#gifp

There was a certain protectiveness in Shiloh, one that lay like a root at the bottom of her gut and stretched itself out in each of her limbs. Over the last few weeks there’d been a lot of influxes of newcomers, and as she’d learned over the past two years or so, new people meant new dynamics, and new dynamics could lead most literally anywhere. 

If she didn’t hover with a watchful eye on the outskirts of the community as a whole, then she needed to be somewhere else entirely, for the restlessness of not being able to keep her eye on things grew too big and tickled her irritably all the way up her spine; so Shiloh had opted to balance her presence either as merely a shadow on the outskirts of the groups of newcomers and old residents as they integrated, or out in the wilderness and abandoned towns on runs where she could burn off some of the restlessness in her legs.

Now, she never cared for the newcomers individually. Not at first. Not even for a while. She didn’t care who they were, where they came from, or what their purpose there was -- she cared about the stability of the community, and rather than keep an eye on the newcomers alone, Shiloh kept an eye on all of them. She knew enough of the residents fairly well by now to not assume they’d give newcomers a break -- and she didn’t know newcomers at all, so those she couldn’t even try to predict. 

New faces and new voices hid all kinds of personalities, secrets, traits, and whatever the hell else that Shiloh had never before come across -- and she knew this. Never was there a face she recognized, a personality she knew, secrets she might have been part of or traits she might have seen developed; so never was there a newcomer she could predict. 

Until, of course, her eyes eventually fell on a newcomer whose face she never thought she’d see again; a newcomer who wasn’t a newcomer to her at all. A newcomer whose personality she knew, some of whose secrets she’d helped create, and whose traits she knew as well as the back of her hand. 

When Shiloh’s gaze fell on her ex-boyfriend in his perfectly innocent stride down the street, her mind buckled under the influx of emotions and memories. How long had it been since she’d last seen Chexxo alive? Over a year ago. Give or take. Twelve months, plus maybe five or six months... it depended. It depended. The math was unimportant, though. What was important was how Shiloh’s first instinct wasn’t to let all the joy flourish within her, or for her suspicion to take over like it would have in regards to any other newcomer -- what mattered in that moment was how the sight of her ex-boyfriend, the father of her child, sent her right back to simpler times, before the outbreak; before Camille even existed.

What mattered was that she took in all of him -- all the little changes, all the past months that were so clearly etched into every part of his appearance -- and stopped immediately, folded her arms across her chest, smiled that playful smile she always smiled at him, and for one moment forgot entirely where she was. For one moment, she tapped into years old emotions, and reacted like she always used to -- and suppressed everything else. 

What mattered was that she let Chexxo continue to walk, as his route seemed to pass right by her anyway, and only when he was within earshot did she raise an eyebrow and let out a calm, “Hey you.”

The last thing that Noel had ever expected was to be so honest with Chloe about everything that he'd kept bottled up. It wasn't as if lying was an every day thing for him, because he did try to be as honest as possible without hurting someone's feelings on a day to day basis, it was that he'd allowed himself to speak his mind for once in his life — and he'd gotten it back from her. Nothing could've ever prepared Noel for the chance of a maybe, and he knew that it was wrong of him to be so hopeful over it when she was happy with Sebastian, but it was hard to deny the joy that had flooded through him, hard to deny the idea that someday, if he was lucky, he'd be able to call Chloe his after so many years of torture. That was before his better judgement squashed every good thought from his mind.

Now, on his way to Chloe's dorm at one in the morning, he couldn't help but dwell on the excitement. There was so much that she'd admitted to him — so much that he'd admitted to her — and all of it was so confusing yet making perfect sense at the same time. There was a part of her that was attracted to him, their secret kiss was proof of that, and her feelings... Her feelings had made his dampened mood turn brighter, even if he knew deep down that nothing would ever happen between them with Sebastian around, and he wasn't the type of person to ruin a happy relationship for his own benefit. Noel ran a hand through his curly hair as he knocked on Chloe's door, the smile touching his lips gently when she opened the door. "Ask and you shall receive," he said with a light chuckle, stuffing his hands into the pocket of his hoodie as he made his way inside.

The blind date a few days before left Poppy feeling more confused than she had in a long time. Kayla. Part of her wanted to run away, the other part wanted to run to Kayla. Which was a problem in and of itself, but the more prominent problem was that she couldn’t decide which part to listen to. On the one hand, the memories of their break up was enough to cause a surge of adrenaline through her: her body preparing her for running. But on the other hand the memories of their relationship slowed the rush of adrenaline, calmed her mind, tempted her to stay. It was in this mindset that she found herself outside the café where Kayla worked, pacing by the window and casting glances inside with every step.  

She tried to tell herself that she wasn’t there for Kayla, that she was there to try the café. But even she knew that wasn’t true, because with every glance inside her eyes automatically searched for a glint of red on the other side of the glass. For a moment she thought she caught a glance, but it turned out to be a red cup, not a top of red hair. Her pacing stopped and she simply stood outside of the window looking in, dropping her gaze every few seconds to avoid the creepy label–though probably with limited success. She couldn’t decide if she should go in or not, because again, even though she told herself she wasn’t there for Kayla it was rather obvious that she was. She didn’t even know if Kayla worked today. But if she did, what on earth would she tell her? She hadn’t had enough time to sort out her own emotions, let alone what she wanted.

Did she really want to relive the break up they’d had? Relive losing her best friend? No. But did she miss their late night talks, the middle of the night texting, the inside jokes, their love, their friendship, the way Kayla would light up whenever volunteering was mentioned, the way she laughed, the way she understood Poppy like no one else? Yes. Did she want that back? More than she let on.

Today was the day. The day Colin had been waiting for for years. The day Poppy finally caved and let Colin recommend her a book he thought she should read. No, in fact, not only thought, he insisted on it. The blonde thought that if she caved this time, she’d buy herself some more time before he started bugging her again –one could always hope, no matter how feeble that hope was– and that’s why she found herself at Barnes & Noble, looking for none other than – she blinked as she spotted the name he’d texted her. Was this right? Really? A Game of Thrones, George R.R. Martin. It was actually a name she recognised, she’d even seen a few episodes from the TV-series. Part of her was happy, another part was worried. Happy, because this book she thought she would enjoy, worried because Colin could get more extreme than this, and if this was the first book he recommended, there were surely more to come. This was a soft start, to ease her into his recommendations. Crap. She thought to herself. This was just the beginning.

Sighing to herself she strolled around the bookstore looking for said book, she found it rather quickly and turned back to the check-out counter. On the way back she let her eyes wander, and just as she started nearing the check-out area she passed the supernatural area. Unable to resist a visit, it was her favourite area to look for books after all, before checking out with A Game of Thrones she walked over and started letting her eyes and hands go over the backs of the books. It was there she saw someone, a man, looking at none other than Angelology by Danielle Trussoni. Angelology was one of her favourite books and although she tried to, she couldn’t resist making a comment about it. “That’s a great book.” she said, rather bluntly. Upon receiving his attention she evolved further “I’ve read it a few times. It’s one of my favourites.” While she spoke the book she was about to check out rested in her left hand against her left shoulder.  

Poppy had recently decided to go the extra mile for her sister and brother-in-law in terms of paying back. She was used to buying them little treats such as muffins or cupcakes or something to the likes of it, but the idea of cooking them a full fleshed out meal had now entered her mind and wouldn't leave. However, there was one small problem. It would be a shame to say that Poppy was any kind of food-guru, in fact that was one of the reasons she so often crashed at the Chase's, they could cook much better than she could. Luckily, Poppy knew someone who was for all kinds and purposes a food-guru; Breanah Davis. 

It was with nerves knotting her stomach that she'd asked her friend if she would help her, and to her joy Breanah had said yes. The knots in her stomach had loosened as soon as she heard that one single syllable. With Breanah's help she was confident she'd be able to cook them a meal, and the thought of it made a smile come upon her features. Breanah would show her a few tips and tricks, and hopefully also give her tips as to what she could cook, because frankly, she had no idea what meal she would invite them too. 

They'd decided to meet at Breanah's, since being the professional it was more likely she would have the necessary equipment and ingredients. It seemed like the smart choice. Poppy had the day –and coming night– off, so deciding to take advantage of the full day she showed up outside of Breanah's apartment at noon and tapped on the door. Once it opened a smile came upon her face and she greeted her friend with an excited "Hi!" and in the next breath blurted out "Thank you so much, again, for helping me."

If she were to be completely honest, Grace had next to no idea when all of this began to spiral out of control. She figured the fact that she'd ended up without a date was her own fault -- she kept to herself most of the time and when she didn't she was making a bad impression, it seemed -- but that didn't make it hurt any less. And she didn't know why she'd lied about it because she never lied, but the idea of Luke pitying her made a sense of unease rip through her stomach that she couldn't control. So there she was, getting ready for a date that she didn't have with a boy that didn't exist, and she couldn't bring herself to set the record straight. Not yet, anyway. Stepping out of the bathroom, Grace held the back of her dress together with one hand and used the other to bring her curls over one shoulder. Turning her back to the blonde, she cocked a brow. "Zip me up?" She asked, tone gentle.