The Earlybirds

Returning down the stairs to the rec room, Harvey struggled to wake up. Not much of a coffee drinker, he figured that this might be one of those mornings that he needed a cup. Glancing over toward the sofas, he breathed a sigh of relief to see Vance still in his spot.

It had been a mini-ordeal earlier in wrangling the naked young man out of the bathtub and back over to the couch. After vomiting in the toilet only to raise her head to find a naked man sleeping in the tub, Ramsey had been on the verge of a full-blown freakout. Lacey hadn't been much help at first. The petite redhead spent a considerable amount of time peeking in and giggling as Harvey struggled to wake and escort the Vandermeer son back to the rec room. The part that caused the cabin owner to wonder came from his daughter's nonchalance about the whole ordeal. Whitney had shrugged her shoulders and gone upstairs.

Walking behind the bar, Harvey lifted the lid off the fryer, checking its level. Pleased to see that it didn't need any more oil, he turned it on, setting it to the correct temperature. He had figured it would be fine as it had only been used once a few days earlier, and that was mostly a test try. Still, Harvey had a lot of prep work to do with his planned breakfast, so any time saved worked for him.

Briskly walking back upstairs, Harvey made sure to be quiet as not to wake Ellie and Cheyenne, who slept on two of three great room sofas. Moving softly, he checked on the dough he'd made before venturing downstairs and all the other necessary ingredients. Content that he had everything he needed, Harvey now just had to be patient while the dough finished rising. It was at that moment the French doors to the sunroom opened.

A still drowsy Sean shuffled into the room.

"Good morning, Sean," Harvey greeted.

"Morning," mumbled the teenager, his eyes barely open.

"What's up? Looks like you should still be in bed."

"Thirsty. Can't sleep. Keep on waking up," Sean replied in a monotone voice. In his zombie trance, he misjudged the distance to the kitchen island and bumped into the corner hard, bouncing off.

"Whoa, let me help you there, son. Just sit on down, and I'll get you what you want," the cabin host ordered as he came around the island at the end opposite of Sean.

"Orange juice."

Harvey quickly poured a glass of orange juice, bringing it over to the quiet teen, whose forearms rested on the countertop, propping his sagging body up. The older, experienced man studied the kid in front of him, gathering an idea of what the issue might be.

"Now, you look like a man with a problem. I'm going to guess it's over a girl, right?" That question got a reaction from the zombie sitting in front of him as its head jerked slightly. "And you did something last night that you're unsure about now. Yessiree, I've been there many times, let me tell ya. Enough to even wonder if your troubles are about more than one girl."

As Sean turned and looked at him as if he was a two-headed monster, Harvey chuckled, patting the troubled teen on the shoulder. "Don't worry, kid. Whatever you did last night, I can guarantee you I've done worse. And I'm still standing here in good health, so don't sweat it so much."

Recalling his long history with women, Harvey mused about the variety of troubles he endured over the years. Let's see, I've been with women old enough to be my mother and young enough to be my daughter. I've had women who were single, engaged, married, divorced, and widowed. Multiple partners at once have never been an issue in getting. The women have been best friends, cousins, sisters, and mothers and daughters. Definitely, a few awkward love triangles came out of those. I've even been 'seduced' by gold diggers, grifters, blackmailers, and corporate spies. Poor kid would be scarred for life if I told him my life story.

"I don't know about that, Mr. Diamond."

"Well, if you need anyone to talk to about it, I'm here to listen and give some awful advice," Harvey remarked, winking at Sean. He moved back around to check on his ingredients. "No pressure if you don't want to, but I promise I won't tell a soul. Secrets are something I'm very familiar with."

"Uh, thanks. I'll think about it."

"Good!" Recalling what Cheyenne had said about Sean and an older woman, he felt tempted to pry but decided not to. Every young man is entitled to a few salacious secrets. Glancing over at the clock, Harvey frowned. "Whitney's supposed to be up by now, helping me. Maybe you can be my taste tester once the first batch is ready. Go into the living room while you wait and relax. Watch some TV--but quietly--or take a nap. Sound good?"

"Okay...and thanks for the offer, Mr. Diamond," Sean smiled. Part of him wanted to spill his guts about last night with Aunt Gabby, but the part scared to admit what happened held him back. If anyone's had sex with people they shouldn't have, I know it's Harvey Diamond. Maybe I should ask him for advice.

Harvey stood a few steps outside the kitchen, watching as Sean moved over and plopped down onto the only empty couch. Taking a few steps toward the pantry door to get a better view, he felt some concern for the teenager. Although his interactions with Sean had been limited before this trip, Harvey knew his family and liked the signs he picked up on over the last few days. In life and work, the successful lover and work-allergic businessman learned to read and assess people quickly, and what he saw in Sean, he liked. He seemed like a solid person, intelligent and thoughtful. In fact, he'd already started to remind Harvey of someone he long respected and admired.

Upon seeing Sean settle on some cartoons to watch, Harvey smiled to himself. He's a good kid; he can't of done anything too wrong. Probably has a crush on one of the girls and is kicking himself for screwing up. You'll be fine, Sean, unless it's Whitney. Then I feel for you, kid. My little girl's a maneater.

Whitney slammed shut another dresser drawer in frustration. Exhausted and cranky, she was pissed at everyone. At her dad for making her get up and help with breakfast. At Ramsey for getting sick in the bathroom. At Lacey for whining about Rammy getting sick. At Vance for not putting on any damn clothes after they fucked. And then there was Owen and his vanishing last night to go play poker.

It's my cabin, and everyone else is having more fun than me. I want to get fucked by the boyfriend I brought with me, not an obnoxious neighbor!

Yes, Whitney was pissed, and the furniture in the master bedroom was taking the brunt of that anger. So too were the ears of the girls trying to sleep in the bedroom. Ramsey groaned as her head throbbed in pain from the loud noises. Usually, a calm and cool girl, Lacey felt close to erupting at her friend.

"Whitney! Keep it down, will ya. Rammy doesn't feel well," the petite redhead whispered as she raised her head to look at the blonde.

"And that's my problem, how?" Whitney snapped loudly.

"You did encourage her to drink last night," Lacey softly pointed out. Then mimicking her friend's voice, she continued. "Lighten up, Ram. Let loose and live a little."

"Well, I didn't tell her to get falling-down drunk, did I?" Whitney hissed, marching over to the walk-in closet.

Violently whipping the clothes on the hangers from side to side, Whitney scanned furiously for something perfect to wear. Instead, the items of clothing she saw, she hated. Nothing seemed to work, and she wanted today's ice skating to be perfect.

It has to be perfect; it has to be! This is our last trip here in high school. What if we never do this again?

Clenching her fists in frustration, Whitney realized she wasn't in any mood to deal with this right now. Glancing down at her small, sexy robe, she waved her hand in the air.

Whatever, this will do for now. I wear it for breakfast all the time at home.

Stepping back out of the closet, Whitney slammed the door shut behind.

"Dammit, Pey. Turn off the TV," Lana mumbled from the alcove, where she slept on the pull-out couch.

Whitney stopped for a moment to check her appearance in the mirror. Fixing her hair slightly, she at least felt satisfied with that for now. Marching over to the door, she walked out into the hallway, once again slamming a door shut behind her.

"Peyton! Turn it off!" Lana commanded. Getting no reply, the ginger **** her head, heavy with sleepiness, up to look around. Not seeing her friend anywhere around her, she spoke up even louder. "Hey, where the hell is Peyton?"

Peyton groaned as she slowly woke up. Her neck stung, and her leg ached. Waking up, the blonde realized her aches and pains came from the uncomfortable position she slept in. Stretching her body, she groaned momentarily before her head thudded with pain.

"Oww!"

Now fully awake, the leggy blonde understood why her body was so sore. She had slept in the backseat of her mom's car, her body twisted in an odd configuration to fit, and a ratty, old blanket found somewhere in the garage by RJ, the only source of protection from the cool air of the somewhat heated garage.

Way to frigging screw up! Peyton cursed both her choice for a person to hook up with and her mistake that led her to spend the night in the garage. Let's use the garage. It's private and warm, RJ. Sure, but you didn't grab your coat or shoes. And you also forgot that Mr. Diamond locks up the cabin every night.

As she opened up the car door scooting out, Peyton recalled their post-coital discovery that the front door had been locked while they were out screwing in the garage. Freezing in her thin yoga outfit and bare feet, Peyton had demanded that RJ carry her back around the cabin. Their hopes of finding an unlocked door took a detour. Peering into the lower sunroom, they'd been shocked to see Mr. Diamond absolutely fucking the shit out of RJ's cousin. Even worse, they'd momentarily stayed to watch Cheyenne lose her mind, only to hear more voices coming from the direction of the boathouse. Afraid of being caught for now two reasons, they'd fled back to the garage. Another check of the doors by RJ, later on, found them all locked for the night.

"Shit, shit, shit," Peyton said to herself as she hurried over to the window, seeing the bright morning light.

There were no clocks in the garage, and her phone was back in her room. So she had no idea what the time was nor who might already be up. Oh, gawd! I can't do a walk of shame from a freaking garage.

Dashing over to the closest vehicle, Peyton peered into Mr. Diamond's SUV, looking for RJ. Not seeing him, she next scanned Mr. Stratton's car. Nothing again. She mentally kicked herself for not checking her mom's car first. There she found her late-night lover, softly snoring away in the front seat. How the hell did I miss that? Gently shaking him and calling his name didn't rouse him from his slumber, so Peyton opened the front car door and slammed it shut, hard.

"Wha-what..." RJ groaned as his eyes shot open.

"RJ, get up! It's light outside. I don't know what time it is, who's up, who might see us, and...I need to know the time," Peyton rattled off. Watching as the half-asleep jock showed no sense of urgency frustrated the usually calm young woman. "RJ!"

Only half getting up, the stocky young man leaned his arm over and tapped the volume control button on the radio. In response, the digital display flashed a brief 7:57 before disappearing.

"Almost eight, does that help?" the groggy guy asked.

"Eight! Someone's probably up making breakfast. Who's turn is it today?" Getting only a shrug in reply from a person that wouldn't have a clue, Peyton continued on with her morning grouchiness. "Well, go and find out! We can't have anyone seeing us. No, no, no, we can't. Hey, is that Peyton and RJ strolling on in after a night of screwing in the garage of all places? That won't do at all. C'mon, move it!"

Having his former girlfriend's friend grab his arm to try and pull him out of the backseat finally proved enough for RJ. "Was having sex with me that awful? Am I a hideous person?"

"What? No!"

"Well, you've been acting like it since we finished last night."

"I-it's...what we did was wrong," Peyton replied. Seeing RJ nod in agreement didn't help assuage her guilt any. "Last night was a mistake. A fun mistake, I'll admit. I guess Lana was right, and I needed it. But, it should have never been you. You're Priscilla's truelove. It doesn't matter if you guys broke up or took a break. All that matters is that she'll feel betrayed. By both of us. I can't even imagine what our friends would think if they found out, and Lana...oh, crap, I'd never hear the end of it."

"It might get her off your back for a bit."

"Oh, gawd, no! It will encourage her to push me to do more. I don't just have random sex, impulsive sex."

"Why not?"

"Why not? Because I don't, that's why. Peyton Tarver only has sex with guys she's dating, not casual sex like..."

"Lana?"

"I was going to say a slut, but close enough. Wait, that sounded worse than I meant." Peyton paused to collect her thoughts, take a deep breath, and began again by waving her arms around. "I don't do this whole pick up a guy and have a one-night stand. Even worse with a guy that I definitely shouldn't be with. I have self-control. Stuff like this is where you end up screwing your life away. End up in an abusive relationship. Or pregnant by a total loser asshole. Not that I mean you! You're safe...a good guy!"

"I get it. You mean casual sex can have consequences, so you don't like the risks that come with it." Peyton gave a quick nod. "When did you say you last had sex?"

"Uh, before Trevor and I broke up. Late September."

"Three months. So you went three months without any sex and cracked last night," RJ noted with a smile. "Shit, Pey, lots of people can't go three weeks without cracking. I know there's no way I could go for three months. You don't need to be ashamed of letting off some steam."

"You sound like Lana."

"And I bet all she wanted was for you to unwind a bit. I can only imagine how stressful your college life can be. I've heard Pri--well, I've heard others talk about the pressures to get great grades that are needed to get into a good medical school." RJ reached out to rub her arm, causing a slight flinch from Peyton. "See, you're still wound-up tight. Just relax, it will be okay. Nobody has to ever know."

"Fine," she said, rolling her eyes. "Now, can you go see if a door is unlocked?"

"Okay, okay, I'm going. I've heard of kicking a guy out of bed the next morning, but I can't say I've heard of kicking him out of the backseat of a car," RJ remarked with a tight grin.

"Don't forget to grab my coat and boots, okay?"

"Yes, Peyton, I know." RJ reached for the doorknob, preparing himself for the cold air outside.

"And hurry too."

"Look, I can't make any promises. I don't know where the closest jeweler is located, nor when it opens on a Saturday morning."

"What are you talking about?"

"You said you only have sex in committed relationships, so I need to buy you at least a promise ring in case anyone sees us. Although with all the floozies that Harvey screws, maybe one of them dropped a ring in the cabin. Then I guess we'll need to sell this fake relationship for at least a few months. Prissy will have to be content playing my mistress instead of a girlfriend. Then after a respectable amount of time, we can have a public fight and call it off. Unless...a pure young lady like yourself doesn't believe in birth control. Oh, no! What if I put a little Ridge inside a Tarver last night? Oh, what will we ever do!"

Grabbing a dirty towel off a tool chest, Peyton threw it at his face with a laugh. "Fuck off, Ridge!"

"Sure thing, Mrs. Ridge," RJ walked out in the morning cold, happy to hear a laughing Peyton behind him.