Hey guys! There's a couple of things that I need to say and they're kinda serious/sad/angry/whatever so I thought I'd get them over with at the beginning, and then my authors note at the end would be a happy one :) So if you guys wanted to skip forward, totally understandable.

The first thing; there's been some real negative reviews going around. Everyone gets them, it's going to happen. It totally sucks, but it's unavoidable. But some people have been going out of their way to leave insanely long, detailed descriptions as to what they hate about stories and, come on, that's just unnecessary. I try to just delete flames and not think about them, they suck and sometimes I get a little pissed off and discouraged, but I try to ignore them. Sometimes it really gets to writers though, and they get mental blocks and choose to stop writing. Can we please just be nice? Constructive criticism—absolutely, but there's a difference. Remember we write for free, and for fun! Come on, everyone!

The second thing; I try not to mention world events on here or even on my social media account for several reasons. But I did want to say I was so upset when I heard about Christina Grimmie dying! I have listened to her on YouTube for years, and I was actually listening to her the morning that I found out she was shot. It's so horrible. I think what freaks me out is I've just listened to her for so long, and she's the same age as me, and it just so scary...It's just not okay :(

Jace Wayland let out a long breath as he looked around his apartment. He had felt a ridiculous amount of relief for being back in his own place after six months of bouncing between locations during the final stages of filming for his new movie. He absolutely loved his job. He loved what it gave him. He loved that two weeks ago he was in Italy, and the month before that he was in Thailand.

But he loved being back in his apartment.

In his home.

His penthouse apartment was a sanctuary. He only ever allowed his close friends and family here, and of course, his agent and godmother, Charlotte Branwell. He slept with so many woman he lost count, but none of them came back to his apartment, he would take them to fancy hotels and let them order whatever they wanted from room service and make sure they felt treated right. He had had girlfriends who came back to his apartment, although it was only when they were serious—or as serious as he ever got with girls. The girl he had been seeing for the past few months had come over a few times, but only because she was insistent, not really because he wanted to.

Because his apartment was his.

Unfortunately, he couldn't really take any more time to enjoy being back in the familiarity of his home because he was meeting a couple of his friends in town in about an hour. He was going to feel absolutely horrible tomorrow, because he was ridiculously jet-lagged and then he was going to be undoubtedly hungover, and he had a press conference at two o'clock to promote his new movie with his pretty co-star. He kind of wanted to blow off meeting his friends, but he hadn't seen them in months and he had promised that he would go out tonight.

The phone next to the front door rang shrilly and Jace walked over to pick it up, pressing it to his ear.

"Jace," he stated.

"Mr Wayland," it was Mr Peter Goldwyn, his regular driver when he was in town. "I understand that you need my services tonight?"

"Yeah, thanks, Pete," Jace replied. "Could you be here in about half an hour?"

"I will be there, Mr Wayland," Peter answered, his voice as neutral as ever.

"You've been my driver for three years, Pete. You can call me Jace," he had said this to Peter pretty much every time they spoke, and the outcome was always the same.

"I will be there, Mr Wayland," Peter repeated, but there was a slight lift in his tone this time before the call ended. Jace hung up the phone and his eyes shifted from from the phone to the painting that was hanging next to it. The canvas was large and scattered and smeared with grey and dusty blue paint, making a gorgeous painting that Jace was pretty sure he would never properly understand or appreciate but that he could still love. He lifted his thumb to touch the corner of the painting, where the painters initials were etched in tiny black letters, A G. Jace cleared his throat and dropped his hand, shoving it into his jeans and then walking toward his bedroom.

His eyes were lowered, and he didn't look at the paintings that lined his hallway, all with the same initials in the corner.

A G.


Jace sighed as he looked around the crowded club. He was tired and people were going crazy around him, and he was supposed to be a part of all of this. There were girls on either side, and there were a dozen more who were giving him and his two friends fuck-me eyes on the dance floor. Bartholomew Velasquez and Jordan Kyle were enjoying the attention, like they always did, but Jace just wanted to go home. He always felt this way after filming had wrapped up—as though all of his energy had been sapped and he could sleep for a month straight.

But it was expected of him to be here.

It was expected of him to go out, be the party boy that everyone said he was, leave the club with girl on each arm.

So he complied.

He accepted the free drinks that the club kept bringing over to him, and then he let a brunette drag him onto the dance floor. He lost track of how long they danced for, and he had to admit that he started having a better time. It was kind of hard not to have at least a little bit of fun when there was a hot, dark haired chick grinding her ass against your groin and you had alcohol flowing through your veins.

"Get that look off your face, man!" Jordan cried as he slumped down on the plush couch next to Jace and threw an arm around him. Jace gave him a grin, that was tired but still sincere.

"Hey, I'm just tired! I had a ten hour flight!"

"Eh, you've been on longer," Jordan volleyed back with a smirk as he reached forward to the expensive wooden table in front of them, picking up the expensive bottle of patron that was sitting there amongest the sticky tumblers and the half smoked cigarettes. "And you're always on the best flights and in first class, so it's pretty much like you're in an expensive, flying lounge—you really have nothing to complain about!" Jace laughed as Jordan poured the pair of them shots and handed him one. "Bottoms up." The pair of them clinked their glasses together and swallowed back the liquid.

"What are you two doing up here?!" Bat asked, his words slurred together as he came over to where they were, one of his arms slung around a bleached blonde girl who's lipstick was smeared, most of it on Bat's mouth. "There are most definitely better places to be than on a couch and watching the fun."

"We were going to go back to my place," the blonde spoke up, her voice a little squeaky, her eyes skimming over Jordan and then settling on Jace, the flare of interest in her face clear. "You guys want to come?"

"And what's back at your place, darling?" Bat asked, his voice syrupy, leaning in and pressing his lips to her neck. She giggled and tilted her head to the side to give him better access, but her eyes were still on Jace. Jace kept the smile plastered on his face, although it no longer reached his eyes. Jordan was a drummer for a reasonably well known band called Six Shades Deep and Bat was an actor as well, had been in his fair share of movies that had done well in the box office, but he wasn't as famous or as good looking as Jace.

Which meant a lot of the time, any of the girls that were around his friends, were really mainly interested in him. That wasn't all of the time, but it was a lot of the time.

It got a little tiring after a while.

And besides, Jace might not have too many rules around how he lived his life, but he didn't cut his friends lunch. Bat was interested in this girl, likely only for one night of fun, but whatever the case, Jace wasn't going to go anywhere near her. So if she thought that she had a chance with him, then she was sorely mistaken.

"Well, I live with three other girls," she began, her voice suggestive as she wiggled against Bat's side. "And we've got lots of alcohol and other, uh, party supplies back at our place." Drugs, Jace almost rolled his eyes at that. She meant drugs. They were all adults, she could say the word out loud. "And I've got a few other friends who would be happy to come back and keep us all company." She glanced over her shoulder to a couple of girls who were huddled in a group a few feet away, all smiling coyly in their direction.

"I'm down," Jordan piped up, a smirk on his face as he jerked his chin upwards in a greeting at the girls who all giggled behind their hands. Eyes all shifted to Jace, who tried not to let his disinterest at the situation show on his face.

He was tired.

He wanted to sleep.

In his own bed.

By himself.

"Look, I'm beat," he began, giving his friends apologetic smiles as they both groaned. "We'll catch up later, yeah?"

"You sure you don't want to come? We don't have to stay for long," Jordan wheedled but Jace just shook his head. "Okay, man. You've got that interview thing tomorrow, right? You want to go out for a beer after?"

"Sounds good," Jace nodded and leaned in for a quick, one armed hug before getting up. The girl under Bat's arm looked disappointed, although she definitely piped up a little bit when Jace stopped in front of them to give Bat a fist bump and he flashed her a short smile. "Nice meeting you," he nodded at her before he was winding his way out of the club. They were sitting in the VIP area, which was sectioned off and had guards subtly standing every few meters, but the dance floor itself was flooded with any regular club members. It was dark, and most people were drunk or drugged up out of their minds, and so he kept his head down and his hair obscuring his face and hoped that he wouldn't be noticed.

Charlotte had long ago given up on trying to force him to take a body guard with him when he went out, but she absolutely insisted on him having Peter as his only driver. He completely understood why she wanted him to have a body guard, he had been mobbed by half crazed fans on more than one occasion, but that didn't mean he liked a baby sitter on steroids following him around and watching every move. Places like this were good though; they were used to a high end clientele and they kept heavy security around the place.

"Not a late one, then, sir?" Peter commented as Jace slid into the back of the town car. He had text Peter about half an hour ago saying to be ready, he wasn't going to be much longer, and as usual, his driver was right there when he needed him.

"Not tonight, Pete," Jace murmured, giving a tired smile before closing his eyes as he dropped his head against the cushion of the backseat. He took in a deep breath, ignoring the lights of his home city as they danced against the tinted window pane, his only thought of getting home, crawling into bed, the paintings on his walls the only thing to keep him company.

Happier authors note! I promise! A lot of people keep recommending War of Hearts by Ruelle in the reviews. I do love Ruelle, and I love that song, although it's not my favourite by her. Thought that I would just recommend it though, since obviously lots of you guys love it! Other ones that I'm in love with at the moment Ritual by Adam Jensen and Rust by Stalgia. Also a cover of Justin Bieber's Sorry by Our Last Night.

Let me know what you guys are listening to! I want to know!

Also, there's been a few more questions about my updating schedule. It's on my profile, people. Check it out.

Leave a review, make my day, and I'll send you a preview :) xx