As soon as we entered the Junior Goodwill Games Cafeteria, Connie's running over to none other than her strawberry-blonde boyfriend. I roll my eyes with a small chuckle as the two hug each other, acting like it's been more than three hours since they last saw each other.

Grabbing a tray, Julie and I pick out an assortment of food items, including sandwiches, chips, apples, and even freshly-baked chocolate chip cookies. We pay for our food and drinks (I picked water, while Julie chose a milk carton), then walk over to the Team USA table.

Everyone, excluding Dwayne, Dean, and Charlie, is sitting down, eagerly shoving food into their mouths. I set my stuff down next to Goldberg, plopping into the uncomfortable seat.

"I see that you girls decided to grace us with your presence," Jesse laughs as all the boys nod while chuckling.

I flash my most polite and innocent smile. "Yes, so you'd better choose your words carefully before I make sure you can't see anyone, again." The other guys' faces turn red as they hold in their laughter, covering their mouths to prevent it from slipping out.

Jesse opens his mouth, then shuts it, then opens, then shuts, like a fish underwater. I smirk and turn my attention fully on the food in front of me, ready to stuff my face with it.

The rest of the meal is normal, except for the fact that Jesse still hasn't said a word yet. I smack Goldberg's hand as he tries to snatch my cookie, but my glare sends him cowering.

"Hey, guess what!" Connie exclaims suddenly. We glance at each other before looking back at the dark-haired girl. "They have a game room! With video games and air hockey and ping pong and-," she rambles, her hands waving about in the air.

Guy calmly interjects, stopping her babbling. "Okay, okay, Con, we get it," he says with a smile. Leaning towards the middle of the table, Guy adds, "Who's up for it?"

The entire table shoots from their seats, voicing agreement, and excitement as they hurry off to the game room. Me, not so much.

I stand up and throw my access trash away extra slow, waiting for my teammates to be out of sight. Once I'm in the clear, I head over to the entrance of the cafeteria, hoping to escape having to join them in the game room.

My luck sucks, however.

As I turn the corner, I slam into a chest, almost knocking me to the ground. The other victim of the collision grabs my arm and helps me gain my balance. Looking up to thank whoever it was, I come face-to-face with none other than, my brother.

He drops my arm, scratching his neck as I divert my eyes, focusing on the ugly spotted-white tile flooring. "Uh, thanks," I say quickly, attempting to move past him.

Dean has none of that though, and he stops my escape. "Meg, we need to talk," he pleads, a desperate look coming into his eyes, making me raise an eyebrow. "Please?"

I sigh, shoulders drooping, and I cross my arms over my chest. "I'm ready to hear it," I lean against the wall, preparing myself mentally, physically, and emotionally for what Dean has to tell me.

He places his hands on my shoulders, looking straight into my tree-brown eyes. "Listen, Meg. I messed up. Big time! I was stupid and ignorant and a, a-"

"An ass?" I fill in the blank with my opinion.

"Yeah. I was an absolute ass to you. I know how you feel about that," he pauses. "stuff. I should've been more considerate to your feelings. And ditching you for Fulton! God, I'm an idiot!" He runs his hands down his face. "I didn't even think about how you would feel if I left you at the motel yourself! I assumed that you'd be okay with it, since I would've been okay with it if I was you, but I'm not. I'm really, really sorry, Meg."

I close my eyes, trying not to forgive him so easily. He notices my resolve weakening, so he pokes my cheek with his finger. "C'mon, Nutmeg. You can't stay mad at me, can you?" He raises his eyebrows, smiling playfully as I roll my eyes, pulling him into a hug. "I love you, Nutmeg."

"I love you too," I say, before punching his arm. He pulls back in shock as I smirk. "That's my payback for what you did." He shrugs, knowing he deserved every bit of that. In my opinion, I should have hit him a few more times, but I decided not to cause a scene in front of all the other teams' tables. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Charlie stroll into the cafeteria. "Hey, Charlie."

He turns and smiles at me, walking over to us. "Hey, Meg," he replies. "Uh, hey, Dean." He adds, more timidly than before. "Great game by the way. You guys played great. And Meg, first official game goal with the Ducks," he says. "Well, I'm gonna grab some food. See you guys later."

Charlie spins around, heading towards the line of players buying food. Dean glares at him, before returning his gaze to me. "Are you and him, a thing?" he asks accusingly.

I open my mouth in shock. "Me, me and, and Charlie? Oh, my God! Dean! No! No, no, no, no, no! We're just friends!" I reassure him. "I don't have a 'thing' going on with any of the guys, nor do I plan to. They're all just my friends."

Dean huffs. "Good. But I didn't like the fact that he mentioned your goal and not mine," he mumbles, still watching Charlie from across the room.

Rolling my eyes, I snap my fingers in front of his face. "He probably just forgot. Calm down, Dean," I pat his arm before walking away.

"Where are you going?"

"Back to my room, 'cause I'm not into all that 'game room' stuff. I'll see you tomorrow, Dean," I swiftly turn around and speed-walk off, not waiting for Dean to reply to me.

***************************************************************

After reading a book for a good hour and a half, Julie and Connie had burst into the room, asking me why I didn't join them in the game room. I told them I wanted to relax in peace and quiet, not hurting their feelings by saying "I don't want to be with those boys ALL THE TIME".

We fooled around for the next few hours, playing truth or dare, and telling stupid stories, before changing into our pajamas and slipping into our beds.

That's where I'm currently at. I woke up because I was freezing, since Julie likes it super cold to "remind her of Maine". Bullshit. I couldn't figure out the heater and air conditioning, so I had hopped out of bed, grabbing a hoodie and tossing it over my head, before crawling back into bed, where I'm lying now, trying to fall back asleep.

It's a few minutes past midnight, and I don't think I'll be able to fall asleep again. Plus, I can hear Dean and Fulton's heavy metal music from a few doors down. God, I hate heavy metal music!

I continue to toss and turn in my bed, before a loud scream sounds from down the hall. Julie and Connie sit up quickly, both hearing the noise. We dart off the beds and open the door, peering out before almost getting trampled by Kenny, Luis, and Goldberg. Connie and Julie glance at each other, before running after them, don't ask me why.

I look back in the direction they came from to see a person stumbling out of their room, covered in some sort of white goop. As that unidentified person runs past, I grab the back of their shirt, pinning their arm behind their back, because I will not have any teammates murdered tonight.

"Ow, ow! Meg! What are ya doin'?" The person cried out, a southern accent ringing clearly. I drop his arm, and he rubs it, trying to stop the pain.

"Sorry, Dwayne," I say, looking at the ground. I raise my head, only to burst out laughing at the sight of his face. "Oh, my God! What happened?"

Dwayne huffs, glaring down the hall where the boys disappeared moments before. "Luis, Kenny, and Goldberg with a bottle of shavin' cream happened," he explains.

I chuckle and cover my mouth as he wipes some of the shaving cream off his face, only making it worse. "Oh, no, uh," I stop, mentally arguing with myself, before I make a decision. "C'mon inside. I'll get you a towel."

He nods, following me through the bedroom and into the bathroom. I point to the toilet, which has its lid down, and he sits, obediently. I pull out a white washcloth and a small hand towel, wetting both in the sink, before passing Dwayne the washcloth.

He cleans the shaving cream off his hands while I stand, waiting for him to finish. "You'll have to wash that shirt as soon as possible," I motion towards his white tee, which had white foam all over the front of it.

"Okay," he nods, taking the hand towel from me, as he starts wiping off his face. I toss the washcloth into the sink, where I rinse it off later. Dwayne gets most of the shaving cream off his face, but I roll my eyes at the other boys' immaturity.

"Ugh, it's all in your hair," I sigh, staring at the white in Dwayne's auburn hair. I remove the towel from his hands, folding it so none of the cream from his face gets anywhere else. "I'm going to apologize in advance for what I'm about to do."

His eyes widen. "Wait, what? Meg, I'm not so sure I-," I cut him off as I place the towel on his forehead, rubbing his hair with it to remove the shaving cream. He jumps a bit, probably from the cold water on the towel, but relaxes after a second. I finish as quick as I can, stepping away from him to inspect my work. "Yeah, I think I got it all out."

He stands up as I turn the faucet back on, washing the shaving cream down the drain. "Thanks, Meg. Do you, uh, want me to help?" he asks, gesturing at the towels and running water.

"No, you can leave if you want. I can do it," I flash a smile, and he exits the bathroom, leaving the door open a crack. Once the towels are clean, I hang them up on the shower pole, a reminder to put them in the laundry tomorrow.

I wipe my hand off onto my sweatpants, looking down as I walk out of the bathroom. I'm expecting the room to be empty, but instead, a shirtless Dwayne is sitting on my bed, holding Milky in his hands.

I blush and glance away from his naked torso, which by the way is very defined, and I clear my throat. He looks up, the stuffed cow in his grasp still. "What's this?" he asks.

I shuffle over and take Milky from his hands, holding it close to my body. "It's nothing," I respond, a bit defensively.

His eyebrows scrunch together, a curious look printed clearly on his face. "If it was nothin', you wouldn't've brought it," he replies. Damn. Didn't think about that.

I sigh, plopping down next to him on the bed. "My mom gave it to me when I was younger," I answer, a nice, short-and-sweet response.

"Oh," he nods, his chocolate eyes on my paler brown ones. "Was it a gift or just 'cause?" he presses further.

I keep my gaze on my feet, not wanting to tell him when my mother gave Milky to me. "I don't really want to talk about it."

Once again, Dwayne nods, standing up from my bed. "Is the washer open still?" he holds his tee shirt up, which had been lying in his lap. I shake my head, knowing that it closes at eleven every night. "Shoot, I guess this shirt's not gettin' washed 'til the mornin'."

I reach out slowly, pulling the shirt from his hands. "I'll wash the shaving cream off, then wash it in the morning for you. It'll be ruined if you don't get it off soon." Before Dwayne can argue, I push him towards the door. "Don't fight me on it, I'll give it to you after it's been washed."

"Alright, thanks Meg," I smile and begin to shut the door, but he sticks his foot out, stopping it. "Meg? Will you tell me someday? About you, I mean?"

I sigh, gazing up into his eyes for a few moments before answering. "Maybe someday I'll tell you. Not today. But someday."