Anonymous

59

It was cold.

Obviously.

It was November, and Bonnibel was on the beach. That was practically the recipe for being cold. Unless you lived somewhere tropical, which Bonnie did not. For a moment, as she pulled her coat tighter around her shoulders, she wished that Uncle Peter's transfer had been to California or Florida, somewhere nice and sunny. But then, she realised quickly that she never would've met Marceline if that had been the case, so she decided she was rather okay with the cold weather.

She looked around at her friends. They were all a little bit drunk, and Bonnie had decided not to partake. Not around strangers who could do anything. Plus, a beach party and alcohol didn't sound like the best idea – despite the cold, there was probably at least one drunken idiot who would decide to go for a swim.

"Try to smile, Bonnie," Lady nudged her with her shoulder, "You're acting like we've kidnapped you."

"Uh..." Bonnie recalled the way they burst into her bedroom, said something about a Thanksgiving beach party, and dragged her outside by her sleeve. "You quite literally did."

She'd known about the party already; her girlfriend had texted her to invite her along with Keila and the rest of her friends, but Bonnie had declined. It was a party, which was already not Bonnie's thing. But sitting bored and probably freezing cold on the beach wasn't the way she wanted to spend her Thursday night. Since she didn't celebrate Thanksgiving, she'd been using the day to focus solely on her work. She'd attempted to do that for most of the break, but any time she was working and Marceline decided to show up, her studying ended up forgotten on her desk.

(Yesterday, in one of the few moments where her lips weren't pressed right against her girlfriend's, she'd joked that Marceline was distracting her from her studying. Marceline had merely smirked and told her, "Bon, we're studying anatomy.")

"Details, details," Lady waved her accusation away, "have a drink. There's loads going around and it'll warm you up."

What would warm her up was a nice cup of tea and a blanket, but Bonnie knew she wasn't going to get that any time soon. Especially since she couldn't call Uncle Peter for a lift, as he was out on his first date in years with a man he'd met at work. She could walk home, theoretically; they'd walked here, because Jake was sick of being designated driver and most of her friends were staying at Phoebe's that night, since she lived closer to the beach. But Bonnie didn't want to walk home alone in the dark. Rationally, she knew nothing bad would happen, but there was something about it that made her uneasy.

"I'll pass," Bonnie said, stuffing her hands in her pockets, "I'd rather not drunkenly wander into the ocean and drown later."

Lady laughed. "That's a little bit dramatic. Have you been hanging around with Elle lately?"

Bonnie looked over to the girl in question. She was a few feet away, talking with a burly looking boy who Bonnie vaguely recognised from school. She assumed he was on the football team or something. Bonnie was fairly sure that Elle had dated every guy on that team.

"Perk up," Lady said when Bonnie kept quiet and contemplative, "you could always call Marceline to come and get you. Unless she's already here."

"She's here somewhere," Bonnie looked around the throngs of people hanging around on the sand, glancing over at the bonfire someone had started. Probably illegally, she realised. "Unlike some people, she actually texted me and asked me if I wanted to come."

Lady's smile was unwavering, even after that not-so-subtle dig. "I won't take that personally. You're just crabby because we tore you away from your schoolwork."