"DYLAN WHY DID YOU not tell me you were tailing Miguel to Mexico?" Iris' angry voice came through the speaker. Dylan's brown locks of hair were splayed out across the pillow, her phone next to her. "Are you safe at least? As one of the only people cursed to be able to call you a friend I feel as though I deserve to know what's going on," She joked. Iris' voice was laced with worry.

"Yeah, I guess we are. Miguel's pretty sure he found his dad. We got invited to stay for dinner because Miguel decided to play hero and saved the guy's son's life," She rambled. Iris paused on the other line.

"Okay so what I'm hearing is . . . you might not be back for a while?" Iris questioned nervously. Dylan sighed. "You don't sound happy, Dylan. What's really up?"

"I don't know. Miguel really wants this to be a good way to reconnect with his actual father. I probably should have stayed behind, but I wanted to be there for him in case things went south," The girl admitted. It was true. Dylan had wanted Miguel to figure things out. And if that's what it took, then so be it.

"You're all soft now. It's weird."

"Being in a relationship is weird. I feel like I'm doing it wrong. I feel like I lost all of my interesting qualities," Dylan ranted to Iris. Iris nodded, understanding the feeling even though she had never been in a relationship.

"Do you regret it?" Iris waited for a reply. Dylan said nothing, and the redhead began to fear that maybe Dylan genuinely believed that she had made a mistake.

"I just feel like I've gotten in way over my head. There's nothing wrong with Miguel," She began. "I literally hate how he makes me all mushy. But we have different priorities and I just feel like they don't connect."

Miguel had found his father, for better or worse. Dylan still had a whole life in California that she couldn't decide whether she wanted to escape from or not. That was part of the reason she'd come and fled to Mexico with her new boyfriend — to get out. Johnny was messed up, as much as she wanted to defend him and despite knowing that he had good intentions. Terry Silver had made things so much worse for Dylan and her friends that it made her want to shrink away and hide from the evil man, and create an identity that was completely separate from her life in Reseda. Her mom was going to be released from prison in only a few short months, and loving her didn't mean that she wasn't afraid of her life changing.

Dylan had been on her own for so long that she didn't know how to cope with people caring for her.

The only reason she knew she'd come back was because of her friends. Demetri had been with her through thick and thin. Nothing made them argue anymore. With Eli back, the trio had been reunited as strong as ever, and Iris was a welcome addition to the team. Dylan couldn't forget Charlotte, who despite going through her own troubles, was a good friend she could count on.

That left the Miguel predicament.

"Dylan, guess what?"

"Speak of the devil," She smirked awkwardly at Miguel. He stood in the doorway of the room she was staying in with his arm on the post. He was shirtless, having just gotten out of the shower. "Gotta go, Iris. I'll call you later, yeah?"

"You'd better. The whole world'll probably go down before then over here."

"That Iris?" Miguel asked once he knew for a fact that she had hung up the call. She nodded in response. "Um, we're heading out to some bar, exclusive club . . . thing, in a few minutes."

"So a fight club," She finished. Miguel hesitated while he dragged a towel through his wet hair. "I'm not an idiot." She gave him an unimpressed look. She tried to play off a bored look. "Am I invited?"

"I didn't think you'd want to come," Miguel answered. He gave her a strange look, eyeing her closely. "I mean, you can, of course."

"Nice try, fixing a slip up like that." Dylan stood up and rummaged through a bag of clothes she'd bought a few hours ago. Miguel had caught up with his probable father and his partner while Dylan explored on her own.

"Where'd you get that?" Miguel looked confused, watching her pull out a long maxi skirt with vibrant colors, and a white tank top.

"You were busy, so I left and picked up some stuff I needed. I didn't know how long we were staying and I barely took anything from California with me," She explained. Miguel stood there in thought. Dylan stared at him for a minute before turning back to the dresser.

Miguel watched with wide eyes as his girlfriend began to pull the t-shirt up over her head, exposing her bare arms and torso. His cheeks flushed and he turned around quickly, almost stumbling as he did so.

"W-what are you doing?" He asked her, aghast and flustered. She looked at him in the mirror strangely, as if she had no idea why he was frozen with his fists clenched standing there awkwardly.

"You're not seeing anything more than you would have on the beach," She told him carelessly, tugging on her top and fixing it in the mirror. She made sure that her top covered the straps of her bra, pursing her lips so that she didn't laugh about Miguel five feet away. She glanced at him, rolling her eyes at his awkward posture. "Probably best you kept facing that wall, actually. I don't have any bottoms on."

She heard him choke as she stepped into the skirt and pulled it up.

"You don't have--?" He whispered, finding it hard to swallow. She faced him, crossing her arms over her chest.

"You can turn around, Diaz. You don't have to stand there like an idiot anymore," She told him, clasping a simple gold necklace around her neck. He turned around and she stifled another laugh at the effect she'd clearly had on him. Against her will, her eyes slid down his chest. "I think you're dry enough to put a shirt on."

He chanced a cutting smile her way.

"When you said you didn't have any bottoms on, I thought you meant something different," He told her casually.

"Trust me, we're not there yet." Dylan managed to steel herself into a composed way, continuing to banter with him. It was different now, that they were exclusive. She knew that he was attracted to her and vice versa, and that's what made it all the more harrowing.

        MIGUEL WAS INTRODUCED TO Vicente, one of the fighters of the night apparently, and Dylan took that as her cue to leave. Men and women talked and drank underneath the bright and colorful lighting and loud music pulsing around them. It was electric, but not in a way that she was impressed with. Clubbing must be much more fun than whatever this was. Hopefully.

Dylan slipped out, being ignored by Hector and Vicente ( not that she wanted any attention from them — they gave her the creeps ) and Miguel was too focused on the conversation at hand to pay attention to his girlfriend walking away from him. Dylan Oakes had to narrowly squeeze past a couple making out against a wall. Thankfully, not too many people were taking out their sexual frustrations in a fight club, so she only had to be irritated for a few moments.

"Can I get a shirley temple?" Dylan asked the bartender, sidling up to the bar. The man stared at her. "What? Don't tell me you're out of grenadine. . . "

"How old are you?" The guy asked her carefully, looking around the place where alcohol and fighting was all around. "You don't seem old enough to even be here," He grumbled, complying with her wishes and grabbing a glass for her drink.

"Exactly why I'm ordering a shirley temple," Dylan deadpanned. She swallowed large gulps of her shirley temple, relishing in the taste of it. It had been a while since she'd remembered to order one, but they never disappointed. The bartender forgot that Dylan Oakes, still very much a teenager, sat there on a leather stool and moved on.

Dylan spun in the seat, turning to glance around the club. She winced at the bloody men fighting in the cage. She couldn't see that on the other side of the exclusive club, Miguel and Hector Salazar were getting into a heated argument. Dylan had no idea at all that anything was amiss at the moment. Instead, she rested her eyes on a familiar figure that smiled sheepishly at her once he realized she'd recognized him. Her lips parted in shock when he walked towards her.

"Robby Keene's grand entrance. How's Mexico?" She asked, forcing a joking tone and carefree attitude onto her face. Robby knew easily that something was up. Dylan's smile was tense.

"Where's your guy, Dylan?" Her smile fell when he cut straight to the chase. He sounded melancholy, and she didn't want his pity. "Johnny's been looking all over for him," Robby sighed.

"Johnny's here?" Dylan mumbled out her question. He nodded at her expression. "Miguel's talking to his dad. At least, we're both pretty sure it's his dad. What do you even know about this, Robby?"

"Just that my dad wanted to find his do-over," He complained, holding out a hand to help her down from the chair. Dylan let go of him quickly, spotting the FBI print on his shirt.

"That's not fair and you know it isn't. Can't you guys give it a rest? It doesn't do anybody any good and I'm tired of it," She told him seriously, emphasizing her point. Robby's eyes softened, and he gave up on the subject. "Female body inspectors? Really?"

"It's the best my dad could do." Robby's attention shifted behind the two of them, to where Dylan could finally spot Johnny, raging about something as he punched on of the huge fighters in the face. "Oh, fuck."

"What is he doing?" Dylan cried out. Robby gave her a look that said not to bother asking, motioning for her to follow him as they took off towards the ring forming around the Lawrence man. Robby let out a guttural sound as his father ( who he liked to tell people he didn't care much for ) sustained some nasty hits.

The fight continued, as Robby even had to fight off a man once his 'FBI' shirt was revealed to suspecting fighters and security guards. He seemed to be able to defend himself, so Dylan stood back and watched nervously.

"Looking pretty spry for a tourist, Keene!" She cupped her hands over her mouth, teasing him. He didn't look at her, only shook his head. Johnny needed more help than he did, and Dylan watched, vaguely impressed as Robby tossed his father what looked like a pepper.

The enormous man screamed and wailed like a child when Johnny squeezed it into his eyes. The crowd cheered eagerly at the impressive fight, and the announcer yelled something into a microphone in Spanish.

"Donde esta Hector?" Johnny asked in a terrible accent. He noticed Dylan standing meekly off to the side, awkward and uncomfortable but otherwise unharmed. "Dylan? You okay?" He stood up with Robby's help and chiding words, slowly making his way over to her.

"She's alone, dad. We don't know where Diaz is," Robby answered for her. She was grateful for it.

"Oh."

"So wait a minute, which side are you on, again?" Dylan asked Robby, looking him over. "'Cause last time I saw you you tried to whoop Eli's ass and failed."

"Unfortunately for you, I'm on your side. And I'm here to stay," Robby answered her accusing questions calmly. Johnny facepalmed, but stepped over to awkwardly hug Dylan and give her a pat on the back.

"Bummer. I was hoping you'd go back to juvie," She told him, straight-faced. Robby blanched and Johnny tried not to laugh. "Kidding. Don't look scared shitless."

"I don't?"

"Alright guys, this has been one hell of a reunion and it's nice to see you again, Dylan, but where the hell is Miguel?" Johnny wiped off the blood from his nose with a cleaning rag he stole off of a table.

"He left with his dad, Johnny." Dylan gave them a defeated look, and both guys looked at each other.

author's note —

relatively unedited chapter.

it's been kind of hard to write for this book, i'm not gonna lie. hopefully another update will be coming before the end of my winter break, but i honestly can't promise anything. I think i'm gonna put this book on hold temporarily soon.

in other news, i have a xavier thorpe book and a tangerine (bullet train) book up if you'd like to check them out!

i hope everyone had a great holidays and a happy new year! hopefully 2023 will be a great year (though so far i doubt it haha).