"Hurry Uuuup!"

Whitney woke with a startled cry while gasping for air. As her eyes focused in on her surroundings, the teenager hugged the pillow in comfort. Once she realized her location, Whitney craned her head toward the nightstand and the alarm clock. What she saw alarmed her.

"What the hell!"

Performing an agile roll out of the bed that turned into a hop onto the floor, Whitney reached the door in record time. Flinging it open, she sprinted down the hallway toward the great room.

"Why didn't anyone wake me up? We gotta go now!"

"Whoa! Hold your horses, pumpkin!" Harvey instructed, standing up from a sofa. "You're supposed to take it easy."

"We don't have time to take it easy. Throw on your jacket, grab your stuff, and pull the car up to the door, Dad. Donatello is waiting!" Whitney stared in disbelief at the nonchalant way that Mr. Stratton and Mr. Lockett lounged on the other couches. Then, spotting Newt at the dining room table, she issued more orders. "Denton, get your butt off that tablet and help grab my stuff."

"Uh, isn't that taken care of already?"

"No, it's not! And where the hell are Lacey and Rammy?" Whitney nearly screamed in her exasperation. Why isn't anyone taking this seriously? We need to get our outfits together!

"They're right over there, pumpkin," Harvey chuckled, motioning toward the foyer.

Spinning on her feet, Whitney saw Ramsey buttoning up her coat while Lacey, already in her jacket, gave a wave. At their feet were several suitcases with additional dress bags on the coat hooks by the front door.

"We were waiting until the last second to wake you," Rachel revealed, standing outside her bedroom on the second floor as she looked down and over the railing.

"Yep, you were conked out. Slept right through us coming in and out of the bedroom. Lana called you Sleeping Bitchy," Lacey recounted, adding a giggle at the end.

"We have ALL your dresses and the bag you packed," Ramsey informed her friend, holding up a large bag that served as her makeup kit.

"I doubt you grabbed everything...but thanks," Whitney responded, about as close as she could ever come to being sheepish. "Wait! I need to make sure that we bring my old dress for JoJo. She just has to wear it!"

"Already ahead of you," Bridget stated, coming around from the stairway. Mimicking Ramsey, the older blonde hoisted several dress bags in the air with her hand.

"Oh, um, thank you, ma'am."

Harvey nearly fell over in shock at his daughter calling anyone ma'am. Behind Bridget, Lacey fell into the inevitable giggle fit that even caught Ramsey up in it. Smiling apologetically, Bridget walked over toward her young charge.

"I'm sorry for how I snapped earlier, Whitney. It's that I'm worried about your health and don't want any setbacks. And please continue to call me Bridget."

"Oh, okay, Bridget," the teen said softly with a small smile before whipping her head in her father's direction. "Dad, why aren't you pulling your car around? Hurry up! We need to leave now."

"Nope, that's not happening...ma'am," Harvey teased.

"What? This isn't time for jokes, Dad! Donatello isn't a man to be trifled with."

"I'm not kidding, pumpkin. I'm not the one driving you back into town."

"What does that mean?"

"I'm driving you down with the girls," Bridget announced.

"Oh, um, okay, thanks, Dr. Tar-- I mean, Bridget. But, um, you need to pull your car to the front door and real soon," Whitney instructed as politely as she could. Then, noticing another person still now following her orders, she barked out, "Dammit, Denton, aren't you going to help Lacey and Ramsey with their bags?"

The nerdy teen threw his hands up in the air in defeat. He also mumbled a few words about Jared and Austin's whereabouts.

"Alright, let me double-check my room and my bags, and then we can leave," Whitney said, already moving back toward the hallway.

"And aren't you forgetting your super-important task from earlier?" Bridget queried.

"Impor--aw dammit!" Whitney exclaimed before grumbling. "I don't have time for this."

No time for sugarcoating this bit of news. Sean's just going to have to accept that I'm not telling him anyone's identity right now. I don't care what he--WHAT THE...

Bursting into the den, Whitney saw the one sight she expected the least. Sitting halfway up on the pull-out couch, Sean had the sheets pulled down just below his waist. The blankets sat bunched up like that as he currently stroked his rock-hard dick. Startled by the sudden intrusion, Sean's head turned so fast toward the door that Whitney wondered if he added whiplash to his list of injuries.

"Jesus, Tarver," Whitney began, slamming the door shut behind her. "Don't you ever stop jerking off? I just relieved your pressure in the shower a couple of hours ago."

"It just won't stop," Sean whined.

"Well, make it stop."

"It's not my fault. I think it might be the new painkillers," her rescuer speculated.

That brought a long sigh from the busty blonde.

"First off, stop looking at my tits. Second, put that away. Not that it isn't a nice cock, but you need to save it for later."

Did Whitney Diamond just call my cock nice?

"And yes, I just called it nice. Get over it."

"H-How...C-Can you read minds?" Sean sputtered.

"Oh, for fuck's sake," the blonde moaned, palming her forehead for a second. "No, I can't. It was written all over your face. Gawd, you better not be getting loopy again. I can't deal with loopy and horny Sean at the same time. Now put it away!"

"Oh, right. Sorry." Sean proceeded to stuff his erection back into the pajama pants. "I'm not loopy any longer. Or I don't think I am. I'm so confused."

"Well, stop being confused. And stop rubbing one out. I have a plan to take care of that later tonight. So save your strength. Go it?" Whitney ordered, her eyes blazing briefly.

"Uh, got it," Sean responded, primarily out of fear of Whitney's wrath.

"Okay, I don't have time to be polite about this, and it's not my fault, so don't blame me," the time-concerned blonde said. "You're going to have to wait to learn who was in your bed last night."

"Wait, you mean the second girl?"

"Yes, I mean the sec--wait, what second girl?!" Whitney exclaimed, thrown for a loop.

"Oh, you didn't know?" Sean questioned with a smirk. It felt good to know something that the all-knowing Whitney didn't. "It turns out that I had two visitors last night."

"Two?! Why those little hussies...wait, how did you find out?"

"Aunt Gabby or I guess I should call her just Gabby from now on. Well, Gabby revealed that Ms. Goose couldn't get in here last night because the door was locked," Sean revealed.

"Yeah, she said the same thing when we confronted her. Not that I thought it was her," Whitney counter-revealed, pleased to see Sean's disappointment at her knowing this detail too.

"But do you know why the door was locked?"

"How the hell would I--oh!" Whitney exclaimed. Her bouncing up and down in excitement drew Sean's eyes to her covered-yet-jiggly breasts. Noticing that, the blonde rolled her eyes. "Seriously? You already saw them naked in the shower. Use your memory!"

"But they're awesome!"

"Don't flatter me for info...but thanks." Whitney blushed. Of course, she recovered quickly. "So, what did you find out?"

"It was Gabby in here when Kimberly tried to get in."

"Really? Oh, well, I guess that makes sense. She already took you out for a spin. But those definitely weren't her panties," Whitney stated firmly.

"No, they weren't. Gabby said she only blew me."

"Only blew you? Well, well, well, it sounds like someone is getting spoiled on his stay at Diamond Cabin. You're welcome," Whitney teased.

"Hold on. How did you know for sure that they weren't her panties?"

"That's for me to know and for you to find out when I decide," Whitney replied, bracing for the inevitable argument. When it came, she batted down several attempts, pleadings, beggings, and even one rapidly pulled back threat.

"Sorry, I didn't really mean that," Sean apologized.

"I better not hear that ever again. Got it?" the school's queen bee warned.

"Got it. But you have to tell me what you know. Please?" Sean pleaded again.

"Look, I have a good idea, but I need to check on a few things first," Whitney partially lied. She already felt 98% certain. Although if Sean had two mysterious lovers last night, what's to say that he didn't have a third? "You don't need to worry about it for now."

"Don't worry about it? Are you crazy? It's almost impossible not to think about it," Sean complained. "And how do I even know that you're on the right track? I'm the grandson of a detective, you know."

"And I'm the one--Nope, I'm not getting into a back and forth about this. You just need to trust me," Whitney declared, but she also noticed his face. "Don't you trust me?"

"Not really."

"Sean Seamus Tarver," Whitney began her scolding, using his middle name that she'd only learned recently. "You better trust me. I'm the person in charge of your life from now on."

"In charge of--"

"Yes, I'm in charge! You saved my life, so now I need to fix yours," Whitney proclaimed. "Oh, don't give that look. You weren't doing a bang-up job of it before this trip. Trust me."

"I don't feel comfortable with--"

"Don't worry. You'll be literally able to sit back and enjoy my plans for you," Whitney purred, moving close to him. Then, glancing up at the clock, she changed directions to give him a loud kiss on the forehead. "Well, got to go!"

"Wait, you can't go!" Sean responded as Whitney opened the door.

"Dress sharp and look spiffy, Sean. I don't want--oh, screw it. I'll help dress you at the hotel. Bye!"

---

The roadster's roaring engine went silent as Harvey turned off the ignition and stepped out of the driver's door. Proud of the car that he always wanted, he cringed at what he heard next.

"How about we take turns driving it to Honey Hollow?" Nate more suggested than asked of Finn.

Walking directly toward his close friend's son, Harvey dangled the keys in the air.

"Now, I only trust a very limited number of people with my baby. My driver, Bud, is one, along with my brother. Well, I also guess Frida, but she won't listen to me," Harvey drifted off on a tangent before waving it off. "But I do trust you, Finn. Not anyone else, not even your dad." Harvey also directed the comment toward the suddenly crestfallen Nate.

"I understand, Uncle Harvey. I'll be extremely careful. No fooling around," Finn stated, also shooting a warning at Nate.

"Good. However, you might need to hurry up and go. I don't even let Whitney drive this car, so it might be better if she doesn't--"

"Already too late for that, Father," Whitney remarked, rushing down the stairs. "I don't have time for this argument, but we will discuss this additional insult." Then with a sigh, she turned back toward the front door.

CLAP CLAP

"Let's go, Denton! Those bags won't walk themselves to the car."

"Is that any way to treat our guest, pumpkin?" Harvey inquired, sighing.

"Don't put this one on me, Dad. I warned Newt what would happen if he kept on ignoring my efforts for him to have fun on his stay."

"How could he have ignored you? You've been in the hospital for the last few days?" Harvey questioned in bewilderment.

They watched as a huffing and puffing Newt scurried down the front stairs. Whitney waited until he made it to Mrs. Tarver's car, where he placed the cases in the trunk. Lowering her voice, Whitney leaned in closer to her father.

"I'm not being mean. I just need to keep Newt scared of me. I already promised to find him a girlfriend once school starts back up. The poor kid is going to have to decide what he's more afraid of: Talking to a girl or me."

"Definitely you," Nate remarked, having overhead the conversation.

"Nobody likes a nosy Toone," Whitney shot back before heading toward Bridget's sedan. "Let's hurry up, people. I'm paying Donatello a fortune for tonight, and I don't want Cat getting him first."

"I'm the one paying that small fortune," Harvey yelled towards his daughter's back.

"Same thing!"

Shaking his head at his daughter, Harvey watched as Kimberly drove off alone in her car. Next, he winced as Lacey backed her dad's sedan out of the garage and almost into the side of Bridget's vehicle. Didn't Clive mention something earlier about not letting Lacey drive his car?

"Whoops. Sorry!"

"Here, let me give you a hand," Harvey informed Rachel as she walked out the front door with an armful.

"Lacey! You know you're not allowed to drive your father's car. We don't need our insurance bill any higher."

"Alright, let's hit the road!" Nate cheered, opening the sports car's passenger door.

However, another hand pushed it shut.

"Hey, what the...Lana?"

"And here we go," Peyton alerted Skye, from where they both stood on the front porch.

Removing her hand from the car door, Lana moved it over to Nate's arm. Once there, she proceeded to slide it up toward his shoulder, eventually stopping on his cheek. Slightly caressing her partner-in-crime's face, Lana flashed a pouty face.

"Smurfie, would you be a doll and make my day Smurftasic?"

"What's with the Smurf stuff?" Skye questioned.

"Don't ask. It's a long, dumb story from childhood," Peyton responded.

"Aww, no! C'mon, Lanana. I wanna ride in Harvey's James Bond car," Nate whined.

"Yeah, Nate's coming with me," Finn stated, looking over the car's top.

"But you hit the nail on the head, Natie," Lana continued, ignoring Finn. "This a James Bond-type of car, and that's the problem."

"Just ignore her and get in," Finn told Nate.

"You see, Smurfie, I'm the only one here that looks like a Bond girl."

"Hey!" Whitney yelled from the open front passenger door of Mrs. Tarver's car.

"Sorry!" Lana apologized. "Fine, besides Whitney, I'm the only girl here that fits the requirements to play a Bond girl."

"You know, Lana, I think you're wrong!" Peyton called from the porch.

"You're more the Miss Moneypenny-type, and you know it, Pey," Lana shot back.

"I wasn't talking about me," Peyton replied, gesturing toward Skye. "And you know a lot of those Bond girls get screwed and then killed off."

"Hey, why don't we let Skye come with us? She can sit on my lap," Nate suggested, his eyes traveling up and down the wannabe model's body.

"Wait, that's not what I meant!" Lana protested, punching Nate in the arm.

"Way to entice him to give up his spot," Peyton remarked.

"Yeah, Peyton is right. I need a whole lot of enticements to give up my spot in this car," Nate declared.

"Oh, Smurfie, don't you get it? If I ride down with our Finny, you get to ride alone with Peyton for the long drive. Just think, whatever would you say and do for those almost two hours," Lana speculated. Then, leaning in, she whispered several ideas into Nate's now eager ear.

"Okay, I'm sold!"

"Dammit, Nate. I don't want to deal with her for that long," Finn complained, pointing at his good friend but also ex-girlfriend.

"Too bad, Finny, I'm in!" Lana wasted no time opening the passenger door and sliding onto the seat. "Don't forget: Speed turns me on."

"Shotgun!" Nate yelled, already making his way to Finn's car.

"No way! There is no way that I'm driving with just you," Peyton growled, hurrying down the steps. "You get out of that car right this minute, Nathan Toone! You can drive down with the other guys. Or even the moms."

"Now, don't be that way, dear. You never get to spend any time with Nathan," Bridget pointed out as she prepared to leave. "Look at how excited he is to see you."

"But, Mom!" Peyton whined.

"Be nice, Peyton. Nate is family."

"More like he wants to put me in the family way," Peyton grumbled.

"Don't sweat it. I'll come with you," Skye offered.

"Oh, thank you! Thank you, thank you, thank you!" Peyton wrapped her arms around the brunette in a firm hug.

"Kiss her, Pey. Kiss her!" Lana ordered after rolling down the car window.

"What the hell?" Nate questioned, worried that he missed some new development.

"Don't worry, Nate. She's not really into girls; she's just playing hard to get. That's her game with boys," Lana threw out before raising the window. "Fast, Finn. Go fast!"

"I do not play hard to...get," Peyton trailed off as the roadster slowly drove off.

"You sure you don't want me to drive, Miss Tarver? That way, your hands will be free," Nate questioned, leaning out of Finn's car.

"If you pull it out, I'm chopping it off," Peyton threatened.