It was the fourth day of their trip, with only three more days to go until they went their separate ways again, and they still had not seen Vallie.

The worry was starting to claw at them, though none of them wanted to voice their concerns aloud. It felt silly, like something that only happened in a movie. Vallie was probably fine, working extra shifts at the hospital simply because she knew they were in need and couldn't say no, meanwhile all of her friends were worrying about the worst possible outcome.

Ophelia found herself questioning why Vallie wasn't calling the house phone, or why she wasn't calling Tyler's phone, but texting him instead. None of them had seen the texts, of course, and that worried her further. She knew that she would feel much better just hearing her voice, so she punched Vallie's number into the landline and prayed that the girl would answer. It went straight to voicemail.

Ophelia sat down on the couch in a huff, then stood back up and paced, finding that she couldn't sit still. Lou was in the living room too, sitting on the couch quietly with her knees pulled up to her chest. She didn't like this, not one bit. Watching Ophelia pace back and forth was making her feel sick, though, so she reached for the girl's wrist as she passed to slow her.

"Want to paint my nails or something?" Lou suggested, just to give them something to do. Ophelia hesitated, then nodded.

Ophelia went to the downstairs bathroom and dug through the medicine cabinet, happy to find one bottle of red nail polish. It was the only option, so even if Lou didn't like the shade, she'd have to accept it. Ophelia grabbed a few paper towels and they both sat cross legged on the floor, Lou giving her one of her hands.

"She's going to come today, and everything is going to be fine." Lou found herself whispering to the girl, because Tyler was still in the house and she didn't really want him to hear. She didn't even believe the words she was saying, but she didn't like the shake in Ophelia's hands, so she said them anyways.

"You're right." Ophelia nodded. She didn't believe the words either. "Can we talk about something else, until then?"

Lou nodded, her eyes trained on the way Ophelia slowly painted her pinky finger nail. "What do you want to talk about?"

"Are you seeing anyone?" Ophelia paused her motion, looking up into Lou's eyes. She saw the confusion and fear in Lou's eyes before she even opened her mouth.

Lou realized that this meant everyone knew her and Topher were no longer together. She felt sick to her stomach, thinking about the night of Vallie's wedding. She had been so foolish to stay the night with Caspar, she knew the others would whisper, and this was her proof.

"I mean, I just assumed you and Topher were no longer together because—"

"Because of the night of Vallie's wedding." Lou finished the sentence for her, squeezing her eyes shut. Now it was her hands that were shaking.

"Vallie's wedding?" Ophelia paused and furrowed her brows, placing the brush back into the nail polish. "What does that have to do with anything? I was going to say because I ran into him at a grocery store in Pittsburgh a few months back. He didn't say anything about you, which kind of told me all I needed to know."

Lou's mouth felt dry, knowing she had just outed herself. She gulped, unable to return Ophelia's wide-eyed gaze.

"I just assumed, since me and Caspar stayed the night together, you guys would talk..." Lou's voice was quiet, hating having to say any of this out loud. She knew she had to, though. She was too far gone. Plus, maybe some small part of her was so very tired of keeping this in.

"Why would I assume that was weird?" Ophelia cocked her head to the side, trying to reach Lou's eye. "I mean, Marc and I stayed together and we just ordered room service and watched movies all night. Did—Oh my god." The implications of Lou's nervousness finally hit her. "Did something happen between you two?"

Lou didn't answer, because she could not reveal herself any further. Her silence seemed to be answer enough, though, as Ophelia squealed and grasped at her shoulders, giving her a light shake. When Lou didn't perk up, Ophelia's hands fell away and her face dropped.

"Is this not a good thing?" Ophelia was confused again. Caspar was great, and Lou was great, both in their odd little ways, so she couldn't imagine how this could ever be bad.

"Please, just don't say anything." Lou pleaded with her, finally meeting her eyes. Ophelia nodded, then continued painting her nails again in silence.

In that moment, Lou wished that she were different. She wished that she could spill everything, tell Ophelia about the way Caspar made her heart pound in a way Topher—or anyone else, for that matter—never did. She wished that she could tell her how it terrified her, the thought of letting someone in that she actually cared about when she knew nothing good ever came her way. She wished she could tell her how she knew that Caspar wanted to give her everything that night, and how she was too scared to take it. Instead, she just stayed silent.

Ophelia was no longer worrying solely about Vallie, which should have been a good thing. Instead, she was worrying about all of her friends, and about how little she really knew about them anymore. Tyler was scary, which scared her for Vallie. Lou couldn't open up to anyone, and that was clearly hurting her. Marc was so very tired, in a way that three days of sleep could never solve. Amory was hiding from himself on a field in front of millions of people. Nadia was outside of her reach. Caspar, well, she didn't know why she should worry about Caspar, but that worried her more. He never let anyone close enough.

Outside, Nadia had convinced Amory to throw his football around. It was the only thing she could think of to get his mind off of his fears. She wasn't quite as worried as everyone else seemed to be, because some part of her knew she would do the same thing as Vallie. Sure, she would show up halfway through a vacation if work or something else came up, why should she judge Vallie for doing the same? The only thing that plagued her was the fact that she didn't trust a word out of Tyler's mouth, which in turn negated all of her previous points.

"Go long." Nadia commanded, waiting a few moments as Amory jogged away. She threw the ball while he was still running, watching as it arched and came down, landing in his hands easily.

Rather than throw the ball back, Amory tossed it between his hands as he walked back towards her. He didn't want to be doing this, not really. It wasn't a task that could get his mind off of Vallie, because it came so naturally to him. For the past half an hour, it had done nothing to quiet his mind. Throw. Where is Vallie? Catch. Why hadn't they heard from her? Throw. Should he kick Tyler's ass? Catch. Why was his stomach in knots? Throw. And so on.

"Nads, I actually think I'm going to take a break." Amory tossed the ball lightly back to her with a nod of his head. He was heading back into the house before she had a chance to respond.

Nadia watched his retreating form and sighed. She wanted to lift everyones spirits, to convince everyone that everything was fine, but it wasn't working. She wasn't used to this, she typically was so good at smoothing things over, but this seemed out of her control. Nadia sat down in the grass for a moment, then sprawled out on her back and looked up towards the clouds. She stayed like that for sometime, nearly letting herself drift off to sleep, before she heard the sliding door open behind her.

Nadia sat up and craned backwards, blinking against the sun to see who had come outside. It was Tyler, and the sight of him alone made her stomach flip slightly. He gave her a small nod, then reached into his back pocket and pulled out a pack of cigarettes. He kept his distance, remaining on the porch, while smoking and staring out at the expanse of the yard.

"Those things will kill you, you know." Nadia called out. She had somewhat of a tough image, mostly from owning a motorcycle, but she hated cigarettes. She hated the smell and the way that even with all of the information out there, people still chose to smoke them.

"Wow, never heard that one before." Tyler deadpanned, looking back at her. Nadia rolled her eyes and went to lie back down, but Tyler quickly shook his head and took one step off of the porch. "Sorry, I'm just being an ass. I didn't sleep well last night."

Nadia thought about quipping back that he was always an ass, but she didn't feel the particular fire that she normally felt. All of her friends' worries were really having an impact on her, making her worry, and she didn't like it. Instead, she simply shrugged.

"How close were you and Vallie?" Tyler asked, taking another step forward. He kept his distance, though, taking small puffs from his cigarette while he awaited her response.

"Were?" Nadia sat up further, the hairs on the back of her neck standing up. She didn't like the past tense.

"Well, yeah. I know you guys aren't very close now." Tyler gave her an odd look, furrowing his brows. Nadia exhaled, cursing herself internally for getting so worried.

"I'd say we were pretty close." Nadia shrugged. "Why do you ask?"

"You just seem so different than her." Tyler answered shortly, offering no further explanation. Nadia wasn't sure if that was meant to be a good or a bad thing. She felt as if she were under a microscope then, his gaze intense upon her. After a moment, he seemed to remember his cigarette, and he took one final drag before flicking it aside and stomping it out.

Tyler turned and went back into the house without another word, and Nadia watched as he went. She never liked the way Tyler looked at her, and now she was left contemplating if that were something worth mentioning to Vallie upon her arrival. Nadia eventually decided that it would not be worth it, because her protests of Tyler were what pulled them apart in the first place. She laid back down, and this time, she did fall asleep.

Inside, Amory found Marc. He felt like he hadn't spent as much time alone with the boy as he would have liked. Marc was in the kitchen, making himself a sandwich for lunch, and Amory passed Lou and Ophelia on the way. They got uncharacteristically quiet as he went by, but both still offered him a small wave and weak smile.

"Want one?" Marc looked up as Amory entered the kitchen. He held up his sandwich in offering, his eyebrows raised.

"Nah man, I'm not hungry." Amory replied, resting his elbows on the counter. A truer statement would have been that he was not sure that he could eat. He didn't want to worry Marc, though.

"I thought about offering to make lunch for everyone, but I don't really think anyone is up for that right now." Marc sighed, eyeing his plate of food. Part of the reason he loved cooking was because of how it brought people together, how eating could be such a shared experience. Unfortunately, he wasn't sure that even the most gourmet of lunches could solve anything at the moment.

"I think maybe we should make a plan." Amory spoke next, his voice suddenly firm and serious. Marc pushed his plate aside and gave his friend his full attention. "If Vallie isn't in today, we drive out tomorrow and try to check in on her, try to figure out what's up with her."

"And if we can't find her?" Marc asked the question that everyone was thinking, but no one wanted to say out loud. He could've sworn he could see Amory wince before regaining his composure.

"Then we confront Tyler."

"Or," Marc sighed, leaning towards Amory. "We could skip that step and just call the police."

Amory bit down on his lip, holding his friend's gaze, before sighing and conceding with a nod of his head. Marc seemed satisfied by that, so he returned his attention to his sandwich. Amory knew, though, that if something really had happened to Vallie, they would not have time to call the police before his hands were on Tyler.

Caspar was upstairs, finishing Gone Girl. He felt a bit sick as he finished the last line and casts the book aside. It was well written, he supposed, and in the end he felt the two main characters really deserved one another—and that wasn't a good thing. 

His mind reeled as he thought of sweet Vallie, the Vallie that he knew. The Vallie whose favorite book was Wuthering Heights and who cried happy tears at the end of every romcom. People were multifaceted, he knew, but he hated the thought of her now being cynical, or jaded. He knew that the world, and most of the people inhabiting it, sucked. Still, he had always loved Vallie's unrelenting desire for the fairytale, and he had hoped she would never change.

Caspar stretched out on the sofa, leaning his head back and closing his eyes. His mind was very much awake, though, so he knew that there was no chance he would be able to rest. 

This cabin felt like it would be the perfect setting for a murder mystery novel. Which ultimately made him think through every one he had ever read. He tried to place himself and each of the others into the different archetypes, though he didn't think of Vallie as the victim. When his mind strayed that way briefly, he felt sick. 

If this were a murder mystery, he decided that Tyler being the killer would be far too obvious. He also felt he would be too obvious, as the quiet brooding one. The best plot twist would probably be making Ophelia the killer, but the thought alone made him snort quietly to himself. 

After growing bored of his musings, his mind turned briefly to Vallie, wondering where she was at that exact moment and what she was doing, then to Lou. He found himself wondering if after this trip were done they would once again go their separate ways and stop speaking. He didn't want that, but he also didn't know how to avoid it. His life at home was fine, he was surrounded by books and friends and family and that's all he ever really dreamed of growing up. 

Still, he couldn't help but wish for just a little bit more. That was the flaw of man, he supposed; wanting more despite having plenty.  He dreamed of coming home after work and swapping stories with Lou about their days, or curling up on the couch with a book in one hand and her leaning into his side. That was too much, he knew. It was his fatal flaw of wanting all or nothing, and that night in the hotel room, Lou had chosen nothing. He would never be satisfied having only a piece of her, and she would never be vulnerable enough to let anyone have her fully. They were not well suited, he decided, but that realization did little to quench his longing.

This was why he was a reader rather than a writer. He could never articulate the proper words to make someone stay, or to mend a broken heart, or to convince someone of their worth. If he was a writer, if he could speak in elegant prose and change the world, he decided he would do little with that power. Nothing more than stringing together what ever words were necessary to bring all of his friends back together, and to ensure that they were all happy.

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heyyy we're ten chapters in that's crazy :)

where I'm at rn with plotting, this book will be around 27 chapters + an epilogue, give or take. The vacation is flying by tbh, but only about half of the book takes place here. 

Anyways! I love reading all of your comments and theories, but my lips are sealed. No question for this chapter bc tbh my mind is blank.