"You missing something, Greg?" Frankie asked, popping his head from the bathroom as Greg searched frantically for something in the debris of the floor.

"Uhh..." Greg started, not sure how to properly phrase his reply, scratching his head and searching through the multiple sheets of his bottom bed, "Have you seen my new boxers?"

"The blue ones with stars on 'em?," Frankie pondered through the toothbrush and paste swirling in his mouth. Jesse strolled between Frankie and Greg, his eyes glued on Greg's wild hands as he approached the couch. Something outside the thick, dirt spotted window caught his eye, his face almost double-taking what his eyes have viewed.

"I have!" Jesse screetched, raising his hand as if he knew the right answer in class, glancing over to his left with an sneaky smirk. "They've got them."

"What?" Greg asked, his voice muffled through the sticky air, not clear on who "they" were, hitting his head hard on the roof of his bed in the process of backing out. He winced and rubbed his throbbing head, this mouth dry with the result of this strenuous, mind-crippling task; Nothing, just a pair of boxers MIA. He ran to the window, hoping for a clear answer to be displayed outside, and gaped in shock.

Some kind of flag-like cloth was pinned on the atennae of the white RV soaring next to them, fluttering rapidly in the stifling breeze like a rampid butterfly. The four girls honked in hello, the redhead he serenaded at Jones Beach perched behind the leather steering wheel, crusing down the open highway toward the Sovreign Performing Arts Center, glancing over through her red-lensed black sunglasses as a smile tugged the side of her mouth. Then he saw her, Ms. Cat-Eyes, staring him down like a hawk, skillful and beautiful, hunting for fallen prey, and his knees almost crumbled out from under him like a landslide. He held onto the black couch with a firm grip as his other bandmates joined him in the gawking of his boxers being exposed to random travelers on the road, mothers shielding their childrens' eyes and father chuckling deep in their throats. As if on cue, Frankie, Chris, Matt and Jesse bursted into laughter, Matt and Chris tumbling to the floor, Jesse and Frankie trying to supress their chuckles in respect.

"How...Why...Who...When," Greg stammered heatedly, utterly befuddled in the mist of morning air and ajared eyes still sleeping in his mind. He retracted away from the window, totally mind-blown about this invasion of his privacy.

"They must've snatch them when they were here for breakfast yesterday," Frankie assumed, brushing away the tears sheening his eyes.

Greg peered at Frankie puzzled, "They were in here yesterday?"

"You had to be dead not to hear them," Chris informed him, shaking his head at their amusing audacity, his eyes glistening in tears as he plopped down on the couch.

"I guess I was," Greg admitted sheepishly as Louie barged in from the back TV room, his look stern but eyes friendly. He approached the guys with hands straight at his sides, like he was hypnotized in an evil transe.

"I have to talk with you boys about these 4 girls that were here yesterday," Louie began, urging them to take seats. They all found some space to occupy on the floor and couch as Louie continued, "I know sometimes it's boring and lonely out on the road, and usually a manager would flip to see girls in a tour bus without their consent. But you know that Brian and I are easy-going and we trust you, something your parents are still not equipped for. And I could tell that you guys are growing fond of these girls..."

"You said it!" Chris shouted, nodding his head in agreement, slapping his knee to emphasize his point and whistling. He was swatted with 4 sets of "ssssshhhhhhh" as a cough plowed from Louie's mouth.

"I am willing to let these girls follow us, as they intended, this summer for as long as they'd like." Silently, the boys began to cheer and slap hands, believing this summer wouldn't be as desolate as it appeared to be before. "A few rules, of course. They, in no way, shape, or form may distract you from what you're here to do; perform and meet fans. They won't get treated any different than other fans; they will have to pay to get into shows, etc. But, on occasion, we will give them BSPs. Just look at me and Brian as your fathers; don't do anything that would make us upset. We don't want to regret what we're giving to you guys."

"You sure got some ugly kids," Matt scoweled, glancing around his friends as his scowl lightened to a smart ass smile. Laughs reverberated off the thin walls of the bus, shattering any inkling that this would be a bad idea.

"We're going to be arriving at the Sovreign Center in a few minutes, so make sure you have your stuff together for our turn to practice in an hour," Louie warned lightly as he retreated back to the TV room, leaving permanemt smiles sketched on all 5 faces......

The two RVs glided through security without a hitch or slip-up, joining the congregation of fat tour buses and long equipment trucks lounging in the wide back parking lot and sparking in the midday sun. As soon as Nick, the elderly bus driver, put the bus into park, the guys shuffled and sprinted off, tripping over the backs of shoes and underestimated depths of steps, their eyes bombarded with bulky men unloading trucks, sand swirling like tornados against the buses, and the four girls hopping from their RV.

"Heeey boys," Celeste greeted them, running across the sandy threshold, presenting all them with kind smiles except for Chris, who got a silent slap.

"Nice to see you two," Chris spatted, crossing his arms as the other girls strolled over. Greg looked at them uneasily, trying with all his power to avoid his mystery girl's sticky, strong, sultry eyes.

"Oh, duh!" Jesse said, smacking his forehead, "Greg...this is Taryn, Celeste, Ashley and Jessa."

Jessa, Greg said to himself as he shook all of their hands, So that's her name. Greg suddenly forgot about all the fury bubbling up inside him, ready to explode and blow off his top like a volcano. It exited his body like exhaled air. Jessa's claws wrapped around his hand, her touch both chilling and exhilarating.

"Is everything OK?" Ashley asked softly, tucking her hands in her khaki pants and ecscribing hearts in the loose sand with her foot. "You know, with yesterday?"

"Of course it is," Chris responded, wrapping his arm around Ashley's shoulder. Ashley let out a little gasp, not used to practical strangers being so friendly. Yet, she felt as if she knew Dream Street, knew them from the tales they told through their music, as many other fans did.

"Actually," Frankie continued, walking toward the scarce knoll of green grass at the back of the lot, all 8 of them following him like young, naive ducklings waddle after their mother, "Louie and Brian said it was OK for you guys to trail us this summer."

"We were going to do it anyway," Jessa informed him evenly, acting as if the grass was her comfy bed and sprawling across it, digging her fingers in the soft grass, "if they said it was OK or not."

"How do clouds form?" Ashley asked innocently, without any real thinking, cocking her head to one side as puffs of clouds soared across the sea of blue sky, her head definately lost and drifting in the clouds.

"Please tell me you don't want a scientific explaination," Taryn sighed, crossing her legs and pulling out a cigarette, her eyes closed as if her fate was pre-determined as she sucked in the lethal smog.

"That's not good for you," Greg finally spoke, firmly believing cigarettes had to be the worst thing a person could inhale into their body.

"Thank you, Doctor," Taryn mumbled maliciously, wrenching the cigarette out of her mouth with two fingers, "I am aware of this."

"Let's focus, people," Frankie interrupted lightheartedly, laying his head down on a patch of greenery and gazing up at the sky to understand the cloud's shapes and orientation from the ground.

"That one looks like a castle," Celeste observed, using her hand like a visor as her pale blue eyes scanned the sky.

"The one over there looks like Jesse," Taryn began, inhaling in another drag, "In his hot Barney sleep number." Eeryone began to laugh except for Jesse and Ashley who peered at each other with the same suppressed eyes.

"I definately see that," Chris agreed with a nod, warm summer air massaging his neck.

"That one looks like a half-eaten upside down birthday cake!" Matt shouted with realization, his eyes broadening in wonder as everyone stared at him, convinced he had the potential to be mistaken for a crazyman.

"Where did we find you?" Frankie asked, lowering his head in regret of Matt's contributions, his voice tinting with amusement.

"Well, there were these tryouts..." Jesse began before getting cut-off by Play's bursting voices booming out of an open door, shuttering through bodies like earthquakes and slicing through ears like axes.

"So what's up for you guys today?" Matt pondered, his eyes floating to the sun.

"Normally, we'd be tickled to watch you guys sing and dance and sweat," Taryn began without enthusiasm, extiguishing the cigarette in the bashe sand, "But we're going to the Philadelphia Zoo."

"Yeah," Celeste agreed, picking at the grass, "To return her to her rightful home with the monkeys."

Taryn gave Celeste a dry laugh, her eyes sparkling with maliceness at Celeste's lame attempt at Taryn's skillful craft of insult.

"I better call up the Zoo to see when it opens," Jessa stated randomly, rising to her feet and brushing bits of sand hittching a free ride off her tight navy blue athletic shorts at their initial pickup, her eyes hooked on Greg. "Do you want your...boxers back, Tiger?"

Greg nodded, his voice stolen from him by the hands of lust, staggering from the damp grass to his feet. As they strolled away, silence the teasing barrier between them, Ashley whispered to Taryn, the one she always respected, "How is she going to call the Zoo?"

"She's not," Taryn responded, her lips rising in a simulance of the smile of evil itself, Satan, "I have the cellphone......"

Greg tailed Jessa into the RV, his eyes instantly glancing at the many black and white photos displayed throughout the RV, the moments locked in time taped onto the dark oak cabinets over the stove on the right and white window sills on the left, most of them a timeline of Ashley's, the timid, shy girl he thinks he knows unamusing life. Her face in the yellowing pictures, the one closest to who she'd want to be, closest to the past, was vivacios, carefree, always smudged with dirt and chocolate and toothless smiles. In the newer ones, her face attempted to hide the misery plaguing her heart, but Greg could tell, tell in her dark eyes, she felt alone, rejected, babied. He could look at the pictures for hours if Jessa didn't interviene.

"Beautiful, isn't she?" Jessa asked sincerely, her interest loosely drawn to the pictures, her dainty fingers creasing the white edges of the photos. Her breath lightly clung to his neck like dew drops, the feeling she was exerting onto him like sinfully delightful witchcraft, crawling through his body indescribable.

"Why do I get the feeling that you don't have to call the Zoo?" Greg asked suspiciously in a hushed voice, not sure if he wanted to know her intentions.

"Hey," Jessa began, her eyes lightening in the afternoon sun, "I don't need an alterior motive to learn more about this fascinating band and its...incredable members I'm trailing." As flimsy as that sounded, Greg just nodded, his head having no control over his glowing heart.

"So picturesque," Jessa began, hugging her arms and turning away to the right toward her friends sitting in enjoyment with the rest of Dream Street. "All of them. Like this was destined to be." Her gaze flashed back at Greg, Greg frozen like an ice sculpture, his eyes stoned. Her eyes pressed him to come closer, him complying her mute orders like a servent. He felt so different just staring at her, her body tight with unknown restraints yet relaxed with the shuffling of warm summer air. Her Victoria's Secret Love Spell perfume surrounded him like an aura, snapping at his nose and tentalizing his heart. He didn't care if they never spoke again, just looking at her was like looking at a painting. Sometimes a thousand glances, a million blinks, and the right lighting were needed to fully understand painting's compositon and power, a painting's purpose for being created. He had the summer. Yet he was afraid, so afraid; afraid to touch her, afraid to be himself, afraid to say anything, afraid, afraid...

"Greg?" Jessa asked faintly with a smile, his placid look frightening her deep inside her hallow heart.

"Yeah?" Greg inquired with empty thoughts, slowly melting the iciness of his daze, stepping even closer, a magnetic force attracting them. Jessa peered up at him, her smile wide, luring him deeper into her web, the entanglments impossible to escape from.