "Fact."

"You are a piece of work. You're going to make some guy happily miserable one day."

"I think you make my brother happily miserable right now," Henley confesses. "Call him."

"I tried. He won't talk to me. Being a thousand miles away, I can't exactly hold a boom box over my head and ask him to love me." Lauren stops, literally stops. Is that what she wants? She wants Razor Sheppard to love her? At this point, she'd settle for him answering her calls.

Henley doesn't pick up on any of it, which isn't surprising. Her face lights up in a way that Lauren has only seen once when a surprise marathon of Life After People came on. Henley digs through the purse and yanks out her phone.

"Here. I can help. He can't ignore my calls."

Lauren tries to reach for the phone, but Henley uses her long arms to keep it out of reach.

"Ray, hey," Henley says. "Yes, I'm fine, but here. Someone wants to talk to you." She shoves the phone into Lauren's hand. "I'm going to follow the signs and check out your chess team practice. Find me when you're done."

"Or maybe I'll just leave you stranded!" Lauren shouts. The blonde weighs the phone in her hand before bringing the speaker up to her ear. "Not that I'd leave your sister stranded. That's just how we talk to each other."

"Lauren Tanner, hey." His smile, a weak but genuine one, is in his voice and that alone undoes all the work Lauren put into conditioning herself not to miss him.

"Hey, Ray." Lauren leans back against her locker, fiddling with the strap of her purse. "I haven't gotten any texts from you lately."

"Yeah, I haven't been feeling very inspired lately. You know, inspirational quotes without the inspiration, it's all just words."

"So I take it you're still upset?" Lauren asks.

"Not upset, just…" Razor pauses, trying to figure out what to say, leaving Lauren anxious. "I wish you would have told me. If Emily told you she was going to the grocery store, and instead she ended up here you were the first one I would have called."

"Even if Emily begged you not to tell me?"

"Yes."

"I'm sorry, Ray, but I don't see things as black and white as that."

"Girl code and all that?"

"Exactly," she replies. "It wasn't about you. There were so many times I wanted to tell you…"

"It's just, I trusted you. Then out of nowhere everything just…wasn't how I thought."

"I don't know what you want me to say." Lauren starts walking down the hallway because she has to do something other than just standing there, hanging on his every breath. Her throat goes dry as she waits for Razor to say something, but he doesn't for a long time.

"Razor?"

"Guess who I went to see the other night…"

Lauren feels the tension coil deep in her gut and she hates it. "Your ex?"

"Actually, your mom," Razor says. "The Pink Flamingo. The security is nothing to brag about. You could probably buy a fake from a pot dealer down in Venice and that'd pass. Bats went with me. We're cool again. I walked up to your mom—whose eyes are exactly like yours, by the way—and I asked her why you are the way you are."

"You had no right to do that."

"I figured you'd react like this. I've been trying to think of a way to tell you, but there's a reason Damon always wrote all of our good songs and why I send you quotes, not my actual thoughts or ideas. If it makes you feel any better, she only had glowing remarks about you."

"Obviously. She doesn't know me well enough to say anything real."

"There were a few things—"

"I don't want to know." Lauren cuts him off. "What made you think that was a good idea?"

"Being drunk and sad, probably?" Razor answers. "I want to know you, Lauren. It's kind of hard being in different states and the fact that you were ignoring me. I really like you."

He sounds so innocent, like they're two kids on a playground and everything in the world is good and nothing hurts.

"Are you sure?" Lauren asks. "You aren't just ignoring your feelings for Jody by convincing yourself you like me?"

Razor laughs softly. "Lauren, if I wanted to be with Jody I would be. It's just that there's this other girl, cool and smart and beautiful, but totally out of my league. It's complicated."

"It wasn't before."

"We should be stoked then, shouldn't we? If it were simple it'd mean it has nowhere to go."

"Ray, I, um, I have to go. Henley's waiting," she lies. Razor being sweet, she's used to that and she gladly eats it up, but now it sounds like he's trying to advance the plot and Lauren isn't sure how she feels about that. "I'll call you tonight before I go to sleep."

"Sweet. We have weeks of quotes to catch up on."

Lauren smiles as she ends the call and goes to find Henley schooling some geek in a game of chess while the rest of the team stares at her chest. As she drags Henley away, Lauren decides that if Razor is willing then she is too. They just have to figure it out along the way.

Despite her emotions being all over the place right now, Kaylie does the sensible thing. She pulls herself together, concentrates on school and cracks the whip on the cheer squad. She just found out that her boyfriend had sex with his best friend and had to hear about it from Lauren. As much as it kills her, Kaylie ignores every one of Nicky's attempts to contact her, making him sweat it out. Let him feel what it's like to be in the dark.

"Wow, Kaylie, it's, like, you're almost, like, a real captain." Beverly, one of the blonde cheerleaders, gives her a smile so Kaylie takes it as a compliment and smiles back.

Theresa, in red cheer shorts and a black sports bra, squints at the bleachers. "Hey, Kay, your creepy boyfriend is getting his stalk."

Kaylie spots Nicky waiting for her. He must have just come from school because he's still in his uniform polyester pants, an untucked white button-down and ugly leather shoes. Even from afar, Kaylie can read how distressed he is. It may be twisted, but a part of Kaylie is happy to know she can hurt him and make him want her in the same way Kelly can and does.

"Take five, everyone!" Kaylie announces. "I'll get rid of the stalker."

The girls cheer to show their appreciation after spending an hour out on the field, trying to perfect the routine they're bringing to competition. Theresa turns to Beverly and they show off a purposefully complicated handshake that leaves them both laughing. Kaylie likes to think things run more smoothly now that Lauren is off the squad and has no plans to return.

Kaylie takes her time, walking across the football field to Nicky. She's had enough time to mull it over and script this forgiveness scene in her head. Reality seldom matches the ideal, especially Kaylie's ideal, but she doesn't know any other way to mentally prepare. Once she reaches him, they just stand there and stare.

"Who told you?" Nicky asks. "Faith was upset and told me about your little run-in fifteen minutes after it happened. I'm pretty sure she would have said something if she told you about this. It definitely wasn't Kelly. I don't know anyone else who knows."

"Are you kidding me?" Kaylie hisses. Her barely contained anger slips word by word through her teeth. "Everyone knew except me!"

"Did Payson know? But she wouldn't…" Nicky's expression darkens. "It was Maeve, right?"

Kaylie's eyes go wide and a breath gets caught in her throat. "Maeve knew too?"

"No, I've never actually told Max or Maeve, but I'm sure they assumed. They aren't exactly shy when it comes to remind me that hanging out with Kelly was mistake. They've been doing it even before you and I started dating." Nicky sinks down to the bleachers. "I'm sorry, but I don't understand why you're making such a big deal out of this."

Kaylie doesn't understand why he'd say something as stupid as that when he has bigger things to apologize for. Starting with why he lied to her their entire relationship.

"Oh, I don't know. Maybe because you slept with the girl who you've been openly obsessing over for the last month!"

"I have not been obsessing—"

"And I had no idea!" Kaylie shouts.

"Why would you need to?" Nicky asks defensively. "I think it's a weird thing to care about and it'd be even weirder to randomly bring up in conversation. Kaylie, just because Kelly was my first doesn't mean it'll be any less special with you."

Kaylie purses her lips. "You…you lost your virginity to her?"

Kaylie's angry that he kept it from her for so long. She's angry that he doesn't understand. Mostly, she's angry that this feels too much like that time in Spain, where they argued in his grandparents house and she felt like she'd fallen in love with a stranger. Then and now, Kelly Parker was involved in this fucked up equation. Kaylie might not know Kelly, but that doesn't stop her from hating Kelly for interfering in her relationship without even trying.

Nicky rubs his hand down his face. "Yes. She's the only person I've ever been with."

Kaylie sinks down to sit on the bench in front of Nicky. "You told me you didn't date her."

"I didn't. Kelly doesn't date."

"But she sleeps around?" Kaylie asks venomously. Her head starts to spin, especially when Nicky glares at her like Kaylie's in the wrong. She sees how people fall for Faith's charm and weirdness, but Kaylie will never understand why people, some she loves dearly, waste their time on a psychotic She-Hulk like Kelly Parker.

"Kaylie, can we please leave Kelly out of this? This isn't about her. It's about us."

"Are you in love with her?"

"Not in the way you're asking. She's my best friend. The whole romantic, soulmates forever-and-ever love? All that stuff we grow up thinking we need and are judged if we don't get? I don't even know if that's real."

He doesn't believe in love? Blasphemy! He can't be human.

"So you aren't in love with me?" she asks.

"I care about you. A lot. So much that this whole thing, you having to find out from anyone other people, I feel horrible," Nicky says. Kaylie so easily slips back to anger. "I don't even know what love is. I don't know if I've ever been in it or if I even want to be."

Kaylie stares at her pink plumeria fingernails. Neither of them says anything for a while. She sighs, holding her face in her hands. "You can be such an ass sometimes, Nicky, I swear."

"You want me to tell you how I feel. Well, that's it. I'm sorry if it isn't what you want to hear. You reacting like this, it's exactly why I didn't know how to tell you in the first place."

"You can tell me anything," Kaylie insists, "especially if you think I don't want to hear it."

Nicky feels so far away that it startles her when he moves next to her and takes her hand.

"I'm sorry," Nicky says. "I didn't want you to freak out for nothing. Kelly and I, we're friends again and that's it. I'd never do anything that would hurt you. I'm hanging out with Kelly again and I'm not about to do anything that jeopardizes that friendship or our relationship. You don't have to worry, Princess."

"I'm not worried," she says. "I'm hurt."

She tries to pull her hand away, but he won't let her.

"I didn't mean to hurt you."

"I wish hearing that made a difference, but it doesn't." Kaylie untangles their fingers and dusts the tears off her cheeks. "I need to get back to practice and you need to leave. We'll finish this later or something."

"Later or something?"

"I need more time to process everything. Just go, Nicky."

"I'll call you?"

Kaylie doesn't say anything and walks back over to her squad, that's been watching, probably trading comments the way Lauren and Emily do when they watch an episode of The O.C.

"Kaylie!" Nicky shouts. "What about our anniversary this weekend and your mom's party?"

She stops and turns to face him. "I don't know about you, but the last thing I want right now is to celebrate whatever this is. I don't even know anymore."

Kaylie whirls back around, ignoring the way Nicky continues to call after her and how sad he sounds. She wishes she could go home and cry to her mom and Ronnie would volunteer to cancel the party and spend the weekend with sad movies, retail therapy and her daughter. Sadly, it's just another one of her ideals that'll never be met.

In preparation for Ronnie's party, she hires a professional cleaning service and brings in the team of makeup and hair people who worked on Project Runway. Soothing music, extra bright lights, and men in suits and women in designer gowns. Ronnie stresses out up until the very last second before going into hostess mode, wearing a Gucci dress, looking like she belongs on a red carpet rather than their foyer, greeting guests as they arrive.

Kaylie would rather be anywhere, but here, in a strapless pink dress with a sequin corset and pleated skirt. Her hair is ironed straight and pulled back. Her silver heels are mildly uncomfortable, but cute to the point where Kaylie would rather stare at them than be asked if she sings or models for the hundredth time tonight.

"Hey, Kaylie."

She looks up from her heels and finds Damon Young, dressed for the occasion in a dark suit jacket, crisp white oxford and a skinny tie. Despite meeting the dress code, his inclination to rebellion shows with his steadily growing facial hair, somewhere between stubble and a beard. Kaylie's a little shocked that he remembers her name, but it quickly turns to suspicion.

"How are you?" he asks.

"Do you really care?" Kaylie knows that the anger in her voice is directed at the wrong person, but it doesn't stop it from leaking through. "Just tell me the truth. If you came over here to ask about Emily then ask. You don't have to disguise it with small talk."

Damon's eyes widen, not expecting that cold of a reception.

"Wow."

Kaylie sighs. "You want to know how Emily is, don't you?"

"You caught me. I even had a neat little segue prepared, but you totally destroyed the need for it." Damon tugs on the collar of his shirt, a little uncomfortable. Kaylie can't tell if she's making him uneasy or he isn't used to dressing up like this. "How is she?"

"Miserable." Kaylie feels a surge of guilt when she replies. Honestly, she's been so wrapped up in her own life that she doesn't really know how Emily is, probably more moping around and denying her virtual pining for Damon. "You shouldn't even be asking me. You should be asking her. The girl always thinks that if the boy wants to talk to her then he'll call. Then he doesn't."

"Believe me, I've called her."

"I heard. So it has to be a guy thing, right? The way you all share this weird inability to have conversations about what actually matters? Why can't you just talk about things instead of keeping secrets and driving girls crazy? If you didn't waste so much energy on keeping things from us then maybe we wouldn't be such bitches to you all the time."

His mouth hangs open as he stares at her. Damon definitely got more than small talk. Then this guy, who looks way too good in a suit and broke her best friend's heart, is bold enough to smile at her after she essentially gave him a verbal ass kicking on behalf of every girl who's ever been frustrated over a boy. The prick actually smiles.

"Need to get something off your chest there, Kaylie?"

A waiter walks by and Damon smoothly steals a flute of champagne, holding it out for her. Kaylie waves it off. Not only would her mom throw a fit if she saw, but Kaylie is already venting to strangers. There's no telling what would happen with alcohol in the mix. At her refusal, Damon shrugs and puts the glass back on the tray of a different passing server.

"A rock star that doesn't drink?" Kaylie asks.

"Doesn't drink, smoke, do drugs. No sex with random groupies or, to be honest, anyone lately," Damon says. There's this thrill in his voice and it sounds like pride. Kaylie wonders if he's dropping that, hoping it'll get to Emily or if he just likes to announce it in casual conversation. "I believe the cool kids would call me a straight edge."

"How uncool of you," Kaylie says jokingly. When she actually thinks about it, by Damon's definition, Kaylie would fall under the same label. "I'm sorry about going off on you like that. You didn't deserve it."

"Apology not necessary," Damon assures her. "You made your point about me personally and guys in general. On behalf of me and my jackass kind, I'm sorry."

Kaylie nods. It isn't hard to see why Emily fell for this guy in the first place.

"Appreciated, but not necessary. You aren't the jackass who should be apologizing."

"Want to talk about it?" Damon asks.

"You want to listen to me complain about my boyfriend and your jackass kind in general?"

Damon lifts a shoulder in a lazy shrug and gives her another smile that's just as lazy. "It beats mingling with execs strung-out on coke, asking why I don't do ballads or start a boy band."

He makes her smile with that, just a little.

"Hey, Kales." AJ interrupts their conversation. "Sup, Youngin." They clasp hands. "Hey, Kaylie, did I tell you Damon says he can possibly book Adrianna Tate-Duncan for the deb ball? It's the only reason I haven't kicked his ass yet."

"Wouldn't be the first time Ade saved my ass," Damon mutters. "I haven't asked her yet, but there's a good change she'd agree, especially for a cause like yours."

"The Adrianna Tate-Duncan? Lauren loves her," Kaylie blurts out.

"I know," AJ says. The awkwardness passes right over the boys' heads while Kaylie feels the full impact, like getting slammed by a monster truck.

"Um, did you need something, Aje?" Kaylie asks.

"Oh, yeah. Your boyfriend's here."

"Nicky?"

"No, the other one," AJ says sarcastically. "He's waiting out front, wants to talk to you. There's nothing I'd love more than to tell him to get lost, but it's your call."

Kaylie sighs, reconsidering that champagne from earlier. "I'll be right back."

She smiles at people as she passes them, but it fades as soon as she sees Nicky right outside, wearing the outfit Kaylie bought him for tonight. The bouquet of flowers in his hand—red tulips with freshly cut green stems—look even more vivid against his neat, all black ensemble.

"I know flowers and apologies won't fix anything, but I bought them because I saw the flower shop on the drive here and I remembered tulips are your favorite," Nicky rambles. "So, um, Star Wars is my favorite movie other than every Batman movie ever made and I've seen it—Star Wars—so many times that I know all the words. Um, my first mathlete competition, it came down to the kid from the other school and me in the final and when it came my turn to answer, I threw up on stage, in front of a room full of people. I think I was twelve—"

"Nicky, why are you telling me all this?"

"You said to tell you everything, especially the things I'd rather you not know," Nicky says. "These are just a couple. Kaylie, I know I messed up, but I promise it won't happen again. If you don't want me here then I'll respect that and leave, but it doesn't mean I'll stop trying. You, our relationship, it means too much to just quit. I can't take back anything I've done or said, but I can try to be better and some day maybe even good enough for you."

With every sweet declaration, Nicky takes a step closer. He finally pauses to let it all sink in when he's standing right in front of her.

"Nicky, I appreciate you wanting to spare my feelings or whatever by not telling me, but I can take it. I want to be the first person you tell things to, the good and the bad."

Nicky twitches like something she said was wrong and Kaylie almost pulls back, afraid of how he might react. She waits, but he doesn't seem to realize he even did it.

"Does this mean you'll forgive me?" he asks.

"Is there anything else I should know about?"

"Stories I'd rather not talk about? Tons." Nicky tugs his lips to one side and his eyes look very serious. "When we were fourteen, Faith kissed me, but only because I was teasing her about getting mano and she got pissed and tried to give it to me. It ended up backfiring on her and scarring both of us. It was just incestuous. Just, gross. We literally never talk about it. We even promised not to tell Kelly about it because ugh."

Kaylie laughs at the trauma on his face. "Okay, I forgive you."

"Good." Nicky smiles. "Happy Anniversary, Princess."

He's sensitive enough that he doesn't go on like nothing is wrong. He recognizes how fragile things are right now and when he pulls her into his arms, it's tentative and gentle. Nicky kisses her cheek and Kaylie doesn't know if she's making a mistake by willingly getting in line for another round of this roller coaster that somehow became their relationship. All she knows is what she sees, his sincerity, Nicky fighting for her without having to be told. It's all she wanted. It's just another hurdle and maybe now that they're over it they can be happy again.

"Happy Anniversary, babe." Kaylie kisses his clean-shaven jaw. "We still need to get through this party, but I'd say this is a good start. My mom is going to introduce us to everyone in the room." Nicky grumbles as Kaylie links her arm through his. "Be nice, Russo."

"Kaylie, I styled my hair for you," he whispers. He nuzzles the side of her face with his, making her giggle. "Like, with actual hair products."

"I can tell. You look great."

"You look beautiful."

It shouldn't be this easy to make up. It still bothers her, knowing what she knows. It still makes her sick, imagining Nicky and Kelly Parker in bed together. But it is what it is. And he's with Kaylie right now. He showed up for her, not for Kelly Parker. That means everything.

They walk into the party, holding hands, and Ronnie rushes over. The change in Kaylie's mood is thinly veiled at best if Ronnie can tell that things are good again. Despite her disinterest in her mother and brother's networking, Kaylie smile all throughout the evening.

Nicky sticks by her side for most of dinner, but then his phone buzzes and he shows her the caller ID: Parks. Nicky looks to Kaylie as if he's asking for permission and Kaylie kind of hates that even if he's just giving her what she asked for. When she let him go, Kaylie didn't think he'd be gone for the rest of the night.

"Damon, you don't have to stay to help clean up," Ronnie tells him at the end of the night.

"I'm happy to," Damon says. "David told me to personally apologize to you for not being able to make it in time for the party. There were some scheduling complications, but he's on the redeye tonight and he's looking forward to meeting you within the next few days."

Ronnie waves off his apology. "Oh, it's fine. I understand how things can be. I was really hoping he'd make it, though. This party was the fun part. By this time next week, we'll be neck deep in business meetings and negotiations."

Damon makes a face. "And my career just so happens to be one of the items on the bubble…"

Ronnie's smile goes dim. "They've hinted that they're eyeing up a boy band that's supposed to be the next big thing, but, hey, you are fantastic and your music speaks for itself. Don't worry yourself when we don't even know if you have anything to worry about."

"Or you can invest in dance lessons and voice synthesizer," Kaylie adds.

"Not a bad idea," Ronnie jokes, grabbing an empty tray and bringing it to the kitchen.

Kaylie knows it's a little sad to be jealous, watching this stranger interact so well with her mother. She can't remember the last time Ronnie told her she was proud of her or even implied it, but this musician emo punk gets a soft, sweet Ronnie Cruz pep talk. What is it about music that connects people on a level above everyone else?

"So, that's your boyfriend, huh?" Damon asks. "I hope he got Part II of your grievances."

Kaylie smiles sheepishly. Not so much.

"Speaking of, where did he go?" Kaylie asks, more to herself than Damon. "I meant to introduce you earlier, but my mom was showing us off. Hold on. I'll be right back."

Kaylie walks in the direction she last saw Nicky sneak off to, down the hall, towards the back of the house. She spots him through the glass windows of the sunroom, sitting out on the patio, his phone to his ear and his eyes on the sky.

"Parks, you cannot let her get to you. You should be asleep right now, not on the phone," Nicky says. "Hey, don't…don't cry. You know I hate it when you cry…yeah, I know, it isn't all about me, but that doesn't make it any less true…"

His face is one of agony as if he can literally feel Kelly's pain.

"I wish I could be there too…" Nicky laughs. "Not possible. You don't ugly cry. You…you're gorgeous even when you're blubbering and you know it…I know, cheesy. I probably stole it from Faith." Nicky laughs again. "Oh, I'm at Kaylie's, her mom had a party…don't worry about it. Just breathe. Did you? Good. Now look at the tattoo on your wrist…yeah, exactly. Always."

Kaylie slams the back door a little harder than she normally would and loudly clacks her heels against the pavement as she walks over to him. Her less than subtle way of making her presence known doesn't escape Nicky, who turns to face her.

"Kaylie's here." Nicky's on edge, as if caught doing something he shouldn't. "You should get some rest. Call me tomorrow. Before or after, whatever works for you…goodnight."

Nicky ends the call and though she's curious, Kaylie doesn't want to see how long that call lasted. She's sure they've been on the phone since Nicky excused himself at the tail end of dinner. She hates this. She doesn't want to share Nicky with Faith and especially not Kelly, but that doesn't look like an option anymore.

"Kaylie, uh, Kelly says hi. Okay, that's a lie. I'm sorry that ran a little long. With good reason."

"It's freezing," Kaylie says, rubbing her hands up and down her bare arms. "If you're going to be out here, you should at least remember your coat."

"I hadn't noticed. A little preoccupied." Nicky lifts his hand, motioning to his phone. "I was talking to Kelly and I know you probably don't want to hear about it, but the truth is she's in Florida and the last person she would've expected to show up is her mom, but she did and—"

Before he can continue, Kaylie walks over, grabs him roughly by the scruff of his neck and covers her lips with his. Honest to God, she's sick of hearing him talk about Kelly Parker.

"Kaylie." Nicky breathes sharply once their lips break apart.

"You're a good friend. I find it really, really sweet," Kaylie says. Her voice is flat. No emotion whatsoever. Shaking it off and sounding marginally happier, Kaylie whispers, "Happy Anniversary, baby."

Nicky stares at her, bewildered, but Kaylie ignores it and kisses him again. Instead of trying to explain himself, Nicky takes the out she gives him and kisses her just as passionately in return. It must be another guy thing. Even when he knows wires are crossed he just goes with it. Kaylie takes Nicky by the hand and leads him back to the house, saying she wants to introduce him to Damon Young, her new guy friend.

Family problems are a definite Get Out of Jail Free Card with almost everyone, including Lauren, and Emily takes advantage of it. How else would she convince Lauren to let Rodge into her house?

"Rodge, you aren't paying attention." Emily drums the end of her pen against the open textbook in front of her. "Three basic components of an atom are…?"

"This place looks so different during the daytime."

"Rodge!"

"Proton, neutron, electron."

Emily doesn't try to hide her frustration.

"Where are Lauren's parents?"

"Her dad is in Chicago and her mom's in LA." Emily flips a page to passively aggressively remind him that they aren't here to socialize. "An element is determined by its number of…?"

"Protons," Rodge says. "So they let her, you and your stepsister just live here like this, unsupervised and for free? We should throw a party once break starts. The clientele is antsy. Party favors to taper down the anxiety. Tell Tanner. We'll cut her in if there's a problem."

All of a sudden, Henley walks in like she's been living here for years. With her hair down and in loose curls, Henley tosses the book Faith lent to Emily onto their pile of textbooks.

"Finished it," Henley announces.

Emily squints her eyes, trying to detect bullshit. "I gave it to you two days ago."

"There was nothing good was on TV."

Rodge spins the book to face him, forgetting about chemistry entirely. "Their Eyes Were Watching God. I like the title. I also like how the cover art has her eyes closed."

"It's taken directly from the book," Henley says. "They seemed to be staring at the dark, but their eyes were watching God."

"Without spoiling it, did you like it?" Emily wants to know.

"I'm not terribly keen on poetry, per se, but I am a musician. The prose had a poetic element to it and the rhythm, to the point where I could almost hear it in my head. Then, in high contrast, you have the dialogue, using the vernacular language. Very stop and go, which you don't see, oh, ever anymore. There was a lot of racial commentary, which is to be expected and touched on independence, which I appreciated. I found it interesting that the female main character only managed to find herself after being mistreated by men. Four out of five stars."

"Thank you, Good Reads." Emily stares at the cover of the book, even more curious than before. Too bad she doesn't have much free time to devote to reading. She's dealing with her own mistreatment from the men in her life.

"Were you told you were smart when you were kids?" Rodge asks. He has his face in his hand, looking up at Henley like a curious child.

Henley doesn't even think before she answers. "Yes."

Rodge shakes his head. "Shame."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Henley demands. "I happen to be proud of being smart."

"Pride is for the blind. And so is music, but that's another issue entirely. It all keeps you from seeing," Rodge says, making Emily think of the eye carved into the library table. "When parents tell their kids, oh, you're so smart, A+ on your spelling test, kids get attached to that label and start evaluating everything they do based on looking smart. Forget learning from mistakes. They're too scared to make mistakes in the first place. Total gut punch to the ol' self-esteem. Smart becomes an insecurity."

Henley deadpans. "You weren't hugged enough as a baby, were you?"

Emily nudges Henley's calf with the knuckles of her toes. "Henley."

"What? I probably wasn't either." Henley tries to toss strands of her long hair over her shoulder, but her fingers get caught. The awkward fumbling doesn't stop her from glaring at Rodge. "By the way, who are you?"

He grins and leans up in his seat, holding his hand out to her. "Rodge."

Henley stares at his outreached hand with no intent to shake it.

Emily sighs. "Hen, we're trying to study."

"Okay, I just wanted to give you your book back," she says. "And to ask what's with the weird bookmark? If that's your passive aggressive way of suggesting I have a thought disorder, I assure you, Colorado, I'm not schizophrenic or suicidal. Nor does it run in my family."

Henley reaches for the book and flips back the flimsy front cover. She pulls out a scrap of paper. The writing is a little messy as if it had been scrawled on in a hurry. It reads:

Schizophrenia

- Onset: late teens/early 20's

- 1 in 100

- Genetic component

- 10-15% of people w/ Schizophrenia take their lives w/ the first 10 years of diagnosis

Emily sees how hard the tip of the pen pressed into the paper, tracing "schizophrenia" over and over and over. Maybe Faith was doing research? For some reason, Emily feels like she shouldn't dig, but briefly considers asking Payson about it, maybe warning her if necessary.

"I have no idea what this is for," Emily says. "It isn't my book."

"Want to hear my theory on mental disorders?" Rodge asks. "It's a nice rant on how society is trying to control the creatives and put us all in neat little boxes of social norms."

Henley doesn't say anything, just gives Rodge a weird look before she walks out and doesn't even announce her exit. Emily tucks the slip of paper back where Henley found it.

"She's intriguing," Rodge says. "Does she have a boyfriend?"

"Rodge."

"Not to imply that I'd even consider starting a relationship with her since I don't believe in relationships and she's a music person."

"Rodge!" Emily slams her palms against the forgotten textbook in front of her and finally draws his attention. "Now, back to Chemistry and not the kind of chemistry that involves anything, but particles attracting."

"This stuff is boring." Rodge leans back far in his chair, teetering on the back legs, a slip away from falling. "I know the basics. I just need help with the stuff that involves equations and calculations, less memorization. Memorization is the system's way of controlling us."

"I don't care about the system, Rodge. Can we focus? I had to beg Mr. Heisenberg to let you make up all your quizzes that you have incompletes on because, oh, you didn't even bother to show up to class, probably getting high somewhere instead. So, yes, I'm going to make sure you know even the basic crap because even he thinks I'm wasting my time with you."

"And my failure is a threat to your smartness?"

Emily's shoulders drop and her long arms go limp. "It isn't about looking smart. I don't want to be disappointed." Rodge can't look at her, moving his eyes to the ceiling. "Look, I won't deny that it's an ego boost when someone calls me smart, but that isn't why I work so hard. Not all of why I work so hard, at least. I take school seriously because it's our way out, Rodge, and seeing you so careless scares me. I want to see you get out of Laguna just as much as Ike or me. You don't want to be a high school drug dealer forever, do you?"

Rodge doesn't immediately reply. It becomes so quiet between them that they can hear Henley watching TV in the next room.

"I want to live on a beach somewhere," Rodge says. "Far, far from Colorado."

Emily smiles, finally seeing the fight in his eyes. "You don't strike me as the type who wears shorts or ever takes off his beanie."

"I could be. And I guess you're right. A high school diploma would be a start." He stares down at the open textbook, reluctant, but willing to break through. "Okay, let's do this."

Emily finally feels like she's getting through to him. She can't convince him to give up his little high school drug dealer operation, but she can get him to do his homework. As they go over key concepts, Emily's phone buzzes against the glass table. She looks at the caller ID and sees it's Davy. She wouldn't mind talking to him, just to check in or maybe talk about Henley, but she doesn't want to break Rodge's burst of momentum and so she ignores it.

They get through almost the entire chapter when the front door swings open. Heels click against the floor.

"Honey, I'm home!" Lauren shouts.

"Darling, I hope you brought dinner!" Rodge calls back.

Emily shuts the book. With Lauren home, they obviously won't get any more studying done, which is fine. She's content with today's accomplishments. At least he tried to sit still and get his work done. It's a lot more than his last two years of high school.

"What does this look like? A soup kitchen?" Lauren walks in and sets her bag down on the chair next to Emily, briefly staring at Rodge as he shoves his books into his ratty backpack.

"Sorry," Emily says. "I know I told you he'd be gone by the time you got back, but the study sesh ran a little long. He was just leaving."

"And that's my cue." Rodge slings the strap of his backpack over his shoulder. On the front pocket is an eye drawn on in Sharpie. The more she sees it and associates it with Rodge, the more Emily suspects he's in some sort of gang, cult or anarchist group.

"So, what's with the eyes?" Emily asks.

Rodge smiles, halfway out of the room. "It's all about the difference between looking and seeing." He takes another few steps and without turning back to them, Rodge lifts a hand up above his head as if to say goodbye.

"If you stole anything, anything, I'll know!" Lauren shouts at his retreating back. Rodge just laughs in this evil genius way that's dramatic to the point of being humorous.

"Lo, you can hold off on installing security cameras. Rodge is alright/" Emily has her phone in her hand, looking over the scratched screen. "That's weird. Davy called me a million times."

"Do you think Razor told him about Henley?"

"I guess we'll find out. Is Razor still not talking to you?"

"We are, well, sorta. It's complicated. I don't even know."

Emily isn't sure if she wants to hear about it and chooses the lesser of two messes, taking her phone into the next room. As if phone calls don't already make her nervous, Emily and Davy don't talk often and so she always goes back and forth between calling him by his name and calling him dad. Despite the closure they got over the summer, it doesn't change the fact that while she was growing up, he merely ghosted in and out of her life. She doesn't hold it against him anymore, but without that foundation, it's hard to maintain.

"Hello?"

"Hi, it's Emily," she says. "You called?"

"Where have you been?" Davy growls. The anger in his voice comes as a surprise. He almost sounds like an actual parent. "Emily, I called your mother and some guy answered! He told me you ran away, that you haven't been living there for weeks now!" Davy is obviously trying to control himself, but sucks at it. "Where are you? Have you been going to school?"

"I'm fine," Emily says. "I've been staying with my friend, Lauren. You met her over the summer. And, yes, I've been going to school even if I haven't been living with mom. And that guy you were talking to is her jerk, alcoholic junkie boyfriend."

Davy sighs, in relief or distress, Emily sucks at differentiating. "So you're okay?"

"I'm not living on the streets," Emily says. "Okay is a stretch."

"Text me Lauren's address and I'll be right there."

"Wait, you're in Boulder?"

"Denver, actually, so it'll take a while for me to get there. I'm in town on business and I wanted to surprise you. Turns out, the surprise is on me. Hang tight, kid. I'll be there soon."

Emily debates whether to mention it or not and ends up blurting out, "Davy, do you know about Henley?"

Emily doesn't know if he pauses so long because he's confused as to why she'd bring up Henley or because she called him Davy.

"What about Henley?"

Shutting her eyes tight, Emily answers, "She's been here, living with Lauren and me ever since she left California for Montana."

Silence again. Emily paces around Lauren's parlor, assuring herself that it was the right thing to do, mentioning it now. It's better that he knows and expects it rather than walking in to Lauren's house and finding Henley on the couch, fixated on an episode of Battles BC.

"It seems we have a lot to talk about. I'll be right there."

As expected, Henley freaks out about Davy being in Colorado. Emily stands by her decision to tell him and reminds Henley that she has to deal with consequences sooner or later. The stepsisters pace imaginary lines into the floor as Lauren sits on the couch, flipping through channels on the flatscreen. Lauren stops on MTV (Teen Mom, no less) and Henley is too distracted by her anxiety to comment on their generation and subliminal messaging.

When the doorbell rings, Henley tries to run for the stairs, forcing Emily to chase her down and hold her back. As they struggle and argue, Lauren goes to answer the door and puts on a bright smile for Davy. He looks so tired, which in turn makes him look older. Davy lost the glow of a man about to marry the love of his life. The honeymoon is clearly over.

"Davy! I mean, dad," Emily says softly. "I can explain. I—"

Before she can go on, Davy steps through the door and hugs both Emily and Henley at the same time. The girls both tense, but that doesn't stop Davy. Once the reality of the situation hits, that he's here for her and actually gives a damn about what's going on, Emily melts into the embrace and lets go of Henley, turning to hug her father.

"I'm glad you're okay, kid." His voice comes out as a whisper. "I nearly had a heart attack."

"Don't," Emily says. "I'm not ready to lose you yet."

Davy laughs as he pulls away, finally giving in to Henley's attempts to squirm away. "That goes for you too, Henley."

"And this is my cue to go wait in the kitchen." Lauren shuts off the TV and gives Davy a sweet smile. "You can have the living room for your family meeting. It's nice seeing you again, sir."

Davy nods to her. "You too, Lauren."

On her way to the kitchen, Lauren runs her hand across Emily's back and even touches Henley's shoulder to show her support. Once she's gone, they arrange themselves around the living room with Emily and Henley sitting together and Davy across, facing them.

"Which of you ladies would like to go first? And don't think either of you can get out of this one. I cleared my schedule for the rest of the evening. There's no escaping this."

Emily starts with the beginning of the summer when Bruce started coming around again and works her way up to the event that chased her out of her home. She starts with concrete facts, but then her emotions get the best of her and she wonders aloud about how Chloe could be so deeply invested in such toxic love that kills everything around it.

"Why didn't you ever tell me any of this was going on?" Davy asks.

"Honestly, it didn't cross my mind to tell you." Honesty is all she can offer him at the moment. "I'm still getting used to the idea of you being in my life. Plus, Ray says you've been busy lately. I wouldn't want to unload all of this on you when you already have so much going on."

"Feel free to run to me anytime. I mean it," Davy says. "Don't think we're just going to forget any of this happened. We're going to confront your mother. Together. Even if it's just so you can grab some things to bring back, we're going to your house."

Though she promised herself she wouldn't go back, that she isn't ready, Emily nods in response. It'll be different this time. This time she has her dad.

"It's not exactly a house per se," Henley says. "It's more of a dank, unsanitary 1860's tenement prior to the Tenement House Act of 1879 putting comprehensive legislation on housing conditions." Though her expression doesn't show any regret in her assessment, Henley is socialized enough to automatically add, "No offense, Colorado."

Emily drops her hands into her lap. "We've lived together long enough that I don't take offense from anything you say, Henley."

"A valuable trait to have." Davy smiles as he rubs his smooth palms together. "Your turn, Henley. Why aren't you in Billings and why have your mother and I gone so long without knowing this? Does Ray know?"

"Purely because Lauren couldn't keep it in her mouth." Henley raises her voice considerably, glancing in the direction of the kitchen.

"I didn't tell him anything!" Lauren shouts back. "That was all on you, Posh Spice!"

Though she isn't proud of it, Emily almost gave in to Lauren's suggestion that they get Henley drunk again (even though Henley is dead set on it being a onetime thing after the horrible hangover) in hopes that the multi-personality Spice Girls might return for an encore. Henley calmly explains missing her flight, taking an expensive cab ride to Laguna and how her anxiety over seeing her dad pushed her to do it.

"It just felt like the right thing to do." Henley has such confidence in everything she does, and an overpowering stubbornness. "I told mom that I wasn't ready. It isn't that I'm afraid…"

"I'm not mad," Davy assures her. "You're right. Maybe you weren't ready and your mother was pushing you into it. I'm surprised your dad didn't call your mom to ask questions."

"I called him on my way to Boulder and told him I stayed home, couldn't go through with it," Henley explains. "He said he understood. You know how things are between them. It doesn't surprise me they haven't talked about it."

"I may not be mad that you didn't go through with visiting your father," Davy continues, "but I am upset you didn't tell us. You and I, all three of us know your mom isn't going to take this well. And when I talk to her tonight I'm going to tell her that you're here, safe, and that I'm sending you home. You, my dear, have the honor of doing the explaining yourself."

Henley groans, reluctant. "Fair."

"And there's a pretty good chance you're going to get grounded for a long time after this one."

"Fair," Henley says again. "Oh, whatever will I do without my bustling social life?"

Emily snickers. "I think taking away her History Channel would be a worse punishment."

"Emily!" Henley shouts.

Davy's tight-lipped smile turns into a toothy grin. "Not a horrible idea."

"So, is it your turn to explain what you're doing here?" Emily asks.

"I'm here on business. The Denver office is a little bit of a mess right now so Henley's grandfather sent me out here to get everything straightened out with the label. You do know that Damon is in Denver, right?" Both Emily and Henley nod. "We have a lot going on in LA, everyone who's hot right now is taking top priority and the unexpected hiatus sidelined Damon's album. Last I checked, he isn't even done with it and he's having a hard time getting support from our people. No one wants to back him if he's going to pull another stunt."

"Stunt?" Emily asks. "Unexpected hiatus? What are those euphemisms for?"

Blatantly ignoring her questions, Davy asks, "You haven't heard from him?"

"We talked once," Emily says. "There wasn't much to discuss. I told him to leave me alone."

Davy frowns like a fan finding out his favorite television couple broke up. To Emily, sometimes her relationship felt like something out of a teen soap opera. It was all so surreal; a summer fling that tried to evolve into more, but failed to bridge the distance.

"Believe me, he had his reasons," Davy says, "but that's something for Damon to explain to you when he's ready, not me or anyone else." The tender way Davy speaks implies that it's something big and Emily isn't sure she wants to find out. She wants to know, yes, but she's afraid of getting hurt because of it. "Okay. What do you say I take you girls out to dinner? Lauren too. You can show me the cool place to eat in this town."

"I'll tell her to get ready," Henley volunteers. As she walks to the kitchen, Henley mutters, "Sure, if it doesn't take Lauren a million years to touch up her face. By the time she's done, everything will be closed."

"Like you're one to talk!" Lauren shouts back.

"So, how long are you going to be in Colorado?" Emily asks Davy.

"As long as it takes to get everything in order. And as long as you need me, kid."

Though she knows she'll feel weird about it as soon as she says it, Emily can't stop the words from leaving her lips. "I'm glad you're here, dad."

Davy gives her a big smile and his eyes glaze over. "Me too, Em."

...

Payson has no idea how she ended up out to dinner with Flex Jordan post-competition. Kim is to her right, gabbing with Mrs. Jordan, sitting across the table with her son. Ms. Jordan is an older, lively woman who can talk for hours with little pauses. She's very thin with pale white skin and fiery red hair, looking so tiny next to her African American Hulk of a son. Payson's favorite thing about Ms. Jordan is that she keeps Flex in check. She tries not to giggle every time Ms. Jordan calls him Darrell and not "Flex."

Flex is different with his mother around. He still wears his diamond earring, but he's dressed in pants that actually fit him. He smiles at his mother like she put the stars in the sky. Payson spends the entire dinner, trying to decide if this is the real Flex and he puts on an act for the world or if he's acting in front of his mother.

"We should be proud of our babies, Kim," Ms. Jordan insists. She raises her glass and Kim does the same. "Our two all-around American Cup winners. Next, the Olympics."

"I'll drink to that," Kim says, taking a sip of her wine.

"I'm glad you could make it out here to see me compete, mamma. That's why I didn't win in Rio. I didn't have my good luck charm in the stands." Flex was a nobody up until he pulled out a near-perfect high bar routine in Rio and catapulted to the top of the leader board, only to be beat out by two-tenths of a point, leaving Flex with silver and crowning Conrad champion.

"Stop it, Darrell." Ms. Jordan gently slaps the back of his hand. "You know the ticket was more than we could afforded back then. And what do I keep telling you? You won too. Silver is nothing to be ashamed of. I tell you, Kim, these gymnastics, they're too hard on themselves."

"I know exactly what you mean." Kim smiles and nudges her daughter.

"I don't get to see this one often, let alone see him compete," Ms. Jordan explains. "I got him when he was only three years old, sweet and shy, then sending him off to train in Colorado with Marty when he was only fifteen. This is the first time I've seen him since…"

"Christmas, couple years back." Flex squeezes her hand. "But at least you're a pro at e-mail and Skype from how often you get on just so you can bust my ass from Michigan."

"I'm not that old, son. I text too." Patting Flex's cheek, Ms. Jordan then turns to their dinner guests. "Kim, Payson, I'd like to personally apologize on behalf of this knucklehead. Sheila can be abrasive and sometimes downright rude. I don't want you having a bad impression of my son. The reason he didn't fly with you here from Denver is because at the last minute he decided to surprise me and stop over in Detroit so we could fly here together."

"It's no problem," Kim assures them. "This whole manager situation is new to us too."

"Have you talked to your manager yet?" Flex asks Payson.

"Not yet," she replies. "I've been solely focused on my gymnastics and trying not to deal with the press or endorsements or any of that until after the actual competition."

"Smart girl," Ms. Jordan coos. "Darrell, you can learn a lot from this young lady."

"I intend to, mamma," Flex says. "My manager thinks you'd be a good influence on me." Flex sits up, evidentially excited about what he has planned. "You and me, all-around champs, repin' the U.S. right. Sheila tells me that All-Around Mag wants to do a full spread on us. Now, I'm sure you heard nasty things 'bout me, especially over the cover with Cooper, but this time, I told 'em I don't want to do it if you aren't there, standing with."

His sincerity here isn't quite the same as it is when he addresses his mom. Payson doesn't trust it. "Why would you do that?"

"Foreal. Payson, you and me, we like the one-two punch," Flex says. He buzzes in his seat, rocking his shoulders from side to side with his hands up in fists. "Winners gotta stick together."

"It's no secret that the media likes to exploit and harass my son," Ms. Jordan says. "Sometimes, if I didn't know any better, I'd think he enjoys it. Sheila gets a dozen calls a day, girls claiming that Darrell is the father of their babies or saying that he disrespects women and hates white people."

"It all started when I got into a fight with this white boy, not something I'm proud of," Flex confesses. "It was at a junior meet in Denver and some preppy punk was tryin' a feel up my host-family's daughter, who was like a little sister to me. I pushed the kid around, scared him a little, and now that Flex Jordan is becoming a household name, the kid did an interview with some paper, saying I got anger issues and preach black supremacy or something."

"And because I'm female and white, you think being seen with me is going to fix your image?"

Flex gives her his most charming smile, the exact one he uses on the media. "And you put in a good word or two when the interviewer asks about me."

"I don't make it a point to lie to the public," Payson says, forgetting that they're sitting with their mothers for a second. Kim kicks her under the table, but Payson means it.

"Dang. You are friends with Kelly Parker, aren't ya?" Flex winks. "Listen, Payson, I know I'm not Kelly's favorite person and your boyfriend isn't myfavorite person, but they don't know me and neither do you and I think if you did, you'd wanna do this. I'm not that bad a guy."

Payson misses a lot of what he just said, stuck on the part where Flex referred to Austin as her boyfriend in front of her mother.

"Flex, do you think I could talk to you in private for a second?" Payson asks politely.

He smirks at her before looking to their moms for permission. Ms. Jordan insists they do and orders coffee for herself and Kim while they busy themselves with small talk. Flex offers Payson his arm, but she just walks off, heading over to the hallway, far from their mothers.

"Fuck," Flex curses. "Did I out you and Tucker to your momma? I wasn't tryin'a be a dick."

"Can we please not talk about Austin?" Payson asks desperately.

"Why? Your family don't approve? Can't say I'm surprised. It isn't a coincidence Tucker rhymes with loser. I bet your mom can tell," Flex says jokingly. Payson doesn't find it one bit funny. "Okay, let's get down to it. I'm willing to do you a favor if you do me one. You know what I want. What do you want, Payson?"

"Was any of that real?" Payson asks. "Everything you tell your mom. Because you in front of your mom is dramatically different to when you're threatening my friends on Kelly's lawn."

"Payson, you've met my momma. I'd have to be a heartless fucker to disappoint that woman and not give a shit, especially after everything she scarified for a jackass like me. Who I am around her, that's me. You of all people should know the game by now. Your best friend is Kelly Parker, gymnastics' resident bitch. You're dating Mr. Kobalt, who's arguably worse than Flex. I know you wouldn't put up with either of 'em and their shit if they were their image. I just do what I do to be who the people expect me to be. That's the biz."

Mulling over his little speech, Payson is quiet for a long time, playing with the hem of her champagne and floral dress. "Anything I want?"

"Ball's in yo court. Lay it on me."

"No more partying with Kelly," Payson says sternly. "No more bringing your friends to her house or inviting her out to go drinking with you. If she tries to contact you, you turn her down. She's really trying to change and you aren't much of a help."

"Boring," Flex says. "That's it? I give you a genie wish and you waste it on Pity Party Parker?"

"Yes. And I mean it, Darrell. I can call up the magazine and get them to print a retraction if you mess with her again. I like to think the word of the Gymnastics Sweetheart holds more weight than Flex Jordan, the cockiest guy in the country."

"I don't know how you do it in Boulder, but where I come from, we keep our word. Parker's your homie and you got her back. Flex respects that." He gives her a nod before holding up his iPhone so Payson can watch as he deletes Kelly's number (filed under "Fine Ass Half-Asian Bitch #1"). "Shit. I barely got any brain cells left. You know I didn't memorize her digits."

"I bet you also get her mixed up with Fine Ass Half-Asian Bitch #2 through 4," Payson says, making Flex laugh. The blonde almost catches herself smile and when she does, Payson shifts away. "Have your manager call mine. I'm sure they can work out the details."

"Coo. Let's go tell the gym moms the good news."

Flex offers her his arm again, but Payson still won't take it. This doesn't mean she trusts Flex even if seeing him with his mom did unveil a side to him that she didn't know existed. This is exactly what she tells her mom on their way back to their hotel. Kim is weary of this partnership, but does genuinely like Ms. Jordan. Payson feels the same.

"So, who's this boyfriend Darrell mentioned?"

Despite the weird feeling she gets at her mother's question, Payson kind of likes how they're both calling him Darrell instead of Flex now.

"He was just teasing," Payson says.

"Is there any truth to the teasing?" Kim pushes. "Austin or Conrad?" Payson laughs at the fact that her mom would even consider Connie. "You know, Pay, I could always just ask Kelly or Faith. I'm sure they'd be more than willing to catch me up on the gossip."

"Hey, Keeler!" Austin shouts as soon as they walk through the front doors of their hotel. Nice timing as always. "Good evening, Mrs. Keeler."

"Hi, Austin," Kim sings. Her smile says she knows even when she doesn't really know anything. Damn that mother's intuition thing Kim is always boasting about perfecting.

"I'm happy to report that KP was fine all throughout dinner, quiet, kept to herself, but we ate with the Ukrainian kids so it wasn't awkward or anything. Then she went straight back up to your room and I didn't try to stop her. Probably Skyping with Faith and what's-his-name."

"Nicky," Payson says. "I should probably go check on her."

"I think I'm going to call it a night. We have an early morning. Call me if you or Kelly need anything." Kim kisses Payson's cheek and squeezes Austin's bicep before heading to the elevators. "Goodnight, Pay. Night, Austin."

"Goodnight, mom."

"Goodnight, Mrs. Keeler."

After the elevator doors slide shut, Payson turns to Austin and asks, "Shouldn't you have a Kobalt girl in a wet t-shirt on each arm right now?"

"Sorry to disappoint, but Mr. Kobalt is on a break. You're stuck with just me, boring, crazy about you, Austin Tucker." He laughs. "So how was your date with Flex?"

"Interesting. I'm starting to get a hang of this gymnastics as a business thing." Payson goes over sit on a nearby bench and Austin follows. "So you can't even say Nicky's name yet?"

"I can censor enough not to call him Jerk-Off in front of your mom. And forget it. If Kelly and Conrad are over it then I'm obviously getting worked up for no reason. Connie's my boy, you know? I want to see him happy. And, yeah, sometimes I get into it with Kelly, but that one isn't my fault. She reminds me too much of my kid sister to not get the big brother treatment. Still, it'd just be nice if you were on my side for once."

Payson gives him a crinkly-eyed smile that never fails to cheer him up. "Well, for that to happen it would have to mean you're right for once."

"Hey, watch it." Austin playfully bumps into her with his shoulder. "I failed to place top three again. I'm in a fragile state right now, Payson."

"Fragile state?" She almost laughs. "I saw you doing cannonballs in the pool earlier today!"

"No." Austin shakes his head resolutely. "That was Mr. Kobalt. There's a difference."

"Yeah, there's no way you're getting away with that excuse."

Austin smiles at her and Payson smiles back, but then she spots Sasha and when he spots them he awkwardly turns away and pretends he didn't. Honestly, Sasha should be upset. The first time he called her out on it, he was upset, thinking Austin was toying with her. If it were Marty, he'd march across the lobby and drag her away from Austin, but Sasha just ignores it as if he wishes he hadn't found out in the first place. It's nothing less than awkward. Austin grins in this taunting way, like he might just kiss her in public, but then his phone rings.

"Your life partner calling?" Payson asks lightheartedly.

"Honest to God, the love of my life," Austin jokes. Just at the photo of Conrad that appears on his screen, Austin turns into a little child, excited about going to Disneyland for the first time. "Con Man! Tell me you and Faith didn't break more shit in my house. I knew I should have called in a service to baby proof the place before I left."

"Have fun. I have to go check on Kelly," Payson says. Austin waves and mouths "call you." Payson waves before she makes her way to the elevators.

Payson doesn't know what to expect when she goes upstairs to their room. Kelly wanted to go into the competition with a clear head and even broke down the wall between Nicky and her. Right when things started looking up, she came to Jacksonville just to run straight into another wall in the form of a downright scary woman named Sheila Buboyan.

The previous night was hard to stomach. It brought Payson back to the summer in Texas, nights full of tears and suppressed whimpers where nothing goes right for Kelly Parker. The one difference is that she has Nicky now. Payson knows Kelly spent hours on the phone with him, locked in the bathroom, her cries amplified with the acoustics. Payson knows Faith stayed on the phone with Kelly throughout the night. It's a team effort. FKN at its finest.

In the morning, by the time Payson woke up, Kelly was in her zone, listening to her loud, nonsensical electric music that she uses before every meet. Just like with everything else, when she's ready, Kelly will tell Payson what's going on and so Payson waits.

It doesn't surprise anyone when Payson is nearly flawless from rotation to rotation in spite of the way she struggled over the summer. She's the gymnast to beat. She sets every standard on every event. She didn't do her best on beam, especially with the new elements she just recently added. For Payson, when she's performing, it's always been less about beating the other girls and more about her love for the sport.

Going into a competition mentally and emotionally exhausted does nothing for Kelly, but she battles through it, something Kelly lacked in Rio even if she managed to clinch bronze. The gymnast known for her consistency nearly slips on uneven bars, but manages to save the routine. Kelly isn't happy, places fourth, and spends the rest of the day hiding in their room.

"Dad, you aren't listening to me!" Kelly shouts. Right as Payson starts to back out of the room, Kelly waves her inside. "She shows up here and totally messed with my head and it showed in my gymnastics! Dad, a twelve-year-old Chinese girl, probably on growth hormones with a fake birth certificate beasted me! What do you mean what do you want me to do about it! Ugh!"

Kelly ends the call without so much as a goodbye. Without commenting, Payson walks over and pries Kelly's fingers off her BlackBerry before Kelly breaks it and runs up Payson's phone bill with her all-night, silent phone calls with Faith and/or Nicky.

"Does this mean you're ready to talk?" Payson asks. "What's going on, Kelly?"

Kelly throws herself onto her bed and stares hard at the ceiling. At least she isn't crying anymore. That's a good thing. "My dad is an emotionally stunted egomaniac and my mom is a psychotic bitch. That's what's going on, Payson. It's been going on my whole freaking life."

Payson is starting to see why Kelly never talks about her parents.

"Remember when I told you to tell Sheila Buboyan to screw herself if she tried to sign you?"

"Not those exact words, but yeah."

"She would have screwed you over eventually. Believe me, I have firsthand experience," Kelly says. "I didn't even have a choice. One minute she's just a crazy gym mom and the next she's also my manager and making all these decisions about my career."

"She's your mom? Really? You don't look anything alike."

"Thank God." Kelly takes a deep breath, fills her lungs and slowly lets it go. "My parents got divorced when I was thirteen. All they ever did was fight. He was obsessed with work—and his hot intern—and she was obsessed with my career. I lived with her at first and it was okay. Half-mom, half manager, she was strict and demanding, but I somehow convinced myself she only did it because she wanted to see me succeed, but really, it was never about me. It was always, always about her."

"So the house you live in now…?"

"My dad's," Kelly replies. "At Nationals, when you stole my title, Sheila went from breathing down my neck, expecting perfection to ignoring me completely, making her other clientele higher priority. Higher priority than me, her friggin' daughter, but I wouldn't beg for her attention. I started running away, staying at Nick's. Then my sponsors started dropping their commitments and when my contract was up she dropped me as a client."

"No," Payson mutters.

Kelly nods. How can someone be so cruel, especially to her own daughter?

Kelly grinds her teeth. "She had this total freak out when she caught Nick and me…" Her voice trails off and Payson doesn't even try to imagine where she was going with that. "She blamed him for Nationals, which couldn't be farther from the truth. You were incredible. A fluke, I'm sure." Kelly turns to give Payson one of her sarcastic looks that would make Payson smile under different circumstances. "Then she sent me to live with my dad and disappeared."

Kelly hugs a pillow tight to her chest, trying to hide the way her body's shaking.

"And you haven't seen her since?" Payson asks.

"She calls sometimes, but I never answer. I didn't even see her when she was in Boulder, apparently courting you or bitching at Conrad and signing Flex."

"That's messed up."

Kelly laughs again. "Don't feel bad for me or whatever. Things are better now. I'd rather be alone than still be her blindly devoted cash cow."

Payson slowly moves up the bed and lies parallel to Kelly. They aren't the type of friends that show affection in a physical way. If Faith were here she'd probably be in tears, arms and legs wrapped tight around Kelly. Instead, Payson hopes that her presence is a comfort alone and something about hearing Kelly take slow, easy breaths tells her that the feeling is mutual.

"So what did she do that set you off so badly?" Payson asks.

"Oh, you're going to love this one." Kelly rolls onto her side and feels her way through a pile of papers on the nightstand, pushing aside extra room keys and paperwork until she finds what she's looking for. Kelly holds out a little white envelope and Payson takes it, peeking inside.

You are cordially invited to celebrate

The wedding of

Sheila Buboyan

And

Enrico Prado

On Saturday, May 28, 2011

At Four o'clock in the afternoon

The St. Regis Aspen Resort, Aspen, CO

Complimentary transportation for all our guests

R.S.V.P

970-920-3333

"She's getting married?"

"Disgusting, right!" Kelly shouts. "There needs to be a legal cut-off age. She had the nerve to invite me! Hey, daughter who I disowned, life is so much better without you and your father. Here, come see. My rich, twice divorced boyfriend—whose name is Enrico, I'll point out—paid for your ticket and everything! And she used the nice-bitch voice she taught me. Ugh!"

Kelly drags a pillow towards her and presses her face into it, but doesn't scream. She stays in the same position so long that Payson considers pulling the pillow away, fearing suffocation.

Payson purses her lips. "So he can pay for the plane ticket and lodging for all his guests, but he can't spring for wedding invitations that don't look like they're from the 99-cent store?"

Kelly laughs and readjusts herself. "Payson Keeler, that was particularly bitchy of you."

"I know." Payson slides the invitation back into the envelope and tosses it onto the table between their beds. "I think you're rubbing off on me."

"I approve."

"So do you think you'll go?" Payson asks carefully.

"Ew, no. I'd rather rip off my eyelids and stick my head in an anthill. As pissed as I am about all of this, I'm even more pissed about my performance out there. This was my one opportunity to show her that I'm better off without her and I couldn't even do that right."

"You improved from Worlds. It's just, so have I and the other girls. Just keep channeling it into your gymnastics…without breaking your neck." Payson smiles. Oh, how far they've come from Texas. "It's all about the long-term. Next year's an Olympic year. When you make the Olympic team and we're in London, she'll have to watch. Then you'll get the last laugh."

"Promise?" Kelly sounds so childlike, Payson almost forgets whom she's talking to.

Instead of making a verbal commitment, Payson sits up on her elbow and curls all her fingers in except her pinky. Kelly's smile widens even if it's only a marginal amount, recognizing the gesture for what it is. Kelly rolls her eyes as she links her pinky with Payson's.

With everything she's learned today, Payson understands Kelly a little better. With that kind of family dysfunction it's no wonder why Kelly is so slow to warm and has such deeply embedded trust issues. Kelly's been burned so many times, all undeserving, and it makes sense why she took it so hard when Nicky started dating Kaylie. He was just another person in Kelly's life who found something better and left her behind. It makes Payson appreciate Kim even more.

They lounge around their shared room, just talking about the day. When Payson's phone buzzes with a call from Austin, Kelly loudly scoffs, but quickly shuts up when her phone goes off and Payson can see the picture of Nicky and Kelly light up the screen. Payson answers hers and turns onto her side while Kelly takes her call to the balcony.

Payson closes her eyes and expects Austin to say goodnight or tell her that he's going out with some of his international buddies, but instead she's met with him freaking out. This time it isn't out of anger, but sheer panic.

"Austin, calm down," Payson says gently. "Now, what the heck are you talking about?"

"My parents and my sister! They're in Boulder."


Author's note:Was it cruel to end the chapter there when we don't know when we'll be updating next? Sorry, guys. It was a fun one, right?

Truthfully, the only reason we really updated is to announce that you can download a PDF of Life, Love & Denim! 520 pages. A little over 300,000 words. This site deleted it and we were bitter for a long time, but the diehards and people who have read WeFaB without reading LLD convinced us to put it up. The link to our LJ is on our profile. You can find the Faith backstory piece there too. Just let us know if you download it in a review or comment on LJ and enjoy!

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