They say that before something terrible happens to you, your life and the people who matter most to you flash before your eyes like a movie.

I don't bloody know what those guys are on about because in the millisecond between someone brutally shoving me towards the lake and me actually falling in it, all I'm thinking is 'oh shit, karma's a bitch'.

I'm submerged in the ice cold lake before my thoughts can progress further, the foggy water soaking in through my clothes thoroughly enough for me to feel the dangerously low temperature in my every cell. With not so much as a warning, I find myself nearly swallowing a mouthful of lake water, and immediately cough and splutter like a dying engine, resulting in a flurry of bubbles. I fight to the surface of the water, not even able to embrace the nostalgia of year three swimming lessons before I break from the surface and get blinded by my escape from the muggy, green water.

"MISS JAMESON!" is the first sound that greets my ears while I attempt to spit all the dirty liquid out of my mouth.

I look over at Martha through dripping eyelashes with a glare that could spoil milk, shivering profusely in my attempts to stay afloat. Students and professors watch me in shock as a complete silence settles over the campsite.

"Sleep with one eye open," I grit out, trembling in the cold, though I'm sure she can read every syllable off my lips.

"I didn't mean to push her that hard," is Martha's response as Slater storms over and demands an explanation.

"Why were you pushing in the first place?" he asks, combing a hand through his tousled hair and heading towards the edge of the lake to meet me.

The iciness of the water surrounding me starts to numb me, becoming so cold that for an instant I feel swelteringly hot. I welcome his offered hand, grabbing it and finding myself being dragged out of the water with ease, despite all the soaked items of clothing weighing me down.

Half of the lake's water follows with me as I stumble to find my footing, momentarily leaning into the warmth radiating from Slater. My handprints leave damp patches on his shirt but I'm too frozen to care.

He turns around to address the gathering of students, half of which who look horrified and half of which are laughing their asses off.

"Finish setting up your tents. The next person who finds this amusing will be getting suspended."

Even I'm shocked by the bluntness of his statement. Nonetheless, it successfully shuts everybody up and the crowd slowly disperses in a cloud of loud murmuring.

"Go get changed, Quorra," Slater mutters, as if only for my ears, "And don't wear light coloured shirts for the rest of this trip, please."

I don't even want to look down at myself.

Fifteen minutes later, I'm mostly dry. Clad in a oversized hoodie and thick leggings, I enjoy the silence of my tent (which the adults thankfully set up for me after the whole I-got-pushed-in-a-lake thing). I pull my knees up to my chest, blanketed in newfound warmth.

Still, the thin layer of material between me and the frosty ground unnerves me, making me feel as I'm still submerged in icy water. My hair still dangles around me ungracefully, heavy with the same remnants of dirty lake that linger on my tongue despite the thirteen times I washed it out with clean water.

The sad excuse of a door on my tent shifts, and is pulled aside moments later to reveal a pair of worried, green eyes.

"Hey," Hannah greets, eyebrows upturned in sympathy, "Are you still cold?"

I shake my head in reassurance, "No, not really."

She exhales noticeably, coming in to sit down beside me.

"Thank god, you had me stressing out. I can't believe that witch would dare push you in the lake. Well, one of her cronies anyway. Are they mentally challenged?"

I scoff, "I think we both know the answer to that, Hannah."

She laughs, and the mellifluous sound is enough to distract me from the dirt undoubtedly threaded through my hair for all of a few seconds.

For the second time, the flap of the tent is lifted, instead now followed by an Adonis.

"Hi."

Slater looks me up and down, ignoring my greeting, "Are you okay?"

I nod, remorseful at the worry lines etched into his forehead. Hannah nudges me with a cunning smile before getting up (well, getting 'up' as much as one can in a very cramped tent) and heading for the exist, forcing Slater to come in.

"I'll see you in a bit, Quorra. Come out soon, yeah? They're doing a campfire," are Hannah's parting words before she leaves and the only remain of her presence is the vanilla scent hanging in the air.

Slater sits down beside me, habitually running a hand through his chestnut hair.

"Sorry I didn't come sooner; I had to deal with Miss Jameson and Miss Klein."

I grit my teeth at the thought of Hannah's twin carelessly pushing me in the water after Martha-May-Go-Find-A-Suitable-Hole-To-Be-Buried-In-Now's orders. A warm hand lays over mine, stilling my thoughts.

"I thought we're meant to look professional on this trip, Professor Hartley," I quirk an eyebrow teasingly, although I refuse to let go of his hand anyway.

His lips turn up at the corners momentarily at that as he pins me under his gaze, "I don't think it's entirely appropriate that you're still calling me Professor Hartley. That's my father's title, and even if mine too, it only reminds me of how little choice I had in my career."

That makes the smile drop from my face faster than a pickpocket steals, "Sorry."

He shakes his head and pulls me into his side comfortingly, "Don't apologise. Besides, it's not entirely appropriate for me to be in here either. My excuse was that I needed to make sure you didn't catch a cold from being in the lake."

I can't help but laugh at the mental image that creates. Slater is the worst liar.

Emboldened by my pitiful situation, I steer the conversation towards a more interesting topic, "Would it be even more inappropriate for me to kiss you now? It's just that I'm ever so cold and who knows when my last day on this earth will be."

He tugs down the edge of the tent further for security, hardly fazed by my words and eyes falling on the melodramatic jutting out of my bottom lip.

"Well I'm flattered that you wish your last living memory to be of my lips on yours, Miss Neversea."

I tilt my head to the side, "Just be warned, I may have ingested an unhealthy amount of lake-"

He shuts me up with a kiss.

I smile against him, lifting my hands to tug at the ends of his hair and bringing him closer to me. His tongue parts my lips, but he abruptly pulls back with a scrunched up nose.

"You taste disgusting," is all he comments before pressing himself to me once again and muffling my laugh.

ψ MARTHA-MAY JAMESON ψ

"Come on, Grant," I plead, "We've known each other since we were kids. You can't just start ignoring me."

He scowls, an expression I've grown to hate over the years. He shuffles about, scuffing his converse on the muddy ground of this secluded area and sighing. I cross my arms expectantly, preparing myself for heartache.

"So? Martha, I don't know why you would try and do this," he shakes his head.

My heart sinks at the look on his bruised face, and I walk closer to him to try and reconcile the situation.

I hold back from pulling out my hair, "I thought that was what you wanted. That she was what you wanted. I thought that you'd be happy and include me in your life again if I just got you what you wanted."

He only looks more confused at the revelation of my intentions.

"I'm sorry, Martha. I don't know where you got the idea that I wanted her. I only used her to try and get Quorra, and it clearly didn't work. I'm done with the both of them, and I'm done with you. Why would you do this?" he questions, the steely glare in his eyes shaking me to my core.

I swallow and look down, clenching my fists tightly at my sides.

"Honestly, all you've done is created more drama that was never there to begin w-"

Before I can help it, I'm advancing towards him in a fit of bottled-up rage.

"Because I'm in fucking love with you! God, Grant, why do you never see it?! I do everything for you. I let you have Hannah in the first place because it meant that you needed me, that you owed me, that I was even of use to you! All you do is ignore me like I'm a fucking contagious disease! I do everything for you! You do realise that I got this boob job for you, and I spray tan for you too? You never notice me. Or tell me, do you keep me around because you already know how I feel but you know that since I'm a lovesick puppy, I'll do whatever you want? Tell me, Grant, because I don't even know anymore," I half yelling and crying at this point, fat tears rolling down my cheeks and smearing my makeup.

I wipe them away furiously, hating myself for showing my weakness.

For a while, the only disturbance in the heavy air between us is my unstable breathing.

"All I did was tell Hannah that you liked her and that she should give you another chance. I only did that because I thought you still had feelings for her. How was I supposed to know that she was going to hit you in the eye?" I scoff, my sadness covered up completely with my anger, "Fuck you, Grant. Actually no, I don't even want to do that anymore. I'm done with you and your shit, Grant Lincoln."

I march off back towards the main campsite area, swiping at the tear tracks drying down my face and trying to get a hold of my breathing.

I can't believe he'd do this. Three quarters of our life spent together meant nothing to him? All those memories we shared meant nothing to him? I remember how he used to be the perfect guy, practically an angel. We'd do everything together and promised never to betray each other. This feels like a pretty grand betr-

I stop in my tracks.

"Quorra Neversea?" I mouth to myself, gasping.

The tent in front of me is positioned at an angle, just about allowing me to see inside despite it being mostly closed. It's dark and I have to squint my eyes to see, but I know for definite what is happening.

Pushing aside my inner turmoil, I frantically grab my phone out of my pocket and snap a photo.

Checking how clear it is, I smirk to myself.

"Hey, Grant," I call, turning around with a sweet voice, "I have one last thing for you. Well, your dad at least."