Sabina, Andy, and MJ made up the day the eldest left for home.

"You're right," the redhead said, raising her palms in the air. "It wasn't fair of us to judge him like that. And to project my own issues onto him."

Andy looked at Sabina.

The eldest sighed. "I'm sorry. I was really rude to him. He looked like...someone dangerous."

"Like an asshole," MJ added.

"Not helping your case," Andy said.

"The way he was sitting, too," Sabina continued, eyebrows furrowing, "I don't know, he looked cocky and he kind of reminded me of Luke, and I was just worried for you."

"And like I said, no worrying needed," Andy told them with a smile, pulling her friends into a big hug. "He's good to me. But you guys need to be civil with him the next time, okay? You're my best friends, and he's my boyfriend, and I really want you guys to...not try to kill each other."

"You have our word," MJ promised. "Now, come on. Sabina's going to be late."

And just like that, they're okay.

Andy spends the rest of the week working while MJ also goes home to spend time with her family before summer classes start.

On Saturday, Andy loads her bags into Rhysand's car.

He's leaning against the Jeep with a cigarette in his mouth as he watches her. "Are you sure you don't need a ride?"

"Just to the bus station, Rhys, we talked about this," Andy reminds him with a smile, shoving the third and last bag into the trunk. "After the meeting-my-friends thing, I don't think we're ready for the meeting-my-parents thing yet. Besides, my dad is going to kill you. Literally."

Rhysand doesn't say anything. Andy closes the trunk with a loud sound and steps closer to him, frowning at the stick between his teeth. "Smoking. Again."

"You say that like you're surprised," he mutters.

Andy sighs and pulls out a lollipop from her bag. "You should really quit. This isn't good for you."

Rhysand doesn't respond—only takes out the smoke and leans down to level his face with hers.

Andy puts the candy in his mouth. "Come on."

Rhysand opens the passenger door for her, and he drives onto the main road with one hand on the steering wheel. The other grips her own, interlacing their fingers together.

And on the bus, once she's bought her ticket and loaded her stuff in, she faces her boyfriend with a smile. "Thank you for driving me. I'll see you in two weeks."

"Two weeks," Rhysand muses, crossing his arms. "Call me when you get in."

"Okay," Andy whispers, wrapping her arms around his waist. When he stiffens—being touched in public like this—Andy tells him, "Just a hug. To sustain me for two weeks."

Rhysand sighs and pulls back, cupping her face. "Don't think a hug will suffice."

Without warning, he kisses her. It's fast, but sweet, and Andy melts into his touch.

He's been doing that a lot lately, ever since that night on his bed. It still surprises her—manages to catch her off guard, and she's still not sure what she's doing—but it feels right, and still, incredibly overwhelming and wonderful.

It's always been Rhysand doing it, though. Andy hasn't tried to do the same—no matter how much she wants to initiate it. She's not that brave. She still squeaks in surprise when Rhysand leans close to her face, and she has to talk herself out of pushing him and running away.

Rhysand pulls back sooner than she wanted. "I don't like doing this in public, but. For your sustenance. Can't let you die on me."

Andy grins, takes his hand, and presses a kiss on the inside of his wrist. His pulse jumps underneath her lips. "I'll call you. Drive safe. And don't smoke, please!"

Rhysand shoves his hands inside his pockets and tips his chin up to the bus. "It's leaving. Go."

"Bye!" Andy says again, waving, and disappears inside the bus.

Rhysand doesn't leave until he's nothing more than a mere shadow in the bus's window—and Andy can't see him anymore.

*

Home is exactly the way she remembers it.

Its exterior—the beige paint, the two-step porch and white railings—is the same as the neighbors in the village, but Andy smiles at the one thing different: the yellow door.

She was told that it was her mother's attempt in making the house feel more 'welcoming'.

With her key, Andy steps inside. The wide hallway opens up to walls full of picture frames of her and her dad, and there are spaces in between them that were occupied before with photos of her mother. Her father had taken them down when she moved out without looking back.

The floors are a homely brown—and Andy remembers the creak it makes when you step on a particular spot near the stairs where the gray carpet starts. Her mother hated the carpet, but her dad loved it.

Andy puts her bags down on the foot of the staircase and heads to the living room, where her dad's sitting on the hideous, orange sofa.

Her old man looks up and smiles. "About time my kid visited me."

"Dad," Andy greets him with a grin, running to his already open arms. "Did you just come home from work?"

He's still in his police uniform. Trey Sanford pulls back and places his hands on his daughter's shoulders. "Yep. I would've stayed longer if I didn't know that you were coming home."

"Stop overworking yourself," Andy tells him sternly, moving in again for another hug. Her father squeezes her. "I'm sorry I couldn't visit more often. I'm here now!'

"And the house is already happier," her dad says, sighing. "Unpack and rest. I'll have dinner ready when you wake up, then we can talk. Your old man needs to hear how you're doing."

Andy smiles at him, and her heart feels warm. "Dad. I missed you."

"Missed you too, kiddo."

Andy runs a hand through his gray hair. "You need a haircut, Dad."

"What I need is for my daughter to get some rest after a long trip."

"Okay, okay!" Andy laughs, raising her palms in the air. "I'm going upstairs. Wake me up when food's ready, and I'm expecting my favorite."

"Just a few minutes here and already making demands," her dad says, standing up with a groan. "Of course I'm making your favorite, who do you think your old man is?"

Andy kisses him on the cheek. "Thank you! I'm going to my room!"

Her dad waves her off, and Andy brings her things upstairs.

Her room had been cleaned recently. The desk that sits on one corner is free of wadded up pieces of paper and scattered pens, and the books had been rearranged on the shelf pressed against the purple wall. The comforter is pulled over the single bed, and the white oak closet had been dusted—the clothes she left behind on her last visit were folded neatly.

Andy smiles and makes a mental note to scold her father—he didn't have to clean her room. He's got enough on his plate to do this.

Still, it warms her heart that he's done this for her, but she isn't surprised. Trey Sanford is the best man she knows, and he raised her well, and mostly on his own. He's strong, and charismatic, and kind, and honestly, to this day, Andy still can't understand how her mother could just...up and leave.

Andy shoves those thoughts outside of her head and plops down on her bed. She pulls out her phone, and with a deep breath, calls Rhysand.

Her boyfriend picks up on the third ring. "Sunshine."

"Hi," Andy whispers, suddenly feeling shy. "I'm home. Safe and sound."

"That's good," he says, and his voice is low and warm. "How's your dad?"

Andy knows that Rhysand couldn't care less, but it's sweet that he asked. "He's fine. I really missed him. He's cooking my favorite right now. He used to make it all the time when I was a kid, and I was a very...whiny kid."

"You're a very whiny adult, too," Rhysand counters, and Andy can hear the teasing smile in his voice.

"That's mean," Andy says, smile growing wider as she hugs a pillow to her chest.

There's a bit of shuffling on the other end. Rhysand must've moved from his seat to the couch. "Aren't you tired?"

"A bit, yeah. Dad told me to sleep before dinner."

Rhysand hums. "You should. You've been working all week, and the trip was long."

"I will," she says quietly, not wanting to hang up yet.

"Spend time with your dad," Rhysand tells her, "you don't get to see him a lot."

Andy pauses for a moment. "Will you ever tell me about your family?"

And just as expected, Rhysand doesn't respond.

Andy bites her lip. "Sorry, I didn't mean to push you. Um, I'll get some rest. I'll call you again—"

"Soon," Rhysand says with a deep exhale. "Soon. Just not...now."

And that's good enough for Andy. "Okay. Don't work too hard. Bye."

"Bye, sunshine."

Later, when Andy's bags are unpacked, and she's rested and hungry, she climbs down the staircase to the smell of home. She claps her hands excitedly as she wanders into the small dining area, eyes widening at the pile of food presented on the table. "Oh my God, Dad—you're not feeding a whole army, are you?"

"Come on," her dad says, scoffing, as he brings out the soda cans from the fridge. "You used to eat way more than that."

"I did not!" Andy protests, taking a seat. "All of these smell so good, Dad. Thank you."

Her dad pops open a Coke and pours the drink into Andy's glass. "Dig in."

Andy does—and goes straight to her favorite: beef and mushrooms with mashed potatoes.

With her mouth full of food, she asks her dad, "How's work?"

"Work is work," her father answers gruffly, shaking his head as he cuts a piece of meat on his plate. "What I want to know is how's school? Are you still enjoying it? How are MJ and Sabina?"

Andy's dad hasn't met her friends yet, but with the way she talks about them all the time, he might as well have. "Yeah, I still want to be a teacher," she says, after chewing a spoonful. "And they're fine. Uni's still the same, Dad, and don't worry. I'm focusing on my studies. Even with work."

He narrows his eyes at her as he reaches for his drink. "I told you to quit, Andy."

"And I will," she answers with a sheepish smile, shrugging. "I just like working there." Not exactly a lie. "I make desserts half the time, what's not to love? Oh, speaking of, I need to bake before I leave. Do we have ingredients? We better go shopping."

Her dad laughs once. "Oh, how I missed your baking, kid. You crank up the music so loud and dance and mess up my kitchen."

"Sorry." Andy grins, not really sorry. "But you love my sweets, Dad, so don't complain. I clean up afterwards, too."

"Well, I suppose I can't argue with that."

"You're off work tomorrow, right? I'm waking up at noon, because there's no way I'm getting up before then, then we're going to eat out for some cheeseburgers at Dale's, my treat, and then we are going to get you a haircut. And also, you need to shave your mustache."

Her father scoffs and shakes his head, swallowing a spoonful of stew. "My treat."

"Mine, and that's final," Andy tells him sternly, even with her lips curling to a grin. "And since you cooked, I'll do all the dishes."

Her dad doesn't argue any further, knowing it will do him no good, and they finish their dinner in light conversation and laughter and the feeling of home.

And the next day, Andy stays true to her word and wakes up a little before noon. She opens the curtains to let the sun stream past her window and heads to the bathroom to shower and change, a smile already on her lips at the thought of spending her day with her dad.

Her dad, who, when she was in high school, took her out after school to get ice cream because she was crying and failed a test; who willingly dropped her off at a classmate's house an hour away, because she wanted to go to that party, and waited for her in the parking lot for hours; who came with her to do some shopping for prom even if he didn't want to; and who ate and swallowed the very first batch of burnt cookies Andy baked, and said they were good even though she knew they weren't.

Trey Sanford is already waiting for her, putting his shoes on, when she comes downstairs in a simple sleeveless top and cuffed jeans. "Ready for some cheeseburgers?"

"Always," Andy says, grinning. She slips her feet in her sneakers. "Can I drive?"

Her dad gives her a pointed look. "Fine. Don't wreck it."

"Father, I'm offended you think so lowly of me," Andy teases, pushing past him when he hands her the car key. "Come on!"

Andy doesn't wreck the small, outdated Toyota Vios the whole twenty-minute drive, and as soon as her dad gets out of the car, he tells her, "You've been practicing, young lady."

Andy's smile widens as she tosses him the key. "Thanks, Dad. Come on."

Dale's is as lively as she remembers it to be, and the food smells amazing. Some of the waiters and regulars greet her and her dad, welcoming her back home for the time being. They choose a table near the window, and Andy orders two, large cheeseburgers, jalapeño fries, and a strawberry milkshake. Her dad orders the same, but passes on the milkshake and settles for soda instead.

And all is well—she's happily chatting with her father, sipping on the strawberry-flavored drink as they dig in and fill their stomachs with grease—until Andy's phone, resting on top of the table, lights up with a text from Rhysand, and from the screen, it's clear what it's written.

What, no good morning text?

Andy coughs, puts down the cheeseburger, hastily wipes her hands on a napkin and fumbles for her phone. She's slow—her father has read it already, and he's looking at her with a raised eyebrow.

"Sorry," Andy mutters, tossing it inside her bag.

"And who is Ree-sand, young lady?"

"It's Rhysand, Dad," she corrects quietly and sighs. "And he's...a guy."

"A guy," he repeats flatly.

Andy doesn't want to lie, but she doesn't want to end up dead, either. Here's the thing. Andy adores her father. She really does. But when it comes to boys, and dating, and romance—all of that is a big, fat no in his parenting book.

Andy has never really dated anyone in high school because of this. She...was asked to hang out by boys a couple of times, and to every single one her dad said no.

And Trey Sanford can never know about Luke—he'd kill him in a heartbeat. She knows it.

And Andy isn't sure what's behind the dating ban, the no boys rule, but she thinks it's because he still sees her as his little girl, and he doesn't want her heart broken like his was, and doesn't want her crying over anyone who doesn't deserve her tears—like he did.

Still, Andy used to joke, "How am I supposed to get married if I'm not allowed to have a boyfriend, Dad?"

He always didn't have an answer to that. Just scoffed and ordered her to go back to her room and finish her homework.

So, Andy takes a deep breath and says, "A guy. That. I'm seeing."

"Seeing where?"

Andy purses her lips. "Seeing, as in dating, Dad."

Her father's jaw twitches. "I thought I told you none of that boyfriend bullshit until you're at least twenty-five."

"Twenty-five!" Andy squeaks, laughing once. "Dad, that is absurd—no, okay, from now on, the dating ban? Lifted. No boys rule? Lifted. I really like him, okay? Plus, you can't expect me to go through college without...the romance."

Her dad's eyebrows draw together as he rubs his moustache. "What about twenty-three?"

Andy rolls her eyes. "No."

"Twenty-one?"

"Dad!" Andy whines, slapping his arm. "Come on. I know what I'm doing. Just...trust me, alright?"

He's quiet for a moment, and a disapproving expression passes through his face. "I knew I wouldn't be able to keep you out of this when you're off in another city."

Andy begins to smile. "So...be happy for me instead."

"And you're right. I can't ban you from dating forever," he relents, picking up a fry and pointing at her threateningly. "But. Just one thing. No sex before marriage. Please."

The thought scares Andy, and she's about to agree—but then, she remembers Rhysand.

Rhysand is more experienced than she is. And if she doesn't...doesn't give herself to him soon, he'll probably get bored of her. Want someone else. And Andy wants to be good for him, doesn't want him to look elsewhere.

Her dad doesn't have to know. So she nods and says, "Okay."

"Good," he mutters, leaning back against his seat. "And bring him to me. I need to assess the situation."

"He's not a situation, Dad," Andy tells him with a laugh. "He's my boyfriend."

Her dad makes a noise. "No, stop, I don't want to hear those words from your mouth."

Andy laughs again, loudly this time, and they finish their lunch.

In the car, on the way to the mall, Andy texts him back. My dad saw your text. Good afternoon, grump.

...are you in trouble?

A bit, yeah, Andy replies, facing the window. There's a smile on her lips as she sends another message. He banned me from boys when I was in high school. So.

A minute goes by. Then another. So he wants to kill me.

Pretty much, yeah. Don't worry. I'll protect you :)

Rhysand doesn't respond, and it makes Andy giggle.

As her dad's getting a haircut, Andy wanders away to a coffee shop to grab something to drink while waiting. She orders, and as she's about to pay, the cashier tells her, "Oh, it's already been paid for."

Andy blinks. "What? By who?"

She points to the male figure waiting by the counter for his drink, and when he turns, Andy's eyes meet a pair of blues and a dazzling smile—Colin Farrow.

"Colin," Andy gasps, hurrying over to him. "Oh my God, hi."

"Andy," he greets back, looking her from head to toe. "Good to see you home."

Colin Farrow is—was one of the boys Andy developed a crush on. They were friends—lab partners, even, but nothing more (obviously). His dad is a friend of Andy's dad, and their family owns the warehouse downtown.

"Thank you for the drink," she says with a smile, still a little shocked, "you didn't have to do that."

He leans against the counter and tilts his head. "It's no problem at all. It looks like South Bend is treating you well."

Andy thinks that's a compliment. "Um, yeah. It does. Um, I'm actually here with my dad."

"Oh, Officer Sanford, yeah, of course. When are you leaving again?"

"In two weeks."

"We should catch up. You know, with our old classmates. We can have dinner and a few drinks, let them know you're back here for a while."

The barista hands them both their drinks. Andy mutters her gratitude and takes the iced chocolate. "Um, that sounds good. Yeah."

Andy's high school experience wasn't that bad, but it wasn't great, either. She mostly kept to herself, only spoke when spoken to, and tried to be as kind to people as possible. She went through the years, graduated, and never looked back.

It must be nice, though. To see her old classmates again.

Colin grins. "Great. I'll text you the details, then. Do you still use your old number? Or do I have to get your new one?"

Andy smiles back. "No, it's still the same. Um, it was nice seeing you, Colin, but I have to get back to my dad. I'll see you soon, just text me. Thank you again for the drink."

"See you, Andy." He gives her a little wave, and she leaves the shop.

Andy decides to tell her dad about Colin later. They catch a movie and go bowling just to pass the time, and when they arrive back home, Andy sends Rhysand a quick text before falling asleep.

Andy spends the rest of the week strolling around Parkway while her dad's at work. She does some grocery shopping for ingredients for her baking and to stock the fridge, clothes shopping for herself and her dad—just because he deserves some nice t-shirts that she knows he'll probably never buy because 'they're too expensive', visits bookstores and music stores and animal shelters and museums, grabs cotton candy at the park and basks in the sunlight, and even goes for a massage and a manicure at the spa.

Andy is no stranger to being alone. Sometimes, it feels nice to be so.

But she and her dad eat dinners together, and they even go to the beach and the theme park on the weekend. A few days before she's set to leave for South Bend, Andy makes sure to spend a day baking her dad's favorite desserts.

The kitchen is a loud mess when her father walks in from work, and Andy stops dancing for a second to greet him with a hug. He's still in his uniform as he settles on an island stool. "You better clean this up afterwards."

Andy's sure there's flour on her face. "I will, Pops, don't worry. Want a taste?"

Her dad doesn't get to say anything before she's presenting to him a chocolate-covered cake ball. "It's been a long time since I've made these, but I'm pretty sure they're okay."

"Looks good, kid," her dad says, taking the pastry into his mouth. "And still tastes good."

Andy beams and dusts off her hands on her apron. "Thanks, Dad. I'm just finishing up a batch of cheesecake bars so you can hand them around your office, and then I'm done!"

"What about these?" He points to the box of cheese tarts.

Andy grabs them before he can make another move. "Not for you, Dad, sorry."

His eyes narrow. "Is it for that...boy?"

"Boyfriend, Dad, you can say it," she says, laughing as she puts the box away. "But yes. He loves them."

Her dad huffs and crosses his arms. "I brought takeout for dinner. So clean this up and let's eat."

"Gotcha. Oh, hey, Dad. I bumped into Colin Farrow a few days ago."

He raises his eyebrows. "Good kid, that one. You used to go to school together."

Andy rests a palm on the counter. "Yeah, he is, and I know, Dad. It's only been about a year since I graduated high school. But he invited me...to, um, catch up. At Winslow's tomorrow."

Colin might be one of the few—if not the only one—boys that her dad trusts Andy to be around, just because he's friends with his dad. "Sure. Who else are coming?"

"Um, some of the old high school friends, I guess. Don't worry, I won't drink that much. And I'll be home before midnight."

Her dad scratches his chin thoughtfully. "Then I guess it's fine. As long as Farrow's with you."

"He will be."

He smiles at her. "Okay, then."

Andy dances around the kitchen as she packages the desserts neatly and places them in the refrigerator.

She and Rhysand have only spoken a few times the past week. That night, after she gets ready for bed, she takes a deep breath and calls him.

"Sanford," he says, and Andy's body fills with warmth.

She misses him. "Hi," she whispers, hugging her pillow.

"Hi," he says back, and Andy can hear the small smile in his voice. "What'd you do today?"

"Baked. A lot. Danced around the kitchen."

"I would've loved to see that," he murmurs.

Andy purses her lips. "What about you?"

"Jenner made me go out to eat. Says I've been too holed up in the studio."

She grins. "Remind me to thank Jenner when I'm back."

"That's in, what, four days?"

"Yes."

"Come back tomorrow."

Andy hugs the pillow tighter. "I can't. I have...plans."

Rhysand's quiet for a moment. "With your dad?"

"Um, not exactly."

A pause. "It was a yes or no question, sunshine."

Andy scrunches her nose. "No. No, um, with an old friend. Old classmate, really."

Rhysand doesn't respond. He's waiting for her to elaborate.

Andy groans quietly. "Colin Farrow. He was my old lab partner. And I bumped into him a few days back, and we're going to the bar to catch up with some of our old friends. Classmates."

Rhysand hums. "And he's picking you up?"

Andy decides to tell the truth. "He offered, but I told him that my dad's driving me."

"Was he just an old friend?"

And sometimes, Rhysand's a little too perceptive. She decides to tell the truth once more. "I had a crush on him for a while. Does that count?"

"I don't like it," Rhysand says bluntly, and Andy's a little surprised.

Andy sort of had...an inkling. That Rhysand's the jealous type. But there hasn't been an instance of the sort yet—she's not exactly the kind of pretty that anyone would be jealous for.

And she's not saying that this is said instance, but..."You don't like anything," Andy counters jokingly, lips curling into a smile when her heart jumps.

"I like sleep and you."

Andy's speechless. She takes the phone away from her and tucks her face into the pillow to scream into it. Her legs kick the air, and her skin feels hot.

When she puts the phone back into her ear, Rhysand says, "Done?"

"Yes," she whispers, and her cheeks hurt from smiling. "You can't do that."

"I'm not doing anything. Tell your heart to calm down."

Andy squeezes her eyes shut, puts the phone away, and screams quickly into the pillow again. "I will see you in four days, okay?"

"Text me tomorrow."

"Will do."

Rhysand pauses for a second. Then he mumbles, "I can't finish this song. It's pissing me off. I need motivation."

Andy knows what he's asking, but...she's never been the one to be asked. The few times, it's always the other way around. "I'll hug you when I come back."

"I need it now."

Andy bites her lip. "I'm in pajamas. And I just washed my face."

"I don't care," he says quietly. "Just. Miss your smile. So send me a fucking picture."

And that—that makes her stomach flip. "Fine," Andy huffs. "Don't laugh."

Rhysand ends the call, and Andy takes a deep breath before snapping a very...mediocre picture of herself.

She sends the picture.

Rhysand's reply comes instantly. Saved. Night, sunshine.

Andy falls asleep only when her heartbeat's calmed down.

It took at least an hour.

*

it's been so long! i hope this update makes up for it!

please let me know what you think, i always love hearing from you guys!