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Lacey awoke, slamming her fist down on the alarm clock and grinding her teeth. For a few seconds, she clutched desperately to the details of her dream as they seeped through her mind like water between your paws, flipping over beneath the covers before finally throwing them off herself. She paused as she swung her foot paws over the bed, hovering over her slippers. Today is... and for a second, the beating in her heart stopped as she looked over to the calendar propped on her nightstand. It read Wednesday, 5 January. She eagerly tore the piece of paper off the page-a-day calendar to read Thursday 6 January, and she let a squeal escape her lips. She shouted as she quickly tore off her night shirt and raced into the bathroom connected to her room, hopping into the shower and squealing at the cold water.

She bounced around the bathroom that morning anxiously, humming to herself happily as she did so. Three weeks ago she had had a dress rehearsal for the winter play, the kind she would have been replaced had she skipped. Then there was the Friday, Saturday, and Sunday shows - after which was winter break, and her parents had taken her on a family vacation to Spain. She had only returned the previous Monday. That meant she had gone missed three full Thursdays, and this was plainly unbearable.

After long contemplation, she finally chose a navy blue skirt that hit mid-thigh and a long sleeved gray v-neck. She combed her light red hair and smoothed her fur in the mirror, applying small amounts of mascara to the lashes framing her cyan eyes, her hand paws continuously shaking as she did so.

All day her nerves got the better of her. School was a mess of shaky knees stumbling up and down the hallways and sitting awkwardly during class constantly checking the clocks. In her head, she counted down to the exact minute of when she would get to see him, rarely concentrating on anything else. In chemistry, she answered a question with "the property of Dexter?" and managed during the lab to break not one but two test tubes before the professor, scratching behind his ear with his paw, politely asked her to discontinue participation for the day. She gleefully obeyed, sitting at her stool and idly doodling as her lab partner finished their project.

Second period she shared with a young leopard, Austin, who lusted after her. He beamed at her as she walked into the room, sliding his chair over to point attention to the empty one next to him. Normally, she would politely smile back and move to a seat further to the front where she could listen to the English professor, but today she beamed back at him, feeling incredibly generous and slid into the seat. He ecstatically began talking to her, asking her questions which she answered under her breath in one-syllable words, still constantly eyeing the clock on the wall. About half way in, he slid his paw over her knee, and it took her several seconds, as she had been calculating the minutes, before she noticed and swatted him away. As the bell rang and they left, she turned her head and made a disgusting barfing noise to herself before rushing out of the room to her next class. At least, she thought to herself, this would make a funny story to tell Dexter.

Finally, after six classes and an enduring lunch period, the final bell of the day rang. Lacey let out a long breath, suddenly very nervous. She kneaded her paws together, taking deep breaths as she slid into her car and closed her eyes before starting the engine. The entire drive home she attempted to create the first scene of their encounter in her head: would he hug her? Would he kiss her cheek? Should she pounce him? Should she wait for him to pounce her?

Deciding to wait for him under the tree, she pulled up to her house, parked the car, and ran into the backyard where the tree designated as their meeting spot grew. He had not yet arrived, but she had expected as much since his school ended at approximately the same time but he lived a good forty five minutes away, not including traffic. Pulling a book from her bag as she fit herself snuggly into the crevice of the tree, she flipped open to her marked page and began to read about the Russian affairs of the family.

An hour passed. Lacey waited patiently. Where was he? The only possible explanation she could imagine was that he had gotten into an accident, for he'd never been even a minute late on previous Thursdays. Before she could stop herself she began to hyperventilate. What if some drunkard had crashed his car into Dexter's? What if he needed to be hospitalized? Her heart racing, she ran to her car and grabbed her cell of the dashboard. She pressed the keys in the familiar order and held the phone to her ear breathing heavily. She tapped her foot paw anxiously, leaning across the car seat, the door swung open. Three rings and he answered.

"H...hullo?"

"DEXTER! Are you okay?" she jumped and almost hit her head on the ceiling of the car.

"Oh, yeah. Yeah, yeah..."

Pausing, unsure what was happening, she exhaled. He was okay? She was glad, but... what did that mean? ... Had he blown her off? She breathed slowly, exhaling again into the phone. "Well, what's going on?"

"Oh, nothing. How...are you?" His nonchalant manner angered her.

"Where are you?"

"I'm at a friends... oh... shit. Guys, today is Thursday, right?" Laughing ensued. "Aw, Lacey. I'll be there soon okay? Don't you worry, don't you worry your pretty pretty little head."

He hung up and she jumped out of the car, chucking her phone at the dashboard and slamming the door fuming. "What the fuck?" She screamed to herself, feeling her face grow red beneath her fur with fury. She traced her fingertips along the glass pane and then spun around on her heel and began to sit and wait under the large oak tree...

...Two hours had passed. Lacey's face fur had been matted with tears as she'd tried to comb them out, and she finally gave up, walking away from the oak, her house, and her car. She took a path near the trees lined with a brook on the left side, watching the water bubble and cascade across rocks as she angrily stomped on. She came to a fork in the road and took a planned left turn, walking several more blocks before reaching a fence which she dug her claws into and jumped over. Inside the fence sat a playground, the one she had been to ever since she was a child, usually with Dexter. The paint was peeling on the benches, and only one of the swings really worked, the other being uneven and creaking loudly whenever it was touched. The yellow slide had been rubbed raw across the middle and faded to a dark almost brown color as opposed to its original neon. The familiar burgundy merry-go-round sat off to the right side of the swing set and slide, beckoning for Lacey to sit.

She placed herself between two bars and stared down at her foot paws, kicking back and forth so that the merry-go-round would spin. Humming to herself, it was moments before she realized someone was pacing in front of her, looming ahead. Afraid it would be an angry neighbor, her head jerked up, and she saw Dexter standing nervously in front of her. His hair was carefully swept over his eyes, and his ears were turned down in a shamed manner. She looked up at him, and almost started crying again, tears poking the backs of her eyes. Her muzzle quivering more as he approached, she decided to keep quiet.

He stood directly in front of her and she could hear him take a deep breath, his chest rising and falling beneath her gaze. "Lacey..." he said, as he reached a paw out to cup her face. She jerked beneath his touch, angrily staring back at him. Frowning, he let his paws hang loosely at his side. His emerald green eyes glistened against the starlight and she momentarily made eye contact. With those few seconds, she could conclude whatever he had to say was causing him pain.

"Lacey...I'm sorry. The reason... I didn't come earlier..." he inhaled and his chest rose. "It wasn't because I was mad at you or anything... I-I was high." The words escaped from his muzzle with such an ease that Lacey did not gasp, nor did she blink. She inhaled slowly though, a single tear running down her left cheek.

"You-you're first time..." she half-stated, half-asked as Dexter slowly shook his head. She angrily shook hers back at him. "You were just experimenting..." she explained.

He took a deep breath, and she saw his eyes welling up and glistening. Suddenly, the playground became incredibly cold as icicles pressed themselves against her cheek and neck, and she shivered, wrapping her arms and paws around herself. "Lacey...it wasn't my first time."

She looked up into his eyes so long before finally letting her gaze fall to the grass between them, the hair surrounding her face covering her eyes from view. Her voice was a whisper, barely audible above the sounds of the night. "You're lying." His breathing grew heavier and deeper, and although she could not see him, her gaze focusing on the blades of grass shining back at her in the starlight, she knew his chest was rising and falling with difficulty. She knew Dexter better than any other fur, and knew that he was having trouble now controlling his breathing due to his closeness to tears. She knew she was just trying to make excuses- any excuse - for this not to be happening, for this to be some kind of joke, for him to suddenly burst into laughter, for it to be a terrible nightmare but the depth of his breathing assured her she was awake and conscious. As the moon glistened across the tears rolling down her cheeks, the ones Dexter could not see as he watched the top of her head, she kept her breath as steady as possible - "How often?"

He swallowed before answering, "Almost every day now..."

She began to shudder with more ferocity, the air seemingly growing colder around her. "What do you...?"

As he watched her, he knelt down beside her, finally seeing the droplets that fell from her cheeks to the ground, soaking into the dirt. She simultaneously wanted to hold his paw and slap him across the muzzle as she leaned closer to the ground, folding her body so that her muzzle rested on her knees and wrapping her arms around her furry legs. Desperately avoiding eye contact, she carefully further inspected the grass, noticing the bugs crawling, the slightly wet spots where her tears had soaked the dirt. His voice shook. "M-mostly weed... psy-psychedelics, too, though..."

At this, her ears dropped lower on her head and she began to sniffle to hold back the wave of overflowing tears. In one swift move, she stood from the merry-go-round, shoving it with all her might to send it spinning, loudly creaking, staring down at Dexter who was still kneeling. "Why?"

He shook his head and looked down. "You know... you know what things are like at home..."

Lacey angrily kicked out at the dirt, clumps of it flying dangerously close to Dexter's face as he flinched. "There are other ways!" she shrieked, her shrill voice ringing between the trees. Her heart was pounding, and she felt incredibly hot now, filled with anger. Yes, she knew how Dexter was struggling with his parents divorce... But she couldn't possibly fathom how he thought doing drugs would make things any better. Her skin growing redder beneath her fur, she reached a paw out and stopped the merry-go-round from spinning, holding on to her breath. She shook her head, hair and fur matted with wet tears shaking about.

Dexter stood, opening his arms out to her, but she turned away from him. She knew the sight of him, so vulnerable and open, would cause her to collapse into him... but now she had to be strong, for his own sake. She looked up into the starry sky before asking, "Why didn't you tell me?"

"I... I was afraid, Lacey."

She glanced sideways at him. "Afraid of me being angry? That's...that's so stupid. I'm angrier now that you hid it from me - that you - how could you - "

He interrupted her, his voice gentle yet affirming. "Not that. I was afraid...that you'd be hurt."

She paused, holding in her breath. Oh, Dexter, how could I NOT be hurt? She wanted to ask. How could I not be depressed and upset and frustrated and hurt? She would never speak these words aloud, but she thought them heavily in her head, hoping somehow he'd understand through the moments of silence what she was thinking. How can I ever be okay with it? How can I let you do this to yourself? She thought and before she knew it, she was sobbing, her shoulders shaking and her lips quivering. Behind her, Dexter slowly approached, wrapping his arms around her waist and placing the chin of his muzzle on her cheek. She could feel his warm tears against her ear and she collapsed into him, as he whispered, "I love you, Lace."