"Do you think we should call it a day?" I ask Tristan as I guide my motorcycle out of the alley. "I don't know, what time is it?" "Like five, I think," I reply. "Then yeah," he says, and hugs me tighter as I release the throttle. I head my bike towards home.

Hannah's p.o.v. (surprise)

Da-dun-da-dun-da!

"Yes, Lisa?" I say, sliding the answer button on my cell phone. "Hey, baby," she says cheerfully. "Wanna come over?" "Sure," I say, grabbing my purse and keys. I head out the door and slip behind the wheel of my car. "See you in five," I say, and hang up. I start the engine and drive to my girlfriend's house.

Not bothering to knock, I fit my key into the lock, turning it and letting myself into Lisa's house. She doesn't hear me. She's working on a computer, which I find surprising. Her job doesn't require electronic work. Curious, I go closer, but she still doesn't hear me.

It's not until I get close enough to touch her back do I realize that she's plugged into her IPhone, listening to Hayley Kiyoko. I peer over her shoulder at the computer screen and let out a gasp. 

She's on Microsoft Word, opened up into a new document. The title says, "Say You'll Stay: A Lesbian Romance." I smile. I never knew Lisa intended to write a book, and I didn't know she was making a romance. I didn't know she had any literary talent at all!

Smiling, I creep up on her, bouncing on the balls of my toes like a jogger warming up. Then I throw my arms around Lisa's waist, and hug her as best I can with the chair between us. 

Lisa jumps, then whirls around and shouts, "Jesus Christ, woman! You scared the shit out of me!" I smile sweetly and she plants a kiss on my lips."I didn't know you were writing a book," I say. She shrugs. "I didn't want to tell anybody yet. I wasn't sure if it would work out." "I'm sure it will," I tell her, rubbing circles on her back with my free hand.

Lisa smiles like I've handed her an Academy Award. I plop down on her sofa, brandishing my cell phone. "So, there's a Pride event in the next town over tomorrow, are we going?" I ask. "When id it?" she asks as she turns off her computer. "Nine o' clock," I say as Lisa sprawls her body across my lap. "Yeah, we can go."

"What about Alex?" I ask, turning so I face my girlfriend. Lisa shrugs her shoulders in indifference. "I don't know. I understand why she's concerned, after Orlando, but we need to go." I nod in agreement. "Let's just not tell her we're going," Lisa says. I nod reluctantly. "Yeah, I guess it'd be better if she didn't know."

Smiling, Lisa rolls off of my lap and pulls me into hers. I settle back in the familiar comfort of her arms.

Alex's p.o.v.

"There you are!" my mother cries as soon as Tristan and I walk in the door. "I was about to send out a search party!" I take my cell phone out to see I've got five missed calls, all from Mom. Oops.

She rolls her eyes and goes back to preparing dinner. "Where's Reese?" I ask to no one in particular as I take off my coat. Mom appears at the doorway again and says, with a hint of worry in her voice, "She couldn't stop coughing, so I sent her upstairs with some honeyed tea and made her lay down." Tristan's expression goes from quiet contentment to sheer panic.

He grabs my hand and rushes up the stairs. "Tristan, what is it?" I ask, confused by his behavior. "A cough," he says tensely, "Is one of the first symptoms of lung cancer."

A hard, icy ball of fear settles in my stomach, but I remind myself that I have to be brave, for Tristan. "Don't jump to conclusions. She could just have a cold." "We're at the beach, Alex," he says. "Where we she have caught one?" I sigh. He has a point there.

"Well, let's just check on her, then," I say, urging him towards her room. 

After taking one look at Reese, I know that something is seriously wrong with her. Her skin has a yellowish tinge, making her look look sick and pasty. All of the color has drained from Tristan's face. She rolls over onto her back, and I see her wincing in pain as she does so.

Tristan moves forward, taking her hand. "What's wrong, baby girl?" "My chest," she whispers hoarsely. "My chest hurts." I grab my cell phone and Google 'symptoms of lung cancer'.

Tristan strokes Reese's hair as she wheezes and coughs. Turning my eyes back to her, I see her cough up a little bit of blood and my heart starts to beat faster. Tears blur my vision, and I angrily blink them back. I do not need to fall apart now.

"Mom!" I scream as my search result finally loads. "Look at this," I say to Tristan. He scans the list of symptoms and clutches Reese's hand tighter. "It looks like it's already spread to her liver and bones," he says, fear mounting in his voice.

"Hang on, baby," I say. "You're going to be all right." My voice cracks on the last word. Reese takes a gulping breath of air, and tears gather behind my lashes as I realize how short of breath she is.

Mom appears in the doorway, holding a dish towel and a wooden spoon. "What is it?" she asks, doubling over, trying to catch her breath. "It's Reese," I say, pointing at the inert lump on the bed that sounds like a half-alive person. "Oh, no," Mom says, pressing her hand to her mouth.

Tristan gathers her weak body, and Reese allows herself to go limp in his arms. I take my mother's hand and we fly down the stairs after Tristan.

***

He drives to the emergency room as fast as he can while Mom cries on my shoulder and I fight back my own rising dam. "This is all my fault," she sobs. "I saw the coloring of her skin; I should've done something! I should've checked on her, but I was too focused on making dinner!"

"Shh," I say, stroking her hair. "It's nobody's fault. There's nothing you could've done." Tristan pulls up to the ER entrance and we all rush inside. The ER nurse takes one look at Reese and begins to dial on a phone. When she's finished, she says, "They're coming."

The doctors arrive with a stretcher and load Reese onto it. I watch as they wheel her away, a unsettling feeling of dread overcoming me. Fear lodges in my throat, and I pick up Tristan's hand, squeezing it tightly.

He fills out the information needed, and we wait.

***

About thirty minutes later, a doctor in dressed in a white lab coat calls, "Reese Daniels?" Tristan and I jump to our feet. Mom rises a second later, looking unsteady. "How is she?" Tristan asks, panic edging in his tone. The doctor sighs, a grim expression on her face. My heart sinks.

"She's in the Pediatric ICU. We've got her on a respirator." "But?" Mom asks, and I squeeze both of their hands tightly. "We've determined that she's suffering from Stage Four lung cancer." Tristan seems to know what that means, and draws his breath in sharply. The doctor continues. "I'm sorry, but there's nothing we can do."