Disclaimer: I do not own the totally hot Jonas Brothers. Sorry, just had to add that in. I am such a pathetic fangirl...

I didn't really like this chapter, but I didn't have the heart to rewrite it. The whole drunk thing seemed a bit unrealistic, but, you're the reader, so tell me your opinion.

Chapter 3: Angels or Devils

This is the last time
That I'm ever gonna come here tonight
This is the last time I will fall

Into a place that fails us all inside
I can see the pain in you
I can see the love in you

Angels or Devils – Dishwalla

I paced outside of the restaurant.

Mitchie had sex with Nate. Nate was Mitchie's first time. What was wrong with the world? Is life just some kind of twisted, cruel, sick joke played on the innocent victims that just so happen to live it?

But what bothered me the most, I guess, was the fact that Nate had gotten what I wanted. That never happened – never. And this was going to be the last time it happened. I wanted to be Mitchie's first time. I wanted to be Mitchie's future husband. I wanted to be the boy who Mitchie came to, each and every time. I wanted to be the only man Mitchie kissed, the only man Mitchie loved, the only one she would look at with those loving brown eyes of her.

But instead, Nate was that man. It was killing me inside.

Suddenly, the doors of the fancy restaurant burst open, and out came an angry Nate. A very angry Nate.

"What the hell is wrong with you, man?!" He cried, running a hand through his wild curls. He had the nerve to ask what was wrong with me? He was the one dating the love of my life, kissing her, breaking the promises she was supposed to save for me…

"What?" I snapped, and his expression became outraged.

"You sent her back in tears, Shane! Tears! I hate it when she cries! And now, she is sitting in the bathroom, crying her eyes out, because the man who accused her of lying is angry because she got over it! What. The. Hell. Shane? What the hell?" He screamed at me; I'd never seen him so angry. I immediately felt guilty.

"I'm sorry – sorry, Nate. It's just," I glanced back at him; his face was red, his eyebrows slanted, his eyes cold and piercing. "Why are you dating her? Since when? Mitchie – seriously, man, Mitchie?"

"What's wrong with her, huh? She's beautiful, she's sweet, she's funny, a terrific musician – you're just jealous because you let her get away!" He accused, and suddenly a fire ignited in me. Before I could stop myself, my hands balled into tight fists, and I slammed all the anger I had into Nate's jaw.

"NATE!" Mitchie screamed, and I turned, watching her tend to the fallen boy. I looked at my fist; it was sore, throbbing, and I watched Mitchie stroke Nate's head as he tried to grin, and I had the sudden urge to become Nate; I wanted Mitchie to stroke my head, kiss my cheek, waste her tears over me, kiss my forehead…

I stepped forward, unsure of what exactly was happening. Few people had noticed what was going on – Tess, Jason, and his Ella were certainly still in the restaurant, and nobody was calling the police on us, so I figured we were fine. I inched closer and closer, and yet, nobody was paying attention to me; everyone was focused on Nate.

Suddenly, Mitchie finally noticed me coming closer. "Get the hell away from me, Shane Gray!" She shrieked, and I backed away immediately. Mitchie Torres never cursed. "You've done enough damage!"

I grimaced, backing away even faster as she shot me a glare. Her eyes pierced my heart, and before I knew it, I was walking away, jogging now, sprinting, and finally, a full-on run. I was running, running away from this, running away from Mitchie and Nate, from their love, from our love, from what could have been… I was running away from my problems. Who knew whether it would fix anything, but for now, it would do.

Finally, after my lungs begged me to stop and give them a rest, I observed my surroundings, and I realized I was lost. The night had engulfed all evidence of the day, and I could barely see where exactly I was. A few dim lights lit the area, and I could make out a large building where lots of yelling and laughing was erupting inside. After catching my breath, I slowly made my way towards the building, unsure of what I would find.

As it turned out, it was a bar. I watched as women wearing nothing but their underwear slid up and down poles, drunken men watched them hungrily, and a few people played pool, occasionally downing a beer. I wandered through the place, lost, unfamiliar, when suddenly a man yelled something out at me.

"Er – pardon?" I asked, trying to be polite – these people weren't exactly the kind you could be rude to.

"I said, you're Shane Gray!" He shouted, his words slurred, his actions sloppy. "You're that fag who sings pansy songs!"

I felt indignant. "I am not a fag." I snapped; by now, a bit of a crowd had gathered around me and this man. He wore a large mustache, and his face was scarred, as though he'd been in many fights. His clothes were dirty, stained, and in both of his hands he gripped half-full beer bottles.

"Then prove it! Drink!" He announced, and soon everyone was chanting my challenge. I scratched my head, glancing at my promise ring. I had made a vow to God, to my parents, to everyone, that I would not have sex before marriage, drink, or do drugs. Was I going to waste everything because some man called me a fag who sings pansy songs?

"Give me a beer!" I demanded. I guess I was.

One hour and 10 beers later, the world was collapsing around me. My vision was blurred, I could barely walk, and I was stumbling everywhere. I tripped over feet, ran into walls, until I finally reached the bar.

"Gimme another beer, man." I ordered, slamming my fist on the counter. "Now!"

"No, sir. You're drunk enough." Mr. Bar-man sneered, and I yelped as some of the other men began to crowd around me.

"Yeah, you little drunken fag!" They cheered, and I frowned. "You can't even get past 10 beers!"

"Well, neither can you!" I began to reply, but it was too late. They carried me outside, to the alley where I had found this strange, unfamiliar place. The last thing I can remember is screaming, before everything suddenly went black.

How was it? Terrible? Okayish? Wonderful?