Since Tiffany desired alone time with Timothy, Maggie, great friend that she was, selflessly volunteered to drop off Tony and Marc. That way, Tiffany would have ample couple time before Tim's outlandish curfew.

Tony's phone had been dinging all night to the point he'd had to put it on silence, to avoid being that person. Though being someone glued to their phone while surrounded by friends wasn't catastrophic, it hadn't yet become the norm and without a doubt piqued people's interest.

So when Tony asked Maggie to just drop him off at Buffy's, this came as no surprise. Maggie didn't make a big deal about it, even before realizing it was only about half a block from Marc's house.

She dropped him off and kept going, stopping the car only long enough for him to shut the door and blurting out "Good luck!" before taking her foot off the brake and stomping on the accelerator. Maggie and Marc were at Marc's house before Tony even stepped foot on his porch.

She popped the e-brake and turned to Marc. "Can I use your bathroom real quick?" Needing to use the bathroom was hardly pressing, but was a way to prolong her stay. The ever-so-reliable excuse.

"Sure, no problem. I mean it's the least I can do." They headed up the stairs, onto the deck, and through the kitchen, moving through the living area until they were at the bathroom.

"Thank you." Smiling, Maggie used her left hand to tuck her hair behind her ear.

Marc smiled, placing his hand on the back of his head as if he was messing with his hair, trying diligently to seem cool, calm, and collected. "I'll be out on the deck when you're done."

"Oh, okay. I'll be out in a minute." Maggie's game face was impeccable, yet her mind raced. What the fuck, is he really in that much of a rush to do away with me that he's waiting outside? Fuck, guys are annoying, and they say we send mixed signals. This douche is practically a cipher! she thought, staring into the mirror to waste time.

After a moment, when she headed for the back door, it hit. Fuck, I should have actually peed while I was in there.

"What took you so long, I'm almost done." He lit his cigarette, almost burnt to the butt end of it. "Okay, okay you talked me into it, I'll smoke another one with you." His nonchalant smirk rebirthed her bubble.

"Aren't your parents going to be pissed if they come home and you have a strange girl in their house?" She asked more to bait him into talking about his family and lifestyle and less about his parental guide, or lack thereof.

"What parents?" He looked right then left, indicating there was no one else home, and smiled. "They're away for the weekend and my brother... I'm not sure where he's off to, but I doubt he'll be home tonight. I texted him earlier and said we no longer needed a ride home from Skateland, and his response was 'Good.' Nothing else." He shrugged his shoulders. "What about your folks, won't they be worried if you're not home soon? I'm sure it's getting close to your curfew? Check-in time?"

She smirked. "I told them I was spending the night at Tiffany's and, well, Tiffany's parents are those post-hippie types. They believe in kids' freedom to experience life. Yet they both have cubical, upper-middle-class day jobs—oxymoron."

"So her mom is like Mrs. George?" Marc said, laughing.

"Not quite so plastic, but close enough that I'll allow it. Tiffany, on the other hand. Well, let's just keep that reference between us. It can be our little private joke." She smiled, then gave Marc a playful, military-style salute—not knowing that you don't salute a private. Though Marc knew better, he found the gesture endearing.

"Our little private joke." Marc saluted her back, in hopes of making the gesture a private sentiment of their own.

She took a seat, and he followed suit. She took a cigarette out of her bag and extended his arm over towards her, Zippo in hand, then lit it for her before lighting his own.

"So—" Before Maggie could finish the sentence, her phone rang. Tiffany's name popped up on the front of the screen, and she answered as she began to pace around the deck.

"Hello?" She answered slightly confused, partly concerned, and kind of pissed since she had been interrupted during her moment so to speak.

At first, all she could hear was sobbing, although after a minute and Tiffany repeating herself for the fourth time, Maggie finally got enough of what she had been saying in order to understand what she needed. For her to give Tim a ride home—then also, though her friend didn't ask, Maggie knew Tiffany would need her tonight.

Hanging up the phone, she looked up towards the sky then over at Marc. "Would you believe me, if I said that something came up and I have to go?" she asked nervously, fidgeting with her phone.

"Yeah... why? Should I not believe you?" he replied with hesitation.

"No! You should. I just want you to think that I'm just trying to dip out on you."

"Take care of whatever it is, I'm not going anywhere. Shoot me a text if you want to hang out later. If not. I understand, it's no big deal," he said, genuine and understanding.

"Believe me, I'd much rather stay here than go deal with whatever bullshit drama I'm getting ready to walk into."

"Do you want me to come with you?" Marc asked.

Though Maggie appreciated the gesture, she knew it wouldn't be a good idea. "Thank you, but I think it's best I go solo... if you want to wait up, I could come back when I'm done. I'm not sure what time it will be though. I can just crash at Tiffany's if you were going to go to bed."

"I'll be up, just shoot me a text when you get here," Marc said with a smile, cigarette in his hand as he leaned against the railing of the deck. "If I'm not out here smoking, then I'll be in the basement on Xbox."

Maggie gazed at him one last time before walking down the stairs that led her towards her car, stopping only once to look back. Remembering. Remembering everything, taking it all in, and allowing it to wash over her.

The foreshadowed feelings of doting.