"Decent enough. I'll show him."
Lizzie knew she shouldn't let an insult from an almost complete stranger bother her, especially one that the stranger had no idea she'd overheard. Still, for some reason, William Darcy's words stung. Maybe it had something to do with their awkward dance. This was a wedding – everyone else was making use of the open bar and letting loose. Darcy, of course, had to be miserable. Maybe it was the bowtie. Seriously, this was a casual wedding. Who dressed that douchey just because they wanted to? No, no, it was more than that. A snazzy fashion sense, a shy personality – those were personality traits that Lizzie could chuckle about, could push aside. It was more than that. Darcy was a snobby, critical, unforgivable asshole!
After her accidental eavesdropping on the lawn, Lizzie had rolled her eyes and continued on in conversation with Charlotte. But soon her friend had been pulled inside by some high school friend for a dance, and Lizzie had been left alone outdoors. Still steaming from Darcy's words, she'd ducked inside before anyone would approach her. She needed to clear her head, and clearly the fresh air wasn't helping that. There was only one other option in this case – the open bar.
Two downed glasses of wine later, Lizzie was feeling a little better. Much better, in fact. When Charlotte appeared in her simple, A-length dress, she was carrying two glasses of Pinot. She raised them both playfully and handed one to Lizzie. "They extended the bar another hour, so I figured I'd have another glass. Cheers." The two girls clinked glasses, and Lizzie took another fortifying sip. Her mind began to fuzz around the edges, and she decided to take this glass slowly. "You're not still stewing over Darcy, are you?" Charlotte asked, sounding very concerned.
Lizzie shrugged noncommittally. "Mr. Douchey, you mean? Nahh." Mr. Douchey – that was a good one. She might have to include it in one of her videos. With a smirk, Lizzie looked around for something else to steer the conversation towards rather than her inner turmoil. On the dance floor, Jane twirled around in Bing Lee's arms, her carefully curled hair flying around her. She was radiant and Bing was laughing, his eyes never leaving his dance partner's form. "Wow. Jane looks like she's really having fun," Lizzie commented, her smirk softening into a smile. Jane worked so hard during the week and for such little pay. She truly deserved a night to let loose and enjoy herself, even if she was doing so on the arm of a man Mrs. Bennet expected her to marry. Lizzie would ignore that detail for now.
Just then, some popular dance song came on, and Maria Lu seemed to pop out of nowhere. "Charlotte! Come on and dance with me!" She gripped her sister by the arm and practically yanked her to the dance floor. Charlotte grimaced but didn't fight much. Apparently her half a glass of wine had loosened her up enough to give in to her sister's whims. She shrugged and turned to Lizzie, and Lizzie thought about joining the girls, but just laughed instead, taking Charlotte's glass from her. She'd keep an eye on things and warm up their spot by the wall while the Lu sisters had their fun. She needed a few minutes to clear the haze of wine from her head, anyway. She had certainly had enough.
"Miss Bennet." Startled, Lizzie turned to her right to see Darcy nodding at her in passing. He was headed towards the French doors that led to the patio once more. Who else would have addressed me so formally? Lizzie thought with a roll of her eyes that Darcy caught. He seemed a bit startled and she expected him to stop in his tracks, ready to duel her or whatever it was snobby rich people did when their pride was attacked. He did stop in his tracks, but he didn't reach for a pistol. No, nope. He was definitely glancing at the two wine glasses in Lizzie's hands.
"Uh… Oh!" Lizzie exclaimed. Really, the last person she should care about being judged by was William Darcy, but just an hour ago she'd been reprimanding Lydia about taking advantage of the bar, so she really felt a little hypocritical. That was why she put Charlotte's glass on the nearest table and explained herself. "Charlotte's dancing," she stated in as monotone a voice as possible. "I was just holding her drink."
Darcy simply quirked an eyebrow rather infuriatingly, then turned and walked outside. "Oh my God," Lizzie murmured to herself. "What an asshole." She frowned down at her shoes, as if her heels had been the ones to affront her. Irritated, she returned her gaze to the French doors and downed the rest of her wine glass. "Decent enough," she spat out before carefully placing her empty glass down beside Charlotte's, a drop of the white wine running down from the rim onto the pristine white tablecloth. "I'll show him."
Though inside she was fuming, Lizzie kept her walk as slow as possible. She called to mind Lydia's often ridiculous attempts at seductive poses and sashayed her hips as she went, choosing to channel that rage into something else. So she was only tolerable to William Darcy? Forget that. No, fuck that. She'd show him tolerable alright.
Her heels clicked once, twice as she stepped outside onto the patio. The air was surprisingly cool and as it kissed her skin, that combined with the adrenaline coursing through her caused goosebumps to ripple across her skin. Lizzie took a deep breath, then scanned from right to left. For the first time this evening, the patio was completely empty. Everyone was inside dancing and drinking, taking advantage of the bar being kept open just a little bit longer.
She clicked her heels across the flagstone towards the side of the house. There stood William Darcy, leaning against the siding, glancing down towards his cell phone. He didn't notice her staring at him, lost in whatever super important e-mail he was sending. Lizzie rolled her eyes in annoyance, but was also caught by how different Darcy looked all alone. He had forgotten about decorum, and it was evident in the way he slouched against the side of the house, one hand in his pocket, his back slightly rounded towards the glowing screen of the iPhone in his hands. As much as she already hated the man, Lizzie was taken aback by this change in his demeanor.
It was the sharp intake of her breath that made Darcy aware of Lizzie's presence. His head jerked upright and he stood up tall as he turned to see who his companion was, pocketing his cell phone as he did so. He didn't greet her. He just stood there awkwardly. Lizzie wanted to laugh at his behavior. She temporarily forgot about his weird greeting to her inside and assumed he must be too snobby to acknowledge her presence. However, she also felt a pang of sadness, like she'd just lost sight of a butterfly she'd been trying to catch.
Fueled by the range of emotions flowing through her, Lizzie held her head high. Still swinging her hips, hopefully more subtly than Lydia would have, she stalked through the grass towards her prey. What she was about to do was out of character for her, but she needed it. Maybe Lydia was right and what Lizzie really required was to get laid, but whether that was true or not, Lizzie definitely needed this revenge. The wine sang through her veins alongside the adrenaline, forming a powerful dose of liquid courage. What Lizzie Bennet needed most of all was to show snobby, superficial Mr. Darcy that she was way more than tolerable and that she would absolutely not take his shit.
He seemed startled by her sudden nearness, but didn't move. It was now or never. Lizzie closed the final steps between them so that they were only a few inches apart. Darcy was so surprised that he backed towards the wall, but she closed those inches too, until his back was nearly straight against it. She leaned forward, her lips so close to his, her eyes never leaving his steady, darker gaze. She could feel his nervous breath on her lips, and as pleased as she was by the obvious fact that she had shaken him up, she suddenly wasn't so sure that she could do this.
I'll laugh and turn on my heel, Lizzie thought to herself. She noted that her pulse was racing. It's the adrenaline, that's all. So she was too much of a coward to lean forward and kiss him, to smother his lips with her own. And God, how she realized she wanted to now that she was so close – but that was probably the wine talking. But she could still get her revenge.
She was about to do just that when Darcy's lashes lowered and she felt his gaze on her lips. He glanced back towards her, asking a silent question with his eyes. Too flustered too respond, Lizzie could only repeat Darcy's actions. Her gaze dropped to his own parted lips, and before she knew who had started it, they were kissing.
It didn't start out slow like most kisses did. She knew for a fact that Darcy had only had a glass of celebratory champagne and maybe two craft beers. This wasn't a passionate, drunken make out, but it sure felt like it, even if she was the only drunk one. Inhibitions were thrown to the wind as he pulled her closer, his lips soft, his hands on her waist. Lizzie immediately ran her hands throw Darcy's carefully styled hair. A fire was burning inside her, starting low in her belly. But this was about revenge, so she was going to be the winner here, even if winning only meant messing up Darcy's stupid hair.
Stupid. She kissed him hard then, sucking on his lower lip, nipping it, soothing that spot with her tongue before biting it again. His tongue flicked into her mouth in response and her body took over, her hips grinding towards his reflexively. Darcy pulled her closer, one hand on her cheek, the other wrapped around her. She wanted to push him away because this wasn't supposed to turn her on. This wasn't supposed to make her want to rip his bow tie from his neck out of any emotion other than anger that he wore a freaking bowtie. But suddenly his lips were on his neck, and her head was thrown back in ecstasy and –
"Lizzie! Where are you! They're playing the Macarena! The freaking Macarena!"
Lizzie pulled away, her head snapping upright. Lydia was calling her. Lydia was interrupting a passionate make out session, that, from what she felt against her stomach, might lead to more. Over the Macarena. The Macarena. Lizzie threw her head back and laughed, a full-on laugh. She met Darcy's gaze, intending to bring him in on the joke, but then suddenly remembered who he was. He was smiling at her, actually smiling, like he might be on the verge of laughing with her… But no, this was William Darcy, the douchebag with no emotions. Her face went straight and she blinked at him in the moonlight. She intended to quip something clever to put him in his place. Something that would make him stew tonight, that would remind him every time he saw her that she was barely tolerable and barely – no, not remotely, no matter what her body was telling her even now – interested in him. She opened her mouth, certain that the wine in her system would aid the words in coming to her.
"I've got to go do the Macarena," she spat out, and, her face quickly progressing to red, she turned on her heel and ran to the dance floor.
A/N: I intend to make this a multi-chapter fic with the thought that the video diaries could take place exactly the same way, though I might have to end up making small changes for the story to make sense. My intention is to explore what would happen if Will and Lizzie secretly had another side to the story going on – a relationship that makes things even more confusing. I might explore Will's point of view too, but we'll see. He will initially view their "friendship" as a FWB situation that could turn into the fledgling stages of a relationship, while Lizzie is really just hate-fucking him. (Yeah, I said fucking. I know I ditched So Much Like Lightning, so this is how I'm making up with it – with another M-rate that I have planned better.) So, there you have it! Review and I'll update!