Lisa smirks at me when she sees Tristan, oblivious to my death glare. She quickly mounts her motorcycle, pushing it to the end of the street before starting the engine. She smiles sweetly at me before speeding off in the direction of Trent's house. Leaving me with Tristan.

I swing my leg up and over first. Tristan just stands there and watches me. I make a gesture for him to get on, but he doesn't. I raise my eyebrow, and he says, "Don't I get to drive?" I shake my head. "My bike, my rules." Grumbling something incoherent, he grudgingly gets on and wraps his arms around me. My body temperature probably raises about 100 degrees then, but I manage to keep calm so that Tristan doesn't know how his presence effects me. But when he hugs me closer and lays his head on my back as I start the engine, I let out an involuntary shiver. Ah, how I love this position! His grip tightens on me, and I know he probably thinks I'm cold. I fight to control my emotions as we drive after Lisa.

We coast to a stop in front of a modern, tan house with three stories. A small, covered pool rests in the backyard. Ivy trails the walls in luscious strands of green, giving it a quaint feel. Lisa dismounts her motorcycle, grabbing the bags she brought along for our prank. We rush over to get our instructions, supplies, and to find out what the hell she has planned.

Without explanation, she hands me a sack containing honey, glue, eggs, whipped cream, and tomatoes. She then instructs Tristan and I to put honey and whipped cream in the pool, glue on the window sashes so they can't be raised, and eggs and tomatoes in the gardens and on the welcome mat. We nod when she's finished explaining our jobs. "What are you doing?" I ask her in a whisper. She smiles. "I'm putting together a trap." She rushes off and we head to the pool.

Tristan quietly lifts the cover and I get out the honey and whipped cream. I hand Tristan a can of ReddiWhip and soon the sparkling blue surface is almost completely covered in white foam. After he's done spraying his can, I find another can of it. I open it and hand it to him, opening my mouth. "What?" he asks, looking at me like I'm crazy. "Spray some in my mouth," I tell him. He rolls his eyes but does as requested. Then he proceeds to open the honey. Devilishly, I wait until he's about to turn around. When he does, I spray him in the face with the whipped cream. And I can't help but to laugh after seeing his appearance after my attack.

He looks like Santa Claus would if he had a smoking six-pack and was wearing jeans, a tee, and no glasses. I laugh aloud and he wipes his face of the cool whip. Still laughing, I spray the remainder of the ReddiWhip into the pool.

Then I take the honey from Tristan and drizzle it in lines over the white stuff. I've almost used the full jar when I have an idea. Finding a clean spot in the whipped cream, I write in honey, "MTH." Which stands for Mobile Town Hoods, which is what Trent called us. Just so he knows who wrecked his house.

Afterwards, we move on to the gardens and have an equally good time throwing eggs and tomatoes at Trent's mother's prized gardens. Of course, we threw some at each other, too. Right now I have tomato gunk dripping down my cheek and an egg in my hair, but oh well. Tristan has it worse. We move on to the Welcome mat and I spread what's left of our eggs and tomatoes across it. Finally, I wander to the statue of a girl sitting beside their nice fountain. I take a single egg and a single tomato that I saved, and I place them in each of the girl's outstretched hands.

Next, we go to the first-floor windows. I rummage around in our sack until I find the super-glue. Tristan takes it from me and raises the first window. Carefully leaving a trail of glue along the window's sash, he closes it and is proud when the window refuses to open. I giggle quietly as we continue to glue the other first-floor windows down. When we reach the second floor, we have a problem. Lisa didn't think to bring a ladder, and neither of us is anywhere near tall enough to reach the second and third story windows.

"What are we gonna do?" Tristan asks me. I don't answer. Looking around at the house, I notice that the ivy trail follows around the entire house and has step-like cups in it's leaves. I look at Tristan, gesturing to the ivy. "No," he says. "Absolutely not." "Come on," I say. "It's perfect for me! I'm small and light. I can climb that thing." He hesitates, looks at the ivy, then back at me. "Please," I say. "I don't want to let Lisa down." "All right," he agrees reluctantly. "But be careful!"

With the glue gun in my hand, I begin climbing the ivy trellis. It seems strong enough to hold my weight. "Don't fall," Tristan calls anxiously from above. "Gee, thanks for your words of advice," I say sarcastically as I pull myself up to the first window. Carefully, I raise it and squirt a pattern of glue across the sash before putting it back down again. As I focus my weight back onto the trellis, I lose my balance for a split second. Wavering in the air, I clutch frantically at the ivy, but it's too late.

As I lose my footing, I desperately claw the air in an attempt to save myself. But the effort is futile, and I'm soon falling from the ivy trail, falling faster than I ever imagined was humanly possible. Soon, my face collides with the earth and pain shoots through me in tremors. Tristan is kneeling beside me, and he must've cushioned the rest of my body from the fall, because it's only my face that hurts.

"Are you all right?" he asks worriedly as he helps me to sit up. "I-I think so," I reply shakily. He takes my face in his palms, smoothing his hands over my cuts and bruises. He keeps running them over my face until he comes to my lip, which is bleeding profusely. He looks at it, then says, "You're gonna need stitches."