"Lyndonnn."

"We're not here to get high, Lelia. Where did you even get those damn drugs?"

"I apparently had some left in my pocket," I say, and then giggle. "Want some? Just enough for one person."

He nods. I hands him a little plastic bag, filled with powder. He opens it— then tosses the powder onto the ground. As I stare at him with wide eyes, he uses his foot to mix it with dirt. "Thanks."

"That cost me money, you idiot! I could've selled it! That was all I had left from him!"

"We're not here to take freaking drugs," he grits out. "Also, who's him?"

"Just a random guy I bought this from," I say quickly. Lyndon does not need to know. He doesn't have to worry, get himself in trouble, or even know the slightest information about this.

"Tell me his name."

"No. I don't even know his name—"

"Where does he live?"

"Lyndon—"

"Lelia." He runs a frustrated hand down his face. "Look, I understand you want this summer to be fun. I get that you want to spend your last weeks before you turn eighteen like this, and before you become a lawyer or whatever else your smart ass brain is gonna make you become, but taking drugs is not an option."

"I'm not addicted to it or anything."

"More than half of the people who take drugs do end up getting addicted to it."

My eyebrows furrow. "I'm able to take care of things."

His eyebrows fly up.

"And myself."

And he tilts his head to the side.

"And I won't take any more drugs now that you've destroyed them anyways!" I add, frustrated. "Can we just go back? I've got to sport."

"It's two PM. You're too late."

With a grunt, I kick a stone into the distance, then follow Lyndon in silence, arms crossed.

"What things did you complete? From the list?"

"What do you think?" I snap, as if he can't see the color change in my hair.

He's silent for a few seconds. I hate it. But I can't help it. I don't want to snap at him, but I do.

"I like it," he then says. "Black was nice, but blonde is beautiful."

"Thanks," I mumble. Never knew how to accept compliments, honestly. "And we went swimming."

"Nice."

We stop walking. While I got ready for the day, still in the lake house, Newt and Minho left. That's why Lyndon and I are alone right now, the sun shining on our faces.

He opens his arms. "Come on."

Hesitantly, I wrap my arms around his torso and rest my head on his chest. It's been so long since I hugged him— or anyone. I barely told Dad goodbye when we arrive here, and that thought now makes me feel sick. Homesick.

"I want to call Dad," I say quietly, before I can even control my words. "I miss him. It's so stupid that we can't have our phones here."

"Newt told me that they have a computer on which you're allowed to call," Lyndon assures. He rubs my back. "We'll do that soon, alright?"

I nod. "Alright." Then, "Wanna go steal some food? You have to steal from Janson anyways. Technically, it is his food since he's one of the main instructors."

"And I need to blame someone else for it. If he finds out, at least." The corners of his lips curve up, to my surprise. "I'll just blame you."

I nudge him in the side. "You wouldn't."

"Yeah, indeed."

"Also," I start.

"Oh, God."

"My birthday's coming closer." A grin forms. "You'll allow me to go out, won't you?"

"It's not like you won't go if I don't allow you."

"True. But you have to come with! You can get drunk, make out, and maybe then have a big mouth against Jorge. Three tasks crossed off!"

He groans. "Whatever. I'll see."

"Come on." A little happier, I tug at his sleeve. "We've got food to steal."

"You're gonna help me while we're in a competition?"

"Only this once. Someone has to get you started."

***

"Let's settle this," Newt starts a day later. "Lyndon and I get drunk and do whatever is on that list, and y'all watch us. Do not get drunk. If we all do that, we ain't gonna come back on time."

"I'm going to use my birthday pass."

"You've used it to convince us to come with you already."

"Okay. No alchohol, then. I'll just take—"

"And no pills," Lyndon adds.

I throw my hands in the air. "What fun is there in going out when I can't do anything?"

"You can watch your brother embarrass himself." Minho shrugs. "Honestly, I need to see how Newt is going to convince someone to make out with him."

The blonde pulls a face.

"Just get drunk and you'll be able to do it," I assure, grinning as I turn to Minho. "Okay, fine. We'll just watch."

"And I'll ignore all those girls swarming around me because I'm such a hot—"

A push against his shoulder. "Shut. Up."

Well, I'm not really doubting it, though. He doesn't look bad at all, with his hair a bit messier.

After a while, the two of us are standing in the corner of a club as Newt and Lyndon are searching for ways to finish their tasks.

"Happy birthday, by the way," he tells me. "How old?"

"Eighteen," I say.

His eyebrows fly up. "Eighteen? Wow! We can't ignore that. That's the best age."

I shrug. "Oh, well. Watching Lyndon and Newt will be fun."

"True," he agrees. "I feel like I should give you a present now, though. I'll be nice before the actual sport shit starts."

"I'd like a good bag, and perfume, and maybe some good mascara."

"Yeah, no— another bracelet?"

"Whatever. It doesn't really matter," I say. Really cute that Lyndon has been happy for me the whole day, but I don't need to be constantly reminded how badly I messed my life up before even turning eighteen.

"You know what? I'll give you baby's breath. Along with a bracelet. Another task off the list," he decides. "And I won't curse or prank you for a day, so that's another task. Yeah?"

"Yeah, sure." I chuckle a bit. "Oh, Lyndon's already trying. Look."

Minho follows my eyes; Lyndon is laughing with a girl. It seems quite genuine, too. It must be, because I don't think Lyndon would kiss someone he didn't like, and he for sure wouldn't treat someone he kisses like shit. He'll probably feel bad for using whoever he's kissing.

"Uh-oh. Look at Newt," Minho murmurs.

My eyebrows raise at the sight of Newt with a clenched jaw, staring at Lyndon and the girl. "He either doesn't like that Lyndon has succeeded before him or he's actually jealous."

Minho nods. "He could be. I mean, they both seem to have a thing for each other, don't they?"

I haven't really thought of that. Though now he mentions it, yes. The way Lyndon looks at Newt is... interesting, and Newt for sure hasn't treated his other friends like he treats Lyndon.

"I'm the best wingman. I'll make this happen," Minho decides.

"I guess we'll see."