Look what I did! I updated! Isn't this so exciting!? So yeah…hi. What's up? Happy belated Halloween. Sorry I haven't updated. :( Thank you for the reviews though! And I hope you like this chapter. I worked hard on it. It's faxy, don't worry. Hopefully you like!

Enjoy!

All too Well

"You're kidding me."

He smirked. "Come on, Max. It's sixty-five outside, almost one in the morning…"

I snorted. "Well, who knew. He can read a thermometer and a clock. Such a smart guy."

He gave me a look and kicked off his shoes. "Come on, Max. What happened to the adventurous side of you?"

It got stolen," I replied drily. "Come on, Nick, this is totally stupid."

He sighed. "Let's get some things straight. First off, I'm not going to answer to "Nick". Ever. Second—"

"Whoa, wait. HOLD THE PHONE!"

He looked at me like I was crazy. "Yeah?"

"What the heck do you mean you're not going to answer to "Nick"? Nick is your name. You can't just decide, "today I'm not going to be called Nick". It's against the rules."

"What rules?" he asked, pulling off his shirt.

Okay. I'll admit it. My jaw dropped.

But just a little.

I averted my eyes. "The rules."

"Oh, THOSE ones." He laughed. "Right. Well, it's Fang."

I wasn't sure if he was kidding or not. His face was straight but that meant absolutely nothing. "Fang."

"Yeah. Got a problem with that?"

I crossed my arms and sat down on the sand. "Sort of. I mean, it's not even a name."

"Is too."

"Is not."

"Is too."

Is not."

"Well, that's what you're going to be calling me."

"That is very assuming of you."

He rolled his eyes. "Back to the point."

"No, I'm not going swimming. I would get all wet. And I don't have a swimsuit."

"You can borrow some of my clothes afterwards."

I bit my lip. Swimming. In the ocean. At one. With…him.

I scowled. "Turn around," I demanded.

He grinned and turned around.

Luckily, I had a black cami on. I peeled off my sweatshirt and tee shirt. No way was I gonna go in my underwear. Not a chance. The sweats would weigh me down but whatever.

"Done?" he asked.

"Yeah."

He turned around and raised his eyebrows. "You're going in your sweats?"

"Yeah, got a problem with that?" I asked, taking my hair out of my messy bun.

"They're gonna weigh you down," he warned. He himself was shirtless with basketball shorts.

I rolled my eyes. "Well, ain't you smart. Ugh. Later." Getting a running start I dived in. It felt wonderful. The water was calm and cool…I didn't go out that far, only about four feet.

"Slow poke," I spluttered, coming up for air.

"Hilarious, Max," he said from the sand.

I shrugged. "I thought so."

He got a running start and I yelped as he dived right towards me. "Watch it!"

His arm encircled my waist and I went under with him.

"ACK!" I hacked, coming up. "Salt water UP MY NOSE! Ugh!"

He smirked. "You liked it."

"No, I do NOT like drowning, thank you very much."

"Spaz."

I raised an eyebrow. "Max is not amused."

He snorted. "Whatever." His dark brown, almost black eyes lit up and he grinned. "Let's play a game."

"A game?" I asked, dipping my hair back in the water.

"Yeah. The color game."

"The color game?" I asked in disbelief. "What are you, six?"

"No, I'm actually nineteen, thank you very much." He scooped me up bridal style. "Pick a color."

I swished my legs. I was being HELD by NICK. Fang…whatever. This was not cool.

"Relax, Max, seriously. I'm not going to drop you."

I shot him a look. "I am relaxed."

I was SUCH a liar. I was so tense, it hurt.

He sighed. "Pick a color," he repeated.

"Blue," I guessed.

I got dunked.

"Pink."

"Green."

"Come on, Max, get more creative," he urged.

"I'm trying!" I persisted. "Purple."

"Yellow."

"Orange."

"Red."

"Brown."

"For heaven's sake!" I sputtered.

"Keep it coming."

"Um…black?"

He flipped me. "You are terrible at that game," he informed me, when I came back up.

"Thanks," I replied drily. I turned around to face the ocean. "I'm gonna go a little farther."

"Wait," he said, talking my hand and pulling me back. He looked at me queerly and tilted his head.

"What?" I asked, alarmed.

He turned me around so my back was facing him. He smoothed some hair away, making me shiver. I realized to late what he was touching. "What's this?"

I broke free from him. "It's nothing," I said in a rush.

"Obviously it is," he said.

"No, it's not."

"Max," he whispered, pulling me toward him.

I shivered as he touched it again. No one but me had ever seen my tattoo. I felt like one of my deepest, darkest secrets had been told.

Which, it kind of had.

"What does it stand for?"

"That is for me to know and for you to wonder," I answered briskly. "Now get your fingers off my back."

"Hey, it's cool." He smirked, his fingers lingering a second longer. "Rebellious. I like it."

"If you tell ANYONE, I swear—"

"Hey. Breath. Chillax. Who would I tell?"

He looked so calm and smug, I nearly slugged him right then.

"Whatever. Let's go. I'm cold. And hungry."

I swam to shore. My pants were heavy with water once I got out and I almost fell from the weight.

"Told you that was a bad idea," he said smugly.

I stuck out my tongue, which was very hard because I was shivering. "Just get me some dry clothes."

"Can do, princess," he said, throwing me some sweats and a white. "The sweats are gonna be big but they'll do."

I hopped into the truck and changed. You know that feeling when you are really, really crazy cold and wet but then you get on nice warm clothes and you feel all warm and fuzzy and comfortable? Yeah, that's how I felt. It was wonderful.

"Done," I called opening up the truck do for him. He had changed outside, behind the truck.

"Wanna eat somewhere?" he asked.

I nodded. Then my eyes narrowed. "Wait. What am I thinking? Everyone will recognize you."

He shook his head. "Not if you go to a really run down awesome café where only truckers go."

"Oh. Okay." What a description.

I kicked my feet back up on the dashboard, sighed and closed my eyes. I felt so warm and comfortable and…relaxed.

I opened my eyes to see Nick staring at me. He looked away quickly.

"What?" I asked.

"What, what?" he replied.

"Nick…"

"Fang."

"Why do I have to call you that?"

"Because," he said. "I'm your ride. And I'm your elder."

"Hardly," I snorted.

He glowered.

"Fine. Fang."

He visibly relaxed.

"Nick is just for business," he explained. "Fang Nicholas Walker is my real name. But I don't want to get that out into the media. So I'm Nick to everyone but my bodyguard, Dylan, my family and you. And I'd like to keep it that way. Nick Walker is more sellable anyway."

I shrugged. "I guess," I admitted. Only me and a few others called him Fang? I didn't really know what to think about that.

"I guess I wouldn't really know what flows in the music industry. My friends are huge fans by the way," I mentioned, changing the subject.

"Your friends, huh?" he chuckled. "Not you?"

"Uh…nah, I'm not in to the whole inappropriate, lovesick, partying kind of music," I told him bluntly.

"Really? That's how you classify my music?"

"Yeah, actually."

"Not gonna lie, that kind of stings."

"The truth hurts," I told him drily.

"Well, what kind of music do you listen to then?"

I shrugged and stared out the window. "Songs that make me lose my breath."

His brow was furrowed in thought. "An example?"

I sighed. This was so weird. We were actually having a civil conversation.

"Um…you know, Skinny Love, Bleeding Love, Beautiful Soul, Jar of Hearts…songs like that."

He nodded. "Birdy, Leona Lewis, Jesse McCartney, Christina Perri…interesting."

He had this amused smile on his face.

"You're making fun of me!"

"No, I'm not," he laughed.

"Are too," I pouted.

"I'm not, I swear. What's your favorite song right now?"

I bit my lip. "All too Well" by Taylor Swift.

"I've never heard it."

"Really? It's on her new CD."

"What's it about?"

I shrugged. "It's kind of hard to explain…it's pretty much about a couple who had an amazing relationship but…something happened. It fell through. And they tried again and again to fix it and mend it but nothing worked. The girl got her heart broke over and over again and…I don't know, I guess I've always thought that there's something hardbreakingly beautiful about a tragic love story."

I glanced at him.

He was looking at me intently.

I blushed. What was up with me? I never told anyone what I thought about deep stuff. Not even Ella.

I looked out the window. "Just look it up," I muttered.

"I will."

We rode in silence all the way to the café.

"Let's get some pie," Fang said, parking the truck. "I'm starved."

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Peace out—

d-and-s86