A/N: It's been a while. All I want to say is I hope everyone is staying safe during the pandemic. And if anyone has lost a loved one, you have my deepest condolences.

Last but not least, and this is also vitally important, BLACK LIVES MATTER. If you're unable to attend any of the numerous, global protests, there are other ways to have your voice heard: by signing any of the petitions, by donating to bail funds, or the gofundme's of families of victims of police brutality. Call your legislators and tell them we need police reform and that reform starts by defunding them. The millions and billions that is pumped into US policce departments should be allocated where there can be a positive impact on society. An over policed society is never going to be a civil one.

Nevertheless, thank you for doing your part in making a difference. And thank you for still reading my work.

**Oh and one final note, and this has to do with the story, I changed the name of Stefan's prior bedmate.**

|| Stefan||

Fingers whispered across my jaw, hair teased my forearms…we stood close together, compact, in a tight squeeze thanks in part from the amount of people that crowded into the living room. My nose caught the scent of her perfume. I had no idea what the name of the fragrance was, couldn't tell you who manufactured it, but it smelled sweet. Sugary sweet. She tipped her head back and laughed at whatever stupid joke I just made. I chuckled and drowned the sound out with another sip of my rapidly depleting glass of scotch.

Running into someone from your past could be a blessing and a curse. It was good to see Lourdes, but the time and the place was all wrong. The longer we meandered in that median where you're flirting but not flirting, where everything you said could be misconstrued or construed into an open invitation, I was forgetting, growing distant. But it was never far from the back of my mind. I told myself, Stefan relax.

"I promised you a drink," I said over the music and into her ear.

"You did. I'm just waiting for you to make a move."

"Stay here and I'll get it."

"Maybe I should go with you. I've already been ditched once tonight."

Well, when she put it that way it wouldn't be very gentlemanly of me to abandon her, and I was raised to be hospitable.

I nodded and lightly grabbed ahold of her wrist. She fell in step behind me. The lower muscles in my back twitched when she grabbed a hold of my shirt.

Pushing through the horde, we made it to the kitchen where it was just as packed.

"It's probably less crowded in the backyard. Do you want to wait for me there? It's just right through those doors," I pointed in the general direction.

Lourdes glanced and then her laser focus was right back on me. "I'm fine with waiting, Stefan."

"All right. What are you having?"

"What do you have?"

I waved a hand around to show the collection of bottles. Some that needed to be discarded because they were empty, a few that were half full, and plenty more well on their way to being kaput, but there remained some with a solid amount.

"I should warn you," I said and inspected a bottle of vodka, "I'm not a mixologist. I can't do cocktails, but if you like something neat, I'm an expert at pouring."

She laughed a little, the sound lost in the music and chatter. Yet it conjured up a memory of the time I tickled her feet. If I was remembering correctly, the arch of her foot was the most sensitive part of her body. Besides that other infamous spot. "If that's the case I can make my own damn drink. I used to work for a bunch of nightclubs, remember?"

"Oh, right. You used to be a club promoter. You've retired from the business?"

"I have," Lourdes stepped forward, eyed the choices, and picked up a cup from a towering stack, expertly flipping it right side up. "I've moved on and moved up to better things. Now, the only people I make a drink for are the ones I call family or buys me dinner. What are you drinking? Wait, no, don't tell me. From the color," she paused brought my hand that was holding the glass closer to her and took a cursory sniff. "Single malt scotch," she sniffed again, "Talisker."

I couldn't help but be a more than a little awed. "You are…freakishly correct."

Lourdes winked, "I know my shit…I'm going to assume you brought your own bottle or one of your friends likes the fancy stuff."

"It would be the latter. My boy Eddie."

"Of course. Well, let me see what I can come up with from what I got to work with."

I stood back and observed as she did her thing. She moved with assurance, like she owned the place. I could see half the men in the room throwing her furtive looks, others blatantly staring, quite a few elbowing their friends and not so discreetly pointing in her direction. Lourdes for her apart seemed oblivious, but I knew better. There was a way a woman held herself when she knew when she was being watched, and it quite varied from the way a woman would carry herself when she's uncomfortable with attention. Lourdes was a swan, all long lines and curves she extended or poked out to draw where she wanted the eye to go.

When I realized I was staring like a freakin' idiota, I brusquely cleared my throat, and thought about something else. Anything else.

My eyes flew to Bonnie. Still talking. Still laughing, still engaged with someone she never fucked, at least to my knowledge. And then I stared at Lourdes. Reflexively my eyes dipped, and I stared at the curve of her ass that sloped to her thighs and again, reflexively, sex sprung to the forefront of my mind. My head started to pound—the one on my shoulders—and I winced a little. That was a warning I needed to slow my ass down and get some water.

Just as I was about to get some, Lourdes faced me with the fruits of her labor.

"What did you make?"

"A haymaker."

"I don't think I had one of those since I started drinking…legally." A haymaker cocktail was one of my mom's favorite drinks to serve at the occasional garden party she'd throw. I knew what the ingredients were, could taste them on my tongue. Right now, thinking about my mom was the last thing I wanted to waste braincells on. Because if I dwelled, I'd remember I hadn't spoken to her since my visit that ended with her bastard fiancé's blood on my knuckles.

"You want a sip?" Lourdes stretched her concoction out to me.

Yes, I very much would like a sip. "No, thank you," I declined instead.

"Just a tiny sip? I haven't made one in a while and I want to make sure I haven't lost my touch."

"I doubt you ever could. Somethings are like riding a bike."

Her eyebrow lifted when I muttered the word 'ride'. Diplomatically I ignored it and its connotations.

"Okay, fine. You don't have to taste it. Your loss," she shrugged.

"Trust me, I know I'll live to regret it," I smirked the patented Salvatore smirk. Cocky and insolent.

She flushed and playfully slapped my arm and sipped her drink.

I was riveted on watching the way her throat worked as she swallowed. "How is it?"

She chased droplets off her plump bottom lip, bit into its corner, met my graze, "Delicious."

If that word had been an arrow it would have stuck me right on the crown of my…shifting my thoughts I knew it was time to move. To get away and get some fresh air and clear my mind.

Lourdes had other plans. "Do you want to dance?"

Immediately I started wagging my head back and forth. "Nope. I suck at dancing."

"I seem to remember you know what to do with your hips."

All right so that dragged a nervous laugh out of me. And I'm sure my cheeks were turning an embarrassing shade of red. "That's a different kind of dancing."

Her eyes glowed at that and she tugged my shirt, not to haul me closer, but just making contact. Regardless, I felt her touch as if I wasn't wearing a shirt at all. "You're like an ostrich egg. Impossible to crack. Fine. You don't want to dance with me or taste my drink, is there somewhere quiet we can go talk and catch up? Or will you deny me that too? Remember, besides my friend you're the only person I know here."

"If I wasn't here you would have to fend for yourself," I pointed out.

Lourdes propped a hand on her hip momentarily drawing my attention to it. "You're here so I don't have to waste time thinking about whataboutisms. Then again, I've never had to beg anyone to talk to me," and on that note she abruptly turned.

On reflex I stopped her, my hand reaching for hers. When our fingers connected, she stared up at me, triumph but caution heavy in her lidded gaze. My heart pounded in my ears and I could feel that pulse down to my femoral artery.

"This way," I motioned with my head.

After I grabbed a few beers and a bottle of water, we ventured to the patio which was less crowded. People milled around, but no one I recognized. I glanced at Lourdes who was taking in the burning tiki torches, the lights that were hung lazily along the fence.

"There's a place to sit over there," she pointed toward the far corner of the backyard at an unoccupied bench.

Together we sat down and didn't say anything for a few moments.

She shifted and her knee touched my thigh. As discreetly as I could, I adjusted my dick. Lourdes jiggled the ice cubes in her cup, took a sip. "I hate Ocean City," she confessed with a laugh.

Her sentiment made me relax. Let the guard down. Just a fraction. "It's not Miami," I agreed. "Hell, it's not even North Myrtle Beach." On that we tapped our plastic cups together. "If you hate it so much why are you here?"

"No real reason other than to get away on short notice and limited funds. So…?"

"So?" I cracked open a beer.

"What's good? How've you been? What have you been up to since our misadventures?"

Misadventures? That's how she wanted to classify those two weeks spent role playing, engaging in a little exhibitionism and light bondage. I gave a mental shrug.

But this was good. Perfect actually. There was safety in talking about the mundane. Careers were often seen as personality traits where worth was measured in hours logged, and the number of coworkers or clients you wanted dead. Staying on this path would keep me off the one that led to good times and great sex.

Change the channel, Stefan I coached myself and answer her question, "What have I been up to? Working. Paying bills, crying myself to sleep at night," I joked. "No seriously. Just doing the daily grind. I work as a project manager now for The Gen Republic."

"Oh, yeah I think my grandma reads that."

"Ha. Well, I appreciate her readership because it keeps me employed. You said you weren't doing club promotion anymore. What's your new bread and butter?"

"I went back to school and got my bachelor's in speech pathology. Now I'm working on my Master's."

"Congratulations."

She demurred, "Yeah. The program is killing me, but I know it'll be worth it in the end. My goal is to go into private practice, be my own boss. Lord knows I suffered enough harassment working for assholes."

I could imagine.

"You still local or did you move out to the 'burbs?" she asked.

"I'm still DC bound. Northeast. You?"

"I'm living in College Park. Some of my best friends still live in the district so I'm in DC every weekend like I never left."

I chugged on my beer, said, "I've told myself that I'm going to move farther out, but then I think about the gotdamn commute just to get into the district and I'm snapped back to my senses. Sure, it might be less expensive, but I rather not have a two-hour drive into and out of DC every damn day."

"Facts."

We shared another laugh and what ice of uncertainty may have been between us, it melted. From there, conversation rolled, and we talked in a way we didn't or chose not to during those two sex-filled weeks. Part of me felt like an ass for not taking the time to get to know more about her, but the agreement that we'd keep things simple hadn't been a verbal one, just one based on energy. Lourdes hadn't exactly hit me with twenty questions either. The less we knew about each other, the less likely we'd grow attached. Here and now, we suffered through a few awkward pauses, but other than that it was like catching up with an old friend.

On the opposite side of the coin, I had to repeatedly sit up straight because I kept leaning closer to her, drawn to her. The sound of her voice, the way her lips moved, she was magnetic. It made me realize you'd encounter people that, regardless of how settled or involved with someone else you were, they could make your toes curl with a look. Lourdes was like that and so was Bonnie.

Damn, Bonnie! A flash of guilt knifed through me, and instantly my gaze flew to the house like I could see her from this vantage point. In the back of my mind it occurred to me that I had abandoned her much the way Lourdes' friend did her; however, Bonnie wasn't totally alone. She had Braeden and had hit it off with my friends, and she was never one to need her hand held in a crowd. She was the more sociable one between the two of us. Yet she might have been looking for me, and I wasn't sure how much time had passed since I had been outside shooting the breeze with Lourdes, who I just realized had grown quiet.

Coming out my musings, she opened her mouth but shut it again.

I eyed her curiously. "What?"

Lourdes dug the toe of her shoe into the thin patch of grass before slowly moving those round, dark brown orbs up my chest, meeting my gaze. "Did you ever wonder what could have happened between us had we kept in touch?"

||Bonnie||

"Glad to pull you away for a second. I thought Derek and I were bad."

I blushed but hefted a shoulder.

"So how long have you and Stefan been learning about each other through swapping bodily fluids?"

"I'll have you know the only body fluids we swapped is spit."

Braeden mimicked gagging. "Thanks for the visual."

"Anytime," I grinned.

She took a dainty sip of her tequila sunrise, my favorite alcoholic beverage. "Enough deflecting. You gonna answer my question?"

I thought back to when things came ahead for Stefan and me, the turning point. That night on the couch in our apartment where we settled down to watch a movie after dinner. Ticking the days off my fingers—wow—that was only a week ago. I said as much to Braeden whose brows arched.

"You guys are definitely in that pre-honeymoon stage," she said, "which is probably the most nerve-wrecking stage because everything feels so new and delicate and you want to get everything right and perfect. So, you guys are dating?"

"Not quite yet. Stefan is planning something or will be planning something once we get back home. I can't wait."

"I know you can't. You've been feeling that dude for years."

I blinked at Braeden who dared me to contradict her findings with the simple expression she wore.

"You forget. It's my job to be able to read people. To know what they're thinking, predetermine what their next move will be and to cut them off before they make it. About two years ago, I could see clear as day that you really liked Stefan, but kept it as much under wraps as you could. You did an admirable job."

"I'll take that as a compliment," I said wryly. A bout of concern did hit me. I wasn't one to put much stock in what people thought of me or my choices, but I knew those in my close circle would have opinions. Many might not be willing to risk a 6-year friendship. Coupled with the fact Stefan and I lived together that added another plot twist to things. But Braeden was a valued friend and she didn't believe in sugarcoating. So it was to her I turned to for an objective opinion. "Do you think we're setting ourselves up for failure because we have such an awesome friendship on top of being roommates?"

Here my astute friend pondered for a moment. Knowing her, she was weighing the pros and cons, and implementing deductive reasoning. She inhaled a breath and said:

"If Derek and I lived together prior to dating I'm not sure we'd be where we are today. But that's just me and Derek. Everybody's different and you have to find your own rhythm. I think so long as you and Stefan communicate and you're honest about what you want, I don't see why things won't work out. Will you have problems? Absolutely. We're human. Not everything will go according to plan or be smooth sailing. It's just now when you fight, if you fight, things get taken to heart on a more emotional level. And usually living apart gives you a cooling off period. Friendships, romantic relationships aren't that majorly different aside from the physical aspect. Aren't some of us one argument away from losing or ending a relationship? To me the risk is the same.

"Some people are great friends who can live together, and others maintain their friendships because they don't live together. I think you and Stefan have found the right balance. When is your lease up?"

I glanced around and caught sight of Stefan. He was talking to someone, a woman who had a nice shape and long black hair that brushed the top of her ass. At first glance I thought nothing of it until she tugged at his shirt.

"In October," I answered distractedly.

"Thought about renewing it?"

Once again my attention drifted over to Stefan. The mystery woman was no longer touching him. Good, I thought with a sniff.

"Bon?"

"Sorry. What was the question?"

"Are you renewing your lease?"

"Oh, yeah. That's what I see myself doing. Trying to become a homeowner is still a bit out of my budget. I make good money, but I don't know if I'm ready to tackle the responsibility of paying a mortgage and the cost of maintaining a house."

"I feel you on that. I travel too much for my job to even think about buying a home. My condo is just fine and it's just me and Derek at the moment."

"Have you two talked about settling down and making some babies?"

Braeden twirled the little black straw in her drink. She was stalling I could tell. "We talked about if we saw a point in getting married just in general. Besides that, it hasn't been more than a hypothetical. Kids?" she looked a tad uncomfortable. "They're not out of the picture but we're not actively trying to make any either. I get my shot religiously. What about you? Ready to trade in your independent life for a husband and some kids?"

Chuckling I scratched the side of my nose. "No, I'm good. Dating someone I actually enjoy being with is all I need right now." At that time, I spotted Stefan still talking to the same woman. "My focus is getting my novel off the ground and published."

"How's that coming along?"

Reluctantly I turned back to Braeden. "It would be coming along better if my editor wasn't determined to turn my work into a stereotypical caricature. Her other authors pen chick-lit and dark romance and that's the avenue she's trying to force me into."

"And the genre you're writing for?"

"Mystery and suspense." I proceeded to give Braeden a raw outline of my work and the research I was prepping to do. Of course that raised her law enforcement hackles and for a second I felt like I was under the scrutinizing glare of Sheila Bennett my formidable grandmother.

"You need to be very careful, Bonnie. I'm serious."

"I know you are."

"You might think you're dealing with reputable individuals, but we know how living with a certain privilege can twist people into some of the worst assholes on the planet. Don't get caught up and always have an exit strategy."

"Always."

"Is your new boo aware you're going undercover as a sugar baby?"

"Not yet and I'm on the fence if he should be made aware because I don't want anything to compromise the integrity of my assignment."

"Integrity of your assignment should come second to personal safety. Again, be careful, Bon. You know what? I think I'm going to put you in contact with a colleague of mine who runs a PI firm. He might have someone available to shadow you."

I brought Braden into a somewhat choking embrace. "Have I told you I love you?"

She laughed a little. "Don't get too excited. He has to agree, and he might lend someone pro bono the first couple of times, but after that he's going to expect to get paid."

"What about a free ninety-nine discount?" I beamed.

"Gurl."

"Okay, fine. I understand. Everyone's gotta eat." And speaking of food, my stomach growled. "On that note, I'm hungry," I announced, turned toward to the kitchen, and saw that Stefan had disappeared and so had the person he had been talking to.

||Stefan||

Flattery bloomed in my chest, and my credit score went up a point, but I knew I had to be careful. Hooking up with Lourdes had been good for my ego after the shit Valerie put me through, but I never deluded myself into thinking she might want something more with me. She seemed destined to be the wife of a pro athlete, an actor, a musician, not a boring project manager making less than $80K a year.

Perhaps I misjudged. It happened to the best of us.

I went with honesty in my answer, "I thought about you from time to time, but I never expected more than what we had. Have you…have you thought about what could have happened between us?"

"Sometimes. We had fun and if I'm being honest, I didn't want it to end, but I wasn't in a place to bring more to the table than what I had. Now, that my life is coming together…and the two of us running into each other…maybe it's fate. I don't believe in any kind of fairytale shit, but how often do you reconnect with someone who showed you a good time and…has bomb dick?"

All right, so a couple of things on me expanded.

"Do you remember what we said to each other if we were to run into each other?"

Despite all the drinks I had, my mouth had gone dry. "I remember."

"Well? I'm game."

If this had been three weeks ago, I'd go for it. But my allegiance and care for Bonnie stayed my hand.

And speaking of hands, her soft, little one landed on my forearm, stroked it a little causing the hairs on my arm to stand on end. I didn't shake her off, but I didn't outwardly respond either. The bench creaked under her weight when she leaned closer. So close I felt the moist heat of her mouth against my cheek. If I turned my head, I could kiss her, but I remained staring at the ground.

"Stefan…?"

"You know, we should…ah…head back inside. Yeah, that's what we should do." I tried to leave the bench, but she detained me, grabbed my chin and forced me to look at her.

She smiled. "I'm not letting you run away. Not when I know you want to stay right here with me."

"I'm here with someone!" I blurted out.

She looked confused for a moment. "You're here with someone? A girlfriend someone or a fuck buddy someone?"

"It's...look," I pulled her hand away, got to my feet and she didn't stop me. "She's not my girlfriend just yet but she is here with me, and I can't go there with you."

Lourdes blinked and blinked again. "Wooow."

"I'm sorry. I should have been upfront about that."

Fury danced in her eyes, "You think! You really got me out here looking stupid."

"That's not what I was trying to do. Seeing you again caught me off guard."

"So off guard you forgot you were here with someone who's sorta not your girlfriend but like a girlfriend?" she snorted and shook her head. "Figures. This always happens to me." Lourdes dropped her cup right there on the ground and got to her feet as well. Her lips were pressed tight and I could feel the anger coming off her like radio waves. She darted by me and made her way back to the house.

"Lourdes, wait!" I chased after her.

"Fuck you."

Just as she reached the top of the deck to go back inside, a girl came stumbling out, hand clasped over her mouth. I already knew what about to happen, and if my reflexes weren't inhibited by alcohol-induced sluggishness, I would have been fast enough to push Lourdes out of the way. Instead, I could only watch as the woman removed her hand and unleashed a gush of foul-smelling vomit.

It splattered the deck, the vomitter, and Lourdes' chest. I'll spare details about the consistency of its texture and smell. Just know, it was horrendous and burned the hairs of my nose.

The scream Lourdes unleashed rattled my eardrums. The horror-filled gasps of those who witnessed what happened segued into wailing squeals of disgust and disbelief. The woman, obviously horrified, stuttered to apologize but then, her lips clamped shut, her cheeks ballooned, and she rushed down the steps and proceeded to toss more of her cookies into Eddie's hydrangea bushes. Half a second later, another woman appeared barely glancing at Lourdes as she flew past, slid in the upchuck, and had to grab on to the railing or else she would have fallen down the stairs.

"Gotdammit," she cursed. "I stepped in that shit. Ugh!" Once she got her bearings, she went to her friend. "I told you to stop after that fifth shot. When you gonna learn?"

People crowded around the door and when they saw the mess a chorus of "Eww!" went up in the air like confetti.

Forgetting them, I went to Lourdes making sure I didn't get too close. She stood stiff as a board with her arms out at her sides, all ten fingers extended. The look on her face, indescribable.

"Lourdes, here let me…"

"What the fuck happened?!" Eddie railed, pushing past the gawkers. It was comical how his stern expression changed once he got a good look at the situation. "Jesus. There's a water hose on the side of the house. No offense, but I don't want that stuff tracked into the house."

"Real sensitive, dickhead," I barked. "Can you get her a towel and a shirt to change into? Damn."

"Riiiight. One shirt and towel coming up. Stay there. I mean it."

Grimly, I turned to Lourdes who was as immobile as a statue. "Hey," I coaxed as gently as I could although I felt like I was yelling. I tend to talk louder when I got a couple in me. "Hey, let's get you cleaned up."

Wordlessly I guided her to the side of the house where the hose was located. I did my best not to turn this into a perverted wet t-shirt contest. I rinsed Lourdes off, keeping things in perspective, ignoring the tautness of her nipples as they poked through her shirt. Her hands reached for the hem of her crop top and, poof it was gone.

I can admit I fumbled the hose.

Lourdes threw her shirt down as anyone would when it's covered in undigested food. She crossed her arms over her breasts but there was little concealing the shape of them, the fullness.

I heard feet approaching almost at the last second and moved to block Lourdes in case it wasn't Eddie.

Thankfully it was him. There was very little light on this side of the house, and the neighbors view was blocked from the shrubs growing on the fence, but anyone on the second floor of either house would have a bird's eye view.

"Here you go," Eddie said and I knew, just knew that fucker was smirking.

I snatched the towel and blindly handed it to Lourdes. "We got it from here. You can go."

"You could always use an extra pair of hands."

"Go the fuck away!" Lourdes shrieked.

"All right. I'm gone." He finally coughed up the shirt.

Not two seconds later, someone screamed Eddie's name. It sounded like Amara, but it could have been anyone else.

"What now?" he groaned and sauntered off.

While he went off to diffuse the next issue, I turned back to Lourdes. "What's your friend's name? Maybe I can find her for you?"

"No, can you just…can you just stay with me? Ohmygod that was the most disgusting thing to ever happen to me. Now you see why I hate Ocean City."

"I'm sorry this happened," I apologized.

"Ugh, I can still smell it. It's making me sick," she whispered and then she sniffled.

The urge to pull her into a hug was there because I hated to see anyone sad or upset, and to make up for unintentionally misleading her, but I resisted. She was topless after all and reeking. How she managed to control her own gag reflex was admirable and I was hit with another urge. This time to offer her the shower in my room. But Bonnie's face flashed in my head. Then another that said to do so anyways. Bonnie would be cool once the situation was explained.

"Are you staying nearby?" I went with option three which was to offer to walk her home if she was close.

"We're staying at the Princess Royale."

All right, totally not quick walking distance.

Without warning, Lourdes dropped the towel. Don't look, don't look, don't look became my mantra. Even if the part of me that enjoyed seeing women naked screamed like a fucking banshee in my head to look, just for old time's sake. I can say this. Blood filled capillaries and evacuated brain cells. My arm, the one that held the shirt went numb, but in my peripheral I saw my arm moving forward, stretching it out to her. She made no sudden move to take it. It would appear we were at a stalemate.

"Stefan…"

"Yes…?"

||Bonnie||

Conversations with strangers could be stimulating up to a point, but after a while when you've run out of things to talk about, trying to establish a common ground, you kind of swayed your body from side to side, and then discreetly wandered away from one another. No hard feelings. It was all part of partygoing etiquette. Well, I was officially done smiling up in people's faces whose names I failed to remember after they muttered-yelled them in my ear. Braeden had abandoned me to greener pastures, currently posted up in a corner with Derek. Of course that brought back a sense of nostalgia not so much déjà vu. It hadn't escaped me that from the time I was pulled in for an initial tête-à-tête with a genuine friend, Stefan hadn't back been back around.

Before things changed, we wouldn't exactly be connected at the hip. It may have looked that way to those standing on the outside looking in, but we gave one another space to move and operate in social settings. Now though? Where the hell was he?

If you could believe it, more people had arrived. Our gracious host was running out of everything while trying to handle crowd control, so that was how I was roped into running a quick errand with Pax and Amara to get more ice, drinks, and pick up an order of pizzas. Amara chatted the entire time that my ear literally went numb. By the time we made it back, we were nearly swarmed like bees to honey.

"Watch your fuckin' hands!" I yelled when someone not-so-accidentally grabbed my ass while I was fighting my way through the horde from the front door to the kitchen.

"Things are getting a bit out of hand," Amara said and started to unload the groceries. "I really hope Eddie gets a handle on things before the neighbors call the cops. I know it's a holiday weekend but…"

"Amara, can you hand me the paper towels?" Pax interrupted her spiel.

"Bout fucking time you three got back. I'm starving," Vaughn bogarted his way to the table and started sticking his unwashed hands into everything. I hip checked him as hard as I could out of the way.

"Do you mind?"

He laughed darkly and brushed his crotch against me. "Sorry, mom."

That was just great. Sexually harassed twice in under ten minutes. "Do that again and you won't have a dick to pee out of."

His sly smile spread even farther across his face. "You take the term bustin' balls to whole knew misandrist level, you know that? Seriously though, can I get something to eat?"

"No."

"Come on, don't be like that."

Shoving him with my elbow, I ignored him as I finished unloading things, washed my hands, and grabbed a couple of slices of pizza for myself.

Toasted crust, melted cheese, marinara sauce, spices, and pepperoni filled my mouth in gooey heaven. Someone had lit a blunt and I inhaled the air in fond remembrance of my college days. With my hunger sated, the next thing to take care of was my thirst. I'd had enough alcohol for the night and what my body was craving was ice cold water. There wasn't any in the fridge, but I knew there was a stack of it in the basement.

You know what a time I had going into the basement of a foreign house. I had only been down there once and that was when Eddie had given us the tour, during daylight hours. It was dark and quiet, but not empty. Someone was sprawled out on the couch and I didn't waste a second trying to figure out who it was. It just wanted to crack open the case of water, get what I needed, and go.

But first, I needed light. So, sorry to whoever was taking a nap in the middle of a party.

Finding the switch, I flicked the light on, and the form that had been spread out on the couch jumped up scaring the crap out of me.

"Bonnie?"

"Stefan?" I whirled around, heart pounding. "What are you doing down here? Have you been down here this whole time?"

"Um…ah…no. I had stepped outside for a few minutes. What are you doing down here?"

"I'm getting some water. There isn't any more upstairs."

"Ah," he said and then glanced behind him before facing me.

I squinted at Stefan. He placed his hands on his narrow hips, doing his best to effect that he was cool and calm, but he was off. Nervous. Nervous and a little sweaty. The sweaty part wasn't unusual for him because he often ran hot when he indulged in his favorite guys: Johnnie Walker and Jose Cuervo. His cheeks were flushed, but not a hair was out of place.

"Did you mistake the basement for our room? How tipsy are you?" I folded my arms across my chest and bit the inside of my cheek to keep from smiling.

"I'm not as drunk as I probably look. In fact, I could use another drink."

"Or you could give your liver a break and let it metabolize the alcohol that's already in your system."

"That sounds like the responsible thing to do, and it's a holiday weekend where responsibilities get thrown out the window."

He approached and when he was near, he seemed to loom above me. Tilting my head, I stared up at him as he looked down at me. His pupils were dilated but that could be blamed on the light. I was standing in a shadowed area of the basement and his back was to the light.

"Come on," he said, "go with me to get another drink."

"Are you sure you're feeling okay?"

"I'm fine."

We started moving toward the stairs, though it felt like Stefan was herding me. With his hand on the small of my back, he shuffled us to the exit, but then I heard a door opening. I turned my head toward the sound though it was at an awkward angle.

"Stefan?" a very feminine voice called.

And what do you know, the man to my left forgot how to place one foot in the front of the other because he had gone ramrod straight. It felt like it happened so fast, but it more than likely happened in slow motion. The way my gaze went up to Stefan who was staring straight ahead but it was plainly evident to me he was warring on making a decision. Just as slowly, I pirouetted from his guiding touch to see who it was that called to him.

Hmm. Whoever she was, had clearly utilized the shower. Eddie must have also run out of adult-sized towels because the one she had wrapped around her damp body barely covered her voluptuous tits and vagina. Our eyes met; both of her eyebrows went up whereas only one of mine did. She didn't immediately squeak and cower behind the door, but stood there, and then cocked her head I guess so she could show the inches she carried on her head. She smiled and I as a woman, knew that smile. Nothing good ever came after a smile like that.

Naturally, Stefan would abruptly say one of the most cliched lines in the world. "It's not what it looks like."

A/N: Thanks for reading.