Thunder in our Hearts

"So," Becca began, stretching languidly on the couch, "what's the sleeping arrangement going to be tonight?"

Everyone in company exchanged a nervous glance. The penthouse, while luxurious, only boasted one king-sized bed in the master suite.

"Uh," Turner stammered, "we hadn't really thought that far ahead."

"Well, you should have," Becca said, a mischievous glint in her eyes. "Unless you two were planning on leaving me out here with the pizza crumbs."

"Of course not!" Abby said quickly, jumping up from her chair. "We can figure something out."

She paced back and forth, her brow furrowed in thought. "We could try the couch," she suggested, gesturing towards the plush sofa. "It's pretty big."

"Eh, no thanks," Becca countered, wrinkling her nose. "With my bad back, I'd end up shaped like the letter C by the end of the week if I slept on the couch."

"Okay, then," Abby said, her voice laced with frustration. "We could... I don't know."

Turner chuckled, a hint of amusement in his voice. "Well then, I guess we could try fitting all three of us in the bed," he suggested, his eyes twinkling.

Becca's eyebrows shot up. "Seriously?"

"Why not?" Turner shrugged. "It's a king-size bed. We're not exactly giants."

"It'd be a tight squeeze," Abby said, her cheeks flushing slightly.

"A cozy squeeze," Turner corrected, his smile widening. "Think of it as a sleepover."

"A sleepover with my boyfriend and my sister," Becca said, her voice laced with sarcasm. "Sounds thrilling."

"Come on, Becca," Abby pleaded, nudging her playfully. "It'll be fun. Besides, it's just for tonight. You and Emma can figure something out tomorrow. Hell, you could go back and sleep with Paige if you think that'll be more comfortable."

Becca hesitated, then sighed. "Fine," she conceded. "But if anyone snores, they're sleeping on the floor. I'm looking at you, Abs."

"Deal," Abby said, grinning and remembering the time she snored so loudly on vacation that Becca tried to stuff a pillow in her mouth.

"Agreed," Turner added, nodding.

They headed towards the bedroom of the suite, the atmosphere light and playful. As they entered the room, they found the king-sized bed looking deceptively small.

"Okay, so how do we do this?" Abby asked, gesturing towards the bed.

"I'll take the middle," Turner said, jumping onto the bed and stretching out. "That way, I can keep the peace."

"Of course you want the middle, you want us to yourself, don't you?" Becca teased.

"You want your sister?" Turner countered.

Abby laughed, seeing her sister fuming about realizing what she'd just implied.

"I mean, I'm not complaining," Becca retorted, a smirk on her face. "Just stating the obvious. Besides, I need my beauty sleep, and I'm a princess, so I need the most room."

Abby rolled her eyes, but couldn't help but smile. "Fine, princess," she said, climbing onto the bed beside Turner. "But if you kick me in your sleep, I'm kicking back."

"Wouldn't dream of it," Becca said, settling in on the other side of Turner. "Unless you deserve it, of course."

"And I of course have no say in the matter?" Turner rhetorically asked.

"Nope!" Abby said curtly.

"This is what you get for trying to have your cake and eat it too," Becca added.

They adjusted themselves, finding a somewhat comfortable arrangement. The bed was indeed a tight squeeze, but the atmosphere was surprisingly relaxed.

"This is... interesting," Turner said, his voice laced with amusement.

"Interesting is one word for it," Abby said, chuckling. "I'm thinking 'ridiculous' might be more accurate."

"Yeah, it's not every day you get to have a sleepover with your boyfriend and your sister," Becca said, her voice teasing. "I'm sure Kendra would say something about how the weirdness is just 'part of the show' or whatever nonsense."

"Easy for you to say," Turner countered, nudging her. "You're not sandwiched between us."

"True," Becca admitted, grinning. "But I'm also not the one who kissed his girlfriend's sister."

A moment of charged silence hung in the air, broken only by the soft hum of the air conditioning.

"Touché," Turner said, a wry smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

Abby shifted uncomfortably, a blush creeping up her neck. "Can we just... not talk about it anymore?" she pleaded, her voice laced with a hint of exasperation. "I'm tired, and I just want to sleep."

"Fine by me," Becca said, yawning widely. "But if I wake up with you two spooning and taking all of the blankets, I'm kicking one or both of you out of the bed."

"Noted," Turner said, chuckling softly.

They settled into a more comfortable silence, the only sounds the gentle rhythm of their breathing. The room was dark, the only light filtering in from the hallway. After a few minutes, Abby's breathing deepened, indicating she had fallen asleep. Becca and Turner exchanged a soft glance, a silent acknowledgement of the awkwardness of the situation they'd been thrust in.

"She's out like a light," Turner whispered, his voice barely audible.

Becca nodded, her gaze fixed on Abby's sleeping form. "Always has been. Sleeps like the dead, even when she's supposed to be on watch during sleepovers."

"Sleepovers," Turner repeated, a hint of amusement in his voice. "This is a far cry from the sleepovers I remember."

"Tell me about it," Becca murmured, rolling her eyes. "I remember one time she tried to convince me that monsters were real, and then hid under the covers when the rest of us started telling ghost stories."

Turner chuckled, a low rumble in his chest. "That sounds about right for her."

"And then she blamed me for scaring her," Becca added, her voice laced with playful indignation. "As if I was the one who brought up the monsters."

A comfortable silence settled between them, the only sound the soft hum of the air conditioning. The darkness of the room seemed to amplify the intimacy of their shared space.

"So," Turner began, his voice barely a whisper, "about earlier..."

"About the kiss?" Becca finished, her voice equally soft.

"Yeah," Turner admitted. "I just... I want to make sure you're really okay with it."

Becca sighed, her gaze drifting towards the ceiling. Turner couldn't distinguish if her sigh was one of acceptance or annoyance, but her response quickly clarified that. "I told you, I am. It's just... different. Unexpected. But I trust you both. And I know you wouldn't do anything to intentionally hurt me."

"Thank you," Turner said, his voice sincere. "That means a lot."

"Besides," Becca added, a playful smirk tugging at the corners of her lips, "it's not like I have a say in the matter anymore. The audience has made it clear that I can't be jealous. And honestly, it's kind of freeing."

"Freeing?" Turner asked, his brow furrowed slightly.

"Yeah," Becca said, shrugging. "Freeing. I don't have to worry about trying to control everything anymore. I can just... be myself. And focus on other things."

"Like what?" Turner asked, his voice laced with curiosity.

"Like figuring out how to get back at Kendra," Becca said, her voice hardening slightly. "And like helping Abby and Lana. And like... well, just living my life."

"That sounds... good," Turner said, a hint of admiration in his voice. "You've changed, Becca. Just last week you tried to punch her."

"Maybe I have," Becca said, a small smile playing on her lips. "Or maybe it's just the transformations she put on me."

Another comfortable silence settled between them.

"Or maybe I'm just finally figuring out who I am."

Becca's admission hung in the air, the darkness of the room seeming to amplify the weight of that statement.

"Turner," Becca whispered, her voice laced with a hint of hesitation.

"Yeah?" Turner replied, turning his head slightly.

"Do you... do you really like Abby?" she asked, her voice barely audible.

"Like like-like her?" he responded.

"We're not in high school, you dork."

Turner hesitated for a moment, then nodded. "Yeah," he admitted, his voice soft. "I do. She's... amazing. Funny, smart, kind. And she understands me in a way that... well, in a way that not many people do."

"And what about me?" Becca asked, her voice laced with a hint of vulnerability.

"You're amazing too, Becca," Turner said, with much less hesitation and more sincerity. "You're strong, independent, and fiercely loyal. You're determined to get what you want and know how you're gonna do that. You keep me on track when I don't know what that is myself and make sure I'm accountable. And I-I love you."

Becca nodded slowly, absorbing his words. "Good," she murmured. "I don't want to lose that either, because I love you too much to let you go that easy."

"You won't lose that," Turner reassured her, reaching out and gently squeezing her hand. "We're all in this together."

"Even if 'this' is a giant sleepover?" Becca teased, a small smile playing on her lips as she brought his hand around her.

"Especially then," Turner said, chuckling softly.

They settled into a comfortable silence, the gentle rhythm of their breathing filling the room. The darkness seemed to amplify the sense of peace and understanding that had settled between them. Even with Abby starting to snore on the other side of the room, vexing both Becca and Turner, it seemed like it was just the two of them again.

---

Lana sat on the edge of her bed, her fingers tracing the worn edges of her sketchbook. The room was quiet, the only sound the soft hum of the air conditioning. Outside, the sun was beginning to set, casting long shadows across the manicured lawns of the hotel grounds.

She sighed, her gaze drifting to the window. The palm trees swayed gently in the breeze, their fronds rustling like whispers. It was a beautiful view, but it couldn't quite distract her from the turmoil of her thoughts.

"Knock, knock," a voice called from the doorway.

Lana turned to see Emma leaning against the frame, a warm smile on her face. Charlotte stood behind her, her expression more reserved but equally friendly.

"Hey," Lana said, returning their smiles. "Come on in."

Emma and Charlotte entered the room, Emma perching on the edge of Lana's desk while Charlotte settled into the armchair in the corner.

"We just wanted to check in," Emma said, her voice gentle. "See how you're doing."

"I'm fine," Lana replied, her voice a little too quick. "Just… thinking."

"About Mandy?" Charlotte asked, her voice soft.

Lana hesitated, then nodded. "Yeah. It's just… complicated. I want to forgive her, I really do. But it's hard. She's hurt me so much."

"We understand," Emma said, her eyes filled with empathy. "It takes time. Healing isn't linear."

"And it's okay to feel whatever you're feeling," Charlotte added. "You don't have to **** yourself to be okay if you're not."

Lana sighed, closing her sketchbook. "It's just… I feel like I'm letting her down. She's trying so hard, and I'm just… pushing her away."

"But you're also protecting yourself," Emma pointed out. "And that's important too. You have to put your own well-being first."

"Yeah," Charlotte agreed. "You've been through a lot, Lana. You deserve to take your time and heal at your own pace."

Lana nodded, her gaze drifting to her hands. "Thanks," she said softly. "I appreciate you guys checking in."

"Of course," Emma said, her smile widening. "That's what friends are for. Besides," she added, her eyes twinkling, "we also wanted to talk about something else."

"Oh?" Lana asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Yeah," Emma said, her voice laced with excitement. "We've been thinking about the contest coming up."

"What about it?" Lana asked, her curiosity piqued.

"Well," Charlotte began, her voice thoughtful, "we've been noticing how Kendra seems to be favoring certain people. It's not really fair."

"No, it's not," Lana agreed, nodding. "It feels like some people can do no wrong, while others are constantly being judged. What can you do though, she's untouchable."

"Aside from what happened with Becca," Charlotte countered.

"Yeah, but that's not exactly the same," Lana sighed pessimistically. "It made for good TV. Which...so does putting people in unfair competitions and hoping they overcome it."

"Hey, chin up," Emma offered, touching Lana's cheek. "You did great in the first challenge!"

"You of all people telling me to chin up about the challenges?" Lana scoffed. "The person who's gotten last or close to it both times?"

"Exactly!" Emma chirped. "I know exactly how it feels to have a bad score! But that doesn't mean we give up, right? We keep trying, we keep learning, and we keep pushing back!"

Lana managed a small smile. "I guess you're right. But what can we do about Kendra? She's running the show."

"That's what we've been thinking about," Charlotte said, leaning forward. "We've been noticing how she manipulates the challenges, how she plays favorites. It's not just about the scores. It's about the whole dynamic."

"Like how she always puts the 'favorites' in the best positions," Emma added, her eyes flashing. "Or how she twists the rules to benefit them. It's so obvious!"

"Kathryn's not one of her favorites though," Lana noted. "In fact, I'd say it's fair she's Kendra's least favorite. And she still adapted the rules to allow Kathryn to win the last challenge."

"Wait, I'm confused, whose side are you on right now?" Emma asked, a bit lost.

"I'm not on anyone's side," Lana clarified, her voice calm. "I'm just pointing out the inconsistencies. Kendra's not completely predictable. She's manipulative, yes, but she also seems to enjoy throwing curveballs. Which makes her even more dangerous."

Charlotte nodded slowly. "That's a good point. She likes to keep us off balance. But that also means she has weaknesses. If we can figure out her patterns, her motivations, we can use them against her."

"Easier said than done," Lana said, a hint of skepticism in her voice. "She's been doing this for a long time. She knows how to play the game."

"But we're learning too," Emma said, her voice filled with determination.

"And what exactly are we going to do?" Lana asked, gesturing between the three of them. "We're not exactly a powerhouse."

"Not alone, no," Charlotte said, a thoughtful expression crossing her face. "But what if we weren't alone? What if we could gather more people to our side?"

"Like who?" Lana asked, her curiosity piqued.

"Well," Emma began, her eyes twinkling, "there's Mandy. She's been through a lot, and she's not happy with the way things are going. And Paige and Lauren, they're always scheming something. They'd be perfect allies."

"You want me to team up with Paige?" Lana raised an eyebrow. "And Mandy? Not interested."

"Okay, okay, it was just an idea," Emma threw her hands up.

"I wouldn't mind keeping our current 'team', per se, with Sara and Kathryn," Charlotte mused.

"You're just saying that because you've got it bad for Sara!" Emma poked the blonde girl.

"No!" Charlotte said, a bit too quickly, her face growing red. "Maybe...but I'm not wrong!"

"Okay, okay," Emma said, holding her hands up in mock surrender. "Forget I said anything about Paige and Mandy. But Sara and Kathryn, they'd be solid. Especially Kathryn, she's a **** to be reckoned with."

"She is," Lana agreed, a thoughtful expression crossing her face. "But she's also… unpredictable. I'm not sure we can trust her."

"She's shown she's willing to fight, that's not nothing," Charlotte countered, her voice soft.

"Maybe," Lana conceded. "But we need to be careful. We can't afford to bring in anyone who's going to stab us in the back."

"Agreed," Charlotte said, nodding. "We need to vet them carefully. See where their loyalties lie."

"And what about the new person?" Emma offered. "Do you think it's gonna be anyone we know?"

"I'd say 50-50," Lana shrugged. "Although for you, Charlotte, probably like 10-90. It's probably gonna be someone that Turner knows."

"We could buy a hint about the next challenge too!" Charlotte excitedly said, paying little heed to what Lana said. "I saw it in the BP purchase thing!"

"Don't, it's not worth it," Emma rolled her eyes. "I did last week and it was a waste of my BP. No hints whatsoever."

"A waste of BP?" Charlotte asked, her voice laced with disappointment. "But...but I thought it would be helpful!"

"Helpful for Kendra, maybe," Emma retorted, rolling her eyes. "She probably gets a commission on every useless hint she sells."

Lana chuckled, shaking her head. "You two are incorrigible. But seriously, we need to focus. We can't afford to waste our BP on useless hints or trust anyone blindly."

"Right, right," Emma said, nodding quickly. "So, vetting. How do we do that?"

"We observe," Charlotte said, her voice thoughtful. "We watch how they interact with others, how they respond to pressure. We look for patterns, inconsistencies."

"And we talk to them," Lana added. "We ask questions, probe their motivations. See if their stories line up."

"Like an interrogation?" Emma asked, her eyes widening.

"Not exactly," Lana said, a small smile playing on her lips. "More like… a conversation with a purpose."

"A 'purposeful conversation'," Emma repeated, nodding slowly. "Got it. So, who's first on our list?"

"Kathryn," Charlotte said without hesitation. "She's the biggest wildcard. She seems too attached to Sara to really go out of her comfort zone."

"Agreed," Lana said, nodding. "But we need to be subtle. We can't let her know we're suspicious."

"Subtle," Emma repeated, nodding. "I can do subtle. I'm practically a ninja."

"You tripped over your own feet walking up here," Charlotte pointed out, raising an eyebrow and giggling.

Emma's cheeks flushed slightly. "Okay, maybe not a ninja. But I can be… discreet."

"Against Kathryn, the biggest analyst, sure," Lana said, a hint of amusement in her voice. "Maybe avoid any sudden movements."

"Hey!" Emma protested, throwing a pillow at Lana, who easily caught it. "I'm not that clumsy."

Charlotte continued laughing, the sound light and genuine. "You're not," she said, her smile widening. "Just… enthusiastic."

"Exactly!" Emma said, grinning. "Enthusiastic. And ready to get an alliance together!"

"One step at a time," Lana cautioned. "We need to gather information first. Then, we can strategize."

"Right, information," Emma said, nodding quickly. "So, what kind of questions do we ask Kathryn?"

"Questions that reveal her motivations," Charlotte said, her voice thoughtful. "Questions about her past, her goals, her relationships with the others."

"And questions that test her loyalty," Lana added. "See if she's willing to put the group's interests ahead of her own."

"Got it," Emma said, nodding. "Motivation, loyalty, and… what else?"

"Anything that seems… off," Lana said, her gaze drifting to the window. "Anything that doesn't quite add up."

"Like a red flag?" Emma asked.

"Exactly," Lana confirmed.

"And what about the new person?" Emma asked, her eyes twinkling. "Do we try to vet them too?"

"Definitely," Charlotte said, nodding. "We can't afford to ignore anyone. Especially someone new. They could be a game-changer."

"Or a game-ender," Emma added, her voice laced with a hint of caution.

"Either way," Lana said, her gaze meeting theirs, "we need to be prepared. We need to be ready for anything."

---

One year earlier...

Anastasia took another sip out of her Red Solo cup as the music swirled around her. The floor of the house was sticky, the air hot and humid with so many people around. The thumping bass vibrated through her chest, a chaotic rhythm that matched the frenetic energy of the fraternity house. A kaleidoscope of flashing lights painted the room in a pattern of dizzying hues, obscuring the faces of the people around her.

"You want another?" some unknown guy asked—moreso yelled—as his normal voice would've been drowned out by the din. He held up a bottle of something...likely brown? The colors were hard to make out with the only source of lights being varying colors and flickering.

Anastasia shook her head wildly, a strand of her dark brown hair hitting her somewhat-youthful face. "Nah, I'm good" she yelled back through the sea of bodies, though she wasn't quite sure if he'd actually heard her. She may have been a social butterfly, but she certainly knew better than to accept drinks from strangers. Especially at the frat nicknamed "Roofie Rho".

She navigated the throng of bodies, her worn Converse sneakers sticking slightly to the spilled remnants of countless beverages. The scent of cheap beer and something vaguely floral hung thick in the air. She needed to get some fresh air. Or, at least, air that wasn't saturated with the collective sweat of a hundred college students.

Pushing her way through a cluster of gyrating bodies, she finally reached the back door, a sliver of cool night air beckoning her like a siren's call. She slipped out onto the porch, the sudden quiet a welcome relief after the cacophony inside. The porch lights cast a warm, amber glow, illuminating a handful of people huddled in small groups, their conversations a low murmur against the backdrop of the party.

She leaned against the railing, taking a deep breath of the crisp night air. The sky was a vast expanse of inky black, dotted with a smattering of distant stars. A sense of peace washed over her, a brief respite from the chaos of the party.

"Mind if I join you?" a voice asked, startling her slightly.

She turned to see a young man walking outside and leaning on the railing opposite her, a half-empty bottle of water in his hand. He had brown hair, a friendly face, with kind eyes and a disarming smile.

"Not at all," Anastasia replied, offering a small smile in return.

"Crazy in there, huh?" he said, gesturing towards the house.

"You have no idea," Anastasia chuckled, shaking her head. "I swear, I'm going to smell like cheap beer for a week. Just like the week before...and the week before that...but hey, it's college."

"Tell me about it," the guy chuckled, taking another sip of his water. "I came with a few friends, but they're already lost in the mosh pit. I think they're trying to break a world record for consecutive beer bongs."

Anastasia laughed. "Sounds about right. What's your name?"

"Turner," he said, extending a hand. "Turner Andrews."

"Anastasia," she replied, shaking his hand. "Anastasia Volkov."

"Volkov," Turner repeated, his brow furrowing slightly. "That's...a unique name. Russian, right?"

"Born and raised," Anastasia confirmed, a hint of pride in her voice. "Though I've been here long enough to lose most of the accent, I think."

"A shame," Turner said, his eyes twinkling. "Accents are charming."

Anastasia rolled her eyes playfully. "Smooth," she teased. "But I'll let it slide."

"Wasn't trying to be smooth," Turner shrugged, taking a swig of water.

"Sure," Anastasia said, a playful smirk curving her lips. "And I'm the Queen of England."

Turner chuckled. "Okay, maybe a little. But it's true. I've always been fascinated by different cultures."

"And you thought my accent was the gateway to that fascination?" Anastasia asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Hey, it's a start," Turner countered, grinning. "So, what brings a Russian social butterfly to a 'Roofie Rho' party?"

Anastasia shrugged, her gaze drifting towards the distant stars. "Just trying to experience the... full college experience, I guess. You know, the whole 'live while you're young' thing."

"Ah, the classic college mantra," he said, nodding sagely. "A noble pursuit."

"And you?" she asked, turning her attention back to him. "What brings you to this den of debauchery?"

"My friends dragged me," he admitted, rolling his eyes. "I'm more of a 'quiet night in with a good book' kind of guy."

"A reader, huh?" Anastasia said, her eyes lighting up. "What kind of books do you like?"

"Mostly sci-fi and fantasy," he replied. "Anything that takes me to another world."

"Another world, huh?" Anastasia mused, a thoughtful expression crossing her face. "Sounds intriguing."

"What about you?" Turner asked. "What do you do when you're not partying?"

"Gymnastics mainly," she responded, her smile widening. "Just made nationals this year"

"Nationals? That's incredible!" Turner said, his eyes widening. "What event?"

"Beam," Anastasia simply replied, flipping a strand of hair behind her ear, a hint of pride in her voice. "It's been my dream since I was a kid. My parents put me in classes about as soon as I could walk."

"Dedication," Turner murmured, impressed. "I admire that. I've always been more of an armchair athlete myself."

"There's nothing wrong with that," Anastasia said, nudging him playfully. "Everyone has their passions." She paused, her gaze drifting back to the stars. "Though, sometimes, I wonder if I've sacrificed too much for gymnastics. All those hours in the gym, all the missed parties..."

"But you're at a party now," Turner pointed out, a gentle smile on his lips.

Anastasia chuckled. "True. And I'm enjoying it... mostly. But sometimes, I feel like I'm missing out on something. Like there's a whole world out there that I'm not seeing."

Turner nodded, his expression thoughtful. "I get that. I often feel like I'm living in my own little bubble, lost in my books and my thoughts. Sometimes you have to break out of that." He glanced at her, a hint of curiosity in his eyes. "So, what's next for you? After nationals?"

"After nationals?" Anastasia repeated, her gaze drifting back to the stars. "That's the million-dollar question, isn't it?"

Turner nodded, his eyes reflecting the faint glow of the porch lights. "I guess it is. A lot of people put all their eggs in one basket, and then... well, then they have to figure out what to do with the broken shells."

Anastasia chuckled, a hint of bitterness in her voice. "Broken shells," she echoed. "That's a good way to put it. I always thought I'd go to the Olympics. That was the plan. But..." She trailed off, shrugging.

"But things don't always go according to plan," Turner finished, his voice soft.

"Exactly," Anastasia said, her gaze meeting his. "And now I'm here, at a frat party, trying to figure out what to do with the rest of my life."

"Well, you're not alone," Turner said, a reassuring smile on his lips. "Most of us are just winging it, pretending we know what we're doing."

"Winging it," Anastasia repeated, a thoughtful expression crossing her face. "Maybe that's what I need to do. Just... let go of the plan and see where life takes me."

"It can be liberating," Turner said, nodding. "But also terrifying."

"Terrifying is my middle name," Anastasia joked, a playful glint in her eyes. "Or it would be, if I had a middle name."

Turner laughed, the sound warm and genuine. "So, no Olympics. What's the backup plan?"

Anastasia sighed, her gaze drifting back to the stars. "I don't really have one," she admitted. "My parents want me to go to law school. Or get a 'real' job. But I'm not sure that's for me."

"Law school, that's what my sister's trying to get into right now," Turner nodded. "But you said a 'real' job wasn't for you, what is it for you?"

Anastasia hesitated, her gaze fixed on the distant stars. "I don't know," she admitted. "Something... exciting. Something different. Something that makes me feel alive."

"Alive," Turner repeated, a thoughtful expression crossing his face. "That's a good goal. Not many people have that."

"What about you?" Anastasia asked, turning her attention back to him. "What are your plans?"

"Me?" Turner chuckled, shaking his head. "I'm still trying to figure out what to do with tonight. I'm probably gonna go work in analysis, probably the government or something. Still trying to get my jobs lined up."

"An analyst?" Anastasia asked, her eyebrows arching. "That's... unexpected."

"Like I said, I like reading," Turner shrugged. "And quiet. And organizing things."

"Sounds… peaceful," Anastasia mused, a hint of longing in her voice.

"It sometimes is, sometimes a little stressful," Turner confirmed, a gentle smile on his lips. "But it may be a little too peaceful for you."

Anastasia chuckled, shaking her head. "You might be right," she admitted. "I think I'd go crazy in a...whatever they call the place analysts work."

"So, what kind of excitement are you looking for?" Turner asked, his eyes twinkling. "Skydiving? Mountain climbing? Joining a rock band?"

"Something like that," Anastasia said, a playful smirk curving her lips. "Something that will make me feel like I'm not just going through the motions."

"Well," Turner said, his gaze drifting towards the house, "this party isn't exactly skydiving, but it's a start."

Anastasia laughed, the sound light and genuine. "True," she said. "But I think I'm ready for something a little more... ****."

"****, huh?" Turner asked, raising an eyebrow. "I'm not sure I'm ready for ****."

"That's okay," Anastasia said, nudging him playfully. "You can watch from the sidelines."

"I might just do that," Turner said, chuckling. "As long as there are snacks."