for nowrin, who's so sweet and wonderful and hilarious that it drives me mad ❤️ also her accent is adorable and makes me so jealous ://

"So who's on for this evening?"

Landon slides into his seat at the lunch table, interrupting the previous conversation. I look up from my chicken Caesar salad, glancing at the unusually chill, dark haired boy now sitting across from me.

"Not me." Kendra replies simply. "I've got a triathlon after school."

"I'm free." Brady shoves a hand full of fries into his mouth before nudging me encouragingly. "Wha 'bout you?"

"Well I technically should be job hunting since I got fired like a month ago." I inform the group. "But I don't really want to, so I guess I'm free tonight."

"Great." Landon drums his hands on the table excitedly. "I'm thinkin' Chipotle. Who's in?"

"That sounds so good." Kendra moans as Brady and I reply to Landon with nods of excitement.

Landon not-so-subtly scoots towards Kendra, leaning into her face. "Sounds familiar, now does it?" He murmurs teasingly, earning a rough punch on the arm from Kendra.

Nonetheless she laughs, eyeing him somewhat flirtatiously when she assumes Brady and I aren't looking. Kendra and Landon are similar personality wise—both are very headstrong and stubborn individuals that share the trait of sarcasm. Where they differ is looks. Kendra has a dark and broody, yet sexy, look to her that guys are immediately attracted to; without knowing how she actually is as a person. Landon is handsome but non traditionally, which explains the annual and short term girlfriends. I know that Kendra isn't usually into dating either because of how busy she claims to be, when in reality I think it's just that she has really high standards. Landon, however, would date any girl that is willing.

Perhaps even Kendra.

"Keep it PG you two." I nudge Kendra playfully, who rolls her eyes.

"Hey, why'd you say that you couldn't go again?" Landon queries.

Kendra runs a hand through her straight black hair. "I have a triathlon after school and a lot of people are going to put money on me."

"Really?" I raise my eyes in surprise. I know that Kendra does these a lot but I didn't know that she as that good.

"Yeah," She nods. "I'm kind of really excited for it actually. And I'd love to come to Chipotle but I think you guys understand how important this is."

"Definitely." Brady nods. "We go to Chipotle all the time anyways."

"Well what if I came with you?" I ask Kendra.

Landon snorts. "You'd die Leah."

"No I wouldn't." I defend myself proudly. "I've been running lately and I think I'm ready for this. And if not, then you can bury me next to my grandma or something."

"Great to know." Brady chuckles.

"I think it's awesome that you want to come, Leah." Kendra praises me, giving me a supportive pat on the back. "I'll pick you up after school today."

"What about Chipotle?" Landon pouts.

"We can all meet up after they run." Brady cheerfully suggests. "Chill out, bro." He then pats Landon on the back, perhaps a little too roughly as he nearly falls out of his seat from the impact.

"Yeah, chill out, bro." Kendra slaps him as well but not hard enough to have the effect that Brady did.

"Chill out, bro." I kick Landon's foot, causing him to squeal and for us all to burst in laughter.

Landon points at each of us forcefully. "You all are sadistic sociopaths."

Kendra beams. "And you love it."

↣↣↣↣↣↣

"I'm dead."

Panting, I throw myself against Kendra's truck. She jogs up to me, laughing the entire time as I cry out for water and any other type of hydration because of the immense amount of pain and slight dizziness being omitted from my body. Kendra hands me her water bottle—that's only halfway full might I add—and I gulp the entire thing down in a matter of seconds.

"More." I plead, handing it back to her.

"I think Landon has a talent for predicting the future." Kendra laughs.

"Kendra that was death, okay?" I groan. "How the hell do you manage to not only not die, but also look good?"

"I told you, I do a lot of these." The raven haired beauty informs me, flicking her messy ponytail over her shoulder. "And as for the looking good thing, I guess it's just in my blood."

And she might just be right. Clad in black spandex capris and a pink sports bra, Kendra manages to look lean while still looking effortlessly pretty. Her stomach shows no sign of fat, instead showcasing gleaming abs coated in a thin sheen of sweat. Her face is clear of makeup and only sweating minimally which you don't even notice because of how bright her smile is. I on the contrary am not that lucky. My flat belly is completely coated in sweat, I can practically feel my face breaking out from the amount of pores that are now opened and my hair is a completely mess in its ponytail. I haven't smiled since the marathon started, and I don't think I will be for a good while now.

"Well whoever's sperm you decide to procreate with will be a lucky guy." I pant, fanning myself as the hot sun seems to beam down only on me. It's one of those weird fall days where it feels like it's scorching when really it should be around 50 degrees. "How much money did you make?"

"About $400." Kendra replies proudly, clapping her hands together in pure excitement. "That's my top!"

"Congrats!" I attempt to squeal, but it sounds more like a wheeze as I wrap my sweaty arms around my best friend. "That's really amazing, K."

Kendra smiles, dazzling a few passerby. "Thanks." She then heads around to the drivers side and unlocks the doors. "Now let's get some dinner."

I happily comply, dragging my body to the passenger side and hopping in before Kendra pulls out of the parking lot and heads towards Chipotle. Pulling out my phone, I check for messages from either of the boys.

Brady Boo ❤️: on the way

Landon the Stupid: already fucking here

Landon the Stupid: where tf you at?

"Landon's already freaking out." I inform Kendra with a giggle, since she obviously isn't able to look at her phone.

"Typical." She sighs.

"Speaking of," I shoot a quick reply to Landon and Brady before shoving my phone into my wristlet and focusing on Kendra. "Is there something going on between you two?"

"Who two?"

"You and Landon!" I exclaim.

Perhaps revolted, Kendra shoots me a disgusted glare. "I'm insulted that you'd make such a hypothesis." She snorts, causing me to laugh. "Why in the world would you even think that?"

"Oh come on! You can't pretend like you guys haven't been a little weird at the lunch table."

"So joking around is all of a sudden weird?" Kendra scoffs, smiling nonetheless. "Have you never been on the Internet?"

I stop laughing for a moment, but still keep the joking nature in my voice as I continue to speak. "Kendra, seriously, if you like Landon or something it isn't a big deal. I liked Ford for like, my entire life."

"And look where that got you."

Raising my hands in surrender, I chuckle lightly. "Touché."

"I mean," Kendra sighs, turning into Chipotle and looking for a spot to park in. "Even if I did have feelings for Landon, it wouldn't even work out. I'm not into dating, remember?"

"I know, I know." I nod, recalling the countless times that she's told me this whenever I seem to mention a boy who I think she would be good with. "But it would be nice, you know? Landon's cool when you get paste how annoying he is and you aren't too bad yourself."

Kendra finds a spot up front and parks before we each slide out and meet up on the walkway of the Chipotle entrance. "Such great advice." Kendra chuckles, linking her arm in mine as we enter Chipotle and the smell of spiced meats fills my nostrils and makes my stomach rumble.

Thankfully since its late evening, not many people are here. There's a few sitting down and two people—including a smiling Brady—in line but that's about it, which works for me. The less people in line the quicker I can eat, and the happier I'll soon be.

"Hey," Brady greets us as we join him at the front of the line. "You two look sweaty." He observes, eyeing us both.

"You look stupid." Kendra remarks, stepping up in front of him as a teenaged employee begins our orders.

After we've all got our food and drinks, we sit down at a table that Landon—very grumpily—has occupied. "I waited on you guys for thirty minutes. What the fuck."

"You try running 6 miles." I retort before taking a huge bite of my double chicken burrito.

"Actually we would've been here earlier if it were just me." Kendra tells the boys. "I had a personal best—20 minutes."

"Impressive." Landon nods, shoving forkfuls of his carnita bowl into his mouth. When he swallows, he smirks knowingly at me. "Told you that you'd die, Leah."

I ignore him, continuing to eat instead. Usually I only get chicken but since I burned enough calories to empty my body, I went for the gold and got double chicken which was such a noble investment on my part.

"She actually did pretty good today, she finished in an hour." Kendra defends me.

"No wonder you guys took so long." Brady chuckles. "And no wonder Leah's eating like a savage."

"You're just without wonder today, aren't you Brady?" I tease, earning a laugh from Kendra.

"Hey isn't that a band?" Landon garbles with a mouth full of rice and lettuce.

Kendra snorts. "I think you mean Oh! Wonder, idiot."

Landon waves her off. "Isn't all indie shit that Leah listens to."

"I'm glad you think of it that way." I giggle. "So what did you boys do while Kendra and I ran the triathlon?"

"Masturbated." Landon jokes.

"Homework." Brady replies, and then laughs uproariously at Landon's outburst.

"You're such a joke," Kendra shoves Landon, but laughs just as much as I do. It's evident that there's a twinkle of something in her eyes as she glances at him whenever he makes stupid jokes like that, which only proves my theory that there's something going on.

"Yeah, sure, I was 'joking'." Landon uses finger quotations along with a playful eye roll. "I think the man from down under will blatantly disagree."

"Ew!" I squeal with a giggle, throwing Kendra's fork at Landon. "Since when did you become even more of a perv?"

Landon eyes Kendra before quickly scooping her up in his arms and setting her down on his lap. Surprised, Kendra squeals as her lean arms grip onto Landon for support. "Just looking at Kendra makes me horny." He wiggles his eyebrows, probably to make the moment more humorous, but from the way Kendra is looking at him and hiding a smile and the way that he's laughing hints that something is going on between the two.

And as much as I want to pretend to be happy, I can't. Now that I really look at them—Kendra continues to laugh and has yet to move from Landon's lap—I can't help but picture me as Kendra and Landon as Ford. I don't want my friends to go through the painful heartbreak that I went through, especially not Landon because I know that Kendra doesn't always consider other people's feelings. I can pretend to laugh and think that they're just being goofy friends but it's way too obvious for an eye like mine. I don't mean to be a killjoy, but Landon and Kendra just can't happen.

↣↣↣↣↣↣

Sighing softly as I shut the front door of my home, the soreness from today's triathlon begins to kick in. All of my muscles ache from the amount of exercise today and right now all I feel like doing is taking a hot bath and sleeping for the night. Thank God it's Friday, so that I can wake up as late as I want to tomorrow and not feel stressed about it.

As silent as possible, I begin to make my descent up the steps. My parents are heavy sleepers but recently my moms been waking up in the middle of the night to answer international calls and when she does she'll sometimes catch me up late doing homework or something. Tonight I don't really feel like being bothered at all so I'm hoping that tonight isn't one of those nights. Just as I make it to the top of the steps, though, the doorbell rings and I'm sent back downstairs to see who the hell is at my house at this early hour.

I groan, padding down the steps in my bare foot until I reach the door. Common sense has completely left my exhausted body, so instead of looking through the windows and seeing if there's a pedophile waiting for me outside I just swing the door wide open. Though not a pedophile, the person on my doorstep sends a chill down my spine.

"Ford." I breath, my eyes raking over the sandy haired boy swaying on my doorstep.

"Leah," He sniffles, reaching out for me but failing, stumbling right into me and almost knocking me over in my own house. He's cold and smells like a dog, which can only mean that he either slept in a ditch, is drunk, or both.

"Ford what're you—" I grip onto his face before catching my breath. His right cheek bone has a dark purple bruise on it, tears are streaming down his face and snot is begging to dribble down his brow. I exhale softly, before kicking the door shut and gently pressing Ford's head into my chest. Ford obliges, and softly begins to sob into my flimsy sports bra.

I know from experience that Ford is a crier, but when he's drunk it's an entirely different story. Ford only gets stupid drunk when he hangs out with his popular friends or when something's wrong at home, and when he does, it's a mess. He's an emotional drunk, either sobbing or spilling his guts out or both. The latter is more common since the things he holds in are usually sad and the result is obviously tears. I've never actually seen him like this though—the bruise, tears, and he's drunk—so tonight might just be a long night.

Slowly and as quiet as possible, I drag Ford up the stairs of my house and into my bedroom where I close and lock the door in case my mom decides to visit. Gently I sit Ford down on my bed, and as soon as I do he curls up into a ball and continues to cry. I purse my lips, attempting to hold in my emotions as I watch the boy who's always been so strong and admirable crumble into the girl that I just previously was about a week ago. It's insane how the tables have turned for us.

I take a quick shower and blow dry my hair, since I don't feel like sleeping with it wet, and change into leggings and an old tee shirt that's a bit too big—most likely Fords from one of the times he's slept over—before getting back to Ford. When I exit my bathroom, Ford is sitting on my bed with no pants on and is struggling to take his shirt off. "Ford," I whisper, quickly walking over to him and pulling the clothing off with ease.

He sniffles, looking up at me with broken eyes. "Thanks," He murmurs.

"Are you alright?" I ask him, reaching out and touching the bruise. Ford winces.

He sniffles, "Yeah ... yeah, I'm okay."

"Do you want me to find you some pajamas? I can get my dads again."

"No," He shakes his head, attempting to scoot away from me but I hold onto his lean wrists. "I just want to sleep, Leah, just let me sleep."

"Ford what happened to you?" I ask him, carefully sliding into the bed next to him as he begins to sniffle again. "If you tell me what happened to you then I promise I'll let you sleep."

Ford sighs, hopefully considering my deal. I know that I'm being a little selfish right now because Ford looks like he ran about two marathons and got hit by a car while doing it, but I need to know. If he's going to just show up the middle of the night and take his clothes off—again, might I add—than he's going to have to give me some insight as to why and how he got here.

"He just was getting on my nerves." Ford exhales shakily.

"Who?" I press, clasping his hand in mine.

Ford looks up at the ceiling before looking back down at me. "My dad."

I gulp. Ford's father is a great guy until you get on his bad side. When we were younger I remember Mr. Turner being very strict about curfew, and one particular night stands out to me. Ford, Landon and I were all playing hide and seek in Ford's yard and Landon was taking extremely long to find. Soon it became night but we didn't even notice because we were so annoyed at how good Landon seemed to be for one stinking game. Mr. Turner noticed however, and came storming out into the yard when we weren't even looking. He grabbed Ford by his collar and dragged him inside, Ford screaming for me to help him the entire way. I stood there like an idiot, though, and watched the entire thing happen before my eyes. I don't know if anything even happened to him that night but I knew then and I know now to never mess with Mr. Turner.

"He did this?" I point to the bruise.

Ford nods, and the tears once again begin to spill. "He was yelling at Conor and Macey for something—something stupid like toys or something—and I just started yelling at him and ..." Ford weakly points at his bruise. "I mean, what's gonna happen when I graduate? What's gonna happen when I'm not there to take a bullet for them, what if he does this to Conor? Or, God, Macy?"

"Ford—"

"And I know," He wipes his nose with the back of his hand. "I know this sounds stupid but it hurt. It hurt really bad. Conor and Macy they're–they're just kids, how are they gonna be able to take that?"

I'm at a loss as to words to comfort him, so instead I scoot closer and wrap my arms around him. Ford responds almost immediately, allowing me to hold him as he rests his head on my chest again and sobs. "I'm just so scared." He sobs. As much as I want to be strong Leah and tell Ford that his father and his twin siblings are his own problem, I know that I can't. I don't have the heart and I don't have the guts to ever do something like that, and not just because it's Ford. Sure Ford has a toll in it but I'm thinking about how true his statement is—when Ford and I leave for college and life things might not be okay for Sam and Macy. Ford's mom left a few years ago and things have just been tough for the new family of four. Conor and Macy are just kids, no match at all for a big and burly man like Mr. Turner.

And maybe just thinking about that causes me to cry onto Ford's shoulder like the baby I always seem to be. When I do though, Ford seem to tighten his hold on me and thicken his tears on my shirt—completely soaking me in his melancholy. I grip onto his back so that I didn't falter in strength but the tears I was shedding let Ford know that he wasn't alone. He wasn't alone and he'd never be alone because I'll always be there for him—old Leah or new Leah alike.

"Leah," Ford murmurs against my chest. "I'm sorry about what I said to you the other day, about when I called you a slut. You're not a slut Leah, and I'm sorry."

"It's okay," I sniffle back.