NIXON O'NEIL KNOWS TWO THINGS - one, that she is completely out of her element and two, she actually kind of likes it.

For some strange reason, she's found herself in a diner in some rich alcove off the coast of San Francisco. She's not too sure how she'd wound up here, or why, or if this is some sick joke God's pulling. Not that she believes in God.

Does she?

Maybe she did, in another life.

All she knows is that she did the thing she's always known best - run away - and did the thing she's always done worst right after - stop. And that is how she landed in some peppy diner in a suburb that is actually called Pleasanton. She wishes she was kidding. That's it's actual name. The diner, called O'Neil's (hence, the sick joke part), is like a time-piece right out of the Flower Power decade, complete with a Jukebox and a dance floor and very bohemian-chic decor. The bright red couch seats are filled with teenagers around her age, clad in denim cutoffs and tank tops and the bright smiles of students fresh into their Summer break.

And because Nixon is just that extra, when Across the Universe blasts from the jukebox, she finds herself sauntering to the middle of the empty dance floor. Completely lucid, she raises her arms and throws her head back, swaying to the rhythm of the music. She mouths the lyrics, eyes fluttering shut as she sweeps across the floor, well aware of the millions of eyes on her right now. She's not sure exactly why she thought this would be a good idea - maybe it's the thrill of entrancing a room of rich strangers, maybe it's because it's her dad's favorite song, maybe it's because she's always loved being the centre of attention.

Someone cheers her on, snapping her out of her reverie. Her eyes open, a soft smile tugging at her lips. It's a boy. Of course. He's handsome, in that classic American way with bright blue eyes and soft blond hair and jaw that could cut marble. Nixon looks right into those bright blue eyes and says, "Come on then."

He grins and he walks up to her, strong hand sliding behind her waist. "Are you from here?"

"Shhh," she whispers, placing a finger on his lip. "You're ruining the song."

They dance in silence until the song fades to All You Need is Love, wherein groups of excited teenagers decide to take to the dance floor, cherry cola-type girls dragging their quarterback boys with them.

He looks at her, smiling like he's gotten her like he gets all the girls he lays his eyes on. The gaze makes Nixon feel bare and dirty, and it's a feeling she knows too well, a feeling she wants to scrub from her body until her whole existence disappears. But she pushes the thought aside, gripped with the excitement of being someone else. Putting on a facade. Playing the role of a girl she could've been, in a life more fair.

"I just moved here," Nixon whispers.

He smiles. "My name's Luke," he says. "Care to share yours?"

She tilts her head to the side. "Not particularly. But you can call me Nix."

"Well, Nix, welcome to Pleasanton."

🍃

Somewhere between Twist and Shout and Here Comes the Sun, Nixon had gotten into the car with Luke and his friends, heading to some house party. Because they're a group of 7, Nixon is stuck on Luke's lap, but she's not complaining.

"So, Nix, where're you from?" the blonde girl beside her, Gwen, asks, before taking a long drag of her cigarette.

"San Francisco," she says. "Used to live along Chestnut Street," she adds, throwing in the lie for fun.

One of the guys in front lets out a low whistle. "Damn, Nix's got money."

She smiles wryly, silently grateful she had just changed into fresh clothes. Luke's hand manages to find her thigh, and she smirks as he massages her inner thigh.

"We're just comfortable," she says. "My parents just got divorced, and Daddy dragged me down here." Luke leans to her and nibbles on her ear.

"Jesus, are we near yet? Lucas can't seem to keep it in his pants," Gwen remarks, eyeing the pair beside her.

Nixon laughs, leaning into Luke. She can't help but blend in to the group, pretending that they're her old group of friends. She's figured out the dynamics of their little group, more or less. There's Luke and Gwen, of course, as well as Alex, Rose, Maddie and Felix. Felix and Rose are dating, Maddie's a lesbian, Gwen is a chronic smoker and Alex owns O'Neil. Or vice versa. Nixon's never been good with names.

"We have arrived!" Rose shouts, having been chosen designated driver.

Everyone spills out of the car, laughing and giggling like they've all known each other their entire life. She wouldn't be surprised if they did - they're the stereotypical popular gang that's always just existed. Maddie, the tall Asian girl, grabs Nixon's hand, grinning. "Lukey, can I borrow your lady for a little while? Just gonna show her around," she says airily.

Luke pouts. "I was gonna do that."

She rolls her eyes. "As if, you horndog." She tugs at Nixon's wrist, and Nixon whirls out of Luke's possessive grip.

She laughs and smirks at Luke. "Patience, darling. I'll look for you once I've made my rounds," Nixon says.

Maddie beams up at her. "Pleasanton is no San Fo, unfortunately." She grabs two bottles of beer, offering one to Nixon. "But at least we have amazing parties. You'll feel right at home."

Nixon accepts the beer graciously, tipping some into her mouth. Maddie - short for Madeleine Lee, she'd later learn - grins again, full of energy and spirit. She grabs Nixon's wrist, introducing her to people whose faces she wouldn't remember.

"This is Nix," she says to various people, and Nixon flashes them a pretty smile, and Maddie drags her off somewhere else.

Apparently satisfied having introduced Nixon to the room, and claiming automatic credit for snatching up Pleasanton's newest addition, Maddie plops down onto the sofa, tilting her head back. "Well," she sighs. "That was exhausting, wasn't it?"

Nixon gives her a smile in return. "Quite."

"The people here are all nice, though! Wait, how old are you?"

"18."

"Oh! Are you going to college near here? Or taking a gap year?"

"Well -"

"Hold that thought!" she exclaims, eyeing someone behind Nixon. "Be back in a flash."

And just as soon as Maddie ran into Nixon's life, she left. Nixon shrugs, barely caring and hardly intending on staying in Pleasanton for more than a day. She'd do a quick round, rob someone, and vanish again.

"Hi," someone says, and she looks up. Again, it's a boy, but he lacks the easygoing confidence that Luke or any of his friends possess. "This seat taken?"

"Be my guest," Nixon says, scooting over and allowing the stranger to take Maddie's seat.

He gives her an awkward smile and pops out his phone. He looks so uncomfortable, so out of his scene, and Nixon can't help but feel sorry for him. She kind of feels like him - lost, confused - she just hides it better.

"I'm Nixon," she says, offering her real name, or at least a part of it.

He glances up at her, eyebrows raised in small shock at being addressed. He smiles, and she realizes that he's cute, in a sweet, boyish way. "Christopher," he says, extending a hand.

Awkward, she shakes it and laughs.

"So, are you new or something?" he asks, turning to her and clicking his phone shut.

She shifts in her seat. "Or something." A smile crosses her face. "I'm kinda just visiting."

"Oh? For how long?"

"Honestly?" She pauses, deliberating honesty. It's such a simple thing, to not lie, to not be Nixon O'Neil, to be her, her as she was born, her as her parents had held her to be, to be the full, true her - not a shortened, abridged, honey-coated version. "I don't know. Kinda just dropped in."

Christopher, to Nixon's surprise, actually looks interested. "Where from and more importantly, why Pleasanton, of all places?" He cracks a smile. "I mean the goddamn name, right?"

Nixon laughs. "Right? I was thinking the exact same thing. Like what were our forefathers thinking?"

He swings an arm over the sofa. "We actually learnt this in school. The story goes something along the lines of 'British man rides horse. British man runs into beautiful girl with big, open fields. "Ah!" he declares, "By the power vested in me, I declare this Pleasant. Ton."' If memory serves me well, anyway."

"Great story. I'm sure you aced the SATs." Nixon leans her head against her arm. "Wait, how old are you guys, anyway?"

"You are looking at the face of a fresh grad." Christopher beams, evidently proud of himself, puffing out his chest in a faux-macho way.

She can't help but laugh at how ridiculous he looks. He's lean enough, but he definitely doesn't have a quarterback's body. "You're awfully proud of yourself. Where're you headed? Harvard? MIT? Stanford?"

He scoffs. "As if. NYU, thank you very much."

She raises her eyebrows, impressed. "Academic, but liberal and not irritatingly high-brow. Also, on the other side of the coast. Impressive."

He bows his head. "Thank you, thank you. I'm guessing you just got out of high school yourself?"

"You guess right. No wonder you're going to NYU."

"That's right. I guessed my way through all my tests. You totally got me." He points to himself. "Not a nerd."

Nixon raises her arms as if in self-defense. "Hey, I believe you, man."

Christopher grins, but it slowly fades as Nixon feels two arms wrap around her waist. "Hey," she hears. Luke. "I see you've met Christopher." Christopher attempts a smile at this. "This is why I didn't want Maddie showing you around. I knew she'd ditch and you'd be stuck with the likes of Christopher Mckinney."

Her eyebrows rise at the tension. "Oh?" She pokes Christopher with her foot. "I'd say he's not too bad."

At this, Christopher offers her a genuine smile - something warm and friendly. Nixon promises to remember him. A semblance of a friend. He stands up, tugging at his brown corduroy jacket. "I'll see you around, Nixon."

She lifts her hand in a small wave and turns to look at Luke. "Well, that wasn't very nice."

He smirks. "So, Nixon, huh?" The name against his tongue sounds dirty and crass and makes Nixon want to crawl away into some hole somewhere. But she musters up a smile, a charming smile that promises silly nothings, that will bring her closer to this boy who is the picture of white privilege. Because if she's going to steal from someone, it's going to be from someone who deserves it. Someone like Luke.

"A GOP gal. Your parents a fan of Watergate?" he asks.

No, she wants to scream. Instead, she rests her head against his shoulder. "Something like that."

He smirks. "MAGA," he says, with all the pride of a rich, white boy dressed in something right out off J-Crew.

"Amen," she says, swallowing her disgust.

"Let's go to my room," he offers, tugging at her arm.

Nixon looks at him, surprised. "This is your house?"

He grins, pulling her up and slinking an arm around her waist. "Yeah. My sister wanted to throw a graduation party."

"Cool," she says, uninterested and eyeing the different things she could steal.

Eventually, they squeeze through the crowd and find Luke's room, only to realize that it's occupied by none other than Maddie and some girl. Instead, they find their way to Luke's sister's room, which is void of people and full of half-packed boxes and Stanford flags.

Luke tells her that his sister, Beth, is Stanford-bound and the pride and joy of their family. He says that she got a scholarship without even applying for it, but she turned it down because they could afford it anyway. She doesn't miss his subtle brags about their money, as if she couldn't infer it from their mansion-like house. Not one to waste time on small talk, Luke's mouth soon finds hers and his hands find her body. Soon, they're shredding off their clothes - Luke, evidently enjoying himself, and Nixon trying to. She won't pretend that he's bad. He's better than some of the other guys she's slept with, being strangely considerate in bed and wanting to please her a little too. They do a little foreplay, which Nixon loves the most, and do the deed, which Luke likes, of course.

"You're fucking amazing," he breathes, when he's done. He glances at her. "You didn't fake it, did you?"

She snuggles closer to him. "No," she says, and to be fair to him, she's not lying.

"Feel free to stay the night, okay? Beth's probably at some other party, anyway," he says. "We should do this again some time."

Nixon smirks. At the end of if, he's just another stupid high school boy looking for a hookup buddy. "Maybe."

Eventually, she realizes that he's drifted off to sleep. She lets herself close her eyes and rest for half an hour, before making her big escape. She feels for her clothes, slipping them on quietly, before deciding to grab a duffel bag. She grabs some of his sister's things - fresh clothes, underwear, medicine and food - before grabbing his jeans. She finds his wallet, grabs all the cash inside, and puts it into the bag.

She opens the door, which opens with a creak, making her wince. Luke hears this, and attempts to sit up, groggy. "Nix?" he says sleepily.

She curses under her breath and smiles at him. "I need to pee," she lies. "Be back in a sec."

He buys it, thankfully, and goes back to bed. She runs down the steps, all flustered as she snatches a bag of bread and a bottle of water.

"Nixon?" she hears.

She turns around and sees Christopher, arms folded and eyebrows creased. "Are you stealing their...bread?"

Nixon laughs dryly. "It's a joke." She holds the loaf up. "Let's get this bread?"

Not buying it, he glances at the duffel bag in hand. "Is that Beth's?"

"Listen," she says slowly. "I can explain."

Before she can even start, she hears Luke's voice. "Where is that fucking bitch?" he practically roars.

"Fuck," she hisses, glancing up Christopher and smiling. "Do you happen to have a car?"