"Bra patrol!" Matt called as he scuttled with Frankie across the dry, dying grass to the RV, the girls whipping up a storm of goodies for the July 4th picnic at Offutt Air Force Base in Omaha, Nebraska, dishes clinking together against the marble sink, smooth tunes of Jessa's choice, Abba, floating from Ashley's Boom Box, and a RV full of smiles and churning stomachs. The day was perfect, a comfortable 68 degrees, butterflies and birds slashing with pleasure and vivid colors through the light blue sky, and not a puff of a cloud in sight for miles. The girls left the door open, sweet, scrumptious smells driving Matt and Frankie in as if in a transe, clutched in Matt's hands were the bras Chris took in the heat of anger last week, shamelessly shown for the world to see to ignite some embarassment into the girls, mainly Celeste, but it was just funny to them.

"Has Chris cooled down?" Jessa asked without turning towards Matt and Frankie, Matt dropping the bras in the green laundry basket on the couch, the rustling, belled-out bottom of Jessa's white Rebecca tank coming dangerously close to skimming the pudding, a stain that would take all the cleaners in the world to bleach out.

"He's just...hurt, I guess," Frankie replied with a tint of pity, strolling up to Jessa, Jessa's hand intensely stirring the batter. His fingers crept toward the blue bowl of pudding Jessa was mixing like they were hypnotized.

"I don't think so!" Taryn slapped his hand away, her free hand holding a large frosted bowl of tomatoe salad shakily, any sudden movement would cause it to propel down onto her white corset top with red lace and the always styling red flannel boxers. "Unless you want this down your shirt." Frankie pouted like a little kid as Matt tried to sneak some tomatoe salad from Taryn's blind spot behind her head, but Celeste caught him red-handed.

"Don't you guys get fed on that fancy tour bus? Besides, No boys in the kitchen!" Celeste yelled, pushing them towards the door, Matt stuffing the tomatoe into his dry mouth quickly. Celeste's scrawny arms getting them out the door was inevitably futile.

"No Celestes either!" Jessa reminded her in a high-pitched voice, shoving the bowl of pudding aside and whiping her hands with a white dish towel, her eyes riffing through the hundreds, maybe thousands of natives congregating at the base with blankets and coolers and beach balls and carefree faces, as if she was a homemaker finished washing the dinner's dishes, watching her hundreds of children play neighborly. Such a sensation of purpose tingled from her heart throughout her body, feeling like they're doing good, going on this road trip, like it will do some good for all parties.

"Remember what happened last time you were in the kitchen?" Ashley asked matter-of-factly as she tied her light hair up in a high ponytail, Frankie and Matt's interest increasing on the dirt that was about to be dished as they took seats at the table, leaning foward to catch the littlest detail thrown between them.

"The cake was only half burnt," Celeste protested, running one hand through her curls and the other along the red, white and blue tube top she borrowed from Jessa, biting her bottom lip nervously.

"And so was the kitchen," Taryn responded with a sly grin, picking a tomatoe from her salad and chewing it down, the vinegar lightly burning her throat.

"So I'm not Betty Crocker," Celeste admitted, giving her eyes a roll as she headed for the door, clutching her silver sunglasses from the top bunk and placing them securely on her face. "I have more refine attributes."

"What are you referring to?" Taryn asked, placing the bowl in an oversize wicker basket along with the lemonade, fruits, and sandwiches, "Whining? Procrastinating?"

"Even on Independence day, you can't free me from the ferrets of your rash comments," Celeste exasperated, rolling her eyes behind the security of her sunglasses. She turned her attention to Matt and Frankie, the boys feeling the heat rising from Celeste's tone cut into the low ceiling. "The boys out there already?"

"Yeah," Matt informed her, scratching the back of his neck.

"Then let's go, fellas," Celeste replied, offering her arms to them, giving her friends an evil eye. "We'll depart and leave the Cooking Club to conclude their creations."

"You only use big words when you're angry," Taryn yelled after her with a snicker, the slamming of the door indicating her comment didn't slip into the air fast enough.........

The sun was at its zenith when Taryn, Ashley, and Jessa swivled through the lively crowd, a crowd that seemed to stretch out for miles like a giant river of people, bopping heads and sinking heads simulating light waves skimming the surface. Without Ashley's keen eyes, the possibility of finding the boys and Celeste in the vast crowd would be next to impossible, like finding a lost sock the dryer mysteriously ate. Thankfully, the guys separated themselves to the grassy area outside the runway on the left, natural shade from a sagging oak keeping them cool and from the undetectable, sweltering rays pounding down on the hats and sunscreen cloaking other vulnerable patrions.

"Hey, look!" Chris shouted as the girls approached, the girls appearing just like regular people in the midst of all the fathers and mothers and bothers and sistsers and friends encompassing them, cooperating and coexisting as a functional unit, no one special to DS, but how wrong that assumption would turn out to be. "It's the rest of the Cutie Quad!"

The friends all stood there in the dense, dead silence, sizzles of BBQs and laughter of children filling the hiatus in conversation. "The Cutie Quad?" Jesse asked with a scrunched nose expressing his curiosity, as if all the sugar he consumed already had made him delirious in his word processing.

"Aww," Taryn cooed with a semi-charmed smirk, peering at Chris thoughtfully from behind red-lensed sunglasses, patting Chris on the shoulder, Chris stumbling back at her genial gesture, "How precious."

"Who fed her rainbows and sunshine?" Chris whispered to Matt in disbelief, Jessa and Ashley spreading out their floral-print blanket as Taryn fiddled with Ashley's Boom Box.

"I don't know," Matt responded, inadvertantly looking down at Taryn's ass well tucked inside her boxers, "But let's hope it lasts throughout today."

"Ashley," Celeste cautioned, placing a hand over the shoulder of her blue baby tee, "Did you take..."

"Yes, Celeste," Ashley replied brusquely, folding her hands together as her eyebrows met together, hazel eyes boiling over with irritation and exasperation. "Stop it. I'm almost 16. I am responsible enough to take my meds. You're not my mother!"

"I..." Celeste started, blown away from words, her hands grappled by her heart, her lighthearted face shattering into a wounded frown. "Forget it," she gruffed, strolling with her head down to Matt and Frankie.

"I'm starving," Greg whined, his eyes oggling the goodies stored in the girls' basket, his taste buds running rampid around his mouth to the point of fatigue.

"Why don't you have a taste of me?" Jessa suggested inside a whisper behind him, her sparkly blue fingertips grazing up his bare arms to the crook in his neck, her touch more explosive inside him than any fireworks that could be dispayed that evening.

"Here?" he called back to her, his eyes shifting uneasily as Chris, Matt, Jesse, Frankie and the girls began to place everything out on their two blankets.

"Why not?" Jessa's sultry voice responded, her voice and lips grazing his left ear, her hands sliding down from his shoulders to his stomach, well defined behind his american flag wifebeater, her mysty eyes scanning the perimeter before landing on his cheek. "C'Mon Greg...This may sound pompous, but you can't deny me."

She was right, Greg thought frantically, not ready to admit that fact, his head tilting toward hers, her eyes glinting beautifully in the sunlight, her cherry red lips twinkling in a kissable sheen. Why should I deny it? Give this a try, Greg. Don't stay unhappy forever. A small, reflective smile dissolved onto his face as he leaned in, Jessa's smile instantly augmenting...

"Gettcha hot dogs and hamburgers hea'," Brian and Louie's voices bellowed over the stifling, stagnant wind, strolling through the boisterious crowd with a tin of steamy, plump hot dogs and hamburgers. Every one clapped and cheered as Taryn surfed the scant radio stations for a decent song. Jessa looked dissapointed. So did Greg. The deal wasn't sealed. There was always tonight..........

"It's staring to get dark," Ashley stated the odvious, slight fear tightening her voice like a spring, clutching her camera close to the warmth stored in her heart. Jesse shifted his arm around her shoulders like her protector. She looked up at him and smiled her pixie smile as the sun plunged under the horizon, losing its battle with the mighty, dark night.

"That's why we have lanterns," Brian replied, his big, brown eyes lighting up in laughter as he turned 3 Coleman Lanterns on, the light shooting from them brightening the surrounding area as if it was day already, launching shards of yellow lights on the faces of the friends, their eyes bombarded with irritation.

"That's tiiiight," Frankie nodded, stretching out his legs along the cool grass.

"Are you trying to be cool again?" Greg asked with a roll of her eyes, lacing his arms around Jessa's waist as she layed her hands on his thighs, Jessa wearing on Greg like a worn, comfortable sweater.

"Hey!" Chris defended Frankie, tapping his shoulder with support, "Some of us aren't naturally gifted in the art of coolness like you are, Greggles."

"Don't call me that!" Greg retorted vexedly through clamped teeth as the girls giggled.

"I like that name," Jessa told him, looking up into his heavenly eyes with a pixie smile and shrugging, "It...suits you."

"Speaking of tight," Matt began, his back hunched over like an old man's, "My back is killing me!"

"Poor Matt," Celeste sympathized, rubbing her hand gingerly on his fair crop, a frown depressing his mouth. "Since you enjoyed my Lemonade so much, because I CAN make things in the kitchen, I will offer my services to you." Matt's eyes lit up at that proposition.

"And what...services would you be offering?" Taryn asked suggestively, swiping some leftover whipped cream from her strawberries and licking it off her finger laggardly.

"Taryn Ann Ward!" Ashley shreiked at her audacity, pushing at her shoulder as everyone else cracked like eggs into instant stentorian laughter.

"On your stomach, Matt," Celeste told him friviously, her eyes crinkling as her smile grew, Matt rolling around quickly like an obedient dog.

"I don't know if I like where this is going," Jesse replied warily, closing his eyes and blanketing his hands over them.

"Don't let you imagination run wild, Jesse," Celeste giggled as her skilled hands started to work their magic on Matt's aching back. She pressed down in small circles, releasing the tension and kneeding out the knots wound into his tight back muscles. Matt's smile relaxed as his body was cleansed of the anguishing pain.

"That looks very tempting," Frankie admitted as he watched Celeste's fingers work up and down Matt's back like a powerful machine.

"Me next, me next!" Chris whined as soon as Matt rose from his seat, looking like a new man and fresh as a daisy. Chris scrabbled over leftover plates and cups,now aware of staining substances still leaking and laying on and in them to Celeste's side, sprawling across the blankets like a supermodel, his feet swinging dangerously close to collision with Greg, Jessa and Jesse.

"Alright," Celeste gave in, settling her hands with a firm grip on her hips, Chris's smile aggrandizing, "as long as you don't say anything. Not a word!"

"Deal," Chris agreed grinning, Celeste unwillingly climbed over his legs and sat on the padding of his butt, her thumbs digging into his muscles with a knive's precision. Chris groaned in satisfaction as the gang went about regular chatter, Celeste's eyed fixed on the back of Chris's head.

"I can get used to this," Chris said with a sigh, his eyes shut and mind wandering, "I like the feeling of you on top of me."

"CHRIS!" Celeste screamed angrily, immediately sliding off his butt in disguist, laughter surrounding her to simmer down her boiling temper.

"Look!" Taryn shouted amazed, her ears intercepting the screetching sound of the night's first rocket, her finger following the first firework exploding in midair, decorating the lightless sky absent of stars with red sparkles. The gang turned to the left, their eyes bedazzled with the fireworks display, everyone at the air base's arms linked or hands clasped together like train tracks stretching from coast to coast. The scene was just like it was in "The Sandlot" when Benny and his friends froze during their night baseball game, mute appreciation and wonder spreading throughout the area like a plaque. Blue, red, and white lights twinkled and spotted their juvenile faces, their eyes dancing like the wind plowing through their hair. Ashley layed her congested head on Jesse's well-supported shoulder, Jesse looking down on his other "little sister" and smiling brotherly, wrapping his arms around her waist genially. Taryn and Celeste sat between Frankie and Matt, all their arms hooked together like the monkeys in the game "Barrels of Monkeys," not sharing a word because they were all thinking the same thing as the fireworks spectacle reached its climax, grabbing prepaired words from everyone's tounges. Chris looked over at Celeste, a pang of jealousy springing into his head as he brushed his hand sadly over the green grass. As quickly as the jealously surfaced his brain, he shook it away; he wouldn't let her get to him. She'd come around.

Everything seemed perfect that night, the warm air floating above the ground like a fine mist, the exuberant display of patriotism blasting into the sky, blazoning we may have been attacked and invaded almost a year before but we will never surrender our principles and beliefs, the hand cupped comfortably around Jessa's waist, warming up the tepid, sweat-spotted skin laying underneath her tank top. If there ever was a perfect moment to land a kiss on Greg, it would be now, innocular from friends in the cloak of dim darkness and with so much love and appreciation being shared and expressed around them, leaking into the air like an addictive gas. Jessa looked up at Greg, white and red light casting over his browned face, his strong chin millimeters from her forehead. Greg glanced down at her, a mischievous glimmer rising in his dark eyes. Jessa leaned up. Greg leaned down. And there was contact, sweet, tasty, sultry, incredable bonding of their lips, summoning up balls of electric shock and rolling them down their spines for a strike at their hearts. Greg held her cheek lovingly as the kiss progressed, Jessa secretly congradulating herself; she's ahead. She was going to win. Heather was going to have a shit. Greg was going to be hers, what could stop more of these unbelieveable kisses and late nights? A lot.......