Ronnie Anne Santiago passed the day in a fog. She had heard about people having their 'head in the clouds' but she had never experienced it herself before today. Normally, she went through the halls of Royal Woods Consolidated with a scowl on her face; it was not a conscious expression, it was a case of making a face and having it set like your mother warned you it would. Today, however, she was smiling, and you know what? She didn't care who saw. She was over the moon and if someone had a problem with it, well, let them come and they could sort it out. Right now, she was too happy to worry about what a bunch of punk ass kids thought anyway. Her happiness had been steadily growing since she kissed Lincoln, and if it kept up, she might explode in giddy laughter.

Never in a million years did she imagine she would feel this good; she never thought she would be so damn happy that she wouldn't give a flying shit what anyone thought or said. God, if she had even the slightest idea what kind of nirvana this was, she would have kissed Lincoln months ago.

She smiled at how stupid she'd been. Oh, I'm so, so, so tough and I can't let anyone know I'm a human being dur-de-dur. Sitting in history, the one class of the day that she didn't have with Lincoln, she rested her chin in her palm and counted down the minutes, and the seconds, until lunch, when she could see him again. Right now she had fifteen minutes and forty-five seconds. Maybe there were some micro and milliseconds in there too, she didn't really know, nor did she care. Fifteen whole minutes. Ugh. She looked away from the clock and tried to focus on the teacher. She never liked history. Talk about boring. Someone did something in 178something and something. Pffft. When you get right down to it, learning history is about rote memorization. It's not like math; math challenges you and gets your brain working. It's kind of like exercise...while history is sitting on the couch and stuffing Doritos in your face. She looked at the clock.

Thirteen minutes. She sighed and rested her head against the desk. Thirteen minutes is nothing when you're having fun, you ever noticed that? When you're playing a video game or on the computer, a half hour, hell, an hour, blasts by and you realize too late that it's three in the morning and you have to be up for school in three and a half hours (she'd done that more times than she could count). When you're waiting to see the boy you like, though, thirteen minutes might as well be thirteen hours. Thirteen long, dark, cold, miserable hours.

She lifted her head up and glanced at the clock. Oh, boy, only twelve minutes now. Time's really flying now.

What was Lincoln doing right now? Was he thinking of her the way she was thinking of him? Was he silently counting down the minutes until they could be together? She hoped he was. She thought he was. He liked her just as much as she liked him, right? Because it would suck if she was so happy and giddy only to have him dump her.

That thought made her stomach twist. Don't think like that. Of course he likes you! He liked you this whole time!

Okay, yeah, but Lincoln was so precious to her and the thought of losing him was enough to make her sick. And how stupid she would look: All smiling and goofy and look at her, she doesn't know I'm going to dump her, what an idiot.

She drew a deep breath, her chest suddenly tight and her mood souring. That wasn't going to happen. Lincoln wasn't like that. He was a great, sensitive, caring guy. He would never hurt her. He was...

...he was everything she needed.

That thought was wholly unbidden and gave her pause. Everything she needed? What did that even mean? Only she knew damn well what it meant. The human heart is a puzzle piece that fits one other heart to form a whole. Lincoln was her other half, he was the caring, considerate, thoughtful, sensitive part of her. She spent all this time thinking that Lincoln needed her to hold and protect him, and maybe he did, but she needed him to hold her hand and look into her eyes just as badly...if not more.

She needed him and he needed her.

They were soulmates.

She shuddered. Now that's mushy.

Only it was true.

One soul in two bodies.

Ahhhh, you sound like a romance novel!

Damn you, Lincoln. Next I'll be calling your eyes "limpid pools" and reading you poetry. Call me Danielle Steele.

She thought of Bobby and Lori. How "cutesy" they were together. Sugar boo-boo bear this and honey that. She imagined being like that with Lincoln and shivered. Maybe being a little mushy was okay now and then, especially when you felt so good and were so in love, but Bobby and Lori really took it too far. Ronnie thought of it this way: She liked chocolate cake, but every once in a while she came across one that was so rich and sweet that even she couldn't finish it, and when it came to chocolate cake, she usually finished hers and yours too.

Nine minutes. Sigh. Hurry up, time, go faster.

She balled her hands on the desk and tapped the index finger of each hand together in a steady beat. Time, ticking away the moments that make up a dull day. Hmm, where had she heard that? Was it in a song? A TV commercial? She tried to remember, but the only thing she could hear was the sound of Lincoln's musical laughter, and that made her sigh. He was so cute. She wanted to kiss him again. Very badly. She glanced at the clock. Seven minutes.

Ugh! Hurry up, goddamn it!

When the bell finally rang, she leapt up from her chair and knocked some girl out of the way. "Move," she said, and hurried into the hall. She was one of the first to reach the cafeteria, so she didn't have to wait in line for long. She grabbed her tray, let a line of lunch ladies slop crap onto it (ugh, what is this shit, Salisbury steak?), then went to the table where she, Clyde, and Lincoln usually sat. She waited for Lincoln, scanning the faces coming in from the hall. When she saw him, a big smile crossed her face and she waved. He saw her, grinned, and waved back.

He waited in line (hurry up, assholes, you're keeping my Lincoln away from me!), got his tray, then came over. "Hey," she said when he sat down.

"Hey," he replied.

"How's it going?"

He shrugged one shoulder. "Better now."

She giggled. Actually giggled. She should punch him just to get her groove back, but instead she looked coyly away. She tried to think of something to say, but she found that she couldn't. Jesus, Lincoln, look what you're doing to me.

"Ready for that math test tomorrow?" she finally asked.

Lincoln chuckled humorlessly as he opened his milk. "No."

"Come on, Linc," she said, "it's not that hard."

"Says you," he said. "Math is my mortal enemy." He took a long drink.

"I thought that was the Card Counter or the Card Shark or whatever."

"You're funny," he smiled.

Ronnie opened her mouth to reply, but Clyde dropped into the seat next to Lincoln with a high-pitched and annoying, "Hey, buddy!" Ronnie rolled her eyes.

"Hey, Clyde, how's it going?"

"Pretty good. I'm ready for that math test tomorrow."

"See?" Ronnie asked. "Even McBride gets it."

"I'm just not good at it," he said. "I do need to study, though. Not looking forward to that."

"I'll help you," Ronnie blurted. "We can...like...study together." She could feel her cheeks beginning to burn. Gee, all she did was suggest they study together. It wasn't the first time.

Then again...things were different now.

There would probably be a lot more kissing involved.

"Sure," Lincoln said with a twinkle in his eye. He reached across the table and took her hand, making her heart leap. "I'd like that. A lot."

She stared into his eyes, her heart beginning to race. She was aware of Clyde looking at them with furrowed brows, but she didn't care. Clyde McBride didn't exist right now, nothing did, only her and Lincoln. She felt another giggle building in her throat and swallowed it. Why was her throat so dry? Why couldn't she breathe? She glanced away. "I would too," she said.

Clyde shook his head and started eating his lunch. It sure took them long enough...


Lynn Loud was restless that day. She was usually hyper-focused in class because if she let her grades slip, she wouldn't be allowed to play sports, and without sports, her life was meaningless. Okay, maybe that was a little dramatic: Without sports life would be a very dull, boring place.

Today, however, she found her mind wandering. She kept going back to Lincoln and Ronnie Anne kissing on the sidewalk, and every time that image replayed in her head, she felt a mixture of emotions she couldn't understand. Oh, she recognized the anger, but what about the other ones? She thought one was hurt, and...she didn't know about the other ones. She didn't want to know. How she felt didn't matter right now. What mattered was that Lincoln was letting himself get mixed up with a girl who would run over top of him like she was a Mac truck and he a baby duckling. She had to stop this. She had to protect her brother. He needed her.

And she needed him.

She couldn't lose him to Ronnie Anne, and that's exactly what would happen. He would never have time for her, because he would be busy with Ronnie. She would gobble up every free moment he had. He wouldn't be able to play football with her, or basketball, or ride bikes...she would never see him, and for some reason that made Lynn so sad she wanted to cry.

It also made her mad. Why did she have to come along and single out Lincoln? Yeah, she got it, she wanted someone weaker than her, great, but there were plenty of other boys out there much, much weaker and more timid than Lincoln, why not snag one of them?

By the end of the day, Lynn was crackling with nervous energy. At football practice, she ran faster and hit harder than normal. She tackled Geena Parker so hard she flew out of her cleats. "Goddamn, Loud," Coach Peters said as she helped Geena up. "You're supposed to tackle her, not send her into orbit."

"Sorry," Lynn said. She didn't mean to hit her that hard, but when you're filled with anger like she was now, you tend you lose yourself.

Five minutes later, though, she did it again, this time spearing Carrie Keenan so hard her helmet came off and bounced across the turf.

"Alright, that's enough of this shit, Loud," Coach Peters said angrily, "you're gonna kill someone. Hit the shower."

"But it's football, you're supposed to..."

"Hit the shower!"

Lynn sighed. Fine. In the locker room, she grabbed her towel from her locker and went into the shower room. She stood under a nozzle and let tepid water cascade over her naked body. Why couldn't Lincoln see what Ronnie was after? Why was he letting her lead him by the nose like this? She understood he needed a dominant partner, but damn. He had no idea what he was getting himself into.

She imagined how unhappy he would eventually be, and she sighed sadly. When she was done, she toweled off, got dressed, and walked home through the chilly afternoon: Cold wind payed in her hair and leaves danced around her feet. The light was scarlet and weak, shadows growing long even though it was barely after five. Lynn hated winter. Sure, she liked playing ice hockey and stuff, but everything always felt so...dead. And bleak.

She hoped Lincoln was home. She wanted to talk to him. Or maybe she'd hold off on the talking and they could play football or something and just...enjoy being together. She came through the door and peeled off her backpack, a little smile playing at the corner of her lips. That smile fell, however, when she saw Ronnie Anne Santiago sitting on the couch. Lynn's eyes narrowed and her lips set in a grimace. Ronnie turned to look, her face open and soft: When hers and Lynn's eyes locked, however, her brow knitted downward.

For a moment Lynn stared daggers at her, then, with an exhalation, she went upstairs. Lincoln's voice followed her. "Pizza rolls are done."

She's making him cook for her in his own home. What's next, chain him to the stove and leave him barefoot and pregnant?

In her room, Lynn sat heavily on her bed.

It was already starting. Pretty soon, Lincoln would be a rare sight.

Tears flooded Lynn's eyes, and if Lucy wasn't right there, sitting on her bed and reading a book, she would have let them come. Instead, she blinked them away.

She wasn't aware of the sidelong glance Lucy shot her. Lynn was upset about something, and Lucy didn't like that. She loved Lynn, and when Lynn was upset, she was upset.


"Pizza rolls are done," Lincoln said, bringing Ronnie Anne out of her reprieve. She turned to Lincoln, who was coming in from the kitchen, a plate laden with pizza rolls in his oven-mitted hand. When they came in, he offered to make them a snack, and wouldn't take no for an answer when she told him she wasn't really hungry. Smelling the hot, cheesy-and-pepperoniy goodness, however, her stomach rumbled.

"What's with your sister?" she asked as Lincoln sat the plate on the coffee table and plopped down next to her.

"Which one?" Lincoln said. "I have fifty of them."

"Lynn. She just gave me a dirty look and stomped up the stairs." Ronnie Anne had not spent much time around Lincoln's sisters. She knew Lori fairly well because she was at her house almost as often as she was at her own, but beyond that, they were all one dimensional caricatures to her: Lola the pageant princess, Lynn the jock, Leni the airhead. Why Lynn shot daggers at her was a mystery, but she was lucky Ronnie was in a good mood, because any other time, they would have had words.

"I couldn't tell you," Lincoln said, stripping the mitt off his hand and tossing it onto the table. "Sometimes they get a hair across their butt and that's all it takes." He stopped. "Or it could...you know..."

Ronnie looked at him and cocked her eyebrow. "No, I don't."

His cheeks flushed and he looked away, his hand fluttering to the back of his neck. Ronnie couldn't help but grin at how cute he was when he was embarrassed. "You know...that time...of the month."

"You mean she might be on her period?"

Lincoln nodded, still blushing.

Ronnie Anne grinned and leaned in. "Like she's bleeding...from her...vagina." She was so close to his cheek when she spoke the last word that he shuddered against her warm breath.

His face was on fire and he looked down at his hands, which twisted in his lap. She could see a little smile on his lips, though. She planted a kiss on his cheek and drew back. "It does happen, Linc," she said, and popped a pizza bite into her mouth.

"Doesn't mean I like to think about it," Lincoln said. He grabbed a pizza bite and bit it: Cheesy goop shot out and landed on the table.

Ronnie laughed. "That was smart."

Lincoln sighed. "I never learn."

"Speaking of learning," Ronnie said, "how about we hit those books? That's why we're here, right?" She grabbed a couple more pizza rolls and tossed them into her mouth.

"In a minute," Lincoln said. "I'd like to finish my snack."

He picked up another pizza roll and put it into his mouth with a flourish.

"You mean you want to stall because you don't like math."

He shrugged. "Maybe," he said and ate another pizza roll.

"Well, I'm not letting you stall because this is important. If you flunk you're gonna spend the whole summer in school and not having fun with me, so bring those pizza rolls upstairs." She grabbed her backpack and stood up. Lincoln slumped his shoulders, and she laughed. "Come on." She grabbed him by his shirt and dragged him to his feet.

"Okay, okay," she said, grabbing his own backpack and the plate. "Let's go."

In his room, Lincoln kicked out of his shoes and sat on the edge of his bed. He plucked a pizza roll off the plate and put it into his mouth. He didn't particularly like these things, but he was so hungry when he got home from school that he'd eat tree bark if he had to. Ronnie took her shoes off and sat next to him. "Okay, what are you having trouble with?"

"All of it," Lincoln said around a mouthful of food.

Ronnie sighed. "You're lucky I like you." She snatched the plate away and sat it by his pillow.

"Hey."

"Hay if for horses, Loud." She grabbed his backpack, pulled out his book, and shoved it into his hands. "Alright, let's do this."

They stretched out side-by-side on their stomachs, their books open on the bed before them. Ronnie Anne bent her knees and kicked her legs back and forth. She glanced over at Lincoln, and caught him staring at her. She blushed and looked away. "You need to be looking at your book and not at me," she said.

"I don't like looking at my book," Lincoln said, "but I like looking at you."

She giggled. "You're pretty charming for a lame-o."

He shrugged. "I just say what I feel."

"Yeah?" Ronnie asked, flipping a page just so she had something to do. "I always admired that about you. I have a hard time doing that."

"I know," he said. "It's kind of cute."

She looked at him. "Cute?"

"You remind me of Hank Hill. The way he's so uncomfortable with emotions. 'I feel somethin' and I don't like it, I tell ya h'what.'"

Ronnie laughed long and hard, burying her face in his cover. "I am not Hank Hill," she finally said, brushing a tear away from her cheek.

"I didn't say you were," he replied. "Just that you remind me of him. You're a lot prettier than he is."

Ronnie's heart melted. Literally melted. She could feel it turning to warm goo in her chest. She looked into Lincoln's eyes. So big, so bright, his smile so cocky. God, she loved him. She was so close to saying it, too; three simple words danced on the tip of her tongue. How would he react?

She decided she wanted to see. "Lincoln," she said, and touched his face. "I love you."

His eyes slightly widened and his breathing stopped dead. Suddenly terror filled her and she regretted saying it.

Until he touched her face and said, "Ronnie...I love you too."

They leaned into each other's lips and kissed, their tongues sliding over one another in a slow, sensual waltz. She drew him closer and held him as she prodded every crevice of his mouth, tasting him, drinking him, getting drunk on him. Her heart beat faster and faster until it was slamming against her ribcage. She loved this. Being close to him. Being connected to him. Holding him. Loving him. She pressed her body against his, and the way his heart beat next to hers made her weak and lightheaded. The kiss broke, and he kissed her neck, his lips pressing against her throbbing pulse. She sighed as fire filled her stomach, a burning pressure she did not quite understand.

He kissed higher, on her ear, behind her ear, his hand brushing her hair back. She felt a tingling sensation in her loins, and was vaguely aware that she felt damp. Did he make me piss myself? He was on top of her now, and his crotch brushed again hers: Lightning bolts shot from the secret well between her thighs. She cried out and he stopped.

"Are you okay?" he panted.

"I don't know..." she said, her mouth dry. "Yes."

"Do you want me to stop?"

She swallowed hard and thought about it. No, she didn't, because it felt so good, so right, like nature was taking its course, and you don't stand in the way of nature. A part of her did, because she was not stupid: She had a vague idea where this was heading..

She didn't care, though. "No," she said, and slipped her hands under his shirt: His flesh was warm and soft. He leaned in and kissed her, lip tongue passing her lips and flicking across hers. His hand fluttered to her chest and laid across her left breast. Her heart crashed against his palm. She spread her legs wider, and when he shifted, his erection scraped against her, and she cried out into his mouth. Her underwear, her pants, and his underwear and pants separated them. Four layers, four thin, easily removable layers.

Speaking of underwear, hers were soaked and his were probably going to split. She imagined what it would feel like as his crowned head pushed past her lips and into her passage, and shuddered.

"Hey, Linc...oh shit!"

Lincoln jumped off of her and she sat bolt upright. Luna was standing in the doorway, her eyes wide. Lincoln shifted to hide his erection, and Ronnie scooted up and closed her legs, horrified that Luna might have seen the dark patch she was certain must have bled through her pants.

"Mom...uh...mom says it's time for Ronnie to go home, it's...uh...almost dinner." She rubbed the side of her head and stared at the window, unable to make eye contact.

"Alright," Lincoln said around a lump in his throat.

"So...uh...yeah."

With that, she turned and hurried away.

Lincoln sighed and tossed a glance over his shoulders. Ronnie was pulling her shoes on. During their...um...play, a few strands of her black hair had come free from her ponytail and lay across her forehead, partially veiling her eyes. She glanced up at him, then quickly back down.

"Hey," he said, feeling bad, "I'm sorry..."

"It's fine," she said. She grabbed her backpack, stood, and shoved her book into it. She smiled. "Really."

He sighed and bowed his shoulders.

She came up and stood in front of him. He looked up, and she took his hands. "I...uh..." her eyes darted away, but then met his as though she were exerting great effort to focus. "I really enjoyed myself today." She leaned in, and they kissed again. She pulled away. "See you tomorrow." She punched him in the arm, then was gone.

For a moment Lincoln sat on the edge of his bed, his erection slowly diminishing and his heart staggering. Then, with a sigh, he got up and went into the hall. Luna was leaning against the wall, her arms crossed. She had a little smile on her face. "Please don't give me a hard time," Lincoln sighed.

She shook her head. "I don't know whether to be proud of you or mad at you."

"We were just kissing."

"That was a hell of kiss, bro." Her smile faltered. "Just...uh...be safe."

Lincoln rolled his eyes. "Sure thing," he said. There was no use in arguing. He started down the stairs, and Luna followed. Neither one of them saw Lynn staring through the crack of her door, her brows furrowed angrily...