Chapter Two-Hundred Forty-Two: Oakhaven

Chapter 242

Oakhaven

Professor Stewart Murphy sat on Tristan’s backyard patio, where Tristan, Deimos, Celeste, Fabien, Jaxon, and Jordi were also sitting. He listened to everyone’s story about what happened on Varg Island and smiled.

Prof. Murphy: “Then I think what you all need is a vacation!”

He held up his index finger.

Deimos: “I need a vacation from fuckin’ Lazaros and his whining.”

He huffed.

Prof. Murphy: “I think you all could use getting away and staying in a lodge to learn to work together and cooperate.”

He smiled, spreading his arms out.

Jordi: “That’s a fantastic idea!”

Tristan: “All in the same cabin with Fabien, Jaxon, and Jordi?”

He asked incredulously.

Fabien: “Jordi and I are fine now.”

He replied.

Jordi: “It’s Jaxon.”

Jaxon rolled his eyes.

Jaxon: “I am not dating your sister, Jordi. Go to your fat pig and leave me alone!”

He huffed and waved his hand. Professor Murphy knit his eyebrows. Jordi’s fury soared. He clenched his fists and rose to Jaxon.

Jordi: “You keep Ashley out of this!”

A growl escaped his throat. Professor Murphy stood up and stretched his arms out, creating a bridge between the two irate men.

Prof. Murphy: “Gentlemen, please.”

He said beseechingly. Fabien snorted.

Celeste: “Where’s this place at?”

Professor Murphy pivoted to face her.

Professor: “A small coastal village called ‘Oakhaven.’ I paid for a week for you all to stay at ‘Oakhaven Ocean Lodge.’ ”

He exclaimed. Tristan smiled and clasped his hands together.

Tristan: “How splendid!”

Fabien: “Hey, Murph, you just doing this as an excuse to watch sexy guys strut almost half naked?”

Propping his head on his hand, he grinned at him. Jaxon’s face twisted with rage, and a deep flush of crimson trailed up from Professor Stewart Murphy’s neck as heat rushed to his face. Deimos grunted and rolled his eyes. Of course, he is, but he can look, but not touch, he thought as he gazed at Tristan. Tristan cleared his throat and stroked his ponytail.

Prof. Murphy: “N-No, don’t get the wrong idea, Fabien! I plan to stay at a lodge far away.”

He waved his hands.

Fabien: “How far away are we talkin’?”

He smirked. Professor Murphy tugged on his collar to let out the heat. He always loved the sight of Fabien and loved seeing the group of gorgeous guys in his presence.

Jordi rose to cut through the awkward conversation.

Jordi: “If I’m going for a week, would you mind if I brought my partner, Ashley?”

He smiled. Professor Murphy swung his gaze to Jordi.

Professor Murphy: “Of course, Jordi! They’re more than welcome to accompany you!”

Jaxon: “Better bring the food, holy shit.”

He huffed. Jordi’s right eye twitched, and his jaw tightened. Fabien looked away to cover his laughter. Celeste knit her eyebrows.

Prof. Murphy: “And I think Lena should go with Jaxon.”

He added. Jordi’s scowl deepened.

Jordi: “Why?”

Prof. Murphy: “Jordi, this is a bonding vacation. I feel that if Jaxon has a companion, he would soften up to you and your partner.”

He stated.

Celeste: “Yeah, Lena and Ashley are getting along well!”

Jordi’s expression softened somewhat.

Prof. Murphy: “Leave tomorrow, and you all should be there by the evening.”

He wrung his hands together.

~

The following day, Professor Murphy arrived at the Donati manor and saw Demetrio in a Hawaiian shirt, khaki shorts, sandals, and a sunhat. Sylvia wore a sunhat, a red Hawaiian shirt open over a black shirt, khaki shoes, and flats. Blair wore a Superman t-shirt, blue shorts, calf socks, sneakers, and a bucket hat.

Blair: “Why do I have to come?! Yoshi said he can’t come because he has to work, well, people can wait! I am going to be BORED here!”

He whined.

Prof. Murphy: “My apologies, Blair! I already paid for the lodge where Tristan, Celeste, Deimos, Fabien, Jordi, and Jaxon will stay!”

Sylvia: “Splendid. I heard from Etsuko that things are rocky between that group.”

She sighed.

Blair: “Ugh, why are you housing that fat pig, Jordi?!”

He pouted.

Sylvia: “Because, Blair, the group getting along well is vital to our missions.”

She said with a trace of irritation.

Blair: “Will Ashley be there?”

Prof. Murphy: “Yes!”

Blair: “And where will they be staying?”

Prof. Murphy: “The Oakhaven Ocean Lodge.”

He replied.

Blair: “How close is our lodge?”

Prof. Murphy: “It’s far away.”

He nodded. Blair stomped his feet.

Blair: “Make it closer! MAKE IT CLOSER! I want to stay almost NEXT to their lodge! I don’t want Ashley out of my sight! MAKE IT CLOSER!”

He caterwauled as he stomped his feet. Prof. Murphy inhaled sharply and rubbed the back of his neck.

Prof. Murphy: “The closest lodge is booked.”

Blair: “BUY THEM OUT! BUY THEM OOOOOOOUT!”

He cried. Demetrio blew air from his parted lips.

Demetrio: “All right, we can pay to have them relocated.”

He relented. Blair threw his fist up in the air.

Blair: “YES!”

He exclaimed. Now I will finally lose my virginity, he thought.

Sylvia: “Oh, and Vanessa’s friends, Chloe, Minha, and Mattie, are accompanying her.”

She nodded. Blair’s jaw dropped.

Blair: “NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOWAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHH!!!”

He cried and sank to the floor, pounding on the floor with his fist.

Blair: “They’re annoying, and they will ruin any chance I have with Ashley!”

He sobbed. Sylvia started feeling her frustration rise.

Sylvia: “Blair, they made it ABUNDANTLY clear they want nothing to do with you.”

She said firmly, but gently.

Blair: “NO! When they see me in my beach outfit, they will change their mind!”

He bawled. Sylvia rolled her eyes, not wanting to argue with him any further. Stewart was glad Demetrio was getting the lodge closer since he could sneak a peek at Fabien, Tristan, and Jaxon.

Ichiro was outside the Donati manor listening in with a grin. He wore a white lab coat over a crimson red pressed shirt, a black tie, black pants, and black cap-toe Oxfords. He cupped his chin. Thank you for making this easier for me, Blair, he thought. Now Fabien can witness your demise and experience how I feel when he’s with MY Green Queen, he thought angrily, clenching his fist tightly and gritting his teeth.

~

Blair sat in the back of the minivan that Sylvia drove, his face like a week of wet weather. Demetrio sat in the passenger seat beside her, and Professor Murphy sat beside Blair, reading a book.

Vanessa sat in the middle. She wore a pink sundress, cork wedge sandals adorned with bows, a pink hairband, heart earrings, and a heart choker. Sitting by Vanessa were her three friends, Mattie Mullins, Chloe Sullivan, and Minha Park.

Mattie was a plump white woman with a cascade of rich, auburn curls that framed a radiant, dimpled smile. She wore a striking, geometric wrap dress exploding with teal, purple, and gold swirls, cinched at the waist with a thick purple belt. Chunky gold hoops caught the light, and a stack of colorful neon bangles clicked softly against her wrists with every movement.

To the left, with easy, athletic grace, was Chloe Sullivan. Her wild, honey-brown curls bounced around her shoulders. She wore an oversized white sweatshirt that boldly declared DANCE ‘87, paired with sleek black bike shorts and high-top sneakers. Her smile was wide and infectious, a casual contrast to her friends' more dressed-up looks.

Completing the quartet was Minha Park, sporting a sharp, chin-length blue-black bob with precise bangs. Her style was pure vintage chic—a pastel-striped t-shirt tucked into a high-waisted denim skirt. Huge, triangular neon earrings framed her face, and a cassette player was slung casually over her shoulder while a camera was draped around her neck.

Blair overheard the girls drone on about meeting cute guys on the beach. Yeah, as if I’m not here or anything, he thought bitterly. I bet they will go on and on about that fat pig, Jordi, and maybe they will take him from Ashley because Ashley is fat, but I still love them, he thought bitterly. I am so nice I love them despite their fatness, and they hate me, he mused.

~

Jordi’s purple Ferrari 328 drove down the county roads. Cruising with his Ray-Bans on, he wore a purple polo shirt, jean shorts, and white canvas sneakers. As he sped along, he exhaled a plume of smoke while Foreigner blasted from the built-in cassette player. Sitting in the passenger’s seat was Ashley. Ashley wore an ivory-white shirt and jean shorts with bleach-stained mandala patterns on the sides. They were barefoot with their sandals sitting beside their feet under the seat.

Jordi: “So, I managed to get some time off from work. This is probably one of the few vacations we will have together.”

He laughed with a hint of bitterness in his tone. Ashley smiled up at him and placed their hand on his.

Ashley: “I’m so excited to spend some time away with you, Jordi!”

They purred. Jordi took their hand and kissed it. Ashley giggled and reddened at him, kissing his hand back.

Ashley: “I’ve never been on a romantic getaway before!”

They ran their fingers through their hair. Jordi chuckled.

Jordi: “I guess this is romantic. We’re going to be staying in a lodge with Tristan, Deimos, Celeste, Fabien, Lena, and… Jaxon.”

He said Jaxon’s name with strain. Ashley made a note of his tone.

Jordi: “I will try to get some extra time off so just the two of us can get away.”

He raised his hand, keeping his other hand on the steering wheel. Ashley brightened.

Ashley: “Yay!”

They smiled up at him.

~

Deimos maneuvered his black Ferrari Testarossa down the interstate, checking over his shoulder for traffic before easing off the clutch to switch lanes. He was dressed in a black Kreator tank top, torn jeans, and cowboy boots. Tristan sat beside him in the passenger seat, wearing white shorts, boater shoes, and a blue button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows.

Deep in contemplation, Tristan quietly smoked, tapping his finger against his thigh. He exhaled a plume of smoke and flicked the ashes into the car’s ashtray.

Deimos: “Everything okay?”

Tristan turned his head to slowly gaze at his boyfriend.

Tristan: “Yes.”

He reassured him. Deimos used his free hand to take Tristan’s soft hand and kiss it.

Tristan: “I just have so much on my mind, that’s all.”

He drew a short breath.

Deimos: “Like what?”

Tristan inhaled another long drag.

Tristan: “That photo we found of Noriko’s wedding.”

Deimos gave a bitter, short laugh.

Deimos: “I think she’s gonna marry Bobby. She isn’t going to come after Fabien or Jaxon anymore.”

He said bluntly. Tristan shook his head.

Tristan: “This isn’t what I am worried about. It’s Borko and Ichiro in the background. Why was he present at this wedding?”

Deimos paused.

Deimos: “He and Ichiro did something to Jaxon’s grandmother.”

Tristan: “Precisely. Ichiro doesn’t allow people in his orbit, so Borko was someone very important to him.”

He crushed his cigarette butt into the ashtray and leaned back, resting his folded hands on his chest.

Tristan: “And that’s not all.”

He said grimly. Deimos glanced once more at Tristan.

Tristan: “Jordi found a Huang peacock feather at the scene.”

Deimos pursed his lips.

Deimos: “Ivy was quick to tell us where Fabien was.”

Tristan nodded soberly.

Tristan: “She knew it. She orchestrated this.”

He cleared his throat.

Tristan: “She mentioned Noriko recruited the help of ‘The Azure Dragon Pavilion’. I don’t believe Noriko has the wits or charisma to get through to Zhaolin.”

He said firmly.

Tristan: “...But Ivy does.”

He said darkly.

Deimos: “I knew we should have broken her fucking head.”

He growled, tightening his grip on the steering wheel.

Tristan: “Yes, but we had to rescue Fabien.”

Deimos: “Why would she tell us all this if she did all this?”

He asked.

Tristan: “It’s simple: she felt that if she did this ‘good deed’ for me, I would fall in love with her. I hate to say it, but that didn’t work. Nothing will work.”

He rolled his eyes.

~

Jaxon’s red Toyota Celica convertible sped down the interstate highway with Lena in the passenger seat. Jaxon wore a white leopard-print button-down shirt, black jeans, and black Chelsea boots, his thick metal chain bracelet clicking as he adjusted his grip on the wheel. Lena wore a baby-pink sundress and butterfly sandals, holding her sunhat with one hand to secure it against the rushing wind. Glancing over at her, Jaxon smiled.

Jaxon: “You excited?”

Lena giggled and nodded in response.

Lena: “Yes! I’ve never actually been on a vacation before!”

She said breathlessly.

Jaxon: “Yeah? This is your first time?”

He asked, smiling. Lena’s Byzantine eyes glittered as she nodded.

Lena: “I am glad Jordi didn’t put up too much of a fight when you offered to take me.”

At the mention of Jordi, Jaxon’s jaw instantly tightened.

Jaxon: “What is his problem anyway?! Why doesn’t he focus on his fat girlfriend and leave me alone?!”

He said with frustration.

To keep his cool and distract himself from Jordi further pissing him off, he reached down into the center console. He pulled out a pack of cigarettes, tapped one out against the steering wheel, and popped it between his lips. Ducking his head slightly below the windshield line to shield the flame from the rushing wind, he flicked his lighter.

A sharp spark, a brief glow of orange, and a cloud of smoke immediately caught the slipstream, trailing behind the open-top convertible like a gray ribbon. He took a slow drag, resting his arm on the driver-side door. Lena knit her eyebrows.

Lena: “He’s very protective of me, Jaxon.”

She said gently, placing her hand on his. Jaxon felt his fury begin to dissipate with her gentle touch. He smiled at her and exhaled a long drag.

Lena: “He will warm up to you.”

She reassured him. Jaxon rolled his eyes. I doubt it, he thought. He turned to her with a gentle smile. But it’s nice she reassures me, he thought.

His car rumbled to a halt in front of a neon-lit liquor store on the side of the road, its gravel parking lot crunching under the tires.

Jaxon: “Be right back.”

He said, flicking the butt of his cigarette into the ashtray and giving Lena a quick wink.

Jaxon: “Need a little road fuel for later.”

Lena blushed and giggled.

He hopped out of the low-slung convertible, leaving the engine idling. Jaxon strolled up to the counter and grabbed a classic, square bottle of Jack Daniel’s Old No. 7 from the shelf. He set the heavy glass bottle down in front of the clerk, a tired-looking guy with a mustache who didn’t look much older than Jaxon himself.

The clerk glanced at the bottle, then up at Jaxon.

Clerk: “Gonna need to see some ID, pal.”

He asked, holding out his hand. Jaxon reached into his tight black jeans, pulled out his leather wallet, and slipped out his driver's license. He handed it over.

The clerk looked down at the plastic card, squinting at the details printed.

Clerk: “All right, looks good.”

He muttered, sliding the license back across the counter and ringing up the whisky.

Clerk: “That’ll be eleven-fifty.”

Jaxon tossed down a twenty-dollar bill and grabbed the brown paper bag containing the bottle.

Jaxon: “Keep the change, man.”

He said with an easy grin, turning back toward the door.

When he climbed back into his car, shoving the paper bag into the space behind the console, Lena looked over at him with an amused smile.

Lena: “Get everything you needed?”

Jaxon: “Oh, yeah.”

He replied, putting the car back into gear and looking out toward the road. I think I’m gonna need this to deal with Jordi, he thought.

~

Fabien’s green Shelby Mustang Cobra flew down the interstate with Celeste in the passenger seat. He was dressed in a denim jacket over a Def Leppard shirt, jeans, and flip-flops. Celeste wore a spiked collar alongside a Lita Ford tank top, a denim skirt, and leather mules.

The windows were rolled all the way down, letting the thick, humid air whip through the car. The roar of the V8 engine was a loud, steady rumble beneath them.

The stretch of the interstate toward Oakhaven seemed to melt into the horizon under a hazy, golden-orange sky. Fabien kept one hand casually on the steering wheel, his white hair blowing wildly out of order from the wind. Every few miles, he’d glance across the console at Celeste, a relaxed smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

Celeste slipped off her mules and propped her bare feet on the dashboard.

Celeste: “How much further, Fab?”

She asked, shielding her eyes as she looked at the passing green walls of swamp pines and billboard advertisements.

Fabien: “About thirty minutes until the exit.”

He shifted gears, the Mustang responding with a throaty growl as he bypassed a slow-moving station wagon.

As if on cue, the highway curved, dropping them off the elevated interstate and onto a sun-bleached two-lane asphalt road. The dense highway traffic melted away, replaced by the sprawling, sleepy charm of Oakhaven.

Fabien slowed the car down as he drove down the main drag. Overhead, a massive canopy of ancient live oaks choked out the harsh Palm Tree State sun, draping the main drag in a heavy shroud of Spanish moss that caught the late afternoon light like spun gold. The air here didn’t move; it hung thick with the scent of swamp water, damp soil, and regular-leaded gasoline.

Life in Oakhaven rippled outward from a single block of faded pastel concrete and weathered timber. At Sunshine Petroleum, the rusted dial on the pump proudly displayed unleaded gas for ninety-eight cents a gallon, standing watch over an old yellow sedan and a sun-bleached El Camino with a “For Sale” sign taped crookedly to the windshield.

Next door, the Oakhaven General Store pulled triple duty for the town’s seventy-odd residents. Its porch was a gallery of local color: old men in lawn chairs watching the shadows grow long, and a cluster of sunburned kids on BMX bikes, their eyes glued to the faded movie posters taped inside the window. For a town this isolated, the cardboard cutouts for Ghostbusters and Back to the Future were portals to another universe, offering a rare taste of the modern world on magnetic tape.

Just a stone’s throw down the road, the dirt gave way to the gravelly banks of the water. Here, the local bait-and-tackle shop stood shoulder to shoulder with a weathered trailer home, its awning strung with colorful, faded party lights that hummed softly in the twilight. A battered blue canoe lay upturned in the weeds near a rickety wooden dock, waiting for a morning that always seemed to take its time arriving.

In Oakhaven, the evenings didn't bring the roar of sports cars or the flash of strobe lights. It brought only the steady drone of cicadas, the distant rumble of a lone transit bus cutting through the dust, and the unsettling feeling that whatever was happening down in the big city might as well be on the two moons.

He pulled up to Oakhaven Liquors, a small, sun-faded shop squeezed between a bait-and-tackle store and a surf shack. A neon sign in the window buzzed faintly, advertising cold beer.

Fabien: “Going to grab some beer. Want anything, babe?”

He asked. Celeste shook her head.

Celeste: “I don’t drink. ‘Sides, Ashley is gettin’ the groceries.”

She drawled.

Fabien walked inside, the air conditioning hitting him like a wall of ice. He headed straight for the glass coolers at the back, his flip-flops slapping against the linoleum floor. He scanned the shelves, bypassed the cheap lagers, and hoisted a cold twenty-four pack.

When he set the sweat-beaded bottles down on the counter, the clerk—a bored-looking man in his late forties wearing a faded tropical shirt—slowly looked up from a crossword puzzle. He took one look at Fabien and raised an eyebrow.

Clerk: “Going to need to see some ID, kid.”

Fabien nodded.

Fabien: “No problem.”

He reached into his back pocket, pulled out his leather wallet, and slipped his driver’s license across the counter. The clerk picked it up, squinting under the harsh fluorescent lights. He looked at the photo, then at Fabien’s face, and finally down at the birthdate printed on the plastic: April 17, 1964. The man did the quick mental math.

Clerk: “Twenty-three.”

He muttered, sliding the license back over. Fabien took it and slid it back into his wallet.

Clerk: “All right. Just had to make sure. You alternative types always look a little hard to pin down.”

Fabien smiled and handed him a twenty-dollar bill.

Fabien: “I get it. Have a good one.”

He lifted the case of beer up and headed back outside to his car.

~

The cars pulled up to where the group would be staying. Fabien and Celeste stepped out of his car, with Fabien stretching his arms over his head. Deimos opened the passenger door for Tristan. He held his hand as Tristan climbed out. He raked his fingers through his hair as he stood erect. Jaxon got out and opened the door for Lena. She climbed out, thanking Jaxon. Jordi and Ashley were the last to arrive. He killed the engine, lifted the emergency brake, and got out to open the door for Ashley. Ashley thanked him with a tender kiss. Jordi kissed them back.

Perched like a weathered sentinel on the crest of the dunes sat the Oakhaven Ocean Lodge. Built from rough-hewn timber and rugged coastal stone, the massive structure stood high on heavy wooden stilts, its sprawling wraparound decks projecting out over a wild, untamed beach. A low wooden boardwalk snaked through the sea oats, connecting the main house to a scattering of smaller, isolated cottages that looked as though decades of sun and sea spray had bleached them gray.

The sky above was a bleeding canvas of bruised violet and burning amber as the sun dipped low, casting a warm, golden glaze over the entire coast. Down on the shoreline, the ocean rolled in with a rhythmic, low rumble, washing over wet sand that mirrored the dramatic colors of the twilight.

A weathered wooden sign near the sand-dusted path bore the lodge’s name, its letters fading under the relentless coastal wind. Like the town’s inland core, an intentional slowness permeated the area. The lodge felt like a secret kept by the coast—a place where the evening was measured not by a ticking clock, but by the slow retreat of the tide and the dying glow of the sun.

Deimos carried the luggage as he went up the steps. Celeste carried the remaining luggage, following him. He used the keys to let everyone inside.

Inside, the Oakhaven Ocean Lodge smelled of aged cedar, salt crust, and woodsmoke. The great hall rose into a cavernous, vaulted ceiling webbed with heavy timber beams, dominated by a massive double-sided fireplace of stacked coastal river stone. On one side, there were leather sofas draped in plaid wool blankets, watching the sunset bleed amber across the ocean through wall-to-wall windows. On the other side, the space transitioned into a personal bar, where a weathered wooden bar stood beneath shelves lined with a full bar’s worth of supplies.

The lodge’s kitchen and dining area were built for long, heavy dinners after dark. A long, hand-scraped wooden table sat set with thick stoneware bowls, illuminated by the warm, amber glow of a massive wooden hoop chandelier hanging from the rafters. Separating the dining space from the cooking line was a monumental island anchored by the same rugged stone as the hearth, topped with a thick slab of butcher block. Under the soft glow of under-cabinet lighting, the kitchen boasted a professional-grade stainless steel range tucked beneath a heavy, hand-hammered copper hood that caught the flickering reflections of the distant fireplace.

Upstairs, the bedrooms were sanctuaries of dark, rough-sawn wood and quiet isolation. Masterful four-poster beds constructed from thick timber frames were piled high with muted green and charcoal linens. Every room featured its own floor-to-ceiling stone fireplace, crackling softly to ward off the damp coastal chill. The walls were decorated with framed vintage maps and built-in shelving loaded with old leather-bound books and brass diving helmets. Heavy glass sliding doors opened directly onto the deck, where a canvas hammock hung suspended over the dunes, offering an uninterrupted view of the darkening sea. Near the hearths, live-edge wooden desks held feather quills and inkwells, alongside trays piled high with smoothed sea glass collected from the shore below.

The lodge’s indulgence culminated in the bathroom—a towering, rustic pavilion of glass and stone. A hammered-copper soaking tub was perched dead center before a massive picture window, positioned so one could watch the endless roll of the ocean waves while bathing. To one side, a double vanity crafted from reclaimed pier timber supported dual beaten-bronze basin sinks and was lit by the soft, warm halo of hidden LEDs behind heavy wooden frames. Opposite the tub, a cavernous walk-in shower was lined with natural river stones underfoot, featuring exposed bronze fixtures and built-in stone shelving stocked with glass decanters. Overhead, a final timber chandelier cast a golden glow across the entire space, turning a simple evening wash into a cinematic ritual.

Outside, beneath the skeletal rafters of a heavy timber pergola, the lodge’s main deck transformed into an open-air dining sanctuary. Wrapped in twisting green vines and laced with the faint, twinkling pinpricks of fairy lights, the pavilion framed a restless, lavender-tinted ocean that bled into a soft pink horizon. Three massive glass-and-iron globe lanterns hung along the length of the space, casting a rich amber glow over a monumental live-edge wooden table.

The table itself was a masterclass in coastal elegance, dressed with heavy stoneware plates, polished silverware, and delicate crystal stemware that caught the sunset's dying light. A sprawling centerpiece of bleached driftwood, seashells, and flickering candles snaked down the center of the wood, waiting for a long, slow dinner to begin. High-backed wicker armchairs fitted with plush gray cushions lined the table, sheltered from the coastal breeze by low stone walls, and to the side, a built-in stone fire pit stood.

Ashley's eyes widened like a cat’s as they took in their surroundings.

Ashley: “Oh my stars, it's beautiful!”

They gripped Jordi’s hand and smiled widely. Jordi smiled down at them. Tristan surveyed the area, nodding in approval.

Tristan: “Yes, this is very beautiful!”

Lena drank in her surroundings, feeling butterflies in her stomach.

Lena: “Ashley is right… This IS beautiful!”

She clasped her hand over her locket.

Jaxon saw Ashley peeking into the fridge to see if it was empty.

Jaxon: “Did you see the grocery store? Probably not enough food in there for you.”

He huffed. Fabien looked away and snorted. Jordi’s jaw tightened. Tristan exhaled in exasperation, and Celeste looked away.

Ashley: “Huh? Why are you being mean to me?”

They knit their eyebrows.

Jordi: “Jaxon, can the jokes just WAIT?!”

He hissed through clenched teeth.

Jaxon: “Why? When she was with Lazaros, she ate way more than that.”

He said dryly.

Deimos: “Tell me about it.”

He huffed. Ashley bowed their head.

Ashley: “Can we not talk about Lazaros!”

They said with hurt in their tone.

Deimos: “I second that.”

He said gruffly.

Celeste: “So, what’s for supper?”

She asked everyone.

Tristan: “We didn’t stop for groceries. I assumed Ashley would have done that.”

Jaxon: “Yeah, no kidding, Tristan. I think she ate them all to remember her time with Lazaros.”

He drew a breath. Ashley frowned at Jaxon, looking hurt. Jordi clenched his fists tightly, trying hard not to punch Jaxon out.

Ashley: “What's your problem?! I just said can we not talk about Lazaros?”

Tristan: “...That’s not why I said it.”

He shifted his eyes.

Ashley: “I baked some cookies and cupcakes for us all to share, and I got some tea and some eggs, and flour and other ingredients and things!”

They explained, presenting a basket full of baked goods and jars of tea.

Tristan: “Oh, this is very lovely, Ashley, but this isn’t supper.”

He stroked his ponytail.

Celeste: “It is to me.”

She drawled.

Ashley: “Oh, uh, well, isn’t Fabien like an amazing cook with wings? I heard he’s better than… he who must not be named.”

They glanced up at Fabien, who was carrying a cooler box inside.

Fabien: “What am I better at than Lazaros in doing? Spelling?”

He cackled. Deimos snorted. Tristan let out a soft laugh. Ashley laughed.

Tristan: “I think everyone is, Fabien. They mean cooking!”

He nodded. Ashley nodded.

Celeste: “Hell yeah!”

Fabien: “Can we order out? I don’t wanna cook. I wanna relax.”

He retrieved a beer from the cooler, popped it open, and took a drink.

Celeste: “Besides, we have no groceries.”

She gaped at Ashley. Ashley tilted their head, looking confused.

Ashley: “Oh, I was supposed to be on groceries? I'm sorry! I can go get that stuff at the local grocery!”

They knit their eyebrows, feeling guilty. Why didn't anyone tell me I had to get groceries? Or did they? Their head spun.

Celeste: “Yeah, you were supposed to get ‘em.”

Jordi put his hand on Ashley’s shoulder.

Jordi: “You okay? Do you want me to take you?”

He asked gently. Ashley felt their stress melt away at his touch.

Ashley: “Are you sure, Jordi?”

They smiled a bit, wanting that but also not wanting to burden him.

Tristan: “Ashley, please don’t stress about this. We’re ordering in tonight anyway.”

He said genially.

Ashley: “Thank you, Tristan.”

They smiled with relief.

Celeste: “And Fab wants to get baked tonight anyway.”

She laughed.

Ashley: “Oh! He wants to bake?!”

They tilted their head, surprised.

Fabien: “Hahahahahaha, not that baked.”

Jaxon rolled his eyes.

Lena: “Do you guys hear the sound of a minivan?”

She asked.

Jaxon: “Yeah.”

Tristan: “Yes, it seems to be coming from the lodge handy us.”

Ashley arched an eyebrow with curiosity.

~

Sylvia’s minivan pulled up to the lodge. She, Demetrio, Vanessa, and her friends, Professor Murphy, and Blair got out.

The boardwalk hummed softly beneath their feet, a ribbon of weathered timber winding through the sea oats and shifting coastal sands. Nestled where the dense, moss-draped maritime forest gave way to the ocean, Oakhaven Beach Lodge stood as a testament to understated elegance. Elevated on massive dark pilings, its sprawling structure blended seamlessly with the rugged coastline. The silver-gray metal roof caught the high noon sun, while the expansive wooden decks jutted out toward the water, offering an unobstructed invitation to the sea. From the beach below, a grand staircase swept upward, a physical bridge between the wild, untamed shore and the sanctuary waiting above.

Stepping across the threshold, the boundary between inside and out entirely dissolved. The great room was an architectural marvel of scale and warmth, dominated by a towering hearth of stacked fieldstone that anchored the space with an ancient, grounding presence. High above, a cathedral ceiling of exposed, golden-hued timber trusses spanned the room, giving it the airy, reverent feel of a coastal chapel. The entire ocean-facing wall had evaporated, its glass panels folded back completely to invite the salt air and the rhythmic, low thunder of the surf. Plush, oatmeal-colored sofas and a rugged, live-edge dining table filled the space, bathed in the soft, ambient glow of minimalist pendant lights and the brilliant, natural canvas of the sea beyond.

Down the corridor lay the master suites, a sanctuary dialed to a frequency of pure tranquility. Here, the architectural vernacular continued with the same soaring timber ceilings, but the energy shifted to something profoundly intimate. At the center of the room stood a heavy, four-poster bed framed in dark wood, layered with linens the color of seafoam and unbleached canvas. To the side, a pair of deep, upholstered armchairs sat angled toward the glass.

Mattie: “Hey, girls, let’s share this room!”

She pointed to the second suite upstairs.

Chloe: “I love it, Mattie! I hope we meet some cute guys here!”

She giggled.

Minha: “Totally!”

Blair folded his arms across his chest and harrumphed. Yeah, meeting cute guys and one is here, but ignore the nice guy, he thought bitterly.

Blair walked toward the lodge where the group was staying. I don’t need Vanessa’s dumb friends when Jordi will want them, and Ashley has me, he thought.

~

Blair saw Ashley and grinned. They’re going to do something bad in their panties when they see me, he thought.

Blair: “Hey, Ashley! I didn’t know you were staying here!”

He smiled. Jordi glowered at him. Ashley tensed up and glowered at him like a cat, standing close to Jordi.

Ashley: “Blair?! What the heck?!”

Jordi: “What are you doing here?!”

He rasped.

Blair: “Gramps is staying at the lodge down there… close to Ashley.”

He gazed at Ashley. Ashley frowned.

Celeste: “So you’re stalking Ash?”

She asked him.

Blair: “No, just staying close!”

He spat.

Ashley: “Tomato, to-mah-toe!”

They glared at him.

Blair: “Yeah, I know you hate them and all healthy food! It shows!”

He countered.

Ashley: “Leave me alone!”

They hissed at him, huddling up to Jordi. Jordi stood before them protectively, making Blair glare at him in rage.

Jordi: “Keep your distance. I’m taking them to get some groceries.”

He held Ashley close, guiding them to his car. Ashley smiled up at Jordi, feeling safe in his presence and arms.

Tristan: “Why do I get this feeling you demanded to rent that lodge just to be close to Ashley?”

He challenged him. Blair’s right eye twitched.

Blair: “I didn’t do that, POINDEXTER! We were renting a place, and it so happens to be close to Ashley! I bet you’re jealous that Ashley was eyeing me up and not you, FOUR EYES!”

Tristan rolled his eyes.

Tristan: “Yes, Blair, I am terribly jealous that Ashley wants to be away from you.”

He said dryly. Deimos marched up to Blair.

Deimos: “You don’t fuckin’ speak to Tristan that way, dickhead. You have FIVE seconds to march your ass back to your cottage, or I will pound you into the fuckin’ sand!”

He bellowed. Blair stomped his feet.

Blair: “I AM ONLY KEEPING AN EYE ON MY BELOVED ASHLEY!! WHY IS EVERYONE PICKING ON ME FOR BEING NICE?!”

He bawled.

Deimos: “I’ll give you a nice punch to the face!”

He pounded his palm.

Blair stomped his feet and whined.

Blair: “I only wanted to make sure Ashley was SAFE, and you bully me, Deimos!”

Deimos: “I am protecting Tristan from you, asshole!”

He fired back.

Blair: “FINE! BUT I WILL BE BACK! When Ashley sees me in my beachwear, being sunsmart, they will change their mind!”

He stormed off, stomping his feet and kicking the sand. Fabien doubled over laughing hard and slapping his knees.

Fabien: “FUCK YEAH! We need Blair here!”

He cackled.

As Blair folded his arms and sobbed, walking back to his lodge, Ichiro teleported into the woods, grinning at him. Just as planned, he thought.