Davy's lips curved into a small, somewhat happy smile. Happy, yet there was a hint of nervousness glimmering in those warm brown orbs. Or perhaps it was excitement. Anxiety? Fear? It was hard to tell.

"What're you doing here?" Davy asked, sitting on the sand in front of Rosemary and crossing his legs.

"I could ask you the same thing," Rosemary replied. She closed her eyes and mentally cursed herself. She hadn't meant to sound to cold and snappy.

Davy didn't seem to notice. "We live here," he said.

"Davy," one of the boys with the blonde hair tapped Davy's shoulder repeatedly like a child.

"What, Pete?" Davy turned to him.

"An introduction would be nice, you know."

Rosemary peered up at the young, handsome blonde, then at the two tallest ones. The taller one of the two had raven-black hair, topping it off with a green wool hat. His eyes were a serious, brown-hazel sort of colour, which Rosemary had found quite attractive. The boy next to him seemed more playful. His hair was slick and a soft brown. His eyes were child-like, cute, and a lighter hazel than the taller one. He had a sharp jawline adorned with a cheeky smile. As for the blonde one, he appeared innocent. He had a wisp of shyness and sensitivity in his lightly brown-shaded eyes. They were utterly adorable.

It was strange. These four were quarters of a whole, Rosemary thought. They were no other than The Monkees. Most would kill to meet them. Here was Rosemary, meeting them and actually personally knowing one of them. She should've felt lucky. But she didn't.

"Davy tends to forget about us when he's in conversation with someone else," the blonde boy sheepishly told Rosemary. Davy lightly punched his shoulder. "I'm Peter."

"I don't forget about you, jeez," Davy muttered, blushing.

"I'm Mike," the childish one greeted in a false Texan accent.

"I don't sound like that!" the real Texan one, the tallest one, said indignantly. "He's Micky, I'm Mike."

"I know," Rosemary smiled kindly. "I'm Rosemary."

Micky let out a loud, "Oh!" in surprise, as though in odd realization. Mike quickly cupped his hand over his mouth to muffle his voice and sent Rosemary an apologetic look.

"Sorry 'bout that," he said. "It's just that Davy's told us about you."

"Did he now?" Rosemary glanced at Davy in shock. Davy slowly nodded and looked away. "Well, it's wonderful to meet you all. Oh, this is Russell, by the way."

"So I'm not forgotten?" Russell poked at Rosemary's belly.

"I couldn't forget you," Rosemary giggled, both from embarrassment and from Russell's touch.

"Touching," Micky wiped away a fake tear.

"Jealous?" Rosemary joked.

Micky turned to Davy. "I like her already."

Davy silently nodded as he gazed at the ground, suddenly finding the wet sand very interesting. Rosemary stared at him for a split second before turning back to the three.

"Russell's my sweetheart," she said proudly, slinging her arms around Russell's neck.

This had caught Davy's attention. His head snapped back up, a hurt look glazing over his eyes. Rosemary did her best to ignore him. He had been on her mind for two days. She didn't want to sulk over him again. Especially now that she and Russell were living together.

"Your boyfriend?" Davy said in a small voice that was almost inaudible. It was heartbreaking. He sounded and looked like a lost puppy.

Rosemary forced herself to look at him. "That's right," she said, trying her hardest to keep her voice from sounding cold.

"I don't think I've seen you two around," Mike said thoughtfully while sending Davy a sorrowful look. "Where do you live?" He was clearly trying to switch the subject so it wouldn't get too awkward.

"Uh," Rosemary coughed uncomfortably. "I used to live in an apartment with my best friend, Carol."

"Used to?" Peter's eyes widened. "Is that the apartment building that burned down yesterday?"

"The very one."

"I'm so sorry to hear that," Peter said softly.

"Thanks, but you shouldn't be sorry," Rosemary smiled. "In a weird sort of way, it kind of did me some good."

"What? How?"

"Where're you staying at?" Micky asked. "I mean, if you don't have anywhere to stay..."

"Actually," Russell glared, throwing a protective arm over Rosemary's bare shoulders. "She's living with me."

"Oh," Micky lifted his hands up in surrender. "Sorry, man."

"It's fine, but thank you for the offer," Rosemary smiled reassuringly. How strange. She had just met them, and they already offered to let her stay with them. But maybe they wanted to do Davy a favor...

"How's your girlfriend, Davy?" she asked.

Davy gave her a pained look. "Rosy... Rosemary," he corrected himself hastily. "She's not my girlfriend."

"She's not?" Rosemary eyed him suspiciously. "You sure?"

"Yes-"

"Because kissing her behind my back kind of gave it away." Rosemary couldn't contain herself. The words flew out of her mouth naturally, not allowing her to give her time to think of what she should have said.

"Rosy-"

"Don't call me that." Rosemary glowered. Rosy had always been a special nickname that Davy had given her the day they met. No one else had ever called her that. No one except Davy. Back when they had met, Rosemary only allowed Davy to call her that.

"Why Rosy?"

"It's short for Rosemary. And it's cute, just like you."

"Rosemary," Davy said. "That girl meant nothing to me, alright? You know that."

"How would I know-"

"Guys," Peter spoke up before things could get uglier. "I know you two've had your differences and you're a little mad at each other. But why don't we try to be civil? You can set your differences aside, can't you?"

Peter was clearly the peacemaker of the group. Making peace between two or more people was an important aspect to Rosemary, so she very much liked that about him.

"Alright," she breathed out.

"Sure," Davy agreed quietly.

For the rest of the day, Rosemary and Russell got to know the boys. Rosemary and Davy hadn't spoken to each other after their small argument, though they had made little eye contact with each other. And soon, the sun started to set, painting the atmosphere with dark red, purple, orange, and a tint of yellow and blue. It glittered over the ocean waters, making it sparkle like a crystal.

Rosemary and Russell stood up, bade The Monkees a polite goodbye, and left.

As they walked down the beach, Rosemary snuck a quick, final glance back at Davy, who she noticed was staring at the back of her head. They granted each other sad looks before turning away. Rosemary sped away beside Russell without looking back.