A Happy New Year to all! =D Hope everyone had a fantastic day/night and let's hope 2015 brings everyone an amazing year. Thank you for taking the time to read the last chapter. And thank you to everyone who favourited/followed the story.

RIP Edward Herrmann. So sad to hear about the loss of a great actor.

Bridget and Alan both had the same sleepy expression on their face in. They had taken two spots in the left back corner of the classroom, slumped in their seats and struggling to keep their eyes open as their American Literature teacher drawled at the front of the class. Bridget yawned, trying to keep it as silent as possible. She covered her mouth, holding up her battered copy of Death of a Salesman in front of her face.

"Is school over yet?" she asked, leaning close to Alan and keeping her voice as low as possible. Another yawn escaped her.

"This is the first lesson," he answered, grinning at her and she pouted, slumping further into her seat.

"Come on, let's get this task done." He nodded to the board where their teacher was writing down their partner task and she straightened up, wincing at the sensitive bruise on her back and the thumping in her head when she moved. She groaned, one hand reaching behind to the bruise and her other hand reaching up to her temple.

"You'll be fine, soldier," Alan told her and nudged her to open her book. Charlotte turned around in front, a smile already on her face as she looked straight at Alan. Her stare hardened when she glanced at Bridget who rolled her eyes in response.

"My partner's not here today," she said and touched his hand. "Mind being a three?"

He carefully moved his hand away. "Uh, no, that's fine."

He took a quick glimpse at Bridget who was staring daggers at her former friend. He never really found out what had gone on between Charlotte and Bridget because at one point they were inseparable. They always came into the comic shop together. Like him, neither of them had many friends in school. They were each other's glue to get through the shitty hell of high school. But since summer there had been tension between them. Bridget had stopped hanging out with her and even stopped talking to her. He had noticed the cold looks shared between them and even witnessed them talking angrily to one another at the lockers. But he never knew the reasons. And he had asked Bridget at one point but she brushed it off and told him not to worry about it.

Bridget shrugged lightly. "Whatever," she mumbled.

Charlotte turned back to Alan, beaming brightly. While she had toned down all the make-up she started wearing last summer, Alan had noticed she was still much more confident in her appearance. Her pale blonde hair was always scrapped back now, away from her face and not hanging down like a pair of curtains anymore. Her make-up was subtle, enough to notice the glow it gave her but not enough to think she looked like a clown. Her style had definitely changed. She was making sure her tops were…

Alan cleared his throat, looking away.

He had done his best to get to know Charlotte more. For their junior year he had taken Bridget's request to heart, talking to Charlotte and getting to know her. But she was too forward. Too ready to laugh at anything he said, always asking about him, and taking any opportunity to touch his hand or welcome him with a hug.

And she wasn't Imogen Reece.

It was already a good morning. She was in their American Literature class and she would also be in French next. He smiled at the thought. Until a hand was in front of his face, waving up and down.

"Come on, Frog, don't zone out on me now," Bridget said. She was smirking when he turned to her, realising he had been staring out of the window.

"Right… partner task," he muttered and opened up his book.

"Presentation of one philosophy seminal to the American Identity," Bridget read out, jotting the task down into her notepad.

"Are you going to the Valentine's Dance on Friday?" Charlotte asked Alan.

"Guess I'll be doing all the work, then," Bridget mumbled and started turning to all the dog eared pages in her books.

"No, I don't really do dances," Alan replied.

She tilted her head with a playful smile on her face. "Have you ever done dances?"

"No."

"Don't knock it until you've tried it," Charlotte said.

"Been to school dances much?" Bridget asked, raising an eyebrow at Charlotte whose jaw clenched as soon as soon as she said that. She kept her own expression just as hard, not showing any sign of regret at saying that to Charlotte.

"No," Charlotte said. "I've never been to a school dance. But I'd like to go before high school ends. It's part of the experience, don't you think?"

"Not really," Bridget said.

"Oh, so you don't want to get all dressed up, dance with a guy, and have a good time?"

Alan had begun to fidget in his seat, tapping his pen on the table.

Bridget sighed. "I really don't."

Charlotte shook her head, looking back at Alan who was silent and had begun to scribble in his notebook. When he glanced at up her, she smiled cheerfully and touched his hand again. He slowly took it back.

"Isn't it your birthday this Saturday?" she asked and he nodded. Her eyes brightened. "Are you doing anything for it? If not, why don't you come to the dance? With, um, me?"

Bridget had to grin in amusement as she raised an eyebrow at Alan. The poor boy seemed to have lost all colour in his face when Charlotte had asked that. His mouth opened, ready to answer but no words came out. He had lost the ability to speak and came out with strange choking noises instead. While Bridget sat hiding her smirking mouth and fighting the urge to burst into a fit of giggles, Charlotte's hopeful expression had melted into pure embarrassment as her cheeks blushed, a brilliant shade of red, and she looked away, biting at her lower lip.

"Um, it's okay if you don't want to. I was just asking… I mean, I thought you might want to make your birthday special. Sorry."

She turned back in her seat, head ducked down and reverting back to her former, shy self. She stayed hunched up working on the task by herself for the rest of the lesson. Alan didn't say anything else to her either, keeping his distance but Bridget caught him taking sneaky glimpses at Charlotte for the remaining thirty minutes. Now and again he kept reaching his hand out towards the rejected girl but as immediately as he reached out, he snatched it back and returned to his work.

"Do you think I should have said yes?" Alan asked Bridget at the end of the lesson. They trudged down the hallway together, heading straight to their French lesson.

"If you had asked me last summer I would have marched you straight towards her and demanded you to actually ask her yourself."

"Back when she was your best friend and you cared about her?"

"Yep. So now, I'm saying no. But not for that reason only."

"Oh?" He glanced at her curiously and she flashed him a cheeky grin.

"Also because I see how much you drool for Imogen Reece."

He made that same choking sound he did in American Literature. "I – I don't – I don't drool!"

She snorted and gave him an unconvinced look. "C'mon. You totally get a boner for her every time you see her. And you pull this kinda look…" She stopped talking and paused in the hallway, tilting her head and letting her jaw drop and tongue hang out.

"I don't!"

"Dude, you totally do." She laughed as he ducked his head and bumped into her purposely.

"Shut up."

She pulled the face again. "Duuuuuuuuh! And don't forget the drool."

He bumped her again and she laughed, reaching up to mess his hair which caused more protested cries and stern glares that barely lasted a second before he started laughing along with her.

"And I think when you have the hots for Idiot Reece like that, it's probably a bit inappropriate to take someone you're not interested in to a dance. Especially when I know you'll be staring at the red-headed bimbo all night. Don't do that to Charlotte."

"You really don't like Imogen, do you?"

"No," she answered straight away. "She's said shit to me and Charlotte in the past and I don't care for snide bitches like her. I don't even get why you like her. She's a total bitch to you too."

"Only in front of Bobby. She's actually quite nice to me in private."

"That still doesn't make her sound decent. She may have the ability to be nice as pie but she doesn't have the balls to be that person in public because of her rich dick friends? You don't need a girl like that."

When they reached their next classroom, Alan leaned against the wall and folded his arms. His left ankle crossed over his right and he grinned at Bridget. "What kind of girl do I need, then?"

Bridget sighed. "I just think if you're going to find someone, you deserve the best. A lot of people around here don't actually know what a hero you are."

"I'm a hero?"

"Stop smirking. You look arrogant," she scolded but smiled quickly. "And yeah, you are a hero. Nobody here knows how much you've been protecting them. You're out there almost every night fighting vampires and making Santa Carla a little bit safer each time. Most of these guys would shove your head down a toilet or the girls would take one look at you and laugh and yet you're out there making sure they're not going to be another face on a missing poster. Nobody asked you to do that."

He shrugged. "It's nothing."

"That's not nothing," she said.

"It's not just me. Edgar, Sam, Bonnie, your sister… you. You're all out there with me protecting the town."

"You're all amazing," she said. "And I'm pretty bad ass too."

He chuckled. "Now who's looking arrogant?"

"I'm just saying a hero deserves someone who's going to treat them right. And Imogen doesn't." She punched his shoulder lightly. "I look out for my boys and girls, y'know?"

He swung his arm around Bridget's shoulders, pulling her closer and she rested her head against his chest. It was such a natural, friendly action they had both come to do that neither of them were thinking even once about it. Not even what it must have looked like when Charlotte came out of the girls toilets opposite and saw them.

In that second her heart was being ripped out of her chest. It wasn't the first time that had happened. A part of her felt like she had died every time she saw them both nudging each other, hugging, laughing together… doing everything that she wanted to be doing with him.

After the aching tear in her heart, her blood began to boil. She balled her hands up in tight fists and bit down on her lower lip. She focused on Bridget who leaned against Alan, happily and comfortably.

That backstabbing bitch, she thought.

Valentine's Dance this, Valentine's Dance that. Alan had enough about it by the time he got to the lunch table. French had been painful, hearing about how Bobby was ordering a limo for Imogen and her friends. Naturally she was going with the jock, having been glued to his side since Middle School. All the girls were laughing during the lesson, planning outfits and whose house they would be going to afterwards for an after-party.

But the hype of the dance didn't even seem to escape his group of friends as he sat down. Across the table, Bonnie, Sam, Bernice and Leon were chattering excitedly about the dance. It was nice to see Bernice and Leon sitting together and actually smiling for once. But despite their smiles and eager participation in the conversation, Alan noticed there was still a small distance between them where they sat. And they kept their hands to themselves. Usually they would be holding hands but Leon kept them folded across his chest and Bernice resting on her lap. On the other side of the table, where Alan was sitting, Bridget and Edgar were eating silently and staying out of the conversation.

"I can't seem to escape this dance," Alan said. "Everyone's talking about it."

"You guys seriously aren't coming?" Sam asked.

Bridget, Edgar, and Alan stared at him with the same, poker-faced expression. "No," they answered in unison.

"Come on," Bonnie pleaded. "It'll be fun! We're quite a big group now and it'll be nice." She looked at Bridget with an expectant smile but her friend raised an eyebrow.

"I don't know why you're looking at me as if I'm going to crack first," Bridget said. "Since when have I ever been desperate to go to a dance?"

"They're pretty good," Bonnie said and pointed to Sam, and Bernice and Leon. "We went to Homecoming and it was great."

"Yeah, you really sold that," Bridget said and Bonnie pulled a face.

"You don't have to socialise. We'll stick together and be each other's dates."

Bridget smirked at Alan. "Alan got asked to the dance by Charlotte."

A silence seemed to fall on their table as all eyes turned to Alan. He froze, uncomfortable by the many gazes he was getting even if they were all his close friends and older brother. Bonnie made a shrill, squealing noise and reached over to grab at his hands but he moved them away.

She was beaming at him. "You said yes, right?"

"Not really…"

Her face fell.

"I told her I don't do that kind of thing."

Bonnie groaned, letting her head fall down to meet the table before she sat up again and gave him a disappointed frown.

"Oh, Al. She's the only girl who has ever given you that kind of attention."

"I don't like her," Alan said. "I mean, I like her as a friend… sort of. But I don't like her in that way."

"It's never going to happen with Imogen."

"I'm not waiting around for Imogen. I don't want to go to a dance with Charlotte."

Bonnie pouted, ending the conversation there but she kept glancing up at Edgar, Alan, and Bridget, hoping that three of them would change their minds. She could still have fun with Bernice, Sam, and Leon but it wouldn't be the same. She wanted all of her friends there. After all…

"I just thought it would be nice since it's my birthday on Friday," she said quietly, not looking up.

"Oh, don't you start!" Bridget warned, pointing at Bonnie who was now looking up at the three of them with puppy dog eyes and a small pout on her lips. "That's not fair."

"It's my eighteenth birthday," she continued, still using that pathetically quiet voice. "I thought we could make it special."

Next to Bridget, Edgar inhaled through his nose and in the corner of her eyes she could see his jaw tightened. Alan was looking away, avoiding Bonnie's dramatically sad expression. And Bridget…

Bridget was feeling herself crack. A groan escaping that she couldn't help. At the end of the day, she would do anything for her best girls and boys. She did like making her friends' and sister's birthdays special. The weekend before she had spent ages in the shopping mall, a place she usually liked to avoid, with Bernice trying to find the perfect presents for Bonnie. And she had taken the time to travel all the way to San Francisco for Alan's special birthday present.

"I really want you guys there. We don't have to stay for long," Bonnie said and smiled sweetly at them.

Bridget glanced at Edgar and Alan for signs of weakness as well. Bonnie did well at appealing to their sympathetic side because both their features softened and they made reluctant groans.

"Fine, we'll come," Bridget said and sighed. She didn't return Bonnie's smile as her friend clapped her hands excitedly and started to organise a spontaneous trip to the mall after school. Beside Bridget, Edgar nudged her and beckoned her and Alan closer.

"Maybe it'll draw some vamps out and we can use the dance as a hunt," he whispered, keeping an eye on Leon to make sure he wasn't overhearing. But the boy's attention was all on Bernice as they had their own quiet conversation.

"Now, that sounds like my kinda night," Bridget said, nodding and smiling at Edgar's idea.

Thank you for reading. Please feel free to leave a review. :) Update will be next Saturday.