#I LOOOVE WOMEN TWIRLS HAIR.

[mothbeasts-art]

don't wanna scare you off // don't wanna know your name // you'll never know a single thing about me // until it's far too late

[khadij-al-kubra]

A Round of One-Shot-Shot-Shot-Shot-Shot-Shots

(Part of the Bar & Grill AU)

Pairing: Roman/Patton

Characters: Roman, Patton, Logan, Virgil, Thomas, Joan, Talyn, Terrence, Valerie, Calypso, (and a bunch of O.C’s.)

Summary: A collection of scenes from the view of Sanders’ Bar & Grill regulars and employees. a.k.a. Place your bets on your favorite clueless love struck bartenders. a.k.a. JUST KISS ALREADY!

Author’s Note:

Hey friends! I promise that a new chapter is on its way, but for now, here’s a little one shot intermission for you. If you’d like to be in the tag list for future chapters in the Bar & Grill AU or other works by me, let me know. And as always feel free to leave a comment in the messages or reply if you have any notes or constructive critiques. I’m always open to writing advice. Enjoy!

<--PREVIOUS

(POV- Sean & Nellie)

“Here are your drinks you two,” said Roman, handing the two regular customers their usual orders.

“Thanks man,” said Nellie, taking a sip from their whisky on the rocks.

“Thanks Roman,” said Sean, taking his mojito. “My throat is seriously so dry from the slam tonight.”

Every Thursday night the vegan café around the block held a bi-weekly open mic/poetry slam. And every Thursday night the two spoken word poets went out for drinks afterwards at Sanders’ Bar & Grill. It was a chill and affordable place that suited their poor as penny behinds perfectly. Plus, they loooved watching the slow burn drama between the two bartenders.

“You two spit some good poems tonight?” Roman asked. “I’m sure you both blew the audience away.”

“Let me put it this way,” Sean paused to take a sip of his drink then smacked his lips. “There were bars for days.”

“Oh my god,” Nellie groaned at their teammate, dreadlocks jangling as they shook their head.

“Good one kiddo!” Patton said passing them by from behind the bar.

“Well, let me know if you young wordsmiths need anything else.” Roman winked and left them to get back to work.

“Oh you know I will,” Sean said in a low voice.

Nellie lightly smacked his shoulder. “Down boy, I know you’re a thirsty bitch but settle for your drink.”

“Bitch, you have no right to talk!” Sean gave a grin that reached his too sharp cheekbones.

It was no secret that the Pilipino boy found the bartender attractive as all hell. Not that Nellie could blame him; the man was all kinds of fine! Yet neither of them made a move because of his obvious feelings for Patton and vice versa.

“So what’s the bet tonight Sean?” Nellie took a drink and chewed on an ice cube. Sean hated that.

“I’ll bet yoouuu,” Sean twirled the ends of the two thin braids at the base of his shaven head, “It’ll be 25 minutes before Patton starts giggling at something that comes out of Romans mouth.”

“Please, this is Patton we’re talking about. It’ll take 15 minutes max.”

“Loser pays for tonight’s drinks?”

“You know it.”

About three more rounds of drinks, some notes exchanged on each other’s newer poems and 20 minutes into the night, they heard a small laugh coming from Patton. They saw the adorably goofy grin he gave to Roman, who was also blushing. They were too drunk to catch what he had said, but his hands were in that fancy dramatic pose he likes to do.

“Ha!” said Sean, his voice slightly high pitched from being tipsy. “I win!”

“Like hell you did!” Nellie said loudly. “That was a chuckle, not a giggle.”

“Bitch, where? That wasn’t a damn chuckle. Chuckles are all like, hmmmhhmm. A giggle is like, giheeheehee. Patton giggled. I win.”

“A’ight, a’ight. Damn you’re a lousy winner.”

Roman must’ve noticed the poets getting a bit wily and came over.

“Uhh everything gucci over here?” he asked.

“Yep,” said Sean, popping the p.

“Need anything else?”

“Nah, just the check. Nellie here is paying tonight.”

Nellie handed over their card to Roman, shooting playful daggers towards Sean’s cheeky face. However, Sean was at least good enough to take care of the tip for them both, dropping the last $2 cash he had on him. They were still broke poets after all.

“Thanks! Be right back with your card.” Said Roman. “You know, it’s really quite nice how the two of you always seem to take turns paying for drinks.”

The two gave each other a knowing look. “Riiight.”

* * *

(POV- Valerie, Jasmine, and Calypso)

It was a tradition for the three friends to go for happy hour drinks after work every Friday. They’d been doing it since they were young post college graduates suffering through the same two-year internship, always opting to go to the same local bar and grill. For them, drinks at Sanders’ was a tradition that kept them together and maintained the little bit of a social life they could squeeze into their busy schedules. Each women looked forward to seeing their friends, venting about their co-workers, and having a good laugh over drinks. Most importantly, they loved watching the slow burn romance between the cute bartenders that worked there.

“Here you go ladies!”

Patton beamed, handing the three friends their second round of drinks; a martini for Valerie, a scotch on the rocks for Calypso, and a merlot for Jasmine.

“Thank you my dear,” said Valerie.

“Thanks Patton,” said Jasmine.

“You’re the best Pat,” said Calypso.

“Aww you too kiddo! Now if you need anything else I’ll be over beer.”

For the sake of their favorite bartender Valerie and Jasmine fake laughed. Calypso was the only one that actually found his puns funny. As Patton got back to work, the three of them went back to slyly spying on him and the other more handsome bartender as they interacted behind the counter.

“Ugh, they are seriously too adorable,” said Jasmine.

“I know this is gonna sound really high school of me,” said Calypso, “but those two are seriously my OTP.”

“That was a super high school-y statement, but honestly, same,” said Valerie, sipping her drink.

She sighed fondly as she watched Roman’s turned back, his muscles flexing beneath the black work shirt. Patton was adorably cute with his sun-shiny smile, smattering of freckles and dad-bod. However, Roman was straight up (the only thing straight about him) gorgeous!

“Oh Roman, if I’d been born male and homosexual…”

“Don’t you dare Val, not even in a fantasy,” said Calypso, lightly poking her arm.

“Obviously I would never!”

“Just saying.”

“Hey, I’m way too invested in this thing to get between it, even in a fantasy.”

“Good, because those two clearly belong together. I mean have you ever seen two people with more chemis—

“Shush, shush, girls! Look,” said Jasmine, frantically waving to her friends.

“What? What are we looking at?” asked Calypso.

“Look-but don’t look-to the left.”

Valerie and Caplypso discreetly glanced at where their friend was nodding towards and had to stifle the squeals in their throats. Both Roman and Patton had been reaching for the same bottle of whisky and their hands had touched. Neither bartender was pulling away. It was like something straight out of a rom-com that could rival even Patton’s level of cheesiness. All three girls leaned closer at the bar quite literally on the edge of their seats as they saw the two look at their hands, then at each other, saw their faces slowly draw closer to each other and…pull away again.

All three let out a collective groan.

“Uuggh, so close!” said Calypso, taking a big gulp from her glass.

“Seriously,” said Valery, nursing her glass, “this is worse than The Office.”

“Just wish they’d kiss already…” Jasmine mumbled.

They watched Patton hand the bottle to Roman and then promptly go to his end of the bar with a wet rag over his shoulder. The girls quickly proceeded to act casually as he came their way.

“Still good here ladies?” he asked.

“We’re okay Patton, thank you,” said Valerie.

“Alrighty! You know, it is always so nice to see you three. It makes my hour all the more happy.”

He smiled at all three of them then went back to work. Patton really was such a sweetheart. He deserved someone strong and charming like Roman to sweep him off his feet. Why do boys have to be so clueless?

“Well ladies, looks like we’ll have to come back again next Friday,” said Jasmine. “Those two are bound to get together eventually, and we’ll be here when they do.”

Valerie and Calypso agreed, then the three ladies clinked their drinks.

* * *

(POV- Terrence, Imani, and Dakota)

“I’m telling you, Roman blushed first!” Terrence said to Dakota over his place of Buffalo wings, taking a drink from his rum and coke.

“And I’m telling you Patton blushed first!” said Dakota, spilling a bit of his whisky as he gestured vehemently.

His service dog Braveheart barked in agreement. Dakota reached down and fed the black Chihuahua an artichoke dipped chip.

“Guys, you’re both wrong,” said Imani, twirling the last cherry in her Shirley Temple. “Neither one of them has actually blushed at something the other said or did yet.”

The three regulars were an odd group to see, being so vastly different from one another. Terrence was a short black police officer; Dakota was a pepper-haired biker/pianist; and Imani was a hijabi optometrist. They never saw or spoke to each other outside of Sanders’; heck they never even sat at the same table. Still they’d all been coming to the bar & grill long enough to know each other by name. As well as make regular bets with each other on the two bartenders whom the three agreed clearly had a thing for each other. Seriously, it was so obvious Stevie Wonder with a frigging blindfold could see it!

“But you saw how red Roman’s face was when he came in for his shift. He saw Patton at the bar and it clearly made him blush. So I win,” said Terrence. “That’ll be five bucks please.”

“That wasn’t a blush, his face was just red from running over here from rehearsals,” said Imani. “He started that play or something, remember?” 

“How could we forget? He practically stood on top of the bar and shouted it to everyone in here,” said Dakota. “Talk about dramatic.

“Well this is Roman we’re talking about,” Terrence smirked.

“True. Ahh if I were 30 years younger,” sighed Dakota.

“Hell, if I weren’t straight I’d hit that,” said Terrence.

“Ugh. You guys are making me happy that I can’t date,” said Imani.

“Aren’t you ace anyways?” asked Terrence.

“I never said the rules didn’t work in my favor.” She downed the last of her non-alcoholic drink and fixed a loose pin in her head scarf.

“Okay well what about Patton? I know I saw a reddish tint on his freckle covered cheeks,” said Dakota.

“That was clearly from the ambulance that passed by outside,” she said.

“Ha! Told ya. So we’re still at an impasse,” said Terrence, crossing his arms over his uniform. The biker responded with a grumble.

“Buuut I’m still holding out my bet against both of you that Roman is going to kiss Patton’s had sometime tonight,” said Imani. “He’s been extra princely to him since Patton’s boyfriend called and cancelled their date tonight.”

The three groaned almost simultaneously, and even Braveheart growled. They had eavesdropped seen Patton talking on the phone earlier that night. Right afterwards the poor guy’s shoulders slumped and he was munching on one of the ‘cheer-up’ cookies he often gave to customers if they were sad. Only one person could do that to their friendly fatherly figure. The one thing they all could agree on was that Patton’s tattooed boyfriend who came in occasionally was a raging douchbag.

“Man I hate that guy!” said Terrence.

“Same,” said Imani.

“Patton deserves so much better,” said Dakota. “He deserved Roman, and Roman deserves him!”

“Speak of the wannabe Disney prince…”

Imani pointed to Roman coming around from the bar. He walked briskly towards Patton, who was struggling with what seemed to be a complicated and large order of drinks from a loud group of young hipsters. None of them recognized the new faces and Patton was so off his game it was visible from across the room. Terrence, Dakota and Imani leaned in to get a better look.

“Greetings young travelers!” Roman said, coming to Patton’s aid. “I’ll be happy to take the rest of your drink orders. My partner here is needed at the bar.”

Patton smiled, following the others lead. “Don’t worry, my friend here will take good care of you. I’ll be right out with this half of all your orders. You just hang tight kiddos.”

The two tag-teamed mixing and bringing over the drinks to the rambunctious group. Soon they were all satisfied, and the three regulars could only gape in amazement. They really were a power couple team.

“Thanks for the help Ro,” said Patton, whipping his brow with the sleeve of his black cardigan around his neck. “That was a tall order. Heck, I almost lost my glasses ‘cause they were stacked against me!”

Terrence rolled his eyes, but Roman merely chuckled. “All in a nights work Patton. Besides you did look a bit overwhelmed.”

“Lucky I can always count on my partner Mr. Prince to come to my rescue.”

At this Roman very clearly blushed. “Naturally, I am in-Clined to assist.”

Roman grinned at the laugh he managed to coax from the other’s lips. Then he took Patton’s hand in his and lightly placed a kiss on the back of it. Then the two went back to work, although Patton was much more smiley and red-faced than before.

“Ha! Roman blushed first! Pay up,” said Terrence. Dakota grumbled as he slapped a $5 bill into the cop’s outreached hand.

“Ah-ah. Don’t forget about my little wager,” said Imani. “Pay up boys!”

Both men groaned audibly as they handed her $5 each. She pocketed the cash into her purse.

“I thought you Muslims weren’t supposed to gamble,” said the biker, scratching his dogs ears.

“Betting on the inevitable isn’t a gamble. It’s an investment. Now, $20 says Patton will confess to Roman first.”

The two men said, “You’re on.”

* * *

(POV- Joan & Talyn)

The dinner rush at Sanders’ was keeping Joan and Talyn plenty busy. All night they’ve been taking orders, clearing plates, bringing checks, and dealing with the rare bitchy customer. Talyn was clutching their lapis lazuli necklace, hoping that the stone really would help to keep their headache from turning full-blown migraine (they’d also taken two Alieve earlier to be safe). Meanwhile Joan was simply fighting the urge not to snap back salty yet well deserved insults at the pickier customers. Logan was out of his office tonight and while the boss was a nice guy, he didn’t take kindly to customers being insulted (even if they deserve it; undercooked my ass, you entitled pricks).

Even as the two waiters crisscrossed each other while working, they found a way to make the rush more bearable: The puppy love longing count! They both had made the game a while back after they realized how totally gaga their co-workers Roman and Patton were for each other. Aaaand they both may or may not have gotten the idea for the game after re-watching Lord of the Rings together for the fifth time.

“14,” said a passing Talyn balancing a tray on their arm.

“17,” said Joan in passing, carrying a checkbook to one of his tables.

Four minutes later…

“21,” said Talyn grinning.

“18,” said Joan, pouting.

Ten minutes later…

“24,” said Talyn.

“26,” said Joan.

“No way! You had to have fudged some of those numbers.”

“I counted every one, no fudge pudge face.” Joan booped Talyn’s nose.

Their significant other’s jaw dropped and Talyn glowered at them. Joan couldn’t help but grin like a Cheshire cat. Even when they were mad Talyn was still undeniably adorable.

“Oh fine!” Tayln said. “But I’m definitely going to win again.”

“Not a chance. By the end of tonight, Patton will have sighed longingly at Roman more times than Roman does with Patton.”

“Tonight’s loser is on dish duty. Team Pun Papa will win!”

“You’re on babe. Team Drama King all the way!”

Although both waiters shipped their friends hard, each of them had their favorite. It kept things entertaining and fun at least. They were so busy talking that they didn’t realize Logan had come over. That is, until he cleared his throat. He pushed up his glasses and adjusted his tie, going into full-blown Mr. Shapiro boss mode. Not fun.

“Joan. Talyn. While I do not mind idle chatter when there is a lull I will remind you to stay attentive with your duties. This is still a business after all,” he said.

The two gulped audibly. “Yes boss.”

Just then they both saw Logan suddenly stand up straighter, his face tense, almost fearful. Talyn was about to ask what was the matter when suddenly they heard a faint siren in the distance; a telltale sign that an ambulance or police car or something of the sort was about to drive by Sanders’. The two waiters looked at each other then at their boss worriedly. Logan did not do well with sudden loud noises and sirens could send him straight into a sensory overload. His hands were already twitching at his side, prepared to plug his own ears.

Joan was about to offer Logan the ear buds in their apron pocket, but someone beat them to the punch. Patton reached Logan and covered the bar & grill owner’s ears with his own hands right as an ambulance blared by loudly. He even gently turned Logan’s head away from the windows so that the flashing blue and red lights wouldn’t hurt his eyes. Once the sirens could no longer be heard, Patton carefully removed his hands from his head. Logan’s shoulders immediately relaxed and he let out a shuddered breath.

“Thank you Patton. I truly appreciate your assistance,” he said, his voice gentle.

“No problem kiddo-I mean Logan,” Patton smiled sheepishly. “I know how badly sirens get to you.”

“Yes, well, think I’ll just go sit in the quiet of my office for a bit.” He placed a hand on Patton’s shoulder for a moment then left. “Joan, Talyn, as you were.”

The waiters let out a sigh of relief. Over Patton’s shoulder they saw Roman also sighing, except his was clearly directed at Patton. Roman was leaning his elbow on the bar top, head in his hand and metaphorical hearts in his eyes. However the second Patton looked back at him Roman was standing straight, looking off to the side and whistling. Joan rolled their eyes at the dramatic co-worker.

“Well kiddos, back to work!” said Patton, re-joining Roman behind the bar.

Joan felt Talyn grab their hand and give it a quick squeeze. When they looked down at them their tongue was sticking out playfully.

“25 bitch!” said Talyn.

Joan grinned. “Oh this isn’t over yet!” Not by a long shot.

* * *

(POV- Virgil, Alex, & Thomas)

“So I was thinking of doing something like this,” said Alex, showing Virgil the latest sketch in their notebook. “What do you think Virge? Is there too much going on? Not enough? Give it to me straight.”

“That’s gonna be hard since neither of us is,” said Virgil, looking over the drawing with the critical eye of a fellow artist.

Virgil had come into Sanders’ again on one of his parkour/mozzarella runs and Alex had just happened to be at the bar in their usual spot. Neither Virgil nor Alex was much for excessive socializing, unlike Virgil’s stepbrother Patton, but somehow the two immediately clicked. Probably because they were both artist and anxiety-ridden introverts, so there was an unspoken lack of pressure. At least that’s how Alex felt. Virgil was the only person Alex felt comfortable showing their sketches to, and he had even shown Alex some of his own pre-mural sketches. While Alex’s style was more on the Escher side, Virgil’s was like the lovechild of Picasso and Tim Burton. So they bounced off ideas pretty well.

“Okay, so, this part looks a big too crowded so it’s hard to see all the little details,” said Virgil, pointing to the picture, “and this part feels a bit empty in comparison. But aside from that, I think it’s one of your best ones.”

Virgil gave them one of his rare smiles and handed Alex back their sketchbook. Alex thanked him for the advice, but then they both flinch-turned at the thunder-like sound of knocking on the aluminum kitchen windowsill.

“Order up Virgil!” said Thomas, cheerful as ever. “Here you go bud.”

Virgil took the to-go bag of mozzarella sticks. “Thanks Thomas.”

“How’s you’re mural going?” Thomas asked.

“Pretty good actually. Alex gave me some good tips for the light and shadowing snag I’d hit, so hopefully I’ll be finished with it soon.”

“I can’t wait to see it,” said Alex.

“You’re one of the very few exclusive people invited dude,” said Virgil. “Hope I’ll get to see yours when it’s done too. Only if your comfortable with it though!”

Alex smiled. “Definitely, if I ever finish it. Though I’ll be honest, it’s more likely the Rapture will happens sooner than that.”

“Or Patton and Roman admitting their feelings for each other,” said Thomas. Both Virgil and Alex busted out laughing.

“Oh man, yes! Geez those two dorks, I swear. At the rate they’ve been going lately though, I give it two months.”

“You underestimate my brother dude. I give it the end of the month tops. Hopefully he’ll wise up and dump that douche Dio by then. Unless Roman confesses first. Then I give it a week.”

“Wanna bet? Loser has to buy the winner new art supplies.” Alex said.

“You’re on. Hey Thomas, you want to get in on this?” Virgil asked.

“Oh heck yeah! $20 bucks says Roman either confesses or kisses the other in eehhh two weeks. He looks like he’s about to crack any day now.”

“Deal,” said the two artists.

“Hey fellas!” Thomas shouted back into the kitchen. “We’re placing new bets on the Roman and Patton romance. Anyone want to join in?”

“Oh hell yeah,” shouted Enrique, followed by the other cooks.

* * *

(POV- Joan and Logan)

Joan had been about to tell Logan that they were going on break when they both heard the shattering of glass from by the bar. They caught the flash of worry in Logan’s eyes as he rushed over to find the source of the noise, Joan following behind. What they saw was a broken bottle of Jack Daniels spilled on the floor, glass shards everywhere. Standing over the mess was Patton and Roman. The latter was pressing a rag into Patton’s right hand and, ah geez, was that blood!?

“Everybody stay in your seats please,” Logan said to the surrounding customers. Luckily there weren’t many in the bar tonight and they’d all been smart enough to not get up.

“I’ll go get the mop and broom,” said Joan, heading to the supply closet, careful of the glass shards.

“Patton what happened?” asked Logan, his voice stern yet still held tones of concern.

“I-I was getting a new bottle of Jack Daniels since we were running low. Did you know those things are heavier than they look?”

Logan could tell from his shoulders that poor Patton was trembling. Alternatively, Roman’s face was scrunched up in what appeared to be worry. Or possibly constipation, but that seemed less likely.

“I would’ve gotten it myself but I was busy with drink orders and Patton insisted,” said Roman.

“And I had just finished washing some glasses,” Patton said. “So I guess my hands were still a little wet and, well, it slipped…”

“Logan please don’t blame Patton. I’m the one at fault here,” said Roman, straightening his back and wrapping a protective arm around Patton.

“No Roman, you are not at fault here. This was Patton’s doing, however unintentional it was.”

“I’m sorry Logan,” said Patton.

Joan returned with a mop in one hand and the broom/dustpan in the other. They looked up at Logan waiting for the owner’s response to the damage.

“Well, this is certainly a gross inconvenience on my part and an unprofessional slip up on yours—“

“Dad joke?” asked Patton timidly.

“Uh, not a good time Pat,” Roman said gently.

“But, given that this is the first such incident that you’ve had...I shall let it slide this time. However, the cost of the alcohol is going to be coming out of your next few paychecks.”

Joan winced. That was definitely going to take a dent out of his Vet school funs.

Patton sighed, “That’s fair. Ow.”

Patton winced at his hurt hand. Heck, you could see the tears threatening to spill from behind his glasses. Seeing this, Logan softened back up a bit, like how he did when Talyn wasn’t feeling well. He stepped over the glass to place a gentle hand on Patton’s shoulder, giving him a small genuine smile.

“Now go take care of that cut on your hand. Attending to your injury is far more important than fixing an accident. You can use the first aid kit that I keep in my office. Joan and I shall clean up out here.”

Patton smiled up at him. “Thanks Logan. I appreciate that.”

“Please Patton, allow me to assist in taking care of your wound,” said Roman.

Before Patton could say otherwise, Roman was literally sweeping him off his feet. Patton’s face went completely red as the overdramatic actor carried him bridal style towards the back of Sanders’ where Logan’s office was, closing the door behind them. Joan, Talyn, Thomas and all of the regulars either snickered or looked worriedly at Logan. Some even seemed to be exchanging money. They waited for a reaction from the robotic boss, but none of them expected to see him shaking his head at the scene with a smile on his face.

“I do wish those two would just copulate already,” he said.

Everyone’s jaws dropped. Joan looked at their boss, not even bothering to hide the grin that split across their face.

Logan adjusted his glasses. “What? I’m on the spectrum, not blind.”

He took the broom and dustpan from Joan’s hand and began sweeping up the broken glass. Once it was cleaned up, Joan got to work mopping the spill.

Yep, Joan thought. The only blind ones around here are those two.

NEXT-->

Tag List: @altruistic-skittles @thekeytohappiness-is-you @canadian-crofters  @icecoldparadise @bluebloodstains @purpleshipper @patchworkofstars @axyzel @hissesssss @beautifully-terribly @pink-and-purple-flowers @jynxlovesluck @thatsanswitch @6tick6tock6 @hanramz-the-fander @azlinne @helplesscreator @thestoryofme13 @bibbidi-bobbity-booyah @accidental-sanders @moonstonefox12 @hissesssss @smokeyrutilequartz @phlying-squirrel

[alanakusumas]

One Big Chance Encounter

Title: One Big Chance Encounter Fandom: Endless Summer Characters: All Prompt: For round 8 of #ChoicesCreates, hosted by @hollyashton​ and @firefly-hwufanficwriter​.  This week’s prompt is: Friendship! Word Count: 867

Summary: On one of their quieter nights, the La Huerta gang decides to take a look back at how mundane their lives were just only a few weeks ago.  

——-

Pop music blared from the speakers, the heavy beat invigorating the muscles of every student tearing up the dance floor, letting loose one last time before the end of the term.  

An incredibly loud shout stood out among the masses.  “I LOOOVE COLLEGE!” Craig yelled, to no one in particular, before chugging his entire pitcher of beer.  

A distant “CHEERS TO THAT!” is heard amidst all the noise, coming from a frat boy in flannel, repping his Sigma Chi gear at the club.  Several other cheers followed Craig’s toast, each and every one of them feeling a wave of euphoria as the end is near.    

Not so far away, Michelle ran her hand through her hair as she twirled across the dance floor, her movements mesmerizing everyone she glided past. She couldn’t help but soak it all in, right before she landed safely in her boyfriend’s arms.  Sean’s chest pressed against her back, his arms wrapped around her waist…their bodies swayed together in sync with the music.  

By the bar, a certain redhead leaned against the edge, sipping a cocktail a random young man offered her.  Quinn giggled at everything he’s saying, but not because everything that came out of his mouth was even remotely funny.  Instead, she laughed because her mind had drifted away for quite a while now, and as unfocused and intoxicated as she is, she could think of no other response. She had her attention fixated on a lady she saw from the corner of her eye, dancing in a lacy red bodysuit and high-waist black shorts.  

Taylor was the epitome of perfect tonight.  Her outfit hugged her curves in all the right places, and as humble a person she usually is, she knew she looked good.  With her confidence soaring especially high tonight, she closed her eyes and escaped into a trance, absorbing the music that flowed into her ears and swayed her body for her.  Despite having several men and women approaching her to ask for a dance, she turned them all down tonight, explaining that she’s here with her best friend, and only wanted to be with best friend.

Diego rolled his eyes every time he saw Taylor reject another person, their eyes always so full of lust as they entered his best friend’s aura.  He leaned into Taylor, shouting against the music blasting from all corners, “Go get laid, for Christ’s sake!  I’ll be fine by myself.”

“No!” Taylor shouted back into his ear, “I’d rather hang out with you.  Besides,” She winked, “I have all week in La Huerta to do whatever I want.”  She took his hand and raised it above her, spinning and twirling until she lost some sense of the reality she’s in.  

Blocks away, there sat three lone wolves.  

On a Friday night, furious tapping can be heard in one student’s dimly lit room. Zahra sat on her bed, mattress dented from the countless hours she’s spent in that spot, coding to her heart’s desire.  Three years ago, there used to be a presence beside her, whom she misses geeking out with, but she would bet all of her possessions that right now he’s out there somewhere, losing his mind over some shitty beer and more shitty pop music.  

Aleister hovered over his own desktop, furiously tapping away at the letters on his keyboard.  He was overcome with emotion, when he found out his father, his very own father, not only did not invite him to his island destination, but instead selected ten random students from his very own college.  It was sick.  His father is sick.  His island is sick.  Aleister felt sick, sick to his stomach.

Silence filled the school gym.  The only exception was the panting, which echoed along the walls each time Estela’s fists collided against the punching bag hung in front of her.  As the countdown until she sets foot on La Huerta sand comes closer by the second, there is no time to waste.  Nobody knows her plans – not even her own uncle – but what she plans to do will wreck havoc among everything remotely connected to her.

A little further away from everybody else, somewhere on the other side of town, Grace once again wrapped up another plate of dinner to be stored in the fridge. There were leftovers stacked on top of leftovers on top of leftovers…she heaved a heavy sigh and wished for the impossible: Is it too much to ask for one’s own mother to acknowledge their child for once in their life?

********

“Wow,” Jake snorts upon hearing the kids recalling where they all were, exactly two weeks before they trapped themselves on the island.  “Funny how that worked out, huh?  It’s almost like you’re all destined to be one big, dysfunctional family. Like ‘Friends’, except more fucked up and raging with hormones flying everywhere.”

The college students blink away from their memories, their gaze diverting from the bonfire in front of them to their fellow classmates sitting around the crackling flames. The pilot had a point:  All their ambitions, histories, and secrets tied them together, some admittedly crossing paths more often than others.  Was this really one gigantic chance encounter, bringing them all together once and for all, or are they destined for a mission, a future, grander than anything their scholarly minds can imagine?