New Twins in Town Pt. 02 Ch. 10

First off, thank you for your patience. Hopefully this wait wasn't too bad. This chapter is on the longer end, so fingers crossed it feels worth the extra time I needed to get it to you. Thanks again to AuroraIncident, Boots, and adub who helped get ideas fleshed out and caught most of my spelling, grammatical, and continuity issues. I've also been in contact with two people who aren't native English speakers, with the hopes of them giving feedback on wordplay that may not translate well.

As always, any characters involved in sexual activity of any kind are at least 18.

10 - The End of Camp

Friday, August 25, 6:31 AM, Belews Lake field

Miles anticipated chaperones when he exited the cabin. What he hadn't anticipated was two dozen adults staking their claim across the lawn. He stepped forward, intrigue for the proceedings winning out over his desire to expel his excess energy.

"What's going on?" He asked the first person he came across, uncertain if they were chaperone or stranger.

"Last day of camp," the man answered. "Gotta get set up so food is ready by this afternoon."

Looking to the parking lot, which was full for the first time since they'd arrived at camp, the busses barely stood out when sandwiched between the SUVs, lifted pickups, and trailers that had arrived before the sun. From them, their occupants brought forth gobbets in need of an open flame. Some, submerged in marinades of various colors, others, blanketed in spices that tickled Myles's nostrils even before heat was applied.

The run was a wash. It was hours until breakfast, but the smorgasbord being showcased only stood to increase his appetite to uncomfortable levels.

"It's gonna be real hard to concentrate on the performance later, isn't it?" Seph said as she appeared next to him.

Surprised, Miles looked her up and down, not fully convinced he wasn't just imagining her. "It can't already be time to get up."

"No," she giggled. "Couldn't sleep. Get too excited about playing in front of people."

"Jitters?"

"Excitement," she confirmed. "Plus, it's good to keep tabs on which of the parents get here earliest. Gives you an idea of who's serious about it. Once I heard folks getting set up, I knew I could get the inside scoop on what to snag this evening."

"You don't think that may be construed as rude? Ogling them while they're setting up."

She chuckled. "'Construed as rude,' nice. But no. I think you're missing something. Some of these people spend the whole year waiting for summer to come around so they can do this kinda thing," Seph explained. "Hours crafting what they believe to be the perfect recipe. Something they'll either pass along to their kids or take it to the grave before letting someone else in on what they've concocted."

"Kinda seems like a waste to spend all that time working on something, only to have it lost forever once you're gone," Miles reflected.

"Pretty sure that's why some families have a lot of kids," she shrugged. "Better chance at least one of them will share interests and carry that legacy for at least another generation."

"Didn't you say you have five sisters?"

"Ouch! Way to not listen to the things I tell you," Seph mocked taking offense. "I have three sisters. I said I'm one of five siblings."

"My mistake," he smirked. "So, your dad isn't one of the ones..."

"Oh, heavens no!" Seph insisted. "Dad's got a good head on his shoulder and doesn't get so invested in such trivial matters."

"Oh," Miles couldn't help but sound a bit disappointed. "Sorry, I guess I just assumed that-"

"It's my mom that's the crazy one," Seph pointed across the field. "Miles, believe me when I tell you, there is not a brand of barbecue sauce in the state, or, more accurately, tri-state area, I haven't had to try and then immediately been asked if it was better than her's."

Miles considered this, "So, you're guaranteeing her's are better than any I've ever found in a store?"

"I didn't say that."

"Oh... so, you had to tell her that her's weren't as good as-"

"Shhh, don't finish that sentence. In fact, purge that thought from your head. I wasn't being facetious? She is insane over these sauces. A real loon. Like, should probably be placed in a padded room over her obsession. But I'm sure she's going to adore you, so c'mon, if I don't make introductions I'll never hear the end of it."

Miles could only gulp before Seph seized his hand and propelled him across the field nearly as fast as one of his morning runs. To his relief, she didn't bee-line toward her mother. Instead, they slalomed the various heating appliances checker-boarding the field. Each grill passed, a new sizzle. Each smoker, a different aroma. Meats by the pound. Some, soaked in marinades of colors Miles couldn't name, but only recognized from their sliver on the first half of any rainbow. Others, rubbed till they glistened or were coarse to the touch. Often both. Most of the proteins he could name at a glance. The flavor profile of cattle, poultry, and swine having been common place through his entire life.

"You tried rabbit before?" Seph asked as she waved at one of the grill-masters.

"Y'know, growing up watching Bambi, I never looked at Thumper and thought 'mmm delicious'," he confessed before a 10-gallon pot caught his eye. "Oh, what the heck is that?"

"Looks like a gumbo to me," she said before taking a closer look. "Gator?"

The person smiled and nodded.

"You guys serve alligator here?" Miles whispered as they stepped away.

"Not too often, I don't think anyone actually hunts or farms them around these parts," she considered. "Specialty butcher would have it though. But I'm pretty sure he drives his up from Louisiana."

"So you've tried it before, is it good?"

"That gumbo? Oh yeah!" Seph turned to Miles, excitement in her eyes. "You gotta get in on that before it's gone."

"You guys really aren't screwing around with this barbecue," he acknowledged. "Has anything gone extinct in the process of feeding the band in the past?"

"Uh... as far as I know there isn't anything to directly link us to the santer's disappearance, but it's safe to say you won't find them around here anymore."

"I don't even know where to start with a follow up question."

"Good, cause we're here."

Like the dozens of other parents who had arrived before the sun, Seph's mother was fully invested in ensuring her contribution to the evening's meal was up to snuff.

"Mom... mom... Moooom," Seph forced her mother's attention.

"Heard your first caterwaul, dear. Do you not see what step I'm at?" the elder said without bringing her attention from the pot she continuously added ingredients to. "This is a very delicate point in spice inclusion."

"Easy, Slughorn," Seph cried. "We were just poppin' in to say hi."

"We?" Her mother's voice contained more than a hint of curiosity to it as she turned. "I figured I'd hear you play that little wake up jingle before I got a chance to speak with you."

"Still got a few minutes, and I was too excited to sleep in," Seph said bluntly.

"Excited? Or anxious?"

"That's what he asked."

"Uh huh, and your answer was?"

"Eh, little bit of column B, a bit more of column A," she shrugged. "Plus, I wanted to introduce you to Miles. He just moved here and is gonna be second chair this year. Miles, this is my mom. Mom, Miles. Miles, mom."

Miles glanced between the two women as Seph's mom shook her head.

"You'd think I raised her in a barn. Seph, he's not going to call me mom," laughed the parent. "Miles, I'm Mrs. O'Hara."

His extended hand was waved off.

"Normally, yes, but as you can see," she indicated to her hand adorned in green flakes and dots of various colors. "I'm covered in..."

"Eleven herbs and spices?" Miles suggested.

"Clever," she smiled. "The Colonel's got nothing on me."

"Mom, he's dead," Seph rolled her eyes.

"Yeah, 'cause he heard the game I was bringing. Knew it was time to call it a day."

"So, expect some franchises to pop up soon?" Miles humored.

"When the market is right and the public has trained their pallets to properly appreciate the complexity of these flavors," Mrs. O'Hara said, showcasing the bubbling concoction as if she'd been mentored by Vanna White herself.

"You doing your chili?" Seph asked, her tongue wetting her lips. "Miles, if you can only try two dishes later, you gotta get in on mom's chili and Mr. Gordon's gumbo."

"Oo, Doug's making that again? That will be a treat."

"Mr. Gordon..." Miles repeated. "Hey, he wouldn't happen to be Mel's dad, would he?"

Seph furrowed her brow, "Miles? Just because they share the same last name and he just so happens to be making the signature dish of Louisiana, it doesn't mean they're related."

"Oh," he said, defeated.

"I mean, he is her dad," Seph admitted as her stern face gave way to a smile. "It was just rude of you to make an assumption."

"Persephone, stop messing with your friend. Miles here made what we call an 'educated guess.' And shame on you for not making proper introductions," her mom chimed in before giving Miles a proper look-over.

Instinctually, he straightened his stance.

"Smart," Mrs. O'Hara said, more to herself than the two in front of her. "Obviously Mel's accent gives away her heritage. Then, as soon as you heard the last name you put two and two together."

Miles tried not to let his pride show.

"Course..." she continued, rocking her head from side to side as she weighed alternate possibilities. "Could also mean stupid. Maybe you think all people sharing a last name are related. Seph, he dumb?"

"Mom," Seph quietly growled through gritted teeth. "He's in more AP classes than me."

"Didn't ask if he was bookish."

"No, mom! He's not dumb."

"Also, not deaf," Miles added with a wave. "Standing right here and can hear everything you're saying."

"Yeah, but you're not gonna be offended," Mrs. O'Hara said matter-of-factly. "I already acknowledged your wit with the KFC reference you made. Now, I must apologize for my lack of tact, but I just wanted to see how Sephie would react to me teasin' ya. And, let's face it, I think we all learned a little something from her response."

Seph looked up to the cloudless sky, "Kill me now."

"Seph, you know better than that," her mother chided again. "He's far too busy making people's lives miserable as a test of faith. In my decades on this earth, I've put together what you might call a 'shit-list' of people who really have it coming to them. You think He, in His infinite knowledge, infinite existence, and personal relationships with each and every one of us, would deem you worthy enough to make His smite-list? Let me tell ya', it's gonna take a bit more than your mum teasin to make His list. You'd be competing with murderers, and rapists, and IRS agents. Seph, compared to them, you've barely put in an effort."

"Mom, you can't just-"

"So, you're in a few AP classes, eh?" Mrs. O'Hara directed her attention back to Miles. "And you're second trumpet?"

Miles smirked, gaining some understanding of the relationship between the two women. "I mean, just until I can respectfully challenge without causing Seph to lose face in front of our classmates."

"How dare you, sir," the scowl Seph wore did little to hide the grin hiding beneath. "And after I gave you the inside scoop on what may be the best dining experience of your life. How dare you? No wait, I do. I absolutely dare you. Go ahead. When Boon allows it, challenge me. I will wipe the floor with you."

"Seph!" Her mother scolded again. "Like anyone could ever get you to clean a floor."

Through wide eyes and gritted teeth, Seph growled. "Mo-om!"

"Miles, have you noticed, has she been putting on enough sun screen while y'all are out here? She's lookin a bit red in the face."

"Mother!"

"So," Mrs. O'Hara, satisfied with embarrassing her daughter, turned back to the food she was preparing. "It seems as if you two have been getting along?"

"Yeah, he's great," Seph said, clearly relieved to get the conversation directed elsewhere. "Not only is he great at the trumpet, he played dad's guitar the other night and, mom, you shoulda seen it. The whole retreat showed up and started dancing. Oh, and speaking of dancing. Apparently he has all these awards, and he's been helping the trumpets get their marching form down. Actually, not just the trumpets but-"

As she spoke, Miles noticed the number of classmates who were taking the opportunity to assess what they'd be dining on later. He couldn't determine if it had been the noise or savory aromas wafting into the cabins, but the abundance of students could only mean one thing.

"So great," Miles interrupted. "That I'm going to stop your praise right there. And remind you that you have a task that needs to be completed before everyone sleeps the day away."

"Aw, fudge," Seph scowled, looking back and forth between Miles and her mother. "I don't know if I trust you two to be alone together."

"Please, child," Mrs. O'Hara scoffed. "You know I'm a happily married woman."

"You and dad aren't happily married," Seph said.

"Sorry, I misspoke," her mother corrected. "What I meant to say is I'm a Catholically married woman. And really, what you've seen, that's the epitome of a happy, healthy, Catholic marriage. Sorry you had to find out this way. That's the best you can hope for."

"Oh goody," Seph sighed. "Okay, well, mom, I feel like I should ask you not to say anything embarrassing while I'm gone, but I figure there isn't much hope of that happening."

"Not a one," her mother said proudly.

Seph sighed, "Y'know, I feel like I'm still making first impressions and all. So..." She shrugged. "Don't verbally eviscerate me too badly."

She turned to leave but Miles called out before she could make her exit.

"Hey, if today's gonna be how I'm picturing, think you might wanna immortalize some moments of it on film?"

Seph beamed at the suggestion, "Right. Mom, Miles gave me a disposable camera. Do you think you could take some photos during our performance? I can probably finish the roll while we're eating tonight."

"Y'know," her mom said critically. "We have these wonderful inventions. Fit right in your pocket. Can call people, access the internet, play games, and... oh yes, take pictures without having to wait for them to develop."

"Ugh, mom, you don't get it," Seph rolled her eyes. "I gotta go wake everyone but I'll explain it when I get back."

Miles couldn't help but admire her figure as she retreated to her cabin.

"Ahem," Seph's mother cleared her throat. "Not sure about where you're from, but around here we tend not to ogle the butts of girls, especially in front of their mothers."

"I uh, oh, shoot," the day had barely begun to warm up, yet Miles worried he might need to change his shirt before their performance. "I am so sorry about that. I don't know why-"

"You don't know? Are you suggesting that my daughter, my daughter, not have anything worth ogling?" The woman looked at him incredulously before breaking out in a smile. "Relax. I've had to play protective mama bear for all my children. At least with you there isn't some giant age gap. Trust me, you can't imagine how much it ruffles my feathers when I see someone older than myself undressing one of my kids with his eyes."

Miles look away, unsure of how to respond.

"You should know though, " her mom provided. "She has a boyfriend, and they're quite serious."

Miles felt a tinge of guilt about the reminder, "I've... been informed."

She studied his face, "Good. Would have hated to have to be the one to dash your hopes."

He gave her a weary look, "You're saying you'd be heartbroken over my heartbreak?"

"Nah," she shook her head. "I was just trying to be kind. I probably would have enjoyed it."

"Yeah, I don't doubt that."

From their spot on the field, Miles watched as Seph reemerged from the girl's cabin, trumpet in hand.

"Oh," Miles winced. "You should probably know, the other morning, she got nervous to play solo in front of me. So, I'm not sure if she'll feel more uncomfortable with all the-"

Before he could finish his thought, Seph performed the tune without hesitation or faults.

"Seemed alright there," her mom acknowledged. "Y'know, I didn't think of it when you two showed up just now, but you're saying you two were also up together before the rest of camp the other day?"

"Uh," Miles hadn't considered how she might interpret that information. "We were just talking."

"Miles," she directed the tines of her grilling fork at him and he couldn't determine if she were making a point or a threat. "I have five children, three of whom are no longer teenagers. I also have a grandchild. Let me just say, I know what 'just talking' can lead to, and it doesn't exactly put me at ease."

"I don't, uh, I mean, I-"

"Oh gosh," Seph's mom giggled. "Either you've got it bad for her, or she's had the time of her life teasing you. You're fun. This'll probably shape up to be an amusing year."

"I'm sorry," Miles mimed cleaning his ears out. "Did you say amusing or abusing?"

"A lego hurting when stepped on doesn't diminish the joy it brings at other moments."

Miles had no response, instead left wondering if the modern-age Confucius saying was off the cuff.

"Dude," Chris's voice was a welcome lifeline. "We should probably head to the caf' before it gets busy."

"And Hello to you too, Christopher," Seph's mom scoffed.

"Oh, sorry Mrs. O'Hara. I don't know where my manners went," he gave a soft wave.

"I should hope 'to the caf,' otherwise you may never find 'em."

He knew it was unlikely Seph's mom's teasing was an indication of favor, but Miles was nearly as disappointed in her banter with his friend, as he was Chris's suggestion on where to eat. "The cafeteria?"

"Yeah. Last day of the retreat, with all the excitement, the performance, going home, not to mention the sights and smells from all the cooking, they're aware how starved we'll be by sun up, so they're ready early."

"But..." Miles gestured to the shimmering sea of silver and black appliances scattered across the field.

"Hate to break it to you, but everything is still several hours away from ready," Mrs. O'Hara informed. "We do things low and slow around here. Not just to torture you kids, though that is a bonus. But it's all about that sweet spot of flavor infused and mythically tender. And trust me, the first ones that are ready, aren't the ones you're gonna wanna eat."

"Like filling up on bread when you've got a whole buffet to choose from," Chris remarked, a tinge of sadness to his voice.

It was then that Miles realized that the sights and smells of the morning had made him ravenous. The near nonstop talk of food only furthered his cravings.

"Well, we should probably wait for Seph. Let her know where we're going."

"Don't be silly," her mother assured. "She'll either see where you're headin' and meet on the way. Or she'll find me, I'll tell her I saw you meet some floozy and wander off."

Miles saw the pair, but swallowed from the words she hadn't intended to tease him with, "Could you please not use the word meet right now? I uh, hadn't realized how much of an appetite I'd developed, and now you're telling me the meats are off-limits."

"For now," she reminded. "After the performance, thats a whole other matter. Just be sure you save room for chili or you'll regret it."

"After how much you and Seph hyped it up? I'm bookin' it here as soon as they cut us loose," he pointed to the collection of paper bowls still in their packaging. "That one on top? Take a look, it's got my name all over it."

She made an exaggerated point to look at the bowl, "I was almost certain Seph introduced you as Miles, but if you'd like me to call you Dixie, it's not gonna take much convincing."

"Oh man," Chris laughed. "She got you good. Nice seeing you again, Mrs. O'Hara."

"Good to see you, Christopher," she waved back. "And Dixie."

Miles turned at the unfortunate new nickname.

"Miles," she smirked "It was nice to meet you."

"Normally, I'd claim the pleasure was all mine," Miles said. "But there is no denying, you derived way more pleasure out of teasing each of us, than I was prepared for."

"Why else would people become parents if not to tease their kids and their friends mercilessly?" She shrugged.

"Alright, on that note, we should go before you've restocked on things to berate us about," Miles waved before turning to leave with Chris.

"Acknowledging that and then showing me your backside," she called as they stepped away. "But no one ever said clever and foolish are mutually exclusive."

Miles waited an extra-long time before he was willing to speak, "So, Seph's mom. She's kind of a lot."

"Yeah, but she must like you," Chris commented.

"Uh-huh, like a cat likes a frog it can bat around. Fun for the cat maybe, but the frog is just pummeled until it's dealt the inevitable, accidental killing blow."

"Nah, she teased you," Chris assured. "Some people, myself included, have only seen that from the outside. I didn't know she was capable of warming up to someone so quickly."

"What are you talking about? She teased you too."

"Not like that, dude, she teased you like she teases her kids," Chris informed. "That's gotta be a good sign."

"Sign of what?" Miles asked. "I mean, I agree, if it means she likes me, that is good. But, it's not like her mom would forbid her from associating with me if she didn't like me, right?"

"Uh... maybe?" Chris shrugged. "I know Catholics are big on guilt and shame. I don't know, they could be big on forbid-ness too."

"Oh."

"Besides, that's not even what I was getting at," Chris looked around for anyone listening in. "It's obvious you and Seph have a thing for each other. It probably isn't going to hurt if her parents are fond of you too."

"Are her parents not fond of that Cam guy?"

"Oh, no, her parents love Cam," Chris laughed. "But y'know, they're doing long distance now. And you're here. You knew each other for like, a day, and couldn't keep your lips off each other. You think that's going to lessen when you're spending like... at least three hours together every day?"

"Three hours?"

"Jazz band, wind ensemble, lunch, plus any other classes you might have together," Chris explained as they stepped into the busy cafeteria. "Not to mention, we're gonna have marching band practice most evenings, and competitions, and-"

"Alright, alright! You made your point," Miles chuckled. "So, is this just a you not liking Cam thing or..."

"Ah, no. Cams great," Chris stated. "It's just... y'know, he's not really one of us."

Before Miles had a chance to follow up, his sister and her compatriots called out. 
"So, y'all decided to get an early breakfast and let your appetites build up again before the feast later?" Amber asked.

Miles shook his head, "I honestly didn't even realize they'd let us in this early until Chris told me."

"Just for today," Cleo clarified. "Dad says its 'cause they'd rather have us in here or the auditorium. Figure its safer than having a hundred of us trying to march between open flames and propane cylinders."

"Oh, well thats a terrifying thought," Joe said as she stepped in to join the group. "Glad to know that the field is basically a ticking time bomb."

"I don't think dad would put it that way," Cleo giggled.

"Oh, sorry. Powder keg waiting to go off?"

"I can actually hear him saying that," Judy laughed.

Miles looked disappointedly at the array of food before him. The sandwiches, bagels, muffins, pancakes, scrambled eggs, and bowls of assorted fruit had offered a variety he hadn't expected when he arrived at camp. But that had been nearly two full weeks ago. And this food had lost its appeal. Outside. That food was new. Outside. There was meat. Fat sweating off a pristine cut, coaxing the flame to kiss the spices that each cook generously encrusted each succulent morsel in. Miles's stomach voiced its objection as he placed a few items on the tray he'd nabbed.

"The good thing?" Chris nudged him. "Because this stuff is so boring, there's no risk in eating enough now to spoil your appetite for later."

He hated to think of the food before him as boring. Looking up, he saw the staffer attending the trays wore an unfriendly expression.

"No offense," he covered for Chris. "It's been delicious every day. We really appreciate-"

"Nah, yer misreading me," the cafeteria worker explained. "I can smell how delicious the things out there are. But I'm stuck in here with all this food all day, and my self-control ain't so good."

He couldn't be positive, but Miles was fairly certain the man in front of him was the person who stood out on the dock while he and Pixie tread water beneath.

"Um," he looked around wearily. "I'll try to remember to snag you a plate once they're ready to serve."

The employees face lit up, "Hey kid, that'd be swell."

With that, Miles and Chris, satisfied with what they'd came for, made their way to an open table.

"Why are you looking so smug?" Zoe asked as the drummers joined them.

"I look smug?"

"Oh, he's all up on his Isaiah 58s," Chris said, offering no further explanation.

"Uh..." Judy rolled her eyes. "Hey, lets pretend for a second that not all of us has the bible memo-"

"Ugh. It's about fasting. Well, on the surface. But it's really about sacrificing what y'all have for those who have less. So in Miles's case, which is like, verbatim Isaiah 58:7, he's volunteered to share his food with the hungry."

"Hungry?" Judy scoffed. "Did somebody charge you two when you went to get your food? No one is supposed to be going hungry during camp."

"Going hungry might be a bit of an overstatement," Miles said.

"He told the cafeteria workers he'd bring them some of the outside food once it was ready," Chris added.

"Woah," Zoe remarked. "That's awful generous of you."

"Innit?" Chris asked. "Just gotta be careful lookin smug about it. Don't let it turn to pride."

"Wait, what? I wasn't being smug. And Chris, you're overselling it," Miles clarified and pointed toward the cafeteria workers. "I just told the... one..." he sighed, realizing how awkward that would be.

Judy caught his gaze with a raised eyebrow, "There are a lot of servers in there. You can't just bring food for one of 'em."

"I wouldn't have enough arms if I was an octopus. I'll spend half the evening carrying food back here," he groaned. "Anyone wanna help carry once it's ready?"

"I will," she offered.

"Yeah," Cleo nodded. "Me too."

"That's really noble of y'all," Chris said. "I kinda figured I'd float the idea of the cafeteria folks having the evening off. There's always plenty of food. I don't see why Boon wouldn't let 'em."

"Let who what?" Seph asked as she took her seat. Pixie and Mel close behind.

"Chris is going to convince Boon to let the cafeteria folks have a half-day," Miles said, enjoying the opportunity to turn the tables on his friend.

"Alright, cool," Seph replied. "Just lemme wolf this down and we'll go find him together."

True to her word, Seph inhaled her small stack of cakes and diced fruits. As she rose from the table, Miles exchanged a look with his sister. The expressions she made whenever a girl their age acted in a way that was decidedly "unladylike" always brought a smile to his face.

While surveying the rest of their table, he made an observation; Pixie was not eating. She had food on her plate. The sandwich in her hands, she absentmindedly pulled apart. Never bringing the pieces to her lips, just further tearing them into smaller scraps. She may have taken a bite of the muffin she'd brought, but it was just as likely that the fragments pyramiding her plate could easily be reconstituted into proper muffin shape. He caught her eye and she flinched. Rather than address her peculiar behavior, she got up and carried the tray to the trash, tossing the remnants without anyone else from their table realizing what she'd done. Unable to take his eyes off her, Miles watched as she made her way to one of the doors. She gracefully looked back, the come-hither gaze she cast; impossible to ignore. He followed. Dumping what was left of his meal in the same bin.

By the time he pushed past the threshold, she was nowhere in sight. He glanced to the field. Underneath the plumes escaping the mini-chimneys of smokers, the domed metallic covers of grills mirrored the sun's rays at him with such blinding intensity he questioned whether the cafeteria might burst into flames at some point during the day. It destroyed any hope he had of following her through the sea of silver-chrome tops.

"Psst, Miles."

To his relief, the whisper came from the opposite direction than the one he faced. He turned to find her barely visible, peeking around the edge of the building they had exited seconds earlier. She didn't need to say anything. He followed as she slipped further behind the wall.

"Hey," he said, as warmly as he could muster. "Everything okay?"

"Yeah, no, I, um... y'know..." she blushed and looked away. "I feel like I've been riled up most the week but haven't been able to... act on urges. And now I'm alone with you..."

He exhaled. "I mean, I don't know if we can consider this alone," he gestured around. "Barely secluded."

"Maybe not," she looked around. "But this can't wait."

He swallowed, "Pixie, someone could show up any minute."

She shook her head and took hold of his hand. "This won't take long."

They weren't far enough from the field for the pleasant scents of glazes caramelizing onto meats and vegetables to escape his notice. But at that exact moment, the thought that was causing his mouth to water was one that had his head between her legs.

The thought got away from him. He shifted his hips to counter the tightening of his pants. It was intended as a subtle action, but it was enough to draw her attention. She glanced down and bit her lip before returning to meet his gaze.

"Miles, I've barely been able to stop thinking about us. I keep wondering when the next time we'd be able to be alone together. You did things to me, I hadn't even fathomed before. The way you make my body respond to your touch. Even when we're just sitting around the bonfire, I keep going to bed with damp panties because I can't stop thinking about you."

"You're not alone there," he whispered. "I mean- not that I wear- you know what I mean."

She giggled, "I have an idea."

"I've got some ideas of my own," he tucked his hand under her chin and brought her head up slightly. "It's been so hard being so close and not able to touch you."

"Yes! Exactly! So hard. And..." She agreed excitedly, "And I just... it's a lot. Maybe... too much."

"... Too much?"

"Miles..." For the first time, he noticed the look of concern on her face. "Y'know... two weeks ago, I'd never even kissed someone."

He nodded, remembering what she'd told him, but now too afraid to screw things up by speaking.

"It's not that I don't- I just..." her voice faltered.

"You're..." Miles tried reading the past the mask she presented. "Scared?"

"Maybe..." she let out a heavy sigh and broke eye contact long enough to brush her cheek. "I mean... I've never even really been into guys. At least, I always thought I leaned more toward girls. And when you came along, it was like some crazy epiphany. And I feel like... if we weren't out here. Or if the chaperones hadn't started keeping a better watch after lights out. I don't know if I would have been able to keep myself off you."

He nodded, not fully aware of what he might be agreeing to.

She squeezed his hand and closed her eyes. When they reopened, he noticed a glistening underneath that hadn't been there before. "I like you. So much. And I trust you. And I think you're gorgeous. And I think if we had sex, it would be wonderful, and easily become the standard by which all my future lovers would be measured by."

Pixie let out a sniffle and finished her thought, "I have no doubt it would be wonderful. But right now? It's just too soon for me. And I don't know if I can trust myself to be alone with you. Maybe one day... But I just don't think it's something I'm ready for right now."

"I-" Miles hadn't anticipated the conversation turning this way. Strangely, the more it sunk in, the more he agreed with what she was saying. He had feared going too far in his past relationships. Unfortunately, after his conversation with Zoe, Miles was somewhat convinced his feelings for Pixie were different from anything he'd experienced in the past. However, he also knew she didn't have anything to compare her feelings to. "Pixie... you take all the time you need."

She looked up at him, and gravity finally succeeded at pulling the tears down her cheeks. "You don't hate me?"

He couldn't help but let a little smile creep across his face. "Of course, I don't hate you."

She pushed herself forward and embraced him as tightly as she could, not caring that the tears were now flowing freely down her face.

"Please say you still want to get a ride back with me and my parents," She begged. "I'll understand if you don't, but I would like to believe things will be okay between us."

As much as his heart ached, Miles still didn't want to cause her any pain. He nodded and said what he could to comfort her. "It's okay. I think both Zoe and I would be delighted to ride back with you."

And there it was. Miles had lied to Pixie for the first time.

3:30 PM, Belews Lake Field

Zoe's cheeks burned as Boon's baton stoped waving. Though not an atrocity, the performance left much to be desired. Regardless, parents smiled, applauded, and waved as the students took their bows. Despite feeling embarrassed toward the overall sound of the band, she still wished her own mother had been able to catch the performance.

Marching was uniquely different than the Pep band she and Miles were used to. But for the most part, she expected the audience's role to remain the same. Which it had been, until the performance ended. She expect the majority of parents to linger until they could collect or congratulate their child. Instead, over half dispersed to the field.

"Were we that bad?" she whispered to Cleo.

"Oh, that has nothing to do with us," Cleo said as they packed up their gear.

"This is where the real show begins," Amber added.

"Yeah, right now, they're scurrying to put the finishing touches on whatever they've brought," added one of the other girls from their section.

"Or making sure no one else is messing with it," Judy said.

"People would do that?" Zoe asked.

"I mean, most people wouldn't," Cleo shrugged. "But, y'know, one bad apple."

"I guess, but like... it's just a barbecue."

"Yeah," Amber nodded. "And we take barbecues seriously 'round here."

"Guess I'll have to take your word for it," Zoe said as they returned their instruments to the quickly growing pile in the auditorium.

"If it makes you feel any better," Cleo said. "There haven't been any incidents in any of the years we've been in band."

"Yeah," Judy laughed. "But the year before? Let's just say, the ride home sounded pretty horrific for about ten families."

"Really?" Zoe asked, shocked. "Someone sabotaged the food?"

"Ehh," Judy shrugged. "Sabotaged or something else gave 'em food poisoning. Cleo, did they ever get a consensus on that one?"

"Dad said even the cleanest restaurants can't account for a tainted ingredient," Cleo answered.

"What they're trying to tell you," Amber chuckled. "Is that there's nothing to worry about. The food is going to be delicious and nothing bad can possibly happen."

Judy grinned, "Yeah, that's exactly what we were getting at."

"Zoe!" Pixie called as she scurried over. "My parents have given one condition to you guys getting a ride home with us."

"Shit girl," Judy scoffed. "That's a bit last-minute."

"I can let my dad know you two need a ride," Cleo offered again. "It's no big deal. Judy is already riding back with us."

"How about we hear what the condition is first?" Zoe suggested.

Cleo and Judy shrugged at one another.

"They're just thinking, before packing into a crowded car together for the ride back, maybe y'all would have supper with us?" Pixie asked.

"I think you two may have jumped the gun," Zoe said to the other drummers before addressing Pixie directly. "That makes perfect sense. I'd love to. Let me get changed first and then you can lead the way."

_____

"No offense or anything," Pixie said as Zoe stepped out of the cabin. "Your casual-wear makes me feel like a slob."

"You shouldn't," she smiled. "I love the way you dress. It suites you, and more importantly, it looks comfortable."

"Well, it took me a while to find... me," Pixie scrunched up her face. "Were you always comfortable getting dressed up like this?"

"I mean, I always..." Zoe thought about it. "I guess it took me a while too. Not so much the clothes, but more so how some people look at me. Oh, and the extra time to get ready. I used to take forever figuring out what would go with what. Now, I don't know if it's more instinct or just the fact that most of my wardrobe goes together."

"Guess thats why it always looks so... you," the shorter girl shrugged.

"Oh please," Zoe waved her hand as if she were batting away the compliment. "I'm average at best. I just carry myself with confidence and people mistake it for something else."

"You manipulating people into complimenting you again?" Miles asked as he strode over. Had she not studied his reactions her entire life, Zoe was sure she would have missed the shocked expression on her brother's face.

"No manipulation necessary!" Pixie boasted. "Unless... Miles, does Zoe know hypnotism or have access to MKUltra?"

Flummoxed by her brother's expression, Zoe didn't process what the other girl said.

"Uh..." Pixie stammered. "This is where you guys confirm that-"

"No," Miles's answer was quick, without inflection. "Zoe doesn't know hypnotism."

Zoe continued his monotone but added inflections to bring out a Children of The Corn-inspired timbre "Where would I have learned that?"

Pixie brought her hands in front of her, index fingers overlapping in the shape of the cross, "Back, Demons! Back into the depths of Hell from whence y'all spawned."

The twins broke into laughter.

"I'm sorry Pix," Zoe forced herself to stop laughing long enough to explain. "Y'all definitely doesn't work in that context."

"And did you say whence?" Miles smirked.

"That- that's what they say in the movies," Pixie said, shuffling her feet. "Thought it might sound cool."

"It did sweetie," Zoe assured. "If I were a demon I'd have been very off-put."

Pixie tilted her head and shrugged with open arms, "All I ever wanted in life was to be more off-putting."

Again, the twins laughed.

"So," Zoe absentmindedly cracked her knuckles as she spoke. "We should probably meet up with your folks, right?"

"Yeah!" Pixie said excitedly. "They're almost set up so we should go find them."

"Set up?" Miles asked.

"Yeah, see?" Pixie pointed to the far side of the field. Past the domed covers of grills and cylindrical smoking vessels, the parents who had sat in attendance of the band performance were pulling the tables and benches from the cafeteria and auditorium.

"I didn't even realize we had that much seating," Zoe observed.

"Right?" Pixie acknowledged. "Now aren't you glad you agreed to ride home with me?"

The thought of loading the drums into the busses sounded exhausting. The added labor of stowing seats and tables wasn't something Zoe had known to consider. She trusted Miles knew to display the appropriate amount of gratitude upon meeting the neighbors.

Ambling toward the seating area, the trio were nearly accosted by proud amateur chefs convinced they could cure cancer with the ratios of spices they'd used.

"Is it just me, or is this kinda nuts?" Zoe asked.

"Uh, yeah," Miles agreed. "I'd heard that NC did barbecues different. But this reminds me of when you go to the fair and they've got all the food vendors lined up competing to sell you variations on the same ten items."

Zoe chuckled, "Yeah, or like when we went to Portland. Remember Food Truck Alley?"

"Cartopia," Miles provided.

"That sounds like a Pixar film," Pixie commented.

"Yeah, starring Lightning McQueen's fat uncle," Zoe laughed.

Miles smirked, "If thats his description, they'd have to call him Albert."

Zoe furrowed her brow at the suggestion, and when she met Pixie's eyes, found she wasn't the only one who didn't understand.

"Because the Cosby Kids and... never mind," Miles shook his head. "It's admittedly esoteric."

Pixie's already creased forehead morphed into a full-faced frown.

"Don't worry about it, sweetie," Zoe comforted. "He does that. Makes weird connections that only work in his head."

"No, it's not that," she assured. "I'm fine not getting all the points and seeing them connect. But... I thought it was pronounced isometric."

Zoe glanced at her brother, "Adorable. Different words. His meant you had to be a snob to understand."

"You have to be a snob to understand esoteric?"

"No," Miles said quickly.

"Yes!" Zoe said confidently.

"Huh..." Miles reflected. "I guess that means it's also autological."

Zoe scowled at him.

"Oh, uh," Miles grimaced. "Autological means the word describes itself."

Pixie pointed to him while turning to Zoe. "Has he always been this nerdy?"

Zoe shrugged, "I sometimes pretend we're not related."

"Well, you can't do that now," Pixie declared as she pulled in front of a table occupied by an athletic looking man and a woman who bore an unmistakeable resemblance to the flautist. "These are my folks. Mom, dad, this is Zoe, and this is Miles."

"Pleasure," her mother beamed with an outstretched hand. "Summer Reid."

"I'm sorry, I wasn't paying attention," her father straightened his posture to give them his full attention. "Which one of you was Zoe and who was Miles?"

"Dad," Pixie nudged him in the ribs.

"I'm just saying, you could have just introduced them without the need of singling them out and I'm pretty sure we would have pieced it together."

Miles shook his head in a him-hawing motion, "Unless our parents Boy Named Sue'd us."

The man chortled while turning to his wife, "See honey, missed opportunity. Could have really helped them develop character."

Mrs. Reid smirked and shook her head, "Our daughter prefers to be called a wood fairy over the name we picked out for her, and until three years ago, I was convinced the only career path our son was willing to entertain was Professional Magician. I think it's safe to say, they have plenty of character."

"Just because they are characters, doesn't mean they have character," Mr. Reid chuckled before turning his attention back to Miles and Zoe and extending his hand. "Drake Reid."

"Hey, did Ozzy not come? I figured he woulda before heading back," Pixie asked.

"He's here," her mother said. "He wanted to touch base with Boon and probably some other familiar faces."

"Or he got sidetracked and all the best foods are gonna be gone by the time we get there," Pixie grumbled.

"You want- we could grab food for everyone," Zoe suggested.

"Yeah that sounds good," Miles said, but before he could turn, Zoe guided him back to his seat.

"Not you," she said. "I meant Pixie. C'mon, we need some girl time."

"But, what about-"

"No, you stay and keep her parents company," Zoe insisted. "Tell them about home, and then when we get back, they can tell us things about Walker's Cove."

"How are you gonna carry-"

"I think they'll manage," Mrs. Reid said, giving Zoe a wink as the girls turned to leave. "Now, where are you two from?"

The girls stayed quiet until they were out of earshot of Pixie's parents.

"What was that about?"

"The smell of food all morning has really built my appetite," Zoe said coyly. "Besides, I figured your parents would want to interrogate us, and Miles is perfectly capable of answering questions without me."

"My parents made you nervous, didn't they?"

"Something I discovered last week, when outnumbered, I'm not super great being questioned. I tend to freeze up."

"But you weren't outnumbered, it woulda been the two of you answering the two of them."

"Yeah, until your brother showed up," Zoe grumbled. "Doesn't matter. It's more fun this way."

"You don't think Miles will freeze up?"

"Is that the impression you got last week when Seph handed him a guitar?" Zoe chuckled. "Nah. He kinda thrives on attention. I think thats why he can be competitive. If he's the best at something, then he gets to stand in front of a crowd as he gets congratulated. Heck, now that I think about it, that's probably why we did so well when it came to dance. I woulda been perfectly fine blending into the middle of the pack."

"You blend?" Pixie said skeptically.

Zoe didn't respond, instead choosing to follow her friend as she mulled over the discussion. She didn't blend. She'd made sure of it. Yet, she believed everything she'd just said was true. It was a quandary and she didn't know how to rectify it in either words or actions.

"Hey! Mrs. O'Hara," Pixie waved as they came upon a woman whose fiery red-hair was tightly contained in a ponytail. "Zoe, this is Seph's mom."

"Oh, Hi!" Zoe greeted warmly. "During breakfast Miles and Seph mentioned that I should come meet you at some point today. Oh, and that I'd regret it if I didn't get in on your chili."

"They did?" Pixie asked.

"Yeah, I remember not being sure if she meant it as advice or a threat."

"I take it that would make you Miles's sister? Twins?" She took a second to visually assess while Zoe nodded her confirmation. "And I must say, you two make for quite the odd couple."

Pixie craned her neck to look up at Zoe, "She's a real Amazonian Washingtonian."

"Okay, you can't say things like that in front of Miles otherwise he'll expect me to quote some Wonder Woman line and I have no idea what that would be," Zoe chuckled. "Though I can't refute your sentiment."

The girls grabbed a couple of lunch trays that had been scattered strategically among the cooking apparatuses, claimed several small bowls of Mrs. O'Hara's chili before bidding her adieu, and moved on to the next source of food.

"So, other than the chili and the gumbo, were there any other dishes we had to get?" Pixie asked.

"There weren't any others we were told to get," Zoe answered. "But a smorgasbord like this and you think I'm not getting down on some ribs or brisket? Not in your life sister."

"I don't know why," Pixie scowled. "But that surprises me for some reason."

"It's cause you think I'm dainty."

"That's not true."

"No, it's fine," Zoe answered, completely un unoffended. "I get it. People think 'unless it's finger sandwiches, a lady doesn't eat with her hands.' Trust me, that is not the case."

"Huh," Pixie said, reflecting on Zoe's words. "Y'know, I never realized before, but finger sandwiches and knuckle sandwiches are way more different than their names imply."

"I think we might need to get food in you," Zoe chuckled. "You're getting a little bit loopier than I'm used to."

It took only minutes for each of the girls to wind up with a large assortment of different dishes to share once they'd reconvened with the people waiting on them. By the time they rejoined the table, Miles was just wrapping up a story.

"So, there he is, the magazine still in his hand when he unlocks the door, he looks straight up at our grandma and goes 'It's okay Maw Maw, I can't read'."

As the Reid's burst into laughter, Zoe merely shook her head. The envy she felt at Miles's natural charisma had been tamed years prior.

"Okay, it sounds like I missed a good one," Pixie scowled as she and Zoe set their plates on the table.

"Our older brother," Zoe explained, taking a seat and sneaking the spare paper plates out from underneath the ones holding the food. "Family friend loaned us their beach house. Someone kept some Playboys in the bathroom and Jason discovered it. Mom and our grandparents spent... I dunno, maybe ten minutes trying to find him. I think she said he was like five at the time."

Pixie stifled a laugh, "And that was the response he gave when they discovered him?"

"Careful," her mom warned, her voice dripping with glee. "I'm sure your father and I could think of a story or two about you that might match the spirit of the one your friends just told."

Pixie scrunched her face as she considered her mother's words, "I never did anyth-"

"Roy Scheider," her father covered with a cough while transferring a well-slathered rib to the plate he'd claimed.

His daughter gasped, "oh."

"Jaws Dad? We gotta hear it now," Miles said hopefully.

"No you don't!" Pixie rushed to say. "You should hear about... uh... the house you moved to."

It took her mother a full second to realize what Pixie was referring to, "You moved next door."

"That's what she tells us," Miles confirmed.

"Motorcycles and mortician?" Drake asked.

"Motorcycles, yes," Zoe chuckled. "The hearse is just my daily driver."

Summer nudged her husband and spoke softly, "And you thought Pixie would be the odd one."

Drake put his index finger to his puckered lips and shushed his wife, "I think Miles is holding out on stories."

"We can get to that," Zoe offered. "But what did Pixie mean? There's something about the house we moved to?"

Mrs. Reid shrugged, "Not too much."

"Snyders lived there forever," Drake stated as the students loaded their plates with their shares of food. "Were good neighbors. Hopefully, we'll have as good relationship with y'all as we did with them.

"Now that you mention it," Miles said. "Mom mentioned the real estate agent was very... above and beyond with praise for them."

Zoe nodded, "Yeah, it made me sorry that we never got to meet them. And that their house didn't become available under more positive circumstances."

"Hah, I don't know what Mrs. Locke told you. The Snyder's had lived in that home since before Summer and I got hitched," Mr. Reid explained. "They lost their son in an automobile accident decades ago. You can imagine what that would do to a couple."

"It took them a while to pull themselves together again, but when they did..." Mrs. Reid spoke as if she and her husband had rehearsed this conversation, "They brought our little neighborhood together in a way like I've never seen anywhere else."

"Huh? How do you mean?" Zoe inquired.

"You know the expression Old Money? That was them. I don't know if I ever found out where it came from. And they lived modest lives," Mr. Reid picked up again. "But after they lost their boy, they put everything into making it a better community."

Zoe exchanged a glance with her brother, uncertain of what that meant.

"If something was unsafe or broken, anywhere in our little roundabout, it was fixed. If one of the neighbors was struggling or someone got sick, the Snyder's made sure they got everything they needed."

"At some point, some members of the neighborhood, lawyers, helped them set up a non-profit sorta deal. Named after their son, of course," the tradeoff between the couple was seamless. "That everyone who lived on Oak Street would be taken care of."

Zoe didn't need to look at her brother to know he shared her skepticism.

"It's true. And it wasn't a mystery among the neighbors, either. The kinda thing our church is always trying to put together, they just went and did it. Needless to say, they were put in charge of the HOA. And their influence..." Mrs. Reid smiled at the thought. "And let me tell you, they had influence, shaped our little community."

"It got to the point where they were nearly hand-picking who would move in when someone moved out," he laughed as he reflected on it. "First, they made sure there was a doctor. Then a handyman type, and she was married to an interior decorator. Then... who was next?"

"Drake!" She scolded and swatted his arm playfully. "Then we moved in. Mr. Reid and I are both teachers, and we regularly tutor people in the neighborhood."

"Usually, it's students, but sometimes if someone is looking to move up or into a different field, we've helped them make those adjustments."

"Dear, they were asking about the Snyders, not us," she shook her head. "Basically, they tried to make it so if you needed something, you didn't have to look any further than a couple of doors down from your own."

For a few moments the twins merely reflected on what they were told.

"That's amazing," Miles finally spoke up. "And it works?"

"I mean, what can we say?" Mrs. Reid shrugged. "No one wants to be the squeaky wheel. When everyone else is looking out for each other, someone only looking out for themselves sicks out."

"It also means we're pretty close. Like a family," Mr. Reid smiled. "The Snyders may have lost their boy, but they built a family unlike any other."

"They were happy. They had lived long, full lives," a frown crept across Mrs. Reid's face as she thought of her friends. "They went to visit their son's grave. They even set up a little picnic right there at the cemetery and talked about the good things his non-profit was doing and the family they made."

"It was the 50th anniversary of his passing," Mr. Reid shook his head. "They accomplished everything they set out to do. They passed away together right there."

"At their son's grave?" Miles asked incredulously. "Okay, now I know you're pulling our legs on this one."

"Feel free to look it up," Drake offered.

"They just... died?" Zoe asked.

"Uh-huh. Cuddled up as lovers should be," Summer sighed. "The coroner said they went peacefully. Didn't need any assistance. I guess they both just knew it was their time. Folks who found them there said they still had smiles on their faces. Isn't that the most beautiful thing?"

"Yeah," Zoe surprised to find her cheek damp when she wiped it. "And we live in their house now?"

"You do. But I don't imagine they'll feel the need to visit too often."

"Excuse me?" Miles didn't hide the slight panic in his voice. "Visit?"

"Er... Mom and Dad... and a lot of the neighbors believe the Snyder's uh...." Pixie's cheeks went red as she searched for the words to end her statement.

Drake gave his daughter a look that Zoe wasn't able to decipher. "They said they'd always look after Oak Street. The Williams and the Craines have both had sightings."

"And that's not including the dozens of sightings over the years of Sheldon," Mrs. Reid said as though it were common knowledge.

"Sheldon?" Miles asked.

"The Snyder's son. Sometimes people say he'll visit the school, but he mainly hangs out around Nolan Road. He wants to make sure no one has an accident there again."

"There was an accident. Some years back," Mr Reid said matter-of-factly. "'Bout ten years ago. Young couple. Teenagers actually. Same age as Sheldon was. Heck, same age as y'all are. And boy, seeing that wreck, well, let's just say, something beyond our understanding of logic or science was all that kept them from dying."

"One nearly did," Pixie interrupted.

Her father nodded, "Instead, they're both living extraordinary lives. When they were in the hospital, there was an increase in Sheldon sightings. People say he helped that young man not succumb to his injuries."

Though not the best at reading people, Zoe got the distinct impression the entire conversation made Pixie uncomfortable.

"Wow. The Snyders sound like they were incredible people," Zoe said, parsing out her thoughts. "I really hope we can live up to their memories."

"Those are mighty big shoes to fill, dear," Mr. Reid said. "Knowing them, they'd only ask that you do whatever is best for the community."

Their moment to reflect was abruptly halted as more plates of food descended upon the table.

"This is the best damn service," Drake chuckled. "I don't need to order a thing and food just keeps showing up. Oo, haven't tried that yet," he said as he reached for a plate of drumsticks.

"Sorry it took me so long, everything looks so good and by the time I finished catching up with Tune there was no shortage of lines," the burly voice belonged to a handsome young man who was clearly the offspring of the table's storytellers.

"Ozzy!" Pixie jumped up from her seat and hugged her brother. "Come meet my friends."

He laughed and brushed away the barbecue sauce she'd globbed onto his shirt. "We're gonna have to hose you off before you get in the car."

She rolled her eyes but otherwise ignored the comment, "Oz, this is Miles."

Habit, and years of his father emphasizing etiquette, had Miles standing for the introduction. He wiped his hands with one of the paper napkins as best he could, but as he went to offer it, it was clear a proper washing would be needed. Instead, both young men shrugged and gave cordial nods of acknowledgement to one another.

"And this..." Pixie said once the boys were done with their introduction. "Is Zoe."

Following her brother's example, Zoe stood to greet. Confident that her dainty hands remained unsullied by the sauces, she picked up her napkin and dotted the sides of her mouth as a mere formality. Unlike her compatriots, she had no fear of an errant tangerine splotch marring her exquisite visage. She turned to face the sibling of the friend she was growing more fond of with each interaction.

Time froze.

The uproarious chatter of the surrounding tables fell away until they existed in an environment of pure silence. Arms that served only to convey foods to lips, and the mouths that masticated them, remained motionless. In that instant, the only thing of value in Zoe's entire existence was the boy standing in front of her.

His jaw, unique for its subtle center crest, was neither firm nor soft, but marvelously hosted his tender lips. With eyes displaying only the faintest hint of heterochromia that would have been missed if they hadn't been peering into her soul. Lashes so thick they threatened to curtain the cobalt orbs streaked with silver. All of it, pulled together by the same mousy nose shared by the women in his family.

"Hellooooo," Pixie's voice cut through the void. "You guys, this isn't funny."

Zoe had to shake her head to regain mastery of her own body. Only then did she choose continue looking up at the boy standing before her. Up. It was surprisingly refreshing. She never intended to look down on guys she had to look down at. But she always imagined the comfort she might experience wrapped in the embrace of a partner who didn't need to arbitrate which part of her body was worthy of that warm touch and what would remain exposed to the cold.

As reality regenerated around her, Zoe became aware of two things. The first was that the only thing louder than her own breathing was the volume at which her heart thumped. The second, was that while shaking her head, a lock of hair had come loose from how she'd styled it. After years of practice setting patterns and hiding bobby pins, never worrying about strands falling out of place while twirling around a ballroom, sprinting across the rubbery floor of a track, or dodging spherical projectiles in gym class, it was here, standing in front of this marvelous creature, when her skills faltered. Her breath hitched and her skin began to burn. Of all the moments for her to not look her absolute best, this was the worst she could imagine.

His eyes never strayed from her own. Locked on with an intensity she would have found unsettling, or downright disturbing, had it been anyone else. After a lifetime of extreme discomfort brought forth from a few seconds of eye contact, she found herself hoping he'd never look away.

So engrossed was she with his eyes, she nearly missed his hand. Long fingers gently brought up to tuck the forelock behind her ear. Despite her desires to never break eye contact, the motion of his hand had a hypnotic effect. She closed her eyes. She bit her lip. She could barely contain her grin as thoughts paraded through her mind that were decidedly un-ladylike.

The contact was subtle, almost imperceivable. But she perceived. It was warm. It was inviting. It had her wanting nothing more than for him to leave it there if only for her to brush her cheek against it and coo.

But he didn't leave it there.

With the same grace by which he brought it forth, he retracted. And so too did the hypnotic effect. Eyelids parted to discover his twinkling eyes waiting for hers. Not waiting. Longing. There was more to them than there had been. A mystery. An excitement. A hunger.

"Hi," he breathed.

It was all she could have asked for. Nothing verbose. Nothing overly flattering. Nothing braggadocios. Simple. Direct. Honest. And the most accurate description of how she felt at that very moment.

"High," she returned, letting the words linger as their true meaning enraptured them.

"What the hell is going on?" Drake Reid directed the question to his wife, but it effectively broke the spell that had the two young adults transfixed.

Blinking several times in rapid succession, Zoe realized she had no concept of time. The exchange could have lasted seconds just as much as it could have been hours. Which was an issue, but only a slight one. The real issue, was how much more she wanted to experience that all over again.

She looked down at the table to discover all of its occupants had witnessed the interaction, though none had words to describe it.

"Pixie!" Zoe heard herself before realizing she was speaking. "We goofed. Brought all this food, ate some, your brother brought more and... and... Drinks! Nobody brought drinks. You and I, we gotta, right now. Get drinks."

"Okay, okay," Pixie laughed as she rose from her seat. "We can get drinks. What does everyone want? Cokes all around?"

Her parents gave their approval to the suggestion, as did Miles, sheepishly.

"What kind?" the follow up question was solely directed at Miles, though Zoe imagined her friend knew the family preferences.

"Uh... cherry if they got it," Miles shrugged.

"No worries there," Pixie smiled and grabbed Zoe's arm to lead her away. "C'mon Zo."

Before they could get more than a couple steps away, they caught Mr. Reid amusedly say to his son, "It is a good thing you graduated already. Otherwise, I'm not confident you'd have been able to focus enough on your studies to complete your courses."

"Funny, dad... Why does this bowl of chili say 'Miles' on it?"

To Zoe's relief, Pixie waited until they were out of earshot to speak.

"Dad was right, what the hell?"

"I don't- I don't even..." Zoe felt as if her mind had just rebooted. "That's not normal, right?"

"I'm probably the wrong person to ask. Very limited experience here," Pixie said while bringing her hand up as if to claim credit for her own statement. "I will say, it was intense."

Zoe let out a long exhale, "You're telling me."

Her friend snickered at the remark.

"So..." Zoe said, feeling her cheeks burning again. "How bad you think it bothered your folks?"

Pixie grabbed a cardboard drink carrier as they pulled up to a table dedicated to refreshments. "Well, dad seemed to think it was funny. And Ozzy has had girlfriends before. Plus, he's been away at college, so, y'know, I doubt they'll care much unless either of you gives 'em reason to."

"Cool," Zoe said, slightly relieved.

"Course, like mom said, he was really into magic for a long time. So, I dunno, they may think he's still a virgin."

"Oh boy," Zoe groaned.

"Now, I'm not one-hundred-percent on this, but I'm pretty sure I'm not supposed to tell you if he is or not."

"Please don't," Zoe said quickly before redirecting the conversation. "Should I go with tea? That's kind of a staple here, right? Or is that more... more south?"

"First of all, don't you ever try implying NC isn't southern enough. We might vote more blue than almost any of our southern brothers, but we take pride in our history."

Zoe couldn't help but smirk at the other girl's loyalty to her heritage. "Alright, so I should have tea, right? What is this? Sweetened and unsweetened? Pix, which should I try?"

"You're probably gonna wanna start with sweet," Pixie informed. "It's not a huge deal, but there are folks who will say you're not a true southerner if you drink it unsweetened."

"But Pix, I'm not a true southerner."

"Trust me, we know," Pixie nodded enthusiastically. "And we've only got a year to work on that. So, no training wheels, get yourself a damned sweet tea."

Zoe placed a paper cup under the nozzle of the appropriate cooler and dispensed the red-amber liquid while Pixie fulfilled the rest of the orders. With only gravity to cascade the beverage from the insulated tub, Pixie finished first. Curiosity, often the cruelest of condoned urges, enticed Zoe to try her long-brewed refreshment.

"Sweet merciful crap," she whispered. "Did I just- did I just drink diabetes?"

"Strong?"

"I know you can get things like orange juice from concentrate, but I didn't know you could do that with straight sugar. I'm pretty sure whoever made this forgot it needs to be watered down."

"Gimme that," Pixie said, snatching the cup from Zoe and sipping the opposite end. "No, this is delicious."

"No one is debating whether sugar is delicious," Zoe stated. "I just... oh, this is why Arnold Palmer's exists."

"The tennis guy?"

"One, that doesn't sound right to me," Zoe shook her head. "And two, no, the drink. Y'know, cutting the sweet tea with lemons?"

"You would sully this sweet ambrosia with lemon?"

"I-" Zoe realized she wasn't going to convert anyone. "We've been gone a while, they're going to wonder what happened to us."

"I'll just tell them you entered a staring contest with someone's Abercrombie bag," Pixie nodded and grabbed one of the trays of drinks. "You want me to claim the tea?"

"I made my bed, Pix. I'm not gonna have someone else lie in it," Zoe said, begrudgingly. "Besides, you're hyper enough as is. I can only imagine the ride home with you bouncing off the walls."

"Ugh, don't be ridiculous," Pixie scoffed. "We're having barbecue. I'll be sticky."

"Oh, good. Sticking to the walls. Much better."

The girls laughed as they started their trek back. Not having learned to ignore curiosity's dulcet tones, Zoe danced around a question.

"So, it occurred to me... you haven't said much about your brother..."

Pixie let out an unrefined snort. "It would have been one thing for me to mention him casually before you met. But now? I don't think I'm allowed."

Zoe nodded.

"Besides," Pixie added. "The drive home is going to be super uncomfortable already with you two just staring at each other."

Zoe couldn't tell if the shiver Pixie added was entirely for dramatic effect.

"I keep wanting for that to have happened only in my head," Zoe admitted. "I don't know if I can put up with making such an embarrassing first impression with your folks again."

"Fine. If you're gonna start to get all mopey," Pixie rolled her eyes, but it didn't diminish from the amusement in her voice. "I'm sure I can give you just a tiny bit of inside information about Oz. But y'know, now isn't the time."

"Cool!" Zoe was caught off guard by her own enthusiasm, "And if I can help you with... things, I'll be sure to try."

"Oh..." There was an unmistakable note of disappointment in her voice. "That... that's okay."

"Pixie, it's okay. Miles already told me you two were hitting it off."

The shorter girl averted her eyes. "Actually... I told Miles that we should take some time to get to know each other better before attempting any sort of relationship that involves us being more than friends."

"That... sounds like a responsible decision," Zoe said, thinking back on the conversation she'd shared with her brother.

As they came up to the table, Zoe caught Miles's glance at Pixie and noticed a subtle mark of pain in his eyes.

Pixie missed it as she distributed the sodas to the group.

Miles was so engrossed in conversation, he took no notice of the beverage placed before him. Zoe hadn't observed it in the moment, but Pixie didn't procure what he'd requested. Instead, a red beverage with an unfamiliar label sat before him. Considering his penchant for reading, it surprised Zoe when Miles put almost no thought into taking a swig. It was less surprising that his reaction likened to the one she'd just experienced with the tea.

Drake Reid gave a full-body laugh and slapped his knees at Miles's response. "Oh boy! I wasn't sure if that would play out like it did in my head, but that was even better than I expected."

A few families seated nearby gawked at the handsome man wrestling to keep his soda down. Even Pixie's brother and mom struggled to refrain from laughing at their guest's expense.

Whether it was Miles's often claimed 'twin-telepathy' or merely sympathy pain, Zoe's nose stung from the sensation of carbonation trying to escape.

Finally, he looked down at the bottle in hand and read a name he'd never seen before. "Cheer- Cheerwine?"

"Pixie," her father tried to keep a straight face as he doled out his information, too late to be of help. "They're Yanks. When you offered them a Coke they thought you meant Coca-Cola."

Pixie's eyes went wide as she realized the blunder was primarily her fault. "So, when you said cherry, you meant... oh."

"Pix," Oz chuckled. "You do know that most places outside of N. C. haven't even heard of Cheerwine, don't you?"

"I- I've never left the state. We have it everywhere here. How was I to..." She realized there was no point in making excuses. "Miles, I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to play a trick on you."

Zoe retrieved the bottle from her brother's hand and looked at it. "Interesting."

"Y'know," Miles said, still trying to regain his composure. "I think it's better than my reaction led you to believe. I just wasn't expecting..."

He hit himself softly on the sternum to assist the recovery.

Zoe couldn't help but feel a bit of skepticism but figured there wasn't much point to wasting a whole bottle if she didn't like it, she took a swig off her brother's. She downed it without issue, then took a second to reflect upon its flavor.

"Oh, this could be dangerous," she turned to the Reid family. "It's delicious."

_____

"Who is that over there with the Reids?" Walt Davison inquired, having just witnessed a boy struggle to drink a sip of Cheerwine.

Chris checked to see who his father was referring to before replying, "Oh, they're new. That's Miles and that's Zoe. Twins from Washington."

"He sits right in front of you dun'nee? Seph like 'em?"

"Yeah, he's second chair trumpet. He and Seph are like two peas."

"Oh, I'm sure that went over real well with Tanner."

"Tanner? Oh... uh, let's just say he's not Miles's biggest fan."

"I'll bet," he looked the group over again. "Twins, eh?"

"Yeah. She was the one..." Chris trailed off.

"She was the one Ms. Douglass called about? Got attacked?"

"Sorta. Yeah. Cops came out and everything," Chris followed his father's gaze. "But she's acting like nothing happened."

His father looked down at him, "They good Christians?"

"I think so. They were some other denomination back where they used to live," he paused as though he needed to confirm his thoughts. "Im pretty sure their old church would do something like quiz the parishioners or something. She thought the priest would call on her."

Walt found the idea amusing, "And they just moved to the area?"

"Yeah. A few weeks before the retreat. They're gonna join our church."

He considered this for a few seconds before grabbing his plate, "C'mon, we gotta move."

"You want me to make the introductions?" Chris offered.

"Sounds like I'll meet them at church," Walt clarified. "From where I sit, the new sheep'll make their introductions on Sunday. But today, members of our flock need us. So let's find the Page's and make sure Tanner is doing alright."

"You sure, pop?"

"Course," Walt said confidently. "It's the Christian thing to do."

9:30 PM, White Residence

The ride home had been pleasant. The Reids shared a bit about their family, and the Whites reciprocated. Oz offered to take the very back to free up the middle seats for his sister and the twins. Or so he claimed. Miles suspected he actually wanted to avoid getting seated next to Zoe and making a fool of himself.

When they arrived, they thanked the Reid family profusely before entering the home that still didn't feel like home to them. Their mother had arrived shortly before and eagerly anticipated their return.

The evening was spent recapitulating the events of camp. The friends they made, especially the ones they would share other classes with, as well as their initial thoughts on how their upcoming school year might go. They ordered pizza, though the twins were still full from the barbecue, they nearly abstained from dinner altogether.

After dinner, they tried watching a movie, but it failed to hold Miles's interest. He excused himself to get unpacked and work on setting up his room some more. He climbed the stairs and walked to the end of the hall, where his room shared a wall with his sister's.

"I'm sorry about Pixie."

He hadn't even realized Zoe followed him upstairs. "You've been honing your twin powers without me realizing?"

"No, uh... She told me during the barbecue," she placed her hand flat over her heart and nodded. "I may not have been through anything like this but... I know."

He sighed and nodded back, "yeah."

"Hey, uh... I know her family just drove us home and you two acted like everything was fine, but... do we hate her now?"

Miles wasn't sure whether she intended it as a joke or not, but he laughed regardless, "No. I mean, you make up your own mind. But I definitely don't hate her."

"Y'know, I didn't like her at first," she admitted. "But the more time I spent with her, the more I get what you see in her. Even after she told me that you two aren't going to be a couple, spending the day with her and her family... I- I hope we can continue to build a friendship with her."

"That's the plan," he nodded. "And I don't think we're ruling out the possibility of anything down the road. Just... We should get to know each other better before getting serious."

"That's what she said, too," though the words were optimistic, it was clear Zoe knew Miles needed some space. "Hey, I'm gonna go finish the movie. You know if you want to talk I'm gonna be on the other side of that wall." She pointed to the spot bifurcating their rooms.

"After the movie, of course," he corrected. "Yeah, I know. I'll be alright. Just... haven't had the proper time to process it, is all. Night Zo."

"Night."

Saturday, August 26, 12:30 AM, Reid Residence

Pixie lay on her bed, the soft mattress and quilted fabric a welcome change from the previous fortnight. She hadn't been hungry when they got home, but there was risk of Oz devouring the leftovers they'd snagged before she woke the next morning, so she forced herself to indulge in a bit more. By the time she climbed into bed, she felt the culmination of the past couple of week's activities finally catch up to her. Her body was exhausted. It was exactly what she needed for the perfect slumber, well fed, tired, and comfortable. She couldn't have asked for anything more.

Yet sleep eluded her.

She opened her eyes to find shadows and light patches shifting across her room. It made her quake. For as long as she'd lived in this house, the room across the street had a presence she couldn't explain. It had been Sheldon's room. She didn't recall when she found that out, but the knowledge never left her mind.

It was never an issue during the day. Pixie could part her curtains, open the window and sit on the sill without a care in the world. But once the sun set, she made sure the window was locked, the curtain drawn as tight as they could be.

After having been away from home for two weeks, she'd fallen out of the habit. And now she had two options; pull the sheets over her head and pray that when she was next uncovered it would be daytime, or go make sure the window was locked and pull the curtains shut.

Before the retreat, it would have been an easy answer. Sheets.

But things were different now. She was an adult. Eighteen. She could vote. Participate in a lottery. Sue someone. Buy spray paint. Maybe get a tattoo. Jury duty was even a possibility. If she could do all that, she sure as hell believed she could go check on the window.

She climbed out of bed, put on her big girl pants (cleverly disguised as booty shorts), adorned her fuzzy robe to shield her from the cool night air, and loosely tied its sash as she strode across the room.

When she stepped to the window, she saw two things she'd never seen before. For the near decade she'd lived in this house, she'd not once seen the light on in Sheldon's room. Nor had she ever seen the curtain drawn. She thought back on the few times she'd dared gaze into that window at night. What should have been pitch black, instead she'd find a shimmer. An amorphous outline. Indistinguishable from the emptiness of the room, yet unmissable. Something watching her that was not of this world.

But tonight was different.

The curtains - closed.

The lights - on.

The room that had terrorized her for over half her life, suddenly felt powerless. Though silhouetted, she could see the distinct outline of an actual, tangible person. She nearly skipped at the relief. Instead, she grabbed her phone and scrolled through her contacts.

There was inherent risk. Sending a text after midnight always carried that. This instance was slightly worsened by the fact that she wasn't positive the person on the receiving end was whom she was hoping. She needed to pick her words carefully, otherwise she might sever the strings to what might already be a strained, if not tenuous, relationship. After much deliberation, she came up with the perfect opener.

PR: Hi Friend!

As the shadow before her moved, she breathed a silent sigh of relief, knowing her aim had been true. Even better, her phone buzzed upon receiving a reply.

MW: Hey, how'd you know I'd be up?

PR: Guessed

PR: Your room faces mine

PR: Lights on

MW: Shoot, sorry. I thought the curtains would block those. I'm just editing photos from the trip. Am I keeping you up?

PR: Couldnt sleep.

PR: The pix turn out?

After hitting the send button, she looked up to find Miles had pulled the curtains aside. He hadn't transitioned into sleepwear. There was a slight sense of power imbalance, being able to see him while still cloaked in darkness. She reached behind her and turned on the lamp atop her dresser. His leather jacket and jeans only made her feel slightly self-conscious about the cherry blossom colored vestment she'd chosen to adorn herself in. But at least now any imbalance was a product of her own insecurities.

MW: I've done this for years, but still wind up trashing more than I keep.

PR: Oh

PR: No fun

MW: Seriously! It makes it hard to justify buying rolls of film.

PR: Still better than any I could take

PR: The 1s your trashing*

MW: I bet they'd turn out better than you realize. Do you normally have trouble sleeping?

She smirked at the text. His kindness made her proposal to cool things off more challenging.

PR: No

The response was short but she hoped he wouldn't ask a follow up. Or at least, she told herself she hoped he wouldn't.

MW: Something wrong? Anything in particular keeping you up?

She knew his response was common decency, but she'd spent the whole day reliving the moment she told him she wanted to take things slow. With each replay it felt more clear, she had said the exact opposite of what he wanted, and he was too nice to say otherwise.

PR: 2 busy worrying about a great guy I know

PR: Thinking I might have made a huge misstake

As he read the text, Miles frowned and shook his head. Stepping away from the window, he took off his jacket and stretched before he started typing. The thought that he was putting that much effort into a response caused her to laugh out loud, though she didn't dare derail his train of thought with a pointless LOL.

MW: I'd rather we each know what we want going into this. Instead of trying to assume or match what the other wants. That could only lead to us doing something that either one or both of us might regret later.

She couldn't help but smile. With a few sentences, he alleviated concerns she'd been holding onto for the day. Rereading the message, she realized it hadn't just been that day that her anxieties had started building.

By the third time she read it, she questioned whether at any point during their tryst she might have given him the impression she didn't want what was happening. She was certain that she had taken charge for their first encounter. And their second... barely scratched the surface of what her hormones were craving. No. He hadn't pressured her to do anything. And she was equally confident that she had never participated in anything because she thought it was what he wanted. If anything, especially for her birthday, she had pushed him more than he was comfortable.

An apology felt wrong. But she didn't know what else to write.

She studied him from across the gap between their houses. For the past two weeks, she'd seen him mostly in school-issued PE clothing, then his church wear, the Marching Band uniforms, and finally his, what she assumed to be, normal attire. Now that he'd shed the leather jacket that had been draped over his body through the day, she couldn't help but comment.

PR: Suspenders?

He tilted his head as he reviewed her response.

MW: Something wrong with suspenders?

Again, she laughed. With every communiqué, she came closer to identifying what it was that made him so special.

PR: No

PR: Old fashion

WM: Old fashioned like in a Grandpa way?

PR: In a kinda hot way

She pictured how he'd look without the t-shirt on, and found the suspenders were a bit of a turn-on when pictured against his bare skin.

MW: Thanks. I'd always hoped someday someone would consider me a sexy grandpa.

PR: You probably will b specially if you keep with the suspenders.
PR: They/You look good.

MW: Aesthetics are only part of the reason I go with suspenders.

MW: They're more sanitary than belts.

She cocked her head at the reply.

PR:??

MW: Can't really wash a belt, but they're something people have to handle when they use the restroom.

She furrowed her brow, but before she could respond, he sent a follow up.

MW: Before they wash their hands.

Shocked at the realization, her mouth stood agape as she typed.

PR: Eww

PR: Never thought about that before

PR: No more belts

Her vantage, from where she stood in her room, past the window, across the span between their houses, through his own window, was only 25-feet away. But knowing he was so close, that she could see him, but not hear him, or smell, him, or taste him, the distance felt more like a lifetime.

At least if she could hear him, smell him, taste him, she might have some excuse for what she did next. She knew it was wrong. But in the middle of the night, with no one around to talk some sense into her, no distractions to redirect her thoughts, and the boy who had, just days earlier, made her body tremble in a way she didn't know was possible, she was okay doing something she knew was wrong.

"No more belts," she whispered to herself as she pulled on the fastener keeping her robe contained.

The act in itself was innocuous. She was still fully dressed. Going out in public wearing less wouldn't have caused gawking, let alone scandal.

But it worked.

She couldn't determine how many parts of his body went rigid, but Miles stood up straight and gave her his full attention. At the distance, it was impossible to determine where exactly his eyes fell, but standing next to the lamp, with the crisp midnight air lightly stinging her skin, she trusted shadows to add an element to entice. Though small, her bosom was accentuated once the opening to the garment fell to either side of it. With her tank top so thin, and her nipples getting firmer with each passing second, she questioned whether the pokies might cut the material open.

Regardless of where his eyes landed, his were the first she'd ever seen capable of making her feel like a real woman, and not just some child. Some kid. Some... one of the other dozens of words that had been offered as, at best, a backhanded compliment, or at their worst, a complete put down. She reminded herself of what she told herself before climbing out of bed. She wasn't a kid. She was an adult woman. And she was willing to do woman things, especially if they were adult.

Her text went unanswered. She hadn't even noticed Miles set his phone down, but when he moved his arms, it was nowhere to be seen. The reason for moving his arms startled her. Brushing the suspenders off his shoulders, it reminded her of scenes in movies where a woman slipped out of her bra straps. She'd found it alluring then, and hot as hell now.

And it was then that she found the words to describe how he made her feel special. It wasn't how he looked at her. It was how he heard her. For the first time in her life, when she spoke, someone understood what she meant. Even when she didn't understand herself. She didn't unfasten her robe as a comedic response to his text. Though she didn't realize it, she had laid down a challenge, and Miles saw it before she did.

This is wrong, She told herself. We're supposed to be working on building our friendship, not teasing each other at every opportunity.

Her suspicions on where his gaze lay was put to rest when she noticed him break eye contact to glance at her body. She could only wonder what that internal struggle must be like. Society constantly bombarding men, shaming them for objectifying women. But here she was, a woman, lavishing in the way his eyes caressed her. The problem wasn't that she was being lavished. It was that he only had his eyes to do it with. She could feel his desire for her, it was a feeling she had never experienced from anyone before. And she liked it.

Pixie crossed her arms in front of her, grabbed her tank top by the hem, and lifted it off.

She tried her best to hide a smile as he stared at her, his mouth slightly parted. She remembered the feeling of those lips against her chest and wished she could experience them again at that moment. Her heart was already pounding, when he removed his shirt, it was nearly deafening.

They stood there for several moments, just admiring each other's bare chests from afar. It had only been a few days since she pressed her entire nude body against his own, yet her hormones told her she wanted to see him again. No. She needed to see him again.

She locked eyes with him, and they had a mutual understanding of the next move. She couldn't help but brush her hands against her nipples as they slithered down her body to the top of her shorts. Meanwhile, Miles undid the front of his pants.

Simultaneously, they lowered what little clothing they had left covering themselves. Without realizing it, Pixie's mouth felt like it had an overabundance of saliva. She swallowed, hard. Then licked her lips. She mouthed the words, "Hi Friend," to the person two windows away from her, wishing more than anything that they could be in the same room.

It's so big, She knew it already, but every time she saw him it caught her by surprise. He's so turned on. He knows how much he turns me on, doesn't he?

She hesitated, not knowing how to answer the question she'd posed to herself, but then thought back to the first night they'd shared their bodies with each other.

She spread her legs, lowered her hand between them, and then held up her fingers, hoping the glow of the lamp might cause them to glisten enough for him to tell how wet she was. Regardless, it had an effect on him. He reciprocated by bringing his hand down to his shaft and stroking it once for her.

Pixie forced herself to bring her eyes back to Miles's face and nodded at him. She moved the items from beside her lamp to the floor, brought her chair over from her desk, and used it as a step so she could sit atop of the dresser. She angled herself to give Miles as best a view as she could manage and was pleased to see he had likewise propped himself onto his desk. Though he no doubt had a less comfortable position, having to worry about knocking his computer over.

But that wasn't her concern.

Her concern at that moment was getting off, putting on a good show for him, and not missing a second of him enjoying himself. Which of those took priority fluctuated by the second. It really didn't matter, within a few minutes all of those were going to be accomplished.

It's going to be an interesting year living next to you, Miles White.

11:30 AM, White Residence

Zoe paced frantically about her room, staring at the number on her phone. Typing it in had not been an issue, but getting her finger to hit the SEND button was more of a challenge than she'd anticipated. She didn't understand why she was nervous. She had already gotten ready to start the day. Enjoyed breakfast with her family. It wasn't until Joe's first text that she felt a tinge of uncertainty.

It was an innocuous enough message.

JF: There a plan for today?

But considering Zoe did not, in fact, have a plan, her response was elusive. Joe picked up on it instantly and used Zoe's fears to amplify her own tenfold.

This isn't a big deal. Just call. Ask if they can make time for us. Doesn't even need to be today.

Suddenly, her phone began vibrating in her hand. Instead of showing a name from her phone's address book at the top, a number took its place. A familiar number. A number that wouldn't be familiar if she hadn't been staring at it for the past several minutes. The vibration seemed to give new life to her hand as she was able to receive the call, using that same SEND button she'd been struggling with just seconds before.

"Hel- Hello?" She was shocked at how childlike her voice sounded coming out of her mouth.

"Yes. Hello, this is Doctor Golden. I was hoping to reach a... Zoe White."

"This is she," her voice sounded more like how she usually heard it.

"Good morning, Miss White. I assume you already deduced that Cleo Goldstein gave me your number," there was no hesitance or reluctance in the doctor's voice. "She told me that you and a friend were having an issue that you'd like some professional medical opinion on. Is that accurate?"

I really need to tell Cleo she's a good friend more.

"Yes, that's correct."

"I'm on call this afternoon. I'll likely have some time to talk, as long as I don't get pulled away for an emergency, in which case I have no idea if I'd be able to get back to you."

"I understand."

"If you two could stop by at around 1 this afternoon, I should be able to chat. For a little while at least."

"Thank you so much. We'll be there."

The call ended, and she quickly drafted a text to send to Joe.

"Hey, I'm gonna head over to the mall. See what's there and maybe find some last-minute things for school," Miles called over from the doorway. "If you're not up to anything, you wanna come with?"

"Can't," She announced triumphantly. "Joe and I have an appointment."

12:30 PM, Hanes Mall

"So you're like... the worst lesbian ever?"

"I never claimed to be a lesbian!" Pixie exclaimed louder than she'd intended to in the food court.

"No? But you've only been into girls since... since we've been interested in anyone."

Pixie rolled her eyes. Not because Mel was correct and she had no way of refuting it, but because Mel had never expressed an interest in anyone.

"I've only really been into one girl," Pixie corrected. "And it's not like she ever noticed. But I wasn't ever against boys. Miles just... has an effect on me."

"I keep telling you, she never noticed because she's straight."

Mel had been getting on Pixie's nerves since the night Miles nearly got caught by the chaperones.

"... She's bi," Pixie whispered without a trace of hesitance. "She has to be."

"She doesn't have to be. And she isn't!" Mel could be insufferable at times. "That's why she's dated like... every guy in our grade. And uh, oh right! No Girls!"

"Just because she went out with them once or twice doesn't mean they dated," Pixie wasn't sure if she believed what she was saying, but it provided her some peace of mind.

"That's what dating is, sweetie. Just without, or maybe minimal, exclusivity," Mel said. "Besides, if she's gone out with that many guys, how many of them do you think she banged? You really want to be next on that whore's list?"

It made no sense, but Mel's words hurt. It could have been the possibility that there was some truth to them. But more likely, it hurt because of why they were said. And by the look on Mel's face, she knew she crossed a line, but it was too late to take back.

"Oh shit," Mel whispered as she looked at the people entering the food court from the rest of the mall. "Your boyfriend just showed up. Did you know he was going to be here?"

"He's not my boyfriend," Pixie turned to see where Mel was looking. "No, I had no idea he was gonna be here."

Pixie turned her back towards him and hoped he wouldn't notice them sitting there. As she worried he'd approach, she wiped her eyes to make sure the traces of her frustration with her best friend weren't evident.

"He's coming over," Mel waved. "Turn to face him, or he'll think something's up."

Pixie did as she was told and found Miles had reduced the distance between them significantly.

Damn his long... muscular... legs, Pixie once again found herself struggling to remove her eyes from his body. She'd grown accustomed to him in sweats or band gear and was quickly getting familiar with him in the buff, but seeing him in his normal streetwear was something else.

"Were your ears burning?" Mel called out as he stepped up to them.

"Uh-oh," his cheeks went a bit red. Something else Pixie had never realized she found appealing. "Do I even want to know?"

"No!" Pixie said a bit too quickly.

"Alright," he said without hint of frustration or irony.

We say we're talking about you and you don't pry to find out what was said?

"If I'm interrupting, I can take off," Miles offered.

"No, no," Pixie jumped out of her chair. "Mel is just trying to make me blush."

"Sorry, Pix," Miles said. "She's succeeding."

"So did you just get here or are you just bad at shopping?" Mel asked, indicating to his empty hands.

"Oh, I've never been here before. Figured I'd check out what stores this place has and maybe come across something I'd overlooked for school."

"Ah. Then your appetite interrupted those plans?" Pixie smiled.

"Pretty much. Had I known you two were gonna be here, I would have joined you for lunch."

"Actually, we haven't done lunch," Mel clarified. "Though now that you mention it, I'm getting sorta hungry."

Pixie looked around. "Anyone have a preference for where we eat? Or should we all just fend for ourselves?"

"Y'know what I haven't had since I got to town? A really good burger," Miles stated. "I'm not talking about some... fast food, generic... had it a million times, can't tell if it was assembled by a human or a robot because it tastes exactly like-"

"We get it!" Mel interrupted.

"Sorry about her," Pixie said, embarrassed at her friend's outburst. "When she said she was getting 'sorta hungry' what she meant was 'sorta hangry'."

"Yeah," Mel broke eye contact and looked at the floor. "Sorry about that."

Not seeing an advantage to lingering on the awkward moment, Pixie directed a question to Mel, "You know where we should eat?"

"The place you're always suggesting?" Mel said with an eye roll.

"C'mon, the burgers are great. The fries are the best in the state. And we can actually afford it," Pixie pleaded.

"Yeah, but we have it sooo much," Mel whined.

"Not in the past two weeks we haven't," Pixie said victoriously.

"Okay, I'm out of the loop," Miles frowned. "Where are we talking about?"

In unison, the girls stopped bickering, turned to him and announced, "Smitty's!"

"Smitty's?" Miles surveyed the restaurants encompassing them but found nothing but the typical food court fair. "I don't see a Smitty's."

"Sorry," Pixie flustered. "It's back in town. And you just got here, it doesn't make any sense for you to just turn around and drive all the way and... I shouldn't have suggested it.

"Pixie?"

"Yes, Miles?" As she spoke, she couldn't help but think back to the first night they were alone together.

"Do you want Smitty's?"

"Well, yeah, but-"

"Then we should do it," Miles said. "I mean, as long as Mel is good with it. Shoot, I didn't even ask if you had another suggestion."

"It's fine," Mel said, standoffishly. "We can do burgers. It's not a big deal."

Before either Pixie or Miles had a chance to appease their friend, Mel was out of her seat and headed toward the parking lot.

"Damnit," Pixie muttered.

"I'm sorry, I didn't meant to- Or, if I did anything to... I'm just sorry if I screwed things up for you two," Miles offered.

Somehow, in the hustle and bustle of the previous weeks, Pixie hadn't made note of how cute he looked when he was disconcerted.

"Don't worry about it," Pixie assured. "She can be like that sometimes. She'll be fine by the time we get to the restaurant. If not, then at least the fries will perk her up."

"Did you two come here together?"

"Yeah, but she needs a moment to cool down."

"She won't leave without you, right?" Miles asked, glancing at the shopping bag at Pixie's side. "Cause I didn't bring an extra helmet, so..."

"Double Damnit!" Pixie cursed as she grabbed her bag and chased after Mel. "I'll text you so you know how to get there."

"I'll see you there," Miles called out as she pushed open the entry doors.

"Hang on!" Pixie hollered as she raced to catch up with Mel.

Mel looked somewhat shocked to see her friend racing up to her. "You're coming with me? I thought for sure you'd be riding Miles."

"Uh..." Pixie stammered, unsure if she'd simply not heard Mel use the word 'with' or if it had been intentionally omitted. "Yeah," Pixie said, still uncertain of the sudden friction. "I'm gonna ride with you."

It was subtle, but having been friends for so long, Pixie noticed her friend's expression soften.

"Alright, well... c'mon," Mel said as she popped the trunk to her mom's Outback.

It wasn't an apology or an admission that she'd done anything wrong, but Pixie was grateful her friend's attitude seemed to be shifting. Once she was in the car, she was able to shoot off a quick text to Miles, before turning her full attention to Mel.

"Do you... wanna talk about what all that was about?"

"No," Mel said, her eyes not leaving the road ahead of her. "But I will."

Pixie breathed out a quiet sigh of relief.

"Today was supposed to be an us day," Mel said. "Y'know, we haven't had any time, just the two of us, in a while. And this year is probably gonna be really hectic. Especially now that we're section leaders. And then we've got SATs, and checking out colleges. And who knows? We might not wind up going to the same one. So, maybe this year is the last chance we'll have to really be close. But if you and Miles are gonna be together, I'm just gonna be some weird third wheel. Or maybe not in your life at all."

"I told you," Pixie stated. "Miles and I are going to try just being friends for a bit. He's new in town and... it's just not a good time for us to try to be in a relationship."

"Uh huh," Mel said flippantly. "You told him that, and then how long was it before you were getting naked for each other again? 12 hours?"

"No! It was more like... Oh... yeah, I guess that's not the point you were making..."

Mel reached over and held Pixie's hand, "Listen. I'm not mad at you. I just... I don't like the idea of losing you. Or someone hurting you. And y'know, we barely know Miles and you're already forming such an attraction, but like... what if he's not a good guy? You gotta be careful."

Pixie nodded and let out a long exhale. Mel had always tried to take care of her when she could. And if she was going to be in a relationship with someone, her friendship with Mel would change. It was something Pixie hadn't considered, but made her even more grateful she'd already decided to slow things down with Miles.

_____

"Sorry to keep you waiting," Doctor Golden offered once pleasantries were dispensed with. "Cleo didn't give me much to go off of. She was being, uh... let's say, uncharacteristically cagey. You're not blackmailing her or anything, right?"

"No blackmail, ma'am," Zoe laughed. "Just... she understood we wanted a bit of discretion."

"Oh! So it's not that she didn't tell me, it's that she couldn't?" Dr. Golden smiled. "Alright, well, I assume from your cavalier attitude, my expertise as an ER doctor isn't why you're here."

"No," Zoe said more comfortably than she felt. "I guess we're here because..." She looked at Joe, but realized the other girl wasn't at a point where she could volunteer much information of her own volition. "Well, I guess we'd like a bit of medical advice, slash advice from an adult, and if possible, it'd be better if parents didn't know..."

"Okay, well, right off the bat, I have to say if you're going to tell me about any sort of abuse or neglect or-"

"Nothing like that," Zoe assured.

"Well, are you both at least 18?"

"I am," Zoe offered. She turned to Joe who nodded without opening her mouth.

They sat in awkward silence for a moment as Zoe couldn't find the right words, Joe couldn't find any words, and Dr. Golden had no clue as to why the two girls were in her office.

"I could show you a copy of the Overview of NC Law regarding Consent for Medical Tr-"

"I was assaulted!" Zoe blurted. "A week ago. Nope. That's wrong. I don't know why I said that. It was Monday. It was reported to the police. I thought I was fine but..."

"Hold on, hold on," Dr. Golden waved her hand to get Zoe's attention. "You wanna start from the beginning?"

Slowly, Zoe recapped events. She'd spent much of the week finding distractions to keep it off her mind. But suppressing trauma isn't the same as dealing with it. And in giving Doctor Golden a detailed account of the events, Zoe felt like she was experiencing them again for the first time. It was exhausting and emotional, though Joe was the only one in the room brought to tears upon hearing it.

"Okay," Dr. Golden said with a heavy sigh. "If you wouldn't mind just humoring me for a second, I'd like to at least take a cautionary look at your wrists."

Zoe acquiesced and held out her arms for inspection. "I really do feel fine."

The Doctor nodded, "Sometimes, after a traumatic event, we might put up a mental block that prevents us from noticing repercussions. Other times, there can be an issue with our nervous system, the body can literally be incapable of telling the brain that there is a problem."

As she spoke, Dr. Golden applied pressure and rotated Zoe's wrists, all the while studying for any signs of residual effects from the past week's events.

"That being said," she continued. "I'm not seeing anything here to give reason for concern. Now, about your ankles..."

"Any chance I can get away with just walking around the room for proof?" The skirt Zoe had chosen for the day wasn't conducive to raising her legs for examination while maintaining any hint of modesty.

"Sure," the Doctor nodded. "This is entirely voluntary. The EMTs already said you were clear, this is primarily for my peace of mind."

"I understand," Zoe said, reaching down and unlatching her heals before stepping about.

Without being directed, she paced across the room, then turned and strode, rocking her feet from heel to toe, to the far wall, another about face, and returning to her chair, this time landing first on the balls of her feet before touching heel to the ground. Finally, before sitting, she brought legs together and rolled up until she was en pointe. Holding the pose for just under three seconds, she nearly collapsed back into the chair.

"Ooof," She sighed. "It's been a minute since I've done that."

"Uh..." Doctor Golden said, dumbfounded. "I can honestly, and without shame, say that is not something I would have ever been able to do at any point in my life. Any questions I had about residual injuries, you've successfully squashed."

Out of the corner of her eye, Zoe noticed Joe's shoes rocking against the grown. Either her friend was feeling inspired by the demonstration, or found new anxiety upon realizing it was her turn to explain to the attending physician.

"I feel awkward asking this, with it being your office and all," Zoe said quickly. "But, would it be at all possible for us to have the room, just for a moment."

Any reluctance Dr. Golden held toward the request was diminished the second she saw the pleading look in Joe's eyes.

"Sure," she said as she rose from behind the desk. "I'll knock before entering."

There was an eerie tension in the room upon her exit.

"Hey," Joe nudged Zoe's arm lightly. "That was my first time hearing all of it and... I mean, I... knew, but I didn't know. Y'know?"

Zoe laughed lightly. "Maybe?"

"It just seems so fucked up..." Joe sniffled. "Literally, on Sunday you showed me more understanding and kindness than like... anyone. And I just don't understand... what could you have done to make someone do that to you?"

"It's okay," Zoe assured.

"Nuh uh, fuck that. It's not okay," the anger in Joe's tone caught Zoe unexpectedly. "And I... I dunno, I should have..."

"Joe," she said softly. "I can only imagine the panic Miles was going through. I had Cleo and Pixie, and soon enough the other girls taking care of me once they found me. I needed someone there looking out for Miles. As a sibling, especially a twin, that's my duty. Just like he looks out for me. And at that moment, we needed our friends to be able to do it for us. So, I'm grateful that he had you there for him."

"Huh, I guess I hadn't thought of it like that I -"

A knock at the door interrupted her train of thought.

"We're decent," Joe announced before giving Zoe a panicked, I-don't-know-why-I-said-that, look.

"Well I should hope so," Dr. Golden laughed upon reentering the room. "Glad to see you're up for a bit of humor."

"Well, they say it's the best medicine, don't they?" Zoe stated.

"They do. And usually they're wrong. Typically medicine is the best medicine. Good diet, exercise, sanitary conditions, those all help. And yes, a positive outlook doesn't hurt. But laughter? Oof, if you could see some spleens it's ruptured."

Both Zoe and Joe giggled at the remark.

"Alright," Dr. Golden looked the girls over. "You're not here because you think something might be physically wrong... so?"

Zoe looked at the ground, "I guess, I was wondering if you might be able to refer me to a therapist."

"I can definitely do that," as she spoke she pulled a box of business cards from her desk. "But it gets tricky when you're trying to keep it from your parents. Insurance, billing, that whole thing."

"That's fine," Zoe nodded. "I guess the discretion part is less for me and more for Joe."

"Ah," Dr. Golden turned her attention to the other girl. "Not just here for moral support, eh?"

Joe shook her head.

With a grimace, the doctor looked back at Zoe, "You know the details already?"

Zoe looked to Joe for confirmation, then nodded. "I know enough," as she spoke she put her hand over Joe's in a comforting, supportive manner

"I'm pretty sure you talk," Dr. Golden wagged her finger at Joe. "But if you're okay with Zoe speaking for you..."

Joe nodded enthusiastically.

"It's a good thing you have a pretty voice," Dr. Golden told Zoe. "Let's hear it."

"Uh... shit," Zoe brought her hand over her mouth as soon as she said it. "Sorry. What I mean is... what can you tell us about gender dysphoria... and safe materials to use for binding?"

With a heavy sigh of defeat, Dr. Golden nodded. "Okay, I understand why you want desecration."

_____

Keeping up with Mel's mom's ten-year-old hatchback was no trouble for Miles on his Triumph Tiger 1200. Traffic was on the weaker side of moderate, and became more sparse the further away from the city they got. Following was safer and more reliable than Pixie's directions, which were cobbled together from guesstimates and knowledge of other local establishments. He expected more riders to be out taking advantage of the summer sun. He'd grown up in an environment so associated with poor riding conditions that on a warm, clear day, he might see an increase of ten or twenty percent of people on the rode gripping handle bars instead of steering wheels.

As Mel pulled into a parking lot, he was thankful for the small footprint his primary mode of transportation took up. He hadn't anticipated such a crowd but interpreted it as either a good sign for the quality of their food. Or a bad sign for the quality of their competitors.

The facade harkened back to an era when people took pride in what they served. The stark contrast between what came out of an establishment like this and its fast food counterparts made it questionable to refer to both as burgers. Miles couldn't tell if it had been retrofitted to look like somewhere from a century ago, or if the owners had simply lived by the motto "if it ain't broke, don't fix it" when it came to the aesthetics as well as the food.

The tantalizing aroma of fatty meats and onions being cooked over a flame graced his nostrils as he removed his helmet. He salivated at the thought of a well-prepared juicy cheeseburger, salty fries, and... a shake? No way of knowing what the options were there without seeing the menu for himself.

"What the hell?" Mel called out. "Is your helmet set to apply more product to your hair, or did you put some sort of glue in it this morning so it wouldn't be disturbed from the cramped space."

Miles smiled, "Thank you, Mel. If I'm not mistaken, that may be the nicest thing you've said to me."

He couldn't tell if Pixie's smile was a result of a positive car ride or his, what he felt was, witty retort. The answer came when she held her arms wide to showcase the building in front of them and boasted, "This is Smitty's."

Together, they claimed a spot at the back of the queue.

He made assessments on the building as the line quickly moved forward. As they inched closer to the doors, he was overcome with a feeling of nostalgia. From the paints and wallpapers used, to the counter that ran along the inside of the windows. Windows that served to showcase people eating, instead of advertising a prop that hardly resembled what would wind up in a person's hands. They weren't completely barren, near the top of each glass pane, a no-frills font listed menu items in the most generic of terms. The list spanned the entire front of the establishment, and, from what Miles could see, wrapped around the sides without repeating.

He hadn't eaten yet. Hadn't even placed an order. But Miles knew it would take something catastrophic for him not to like this place.

"Yo! Miles!" Mel stated with a bit of irritation to her voice. Miles realized he'd missed her first attempt at getting his attention. He shook his head clear and looked at the girls.

"You just... really into buildings or something?" Pixie asked.

"No, I-uh... I've worked at a drive-in since I was 16. This sorta reminded me of it," he admitted as the line progressed enough to allow them proper entry. "Also kinda made me sad because it was such a staple of home, y'know?"

"Uh..." Mel clearly thought the idea of being sentimental over a restaurant was a bit asinine.

"Totally!" Pixie exclaimed. "I may not be a world traveler, but I've always been able to rely on Smitty's. If I moved, I know this is something that would haunt me until I could get it again."

"Oh, I guess that makes sense," Mel conceded. "Probably even worse since you worked there. But, didn't you hate it after a while?"

"Nah," Miles tried to focus on their conversation as he read the items off the large menu above the ordering station. "It's sorta like leaving family. Loved the restaurant, its owners, and my coworkers."

"Charley!" The older woman called out excitedly from behind the counter as the people ahead of them went to take their seats.

"Aunt B, I've told you, I'm Pixie now," Pixie said as she rushed over to receive a hug.

"Charley?" Miles whispered to Mel.

"Long story," she whispered back.

"You keep telling me," the older woman confirmed. "And I keep reminding you, Pixie are those damn colored sugar sticks they give out at Halloween. You're my lil' Charley. Deal with it."

"You're the only person I'll make an exception for," Pixie said, releasing the embrace but still smiling widely.

"I see you're still dragging Melissa with you every time you come visit," the rapport between the group was palpable. "Getting one last meal before the school year starts, eh? Who's your friend?"

"This is Miles," Pixie led the register jockey past the counter for introductions. "He just moved here from Seattle. He was telling us he worked at a drive-in and your place was making him a whiney emo kid. Miles, this is Bernice Smitty, owner of the best burger place in town."

"And best shakes," Bernice added. "You girls want your regulars?"

"Yes, ma'am," they said in near unison.

"And how 'bout you, son? Got a chance to peruse the menu yet?"

"Yeah, uh... I think... whats a Carolina Special?"

"That one, we take a cheeseburger, add chili, top it with slaw and mustard."

"That's a thing? Okay, I guess I have to try that. All the fixin's, large fry, and a pineapple shake?"

"Just make sure you save room for dessert," Pixie encouraged.

He nodded and turned to Bernice who had retaken her place behind the register, "Uh, charge us all together. I'm covering this for us."

"You shouldn't have to do that," Pixie said. "I was the one who suggested we come here."

"Yeah," Mel nodded. "What gives?"

"Call it a 'thank you' for introducing me to this place," he shrugged. "Or, y'know, an olive branch for anyone who didn't get what they wanted today."

He didn't look at Mrs. Smitty for fear that she might deduce Mel had objected to patronizing the establishment.

"Sweet of you," the older woman whispered. "I'll holler for you when the order is up."

There was no table free for them to claim. They wandered outside to avoid overcrowding the dining area.

"I don't hate the food," Mel explained. "In fact, I love it. It's just, sometimes you need to mix it up."

"We haven't been here in weeks," Pixie said sternly. "And did you not get enough variety yesterday?"

"Hey!" Mel objected. "I ate so much yesterday that I wasn't sure if I should deviate from my normal order. But I didn't wanna insult Mrs. Smitty."

Pixie mulled over her words, "That's an acceptable reason."

"It looks like the line is dying down," Miles pointed out. "We can snag a table when one frees up."

"When it's slower, she'll often bring the food over and chat," Pixie explained, "But it's waaaay too busy for that now."

"Hush, she loves you," Mel chided. "I swear she'll turn away a customer before making you go fetch your own burger."

Miles picked up on it during the retreat, but in the small group of just the three of them, it was becoming clear their friendship was more complex than he'd initially expected.

As he'd predicted, by the time a table opened up for them, the line had disappeared completely. Most of the patrons seemed to have opted to take their meals to-go, which allowed the restaurant to empty a fair bit. Miles couldn't help but notice it felt like their meal was taking a bit longer than some people who had arrived after.

"Hey, kids," Bernice bellowed as she approached their table with a couple trays of food. She set them down in front of the appropriate person. "So, you moved here from Seattle, eh? It's been a long time since I was in the Pacific Northwest."

"Whenever Aunt B goes on vacation, she checks out other burger places for inspiration," Pixie informed.

"Smart," Miles said. "So, technically, I'm not from Seattle. But a suburb outside the city. Sometimes it's just easier to say the name everyone knows," he looked at the food on the tray, then glanced around to see if someone else was upset with their order, "Excuse me, I think you brought me an extra burger."

"Nope, made that special for you," she said as a grin took over her face. "Like I said, I've spent some time around your old home."

Miles looked at the Carolina Special, then opted to try the alternate she provided for him first. He took a bite and his eyes lit up. He chewed quickly and swallowed before thanking her. Mel and Pixie exchanged a confused look.

"So, I did alright, eh?"

"Oh, it's perfect."

"Oh, I dunno about that," she said coyly as she placed extra napkins in front of Pixie and Mel, "But y'know, nothing beats the taste of Dick's in yer mouth."

Pixie's hand flew at the papers Bernice had just set down as she attempted to stop herself from doing a spit take over the others sitting at her table. Mel found a bit of burger slide down the wrong tube, but Bernice seemed to have anticipated this and gave her a swift pat on the back to rectify it.

Despite feeling sorry for the girls' unfortunate reactions, Miles couldn't help but smile over at their server.

Bernice returned the look before glancing at the parking lot. "You might wanna explain it to them, I think I see another customer coming up."

"Seriously, what the hell, Miles?" Mel scolded. "When did you two get the chance to plan out how you were going to kill us? I never thought a burger would lead to my demise."

"Bernice knows her stuff," Miles praised, "We have a couple of drive-in chains in Washington. BurgerMaster, which I didn't work at. And Dick's Drive-In. Which I did."

The girls conveyed their a-ha moment to each other with a brief glance.

"This here," he continued, indicating to the burger that Bernice had made special for him. "Is really, really close to a Dick's Deluxe. I have no idea how she thought to make it up, but it's definitely a bit of home."

"No offense, but that looks like a bit of a sad burger," Mel assessed.

"It's not a flashy burger or anything. Just tasty and cheap."

"Okay," Pixie's face was returning to its normal color. "But what she said..."

"Can't explain it. It's just something that I've always heard people joke when they go to Dick's," he shrugged. "That, or some variation of it. Uh... Dick's in the car. Dick's in the back seat. Huh, I wonder how long it's been since she was up there."

Pixie's eyes went wide as she considered Miles's words. "I would say that every time I went to eat there."

Mel rolled her eyes, "Of course you would."

"'Scuse me," Miles said as he retrieved his phone from his pocket. "I'm gonna text Zoe and see if she's had lunch yet. She'll love this place."

_____

A quick glance at the lot was all Zoe needed to understand it wouldn't accommodate her vehicle.

"What about there?" Joe pointed to a particularly large vacancy near the sidewalk.

"Perfect!" Zoe exclaimed. Having someone ride shotgun to keep an eye out for parking definitely had its advantages. She pulled her "car" adjacent to the vehicle parked ahead and swung the back end into the spot before following it with the front.

"Shit," Joe muttered as she popped her door open. "I'm not even comfortable doing that in my mom's Jetta. How'd you get so good at parking like that?"

"Kinda have to when your primary mode of transportation isn't particularly parking lot friendly," Zoe exited as well, then crossed in front, making sure she wasn't neglecting any sort of signage she should be alerted to.

"Miles said you also had a bike," Joe said as they started towards the door. "With how much he talks about his, I figured you two would drive those every chance you got."

"Nah, I love to ride, but this here is my baby. Y'know?"

Joe shook her head and let out a soft giggle. "I actually have no idea. Might have to do with having to borrow my folks' cars. I'm sure I'd feel different if I had my own. But you have other cars, right? What about them? "

"Nothing like driving a classic car. But I could never make one of those my daily driver. I've put so much time and energy into restoring them. Not to mention money. It's stressful to leave it unattended in a lot, or even just dealing with bad traffic."

"Oh man, I hadn't even thought about that. That makes sense. I'd be too scared to drive them," Joe said. "Still though, at some point, you gotta at least let me ride in one."

"Sure thing," Zoe couldn't help but notice that Joe's demeanor had been much more at ease since leaving the doctor's office.

I hope that means Joe finally feels a bit more comfortable being whoever she chooses to be.

Joe reached for the handle and held the door open for her friend. As Zoe stepped in, her eyes landed on her brother and the girls accompanying him.

"My lord, a supermodel just entered my restaurant," the woman behind the register spoke aloud before she began fanning herself.

Miles looked towards the door and spotted his sister. He got up from his seat and, when she was close enough, he turned and led her to the owner of the establishment.

"This is my sister, Zoe. This is Bernice Smitty. Owner of one heck of a burger joint. I'll take another order of onion rings, please."

Another? Zoe glanced at the table the girls were at to discover there was an unreasonable amount of wrappers and packaging waiting to be discarded. "Is there a sample platter or something I'm not seeing up there?"

"Nah," Miles said casually. "Had some time to kill while we waited for you to get here and the first things I tried were so good I had to see if the others lived up."

"Coming from you? That's one heck of an endorsement," Zoe said, giving Mrs. Smitty a look to know how impressed she was.

"Yeah, I'm thinking I'm just gonna call mom and tell her we should do dinner here tonight. One bite and she'll understand."

"We're barely past lunchtime," Zoe scoffed.

"Maybe so, but I'm tempted to just park myself in that booth over there and get fat for the rest of the evening."

"Just as God intended," Joe added. "Oh, and Zoe. Order whatever you want. My treat."

Zoe turned towards her. "Joe, you don't have to. I can-"

"Nope, don't try talking me out of it. Consider it my 'Thank You' for today."

Zoe's eyes narrowed, "Did my brother put you up to this? This seems like the kinda thing he would do."

Either tired of waiting or curious as to what was taking so long, Mel and Pixie appeared by Joe's side.

"What's with you?" Mel asked. "If you paying for someone else's meal wasn't out of the ordinary, your kinda weird, bouncing in place sure is."

"If you need to pee, you know where the restroom is, I can get the order started and charge you when you come back," Bernice said.

"No, it's nothing like that," Joe laughed. I just had a good day and am expressing my thanks to the friend who made it happen."

"Helped make it happen," Zoe corrected. "Now, you guys gotta help me decide on what to eat. Since everyone else seems to have eaten her before, I leave the decision in all of your capable hands."

9:00 PM, Reid Residence

Oz hadn't brought much with him when he came home for the weekend but still had to do a bit of packing before heading back to the campus. He was finishing up when he heard a soft knock at his door. Standing in the open doorway, his sister smiled at him shyly.

"Can we talk about something?" She asked timidly.

"Of course," he moved one of his bags from his bed to the floor. Ever since he graduated, he found he and Pixie didn't talk as often as they used to. It was part of the reason he'd decided to come home before the new school year started for her.

"It's... I need..." her uncomfortably was something he wasn't expecting. She let out a heavy sigh and finally blurted out, "Relationship advice."

He raised his eyebrows. "Since when are you in a relationship?"

"That part is up for debate... I think."

"Okay, that sounds healthy," he chuckled. "Well, who with?"

She contorted her face and shook her head, "Since nothing is really established, I would rather not say... y'know? Not get any hopes or expectations up."

"Not exactly giving me much to work with if you're expecting advice."

"Pretty sure you don't need to know who it is to be able to help me."

"That may be true, but it will be more fun to get you to accidentally tell me," the look on her face informed him she didn't find the thought as amusing. "Alright, well... watcha wanna know?"

"Have you ever..."

He raised an eyebrow at her reluctance.

"Been so into someone physically, but you didn't know how to actually take a step back and get to know them for them?" She blurted.

"Oh, that," Oz chuckled as he thought about it, "I think it's common. Hell, in high school it's probably the norm. Maybe even college too."

"But... I- We decided. We were gonna take it slow and get to know each other first. But then the next time we see each other, we just want to tear each other's clothes off."

"Pixie!" He wasn't sure whether he wanted to scold his sister for giving too much information or congratulate her for getting some action.

"Sorry," she looked like she meant it, but also had the hint of a smile creeping up.

Oz let out a heavy sigh, "No, it's fine. Just, maybe less details. Like... way less. 95% less."

She scowled at him.

"So," he continued. "'I-we' came to the conclusion of taking it slow?"

"We did... No, I guess I did. But he didn't object or anything."

"Well, of course they're not gonna obj-" Oz considered what she'd just said. "He didn't object? Holy shit!"

"I said they," Pixie covered.

"No you didn't."

"Well, I meant they."

"But you said he," Oz looked out his window at the house next door. "Miles? That's huge. I mean, I never thought about you going for a guy, but now that I am, I dunno, I guess I thought you'd go for a more effeminate guy. Hell, androgynous even. But... he's not what I expected for you."

"First, I didn't say it was Miles. And Second-"

"Of course it's Miles," Oz shook his head like the idea of it being someone else was somehow more ridiculous. "Unless there is some other new guy in your circle of friends. It had to be Miles. So wait... Are you into butch girls then? Well no. That doesn't track, cause Sarah-"

"Remember when I came in here asking for help?" Pixie blurted. "This is not helpful."

"You're right," he said as his mind finally caught up with his mouth. "I'm not... not going to tell anyone."

"You're not-not gunna tell anyone? Great."

"Pix, as both your brother and your legal counsel, you know that anything you say to me stays between us," he reminded. "Your secrets are not for me to share, but to torment you with in private and hold against you until we've grown old and can't remember which were made up and which are real."

"Booger," she scowled.

"Brat."

She looked away, gathering the nerve to speak again, "Thank you."

"Of course, goober," Oz pat his little sister on the shoulder. "Now, give me a second, I just need to go next door and tell him he 'better not hurt my sister' before driving back to Chapel Hill tomorrow."

He would have thought a pillow wasn't dense enough to build the velocity to sail through the air as it did, but upon making contact with his face, it occurred to him that his sister might not be in a joking mood.

"Jeez Pix, you got it bad," it didn't hurt, but he couldn't help but rub where he'd been struck. "I'm not gonna embarrass you."

"Thank you," she let out a relieved sigh.

"I mean, embarrass you more than I'm legally obligated to as your brother, of course."

"Of course," she said flippantly. "Y'know, sometimes I hate that you're becoming a lawyer."

"Sometimes I can't believe you'd sign something without reading it."

"Didn't you just claim to be my legal counsel? Aren't I supposed to have my lawyer read things that are too long and highfalutin for me to comprehend?"

"Yeah, when it's a lengthy legal document, not a single page I type up and hand to you," he rolled his eyes. "And it's not my fault you get lost if it's not penned by Theodor Geisel."

She stared at him blankly.

"Dr. Seuss. Seriously Pix, read a book," he shrugged. "And by that I mean, a chapter book. No pictures."

She stuck her tongue out "Boooooooooger!"

"Brat," he repeated. "Hey... usually you'd at least counter with something like... you'd moved on to Shel Silverstein."

"Your legal obligation to emberass me is sort of kills the fun."

"Yeah, I probably have to even scale that back some. Since you've never been in a relationship, and it might cause emotional damage," he put air quotes around the final words of his sentence.

"Are we sure I haven't already inflicted that on myself?"

"Oh right, that. Uh, shit, I got bad news for you," he frowned, it was more fun to tease her about things that might hurt, instead of tell her things that actually would. "You can't fool around with him again."

She opened her mouth to object, the last remnants of her anger subsiding from her eyes. But instead of speaking, she reached up and wiped her eyes dry. Staring at the floor, she quietly whispered "I know."

He knew she knew. She wouldn't be coming to him if she didn't. But it felt like kicking her when she was down.

"You kinda have to take it seriously," he clarified. "It's like this... if someone breaks up with the person they're dating, but then keeps stringing them along... giving them hope. Leading them on. That can get you a reputation you don't want."

She considered his words, switching back and forth between nodding and shaking her head. Finally, she sighed.

"Shit!"