When The World Comes Down On Me

Disclaimer: I know it's super tempting to say I own such a superficial (yet surprisingly addictive with moldable characters) series, but Lisi (LEE-see, yes I don't see how her parents named her that either) Harrison owns it.

'Cause you're all I have
When the world comes down on me
You're the one I love
And I'm begging you to see
-All I Have by the Veronicas

I sighed and put my hands over my eyes, covering the grinding mess on the dance floor from my perch on the sidelines. God, it is times like these that I really miss you, Kemp. Did you have to be so flipping smart (something that surprised us all) and go off to Massachusetts for Harvard? Couldn't you just stay here and go to NYU with me and practically everyone else?

No, I could never have made him do that. It was his dream to go off to Harvard, the college that practically breeds presidents, lawyers, and executives. Kemp was always the type of person to get what he wanted, no matter what. Now, the 'no matter what' was me.

You're probably thinking, "Why is Claire Lyons, the girl who essentially stalked Cam Fisher (her "soul" mate) for three years, is now pining after Kemp Hurley?" Well, after Cam dumped me flat on my ass for Allie Rose Singer (who he is still with, surprisingly, if the hour-long makeout session tonight was any indication) in sophomore year, I decided it was about time to move on. This time, I had thought back then, I was going to do it completely. Who would ever guess that Kemp had some sort of feelings for me? The ex-playboy had apparently fallen for the sweet and pure girl from Florida. The day was written in the books as the teenaged apocalypse.

I just saw it as the day I fully got over Cam Fisher.

I uncovered my eyes and looked onto the hardwood floors, feeling miserable as I saw my friends and their boyfriends (who, weirdly, are my friends now too) dancing together. Massie had her arms wrapped around Todd's neck while he smiled giddily. Sure, I supported my best friend and brother's relationship, but that never stops me from shuddering when I think about it. It's just so… weird. It was even weirder that they seemed to mesh perfectly. Dylan was shaking her hips and laughing at the newest joke Josh told her. I think them getting together was even more unexpected than Kemp and I getting together (somehow, people had the unrelenting feeling Massie and Todd would eventually date).

Kristen was sharing an iPod with Chris Plovert as they cuddled on the couch (two people that smart were bound to get together) and Alicia was twirling her hair as she flirted with her male harem (it's notable members are Danny Robbins and Jake Shapiro). Derrick, my non-friend but part of our little clique anyway, was flitting around like a butterfly (both always like to try every flower!) and dancing uncouthly with any female with a heartbeat.

He looked back and saw me nursing my vodka (I have turned to hard liquor for some company) and smirked in a way he most likely thought was so debonair. Derrick really just looked as though he was hungry and had seen the nicest slice of meat in the world. That's enough to make anyone shudder.

"Lyons! You seem to be hitting the drinks pretty hard." His chocolate brown eyes twinkled.

"Calm yourself, Harrington; this is only my second drink. I'm still sober enough to know not to get anywhere near you and a bedroom," I remarked, shaking the contents of my almost empty drink. It'll soon be time for a third!

"Yeah, right," he started, "I could get you in bed without the effects of too much alcohol. It's these dashing good looks I have." Derrick struck a model-like pose that made the surrounding girls swoon and made me roll my eyes.

"You look like a chicken on crack in that pose, Harrington. Go back to normal or I might walk away telling every person in the vicinity that you're some crazy stalker-slash-rapist out to get innocent girls in relationships."

He seemed slightly pained as I emphasized the word relationship. I wonder why. "So, you and Hurley still together?"

My eyebrow rose. "Are you still the biggest player in Westchester?"

"Point taken," he replied crisply. "But, he did leave you all alone in the biggest party of the year to fend for yourself in this feeding frenzy of very drunk, very perverted boys."

"Like you, you mean?" I said innocently. I widened my eyes and turned the whole of, "Aww, Claire is so adorable and harmless" on him. He didn't seem to fall for it.

Derrick smirked instead. "Yeah, exactly like me. Moreover, I don't think that whole act you're giving me is totally factual. I bet you're not even a light-weight."

I scrunched my eyebrows in anger. "You don't know that!"

"Really? So you can't hold your liquor?"

Damn, I backed myself into a corner with this one. I could both embarrass myself and tell him that I throw up after two drinks or I could tell the truth and say that I can drink like a manic with little to no repercussions. I have been known by my closer friends for seeming the most sober after being drunk out of my mind.

"What do you want me to say, Harrington?" I asked evasively.

"The truth would be astronomically fantastic, you know." He raised his eyebrow expectantly.

Crap. Think of something quick, Mind! "How about we have a little competition? Whoever is the most sober after drinking 20 shots wins." That wasn't what I expected, Mind.

"What does this prove, Lyons?" he asked. "It still doesn't answer what you're oh so cleverly avoiding."

"Well, it'll prove that if I don't vomit after the third shot, you'll know I'm not a light-weight. Duh," I said. Hmm, maybe this is why I keep my mind around: for these quick thinking moments.

"Fine," Derrick acquiesced, motioning his hand to the bar that Massie had created in the corner next to us. "Give us twenty shots of scotch!" he called. He looked over at me briefly and smirked. "And bring us a bucket for when the little one needs to puke!"

My eyes flashed dangerously. "Little one? I will have you know that I'm far from being little! I'm a mature young adult."

"I hope you know how contradicting you sound. There is no such thing as a 'mature young adult'," Derrick replied as the bartenter brought the twenty small glasses on a tray. He nodded at us with a ghost of a knowing smirk on his face and walked away, leaving us to glare at each other.

Derrick raised his glass. "Bottoms up, Lyons." He downed the contents of the glass quickly and looked at me to do the same. I grabbed two glasses and drunk them as quickly as he did. I gave him a sinister smile that could rival any of his.

The night kept going like this, each of us trying to surpass the other as we gulped the drinks one after another. Even after we finished the first batch, we ordered even more. I began feeling tipsy and even Derrick looked a little inebriated. But for some reason, I was having fun getting drunk with Derrick Harrington. We were laughing at everything we said (though the scotch may have had some influence) and the melancholy feeling Kemp leaving gave me was almost totally suppressed. Derrick had changed seats from across from me to right next to me, his arm swung lazily over my shoulder. It's oddly something I didn't mind.

He looked down at me. "I guess you can hold your scotch. You won, Lyons."

I looked up, our faces a hair's breath away. "I suppose I did, Harrington."

"What, no gloating? You were right, and I was wrong. Aren't you going to reap the benefits of this once-in-a-lifetime opportunity?" He looked at me with consternation written all over. Poor boy.

I smiled at him. "I think you're doing a good enough job with it without my incredibly witty comments."

Derrick chuckled lowly. "You're right. Maybe it's because you make me so crazy that I start insulting myself instead. Lyons, you're a lot different than any of the girls I know."

"In what way do I make you crazy? In a way that you'd want to strangle me or in… another way?" I asked hesitantly. I'm actually a little scared by his answer. Is it true that he hates me as much as he says? He leaned his head even closer, his lips brushing my ear. I felt a shiver run down my spine, its cold finger mocking me with the traitorously pleasurable feeling.

"In another, very tingly way. You drive me insane, but mostly because I can't stand being without you every damn second. I have absolutely no idea why this is, so please don't ask me."

"Are you drunk?" I can't help it! He cannot be serious about all of this. He's Derrick Harrington, the boy who took over Kemp's place as pervert once he turned into a monogamous person for me. The boy who has slept with all of the Westchester's female teens and never looked at them again. Derrick can't possibly mean any of this unless he's more out of it than I thought.

"I'm perfectly aware of what I'm doing. Are you sober?" he asked me quietly, turning his head as he pressed a kiss to the corner of my mouth.

My breath was almost coming out in pants. "Yes," I said quietly as his arm crept slowly down to my waist.

"Good."

And then he kissed me. I can't lie and say that I didn't immediately think of Kemp. His face was burned into my mind, and I almost believed it was he. My mind conjured images of him and it almost felt the same as when I kissed him. It was a perfunctory reaction after being with one guy for so long.

"Claire," Derrick groaned quietly.

I opened my eyes, but didn't push him away. He had said my name for the first time; I couldn't believe it. Closing my eyes again, I couldn't see Kemp anymore. All I saw was Derrick's caramel eyes that always seemed as if he was up to something. All I could feel was his soft long hair as I ran my fingers through it. I couldn't even remember my own name, let alone Kemp's.

Losing myself to feeling, I kissed him even harder. Everything escalated from there. The touches hotter, the kisses fiercer, until we practically sprinted from the couch and into one of the Block's spare bedrooms.

I'm sure you could figure out what happened afterwards. The surprising thing was that the thought that I was Kemp's girlfriend never crossed my mind. The thought that I was going into a bedroom with one of the people who have aggravated me since ninth grade never deterred from my lust haze. I didn't think of anything at all.

I could only feel.

-0-

Sunlight streamed through the delicate lace blinds, making me turn myself over and cover my head with a pillow. My head was pounding atrociously and my throat was begging for some water. I groaned as I recognized the distinct sign of a hangover. Man, what I would give to drink and have no side effects. Those doctors should really get right on that one.

A grunt nearly identical to mine (just around an octave deeper) sounded through the quiet room. My eyes widened and my lips pinched together in horror. What in the world happened last night?

Oh right, there is that whole sleeping-with-your-worst-enemy thing. My God, I feel like I'm on Gossip Girl, era Seventeen Candles. This also proves I need to stop obsessing over TV shows so much. I'll start acting like them.

Derrick flopped over on his side, facing me with his firmly shut eyes. I stealthily (or at least I thought) crept out of the bed and looked around the room to collect my clothes. As I was looking for my other red pump shoe, I noticed Derrick was watching me.

I jumped. "You're awake."

He half-smiled. "Thank you for stating the obvious, Lyons. Now, come back to bed." Derrick patted the space beside him that was nicely indented with my body. It does seem pretty tempting. Massie buys good matresses. Crap, no! What am I thinking? It does not seem tempting and I will not go back there. I have a boyfriend, after all.

Oh my God, Kemp! I completely forgot about him. How is he going to react? No, he will never know because no one will ever tell him.

"This did not happen," I said primly.

"Back to the innocent act? You know very well that this happened. And, just in case you forgot, the 'this' is we had sex, plain and simple."

"NO!" I cried unhappily. "This situation is far from being 'plain and simple'. I have a boyfriend, a boyfriend who I care very deeply about. He is not going to be happy that I slept with one of his friends! His successor, pretty much!"

"Notice you didn't say that you love said boyfriend. Can't bring yourself to have feelings for the now incredibly boring boy?" he said, his signature smirk blooming on his face.

"I didn't say it because it goes without saying," I gritted through my teeth. "How can you be so blasé about this whole thing? Kemp is going to freak out! How could you not care you did this? Oh my God, how could I have done this at all!?"

I am going into hysterics. It is very normal in this stage of distress for me.

Derrick stood from the bed, his boxers low on his hips. I forced myself to look him in the face and not let my gaze drift south. I'd never hear the end of it. I am supposed to be the innocent one, dammit!

"Lyons, relax. It's all going to be fine."

I. Don't. Believe. Him. It is not going to be fine! I told him so and he just laughed at me. "You're overreacting. You just need to take a deep breath and we'll figure this out."

"And you are underreacting, so I'm going to leave now. We won't be talking about this because it shall never be mentioned. I have a drawn a proverbial veil over last night and that is how it is going to stay." I slipped on the shoe that I had finally found and walked briskly toward the door. A hand clamped on my bicep, keeping me from leaving. I gritted my teeth and said softly, "Let go of me."

"Claire," he said just as softly, but without the harsh edge. "We need to talk about this."

I whirled around, feeling my hair crackle in anger. "But we're not. There is absolutely no reason to talk about this. In fact, just forget this ever happened. Just think of me and our time together as another notch on your bedpost. It meant nothing to either of us."

Derrick's eyes shone with barely suppressed fury. "You know very well, Lyons, that it meant something. You know that you remember exactly what I said last night. I don't think it's necessary to say again."

"You were drunk, Derrick! As was I!" I almost roared at him. "You were confused, disoriented; you had no fucking idea what you were saying! Pretty much, you just spun some romantic crap for me to sleep with you. And guess what? It worked. So, I'm leaving now and if you try to stop me one more time, I will cut off your hand and then the part of your anatomy that you seem most proud of." I shook his hand finally off me, and left the room in a huff.

I ignored the hurt and almost broken look on the notorious playboy's face. I ignored the thumping and constriction in my heart as the conversation echoed in my mind. I ignored the people passed out in the Block's living room as I headed toward the guesthouse. I ignored everything around me.

But what I couldn't ignore was the fact that last night kept playing on repeat in my mind. I hated it, but I mostly hated how much it made me smile happily.

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Okay, my first three-shot. I'm just hoping I'll finish it all. But since it's Rhina's written b-day present, I better finish it. She helped me somewhat with the plot. Well, more like gave me the last pairing I better have.

So, enjoy, and hopefully review? :)