I tapped my finger irritably on the steering wheel, waiting for the light to turn green. It'd been two weeks since Karen had started the silent treatment, and I was getting worried. DId she really intend to break off our friendship? Over Kimberly?

The light flashed the 'go' signal, and I turned into the driveway to Tim's condo. He'd rented the place over winter break, setting it up over the last few months. He was the one that had invited everyone over, and I was nervous about what he wanted to say.

Surely it was nothing bad? If it was, wouldn't he have asked to meet somewhere else? A call would do, or maybe an impromptu meeting in an isolated corner of the campus.

Then there was the matter of whether Karen would show—the boys had no relation to the scandal, so she wouldn't break off friendship with them too, right? She couldn't possibly be so mad as to never attend any group meetings, right?

Taking a deep breath, I slid on my purse and stepped out of my car. There were a few cars parked around the lot—Quinn and Hunter had already arrived. I reached for the doorbell, spotting it after a moment's search.

"Stella!" Tim said, opening the door before I could press the buzzer. "Come in, please."

"Where is everyone?" I asked, stepping into the homely duplex.

"In the kitchen," Tim replied, leading the way. "They're video-chatting Jason."

"Jason?" I echoed, following him. A laptop sat in the middle of the table, a freckled face beaming out from the screen.

"Who're you planning to market to?" Hunter was asking, eyes focused on the face behind the screen.

"We're thinking of targeting collegiates and recent graduates," the face—Jason—explained.

"What is this?" I hissed to Quinn as Tim left to answer the doorbell. Wa Tim... planning to form a startup?

"Jase, meet Stella," Quinn said, thrusting me into the lens' field of view.

"Hi, um, Jason," I greeted awkwardly.

"I'd ask for your number if I didn't already have a girlfriend," Jason joked, flashing me a crooked smile. "But please—call me Jase."

"What's happening?" Stacey asked, walking in with Karen and Calum in tow.

"Hi all," Tim said, walking over to stand beside the laptop. "I called you all over to tell you that Jason and I are creating a startup together. That's why I'll be dropping out of Uni."

---

"—and Tim completely flipped out! Never saw him so scared," Calum recalled, laughing. We all laughed at the image of young, naive Tim learning about menstrual cycles.

"I just want to remind everyone that I was a sheltered child," Tim said, face flushed. "My mother loved me very much."

"I'll bet," Karen grinned. "Didn't your mom call you every day for the first semester of freshman year—couldn't handle her baby being so far from home?"

"I'll have you know that my mother is a very lovely woman," Tim defended, feigning hurt.

"She's a model, Tim," Chad said, stating the obvious. "Remember how the whole seventh grade class was smitten with her during open house?"

"If I remember correctly, you were the one drooling the most," Stacey shot back, causing us all to laugh.

Tim was leaving out group—unofficially, of course, but nonetheless partially. He was entering the real world—the world our parents lived in. The world built on capitalism and capital, supply and demand. The world where you have to build yourself up. Keep yourself afloat. Yes we had submarines and lifejackets handed down from our parents, but that doesn't make the plunge failproof. There was a chance of failure—a chance of loss. A chance you might not live up to the expectations of your parents.

We admired Tim in that way—that he was willing to take the leap. Of course we knew that we had it much better than most, but it's still a risk. The risk of getting cancer is just as much a risk as the risk of getting the common cold.

Would I be ready to take the leap when it's time? To leave the safety of the nest and try to fly on my own?

"I'm hungry," I announced, sitting up on the couch. "What do you all think about dinner?"

"Sure—I want French," Stacey announced.

"French sounds nice," Whitney agreed. Hunter nodded beside her, and Chad and Calum shrugged from the opposing couch.

"Do I get a veto since we're at my house?" Tim asked jokingly.

"Nope," Calum grinned, "but you can invite us all to spend the night."

"Fine," Tim said, shrugging in defeat. "Maybe having your friends decorate the floor with beer cans and the like is the key to settling into a new home."

"I call driving!" Chad shouted. A chorus of groans followed. "Hey! My car's new—just got it on Monday, newest model and everything!"

"It's not your car we're worried about," Hunter said, patting Chad's shoulder before hefting himself off the couch.

"I'll drive too," I volunteered, glancing at Karen. I had to know.

"Who-hoo! I'm in!" Stacey cheered, prancing towards the door.

"I'll see you at the restaurant, Hunter," Whitney told her boyfriend, heading out the now-open door with Quinn.

"Karen?" I asked, knowing that this was the moment of truth. Please Karen. Don't let this be the end. Don't—

"Sure," Karen said, shrugging before cupping her mouth to holler at Stacey. "Stacey! I call shotgun!"

"Excuse you!" Stacey shouted back, making a run for the car. "First come, first serve!"

"Oh no you don't!" Karen yelled, breaking into a run as well.

Naturally, the fastest one won—and I don't mean the fastest typer.

---

Yawning as I exited my afternoon class, I spotted a sparse but growing crowd blocking the hall to the lots. Eyes looked to me as neared, quiet and judgemental.

"—not the one you should be talking to," Rachel was saying, arms crossed. Across from her stood Kimberly, eyes tinged red with unshed tears.

"Who is it then?" Kimberly asked, voice angry but defeated. "You're the one who stole my speech, so you must know something."

"Honey," Rachel started, grinning in delight when she spotted me. "Why don't you ask Stella here?"

"Stella?" Kimberly echoed, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. "What do you have to do—"

"It's not Stella," Rachel said, grin growing wider. "It's her friend, Stacey."

"Stacey?" Kimberly repeated, eyes hardening. "She's really the one that set this up?"

Things were getting rapidly out of control, and I didn't know how to fix them. Do I claim Stacey's innocence? Throw her out to the dogs? Feign ignorance?

I shot a glare at Rachel that told her to shut up before turning to Kimberly. "Kimberly, it's not that simple. Stacey's—"

"What's not that simple?" Kimberly asked angrily. "Was Stacey the one who photoshopped my face into all those posters?"

I breathed in sharply, forcing the wave of panic down. What do I do? What can I say that will smooth the situation over? What—

"This is getting out of hand," I said, looking around. "Let's talk about this somewhere private, Kimberly."

I led Kimberly to the cheer room, closing the two of us into the office before exhaling.

"It was Stacey," I told her blatantly, "but it was me as well. I'm really sorry—it was meant as a joke, but it was ill-executed and turned out poorly."

"A joke?" Kimberly whispered. "You think that photoshopping my face onto a naked woman and posting it around the school with my number is a joke?"

I winced at her words, biting the inside of my lip—it was too late to turn back now. I'd have to plow on. "We didn't mean for it to be like this."

"This was about me running for president, wasn't it?" Kimberly demanded, hazel eyes sharp with anger. "You didn't want someone like me, some new girl, stealing your spotlight."

"No!" I denied quickly, shaking my head, but Kimberly ignored me.

"You were envious, and you and Stacey plotted a plan to ruin my election," Kimberly concluded, tired now.

"Kimberly, it wasn't like that," I started earnestly, pleadingly. "I truly did want to help you to win the election—it's just that—it's just that we didn't see eye-to-eye."

"You got Rachel to steal my speech?" she asked, eyes wide. "How—what—"

"No—yes—I didn't mean to," I admitted honestly. "It was all a big misunderstanding, and I'm so, so sorry that it turned out like this."

"Are you asking me for forgiveness?" Kimberly asked, tone void of emotion. "Because I don't forgive you."

"I'm not," I let out, lowering my eyes. "But I promise that something like this won't happen again."

"I'll hold you to that," Kimberly said curtly, leaving me under the dim office light.

Did I do right? Did I amend the wrongs? "Honesty is the best policy," I'd heard somewhere once. But why did it feel right—and wrong?

---

"Mimosa, please," I called to the bartender over the thumping beats. It was Thursday night and I'd just finished my first round of studying—I was looking to blow off some steam before I made the home run.

Turning around, I made eye contact with a blonde man on the other side of the bar. Grey tux, green tie—but which one matched the color of his eyes?

The man raised an eyebrow in silent question, and I answered with a sly smile before turning back around to pick up my drink. Taking a sip of the citrusy orange liquid, I smirked in satisfaction as the chair next to me slid back to allow a stranger to take a seat.

"Saw you from all the way over there," the man said, smirking as well. "What's a pretty girl like you doing alone at the bar on a Thursday night?"

"Who said I'm alone?" I asked, flashing him a coy smile. Green—of course.

"Let me see—sexy dress, smokey eyes," the man listed, looking me over, "seems like you're single and on the prowl."

"Observant," I said approvingly. The man gave a little bow. "I'm Stell—"

"She's taken," a gruff voice interrupted as a arm curled around my waist and drew me into a firm body.

"Seemed single enough to me," the man said, but backed off anyway, giving me a wink. "I'll be back where you saw me, if you change your mind about being 'taken.'"

"Jordan!" I hissed, spinning around in annoyance. "What the hell?"

"I just saved you from him—he was clearly looking for a lay," Jordan retorted. Glancing at me up and down, his lips stretched into an easy smirk. "You're looking pretty tonight."

"'Save?'" I echoed, letting out a laugh. "Brooks, I'm trying to get laid tonight, so back off."

"What happened to your friends-with-benefits thing with Remington?" Jordan asked, frowning. "Surely you don't need to do something like this?"

"I don't need to," I conceded, grinning, "but I want to."

Jordan was silent for a moment, grey eyes brooding. "What about me?"

"You?" I asked, confused. "What about you?"

"Me and you. Tonight," Jordan said, eyes stormy. "My place."

"You're fine with it then?" I asked, wrapping my hands around his neck and drawing him close. "You're fine with being my 'lay'?"

"Only yours," Jordan said, kissing me roughly. "Let's go."

---

Author's note:

Hi all! Hope you like that chapter. Things are heating up and cooling down for the moment, and we're in the eye of the storm.

Vote and comment to let me hear you! I know you exist (I think?)! Until next Tuesday, my lovelies.

—Littlewhims