My fingertips digging into the concrete, my arms bore the weight of my lower half. The muscles in my arms were just as bruised as the ones in my legs. But it was impossible to move my right leg. Whatever injury had been caused left me no choice but to crawl.

So that's what I did. I pulled myself along, my suit scraping on the rough surface. The only thing that could stop me was a shoe. Solid tread pressed heavily on my knuckles seconds before I felt fingers gripping at my ponytail.

A hard tug yanked my head back almost fast enough to give me whiplash, and my only reaction could be an inaudible cry and a grimace. "Now, now...where do we think we're going, Princess?"

I stared up at the pale face of a madman, his rancid breath fanning against my face, and a sinking feeling reached my gut. There was no getting out of this. Jason was most likely dead or severely injured. And I was about to be both.

36 HOURS EARLIER

"I trust that I can leave you two here alone without coming back to a mound of ashes," Bruce said, his attempt at sarcasm, as Alfred opened the front door.

Tossing my eyes, I snorted, "We'll be fine."

"If you aren't, at any time, call me."

"I got it, Bruce. Go be a billionaire."

I made a shooing motion with my hands, a small smile on my lips, and Bruce returned the smile before exiting the manor. Bruce and Alfred were leaving for a business trip to a partners' meeting in California, leaving Jason and I the manor for a couple days.

It wasn't anything I hadn't done before. Dick and I were left alone to our own devices many times. The only difference was that I was being left with a twelve year old this time.

Alfred had given me a hug and kiss before he and Bruce left the driveway. I was capable enough to handle taking care of the house in his place, though I was going to miss him for these days. The house felt empty enough without Dick around.

Now it was practically a carcass. After they'd gone, I made my way up to my room. There I pulled on a jacket and grabbed a book before walking to the gardens. It was one of those rare occasions when I literally had nothing to do.

No rehearsals, practices, or fittings. No chores, meetings, or hang-outs. Simply me and a day's worth of free time. So I went to my favorite spot to sit and relax in the gardens—a lovely, worn gazebo at the far back.

I'd urged Alfred to leave it untouched, and the decision payed off. The white paint was chipping. But vibrantly green ivy grew over it, wrapping around the supports, with moss on the roof. It made the look of the structure aesthetically pleasing.

Sitting inside it felt more magical. The greenery caused the gazebo to blend into the rest of the garden. It was like once you went inside, you disappeared—just for a moment you were somewhere completely different.

That was most likely why i'd secretly claimed it as mine when I was younger. The place gave me a little escape, a safe space, somewhere I could flee.

Even now, I laid out on my stomach across a blanket on the wood flooring, turning the pages of a good book, subconsciously hiding from what was inside the house. With the book choice and the soft sounds of the fountain not far away, I was filled with a nauseating calm.

This was true relaxation. The cool breeze drifting in with the gentle sunlight. The row of sweet peas Alfred and I had planted together was in full view out the tall archway in front of me. Poetic words of contemplation filling my mind.

I couldn't think of a better place to spend my alone time. It wasn't alone for as long as I'd hoped for, though. I'd been in the gazebo for about an hour before I heard my name shouted over the roses.

Sighing heavily, I shouted back, "WHAT?"

"Where the fuck are you?!"

"Fuck me," I groaned, pinching the bridge of my nose. Then, putting my book down, my index finger between the pages, I replied, "Find the fountain and take a fucking left!"

It was a solid minute before I could hear his feet crunching the gravel path from the fountain to the gazebo. I pushed myself up to sit on my knees as Jason walked into view through the doorway. "What do you want?" I questioned, raising an eyebrow expectantly.

"What are you doing all the way out here?" he asked, stepping up to the archway. He leaned in to glance around at the inside of the structure, features painted with curiosity.

Lifting up my book into view, I answered, "Reading. Anything else?"

"What are you reading this time?"

"Walden."

"You got a thing for old books, huh?" he jutted his chin with his smirking expression—but this one was different. It wasn't smug, it was downright flirtatious. "That's cool."

He stepped inside the gazebo as he spoke, lowering himself to sit cross-legged against the frame of the archway. It was an irritation for him to enter. This was my space, during my alone time, and he was infringing on both.

Though, I couldn't help the slight slant to my lips that came with analyzing the expression his face held. "I like books with meaning, books that make me think," I corrected, calmly.

"Who are your favorite authors?"

"Mary Shelley, Shirley Jackson, Jane Austen, Shakespeare...Thoreau is really good, too."

Jason bobbed his head, lips a loose smile, "Cool. You look like a Jane Austen girl, but not Pride and Prejudice, though—more like...Persuasion."

You perceptive bastard, I thought. Though, outwardly, I only nodded. My eyes flitted down to the book in my hand in an attempt to relieve some of the pressure in my chest, to lessen the increasing heat climbing up to my cheekbones.

Yes, I was easy to read when it came to books. But they were probably the easiest thing to guess about me. "Do you like museums?" Jason asked, one eye squinted in a mildly hopeful expression.

It was just a little odd, the sudden change in topic from books to museums. "Yeah…?" I narrowed my eyes skeptically, chuckling once at the question. "Are you trying to decipher my personality or something?"

"Actually, there's a history museum downtown I wanna check out, and I'm bored as fuck," he replied, sitting upright.

I stared at him in silence for a short moment. It was hard to tell if he was asking me because he wanted me to tag along, or because he was making conversation. Fueled by spiteful confusion, I asked, "Are you asking me to go with you?"

"Yeah."

Jason tipped his head, smiling a little sheepishly with his answer. It wasn't uncharacteristic of him to come bug me for a while but, usually, he'd eventually leave me alone. Asking me to hang out wasn't a common occurrence.

Although, I thought, it's not like i'm doing something important.

Sighing heavily, I scolded the little voice in my head urging me to go. "Fine," I rolled my eyes, officially closing the book in my hand. "Only for an hour—then i'm going home, with or without you."

"Alright, deal," Jason bobbed his head, before climbing to his feet.

I followed suit with a light exhale. I gathered up the blanket I laid on, folding it and placing it in my arm with my book, and then lead the way back to the house. Gotham was known for its history only second to its wealth.

There were a couple different museums in the city but the one we'd gone to had been one of my favorite places growing up. It was a Greek and Roman art museum.

We'd taken my car to get there—i was not about to leave myself no way out after my hour expired. Walking inside the building, a feeling of nostalgia overcame me as the memories flooded my mind in moving pictures.

It'd been at least a year since I last stepped foot inside. "Bruce used to take me here when I was little," I volunteered the information, as we made our way to the nearest display. "We came every Thursday."

"Why'd you stop?" Jason asked, looking over a sculpture of Patroclus.

My shoulders shrugged as I slid my hands into the pockets of my coat, "I got older...Bruce got busy...or bored. However you want to look at it."

"You, boring? Never."

"Fuck you, Todd."

"You wish you could."

Jason flashed a smug smirk in my direction as he stepped around me to move to another display, and I released a huff of air. This was undoubtedly a mistake, a time I will regret long after its passed. That much was clear already.

"It's funny, because it sounds a lot like it's the other way around," I gave my rebuttal as I walked by him, headed for the Roman sculptures I knew to be near the back. So, I didn't get to see a reaction.

But I knew it must've been a good comeback when he didn't immediately jump down my throat with something he thought was better. There was a marble bust that I always found fascinating enough to stare at for quite a while.

Juno, queen of the gods. The similarities between Greek and Roman mythology had always kept my attention. When I was younger, I preferred the Roman gods, simply because they had the same names as the planets.

Nine year old me didn't really understand why, she just thought it was cool. Things were a lot simpler back then. For me and the planets, it seemed. "Who's this?" Jason asked, stepping up beside me after a brief moment of silence.

Sighing, I answered, "Juno. She's-"

"Basically the Roman equivalent of Hera. Although, I kinda doubt she was as much of a bitch."

My head tilted to look up at him, I simply stared. It wasn't an interruption I was prepared for. So it was safe to say I literally had no response for it. His eyes shifted from the marble features to my face in a slanted line, and his right eyebrow lifted.

"What?" he questioned, neutral in tone. Then, turning his head a little more toward me, his tone turned spiteful, "Thought I was just some uneducated dumpster baby? I can read."

My expression changed just a little, shifting from surprised to a calm look of intrigue. "I figured you could read—Frankenstein, remember?" I replied, smiling a little at my humor.

It was a genuinely pleasant surprise for me to find out he had somewhat extensive knowledge of mythology. To what extent, I didn't know for sure. But it was nice to know we had more than a nineteenth century novel in common.

My mind didn't understand why I was relieved at a second common interest, but the rest of me did. Jason's lips hung in a loose, closed-mouthed smile before turning back to the sculpture. He jutted his chin at it as he asked, "What's so special about her—to you?"

"There's just something about her expression...I don't know how she feels. I've spent the past eleven years trying to figure it out," I answered, turning to look at the sculpture as well.

"Well, what's your first guess?"

"She looks pensive...maybe dreadful?"

Jason hummed a short sound of thought. For a second, my gaze flickered from the marble goddess to the sculpted design of his face. He looked as though he wouldn't have thought that to be my guess but was pleasantly surprised by it.

It was interesting to him. I'd never been interesting to anyone—not in this way. Once you got to know someone they became boring. There was nothing new to discover. Dick knew me better than anyone, maybe even better than Alfred.

And Dick had left. It occurred to me then that, maybe, he simply got bored with me. Could that be the reason he was okay with leaving me behind, too? Is that why he wouldn't come back even though I genuinely needed him?

"Like something you see?"

I blinked, brought out of my thoughts by a voice. Already I'd known it to be Jason's. But it didn't quite register why he'd spoken to begin with until I'd blinked for a second. Then I immediately moved my eyes back to the marble.

The realization that i'd been staring caused a pang of embarrassment in my gut and the airbrush of blush along my cheekbones. "Sorry," I squeaked, before clearing my throat to speak up. "I was thinking."

"About what?" he inquired, sounding genuinely curious despite his humored chuckle.

I shook my head as I inhaled, then turned my whole body to face him, "Nothing important. Come on, it's your first time here—i'll give you the veteran tour."

The museum was fairly empty, so it was easy to skirt around at whatever pace we wanted. We could stop for long periods at randoms paces if need be. It was the worst thing to spend time and money going somewhere like a museum or the zoo, only to be rushed through and not allowed to enjoy it.

Thinking of that brought back memories of the time Dick took me to the Gotham City Zoo. I recall being at least eleven, but I could've been younger.

It was the first time Bruce was supposed to take me to the museum but for some reason he could not—the excuse back then was that he was just too busy that week, but even eleven year old me knew that was bullshit. He was busy. Busy being Batman.

Jason looked at me curiously as we exited the museum, "How old were you when he told you?"

"Um...fourteen. He didn't really tell me, though, he just kinda let me find the cave. Dick did most of the talking—no shocker there."

"You talk about Dick a lot."

"Yeah, he's important to me. Jealous?"

He made a scoffing sound, turning away with a toss of his eyes. I was proud of myself for inciting such a reaction. Usually it's the other way around. "How exactly does someone get that status?" Jason asked, as we stopped by the street.

"Your name is Alfred, Bruce, or Dick," I answered, a bit sarcastically. Then, tilting my head, I let my eyes wander across the street as I made an addition, "Or...I suppose you could spend enough time with me that i'm comfortable around you. Yeah, that'd probably be your best bet."

"There's not, like, an application I can fill out?"

The lines of his features were humorous, tone sarcastic, but there was something about the way he smiled that made me second guess it all. My eyes seemed to be indefinitely stuck in the tractor beams of his own as I replied.

Shrugging, my lips curved up a little, "I figure if I make it a little difficult, the good ones will stick around."

Nodding slowly, he squinted an eye at me in an expression. "That's actually a smart plan. Weed out the assholes before you waste your time on someone that's just gonna leave you. Right?"

It was in the specific contortion of his features that I recognized the intonation. "Ah, yes," my face turned to an unamused glare as I spoke venomously sarcastic. "Mock my daddy issues as if you don't reek of them yourself. Very attractive."

"You think I'm attractive?"

Sighing, I rolled my eyes, "I hate you."

"I know," he smirked back at me. With a brief glance upward, he added, "I, uh, think it's been more than an hour."

Instinctively, my eyes shifted upward as well, taking note of the dusty blue painting the sky. The sun was going down. It'd obviously been a few hours. Without a clock right in front of me I didn't know exactly how many.

But it was probably a lot. I nodded slowly, moving my eyes back down from the sky. They landed on his eyes and, a second after they did, his moved to meet mine. An eyebrow rose on his forehead questioningly.

Questioning and expectant. Waiting for me to declare my departure for the manor. Though, I didn't find myself wanting to leave as much as I originally anticipated. It felt nice being out and about in the city. I rarely did anything out of the manor not involved with work.

Giving a soft, closed-mouthed smile, I shrugged up my shoulders, "Oh well."

As his eyebrow lowered, those crystal irises gained an extra ounce of brightness, the corners of his lips tugging up. The look was magnetic. It was tangible—I could feel it in my gut. A wild thought entered my mind, and my gaze flickered toward his lips.

They were so accessible, so kissable. I could do it, I thought, just surge forward and do it. But I didn't. Instead, I swallowed and averted my eyes—even though all I wanted to do was keep looking.

I prayed Jason didn't notice. Even more so that he wouldn't say anything about it if he did.

He surprised me, drawing my attention, when he took a step toward me. His arm was held out toward me, like he was expecting me to take it, as he tipped his head in an expression. "Come on," he said. "Let's get pizza."

We did, in fact, get pizza. But we ended up back at the manor with it. It was easier to get comfortable and relax at home. I set up my laptop on the coffee table in the sitting room and opened up my Netflix account.

The pizza boxes sat on the table beside it. Jason sat on the floor, back against the front of the couch, while I sat comfortable up on a couch cushion. I scrolled through the suggested with one hand and held a slice with the other.

It wasn't usual for me to have time to actually finish anything I watched, so there were a million different titles only partially watched. I didn't really know what I felt like watching—if anything.

So I kept scrolling, waiting for something to hit me, until Jason snorted. "All three High School Musical movies are in your 'recently watched'," he pointed out, humored.

"Yeah. What of it, dweeb?" I replied, around a bite of pizza.

"Zac Efron's a total douche."

"So are you."

"You read Thoreau, why the fuck would you watch High School Musical?" he questioned, genuinely perplexed as he twisted in his position, craning his neck to look up at me.

Scoffing, I leaned back to hike up my leg, shoving my foot into his shoulder, "Don't make me come down there, asshole."

Jason bent away from my reach until I'd retracted my leg up onto the couch. "What are you gonna do, sing me to death?" he quipped, chuckling. "Efron didn't even sing his songs in the first movie."

I paused at that comment, reclining just slightly, and I squinted. If anything, just to make sure I was seeing him correctly. "You just gave yourself away, dumbass," I said, a smile threatening my lips.

"What? It's a fact."

He tried to play it off—shrugging and shaking his head as he looked away from me, all casual and normal. But I wasn't about to drop such a bombshell piece of information. The way he'd said it gave it away. He watched it, too.

"You little shit," I reached out a hand, pushing the side of his head. "You're the worst fucking liar."

Jason swatted at me, but turned quickly as his hand latched on my wrist. All it took was one strong tug to yank me off the couch. He was grinning while I was protesting, fighting him as my body lurched forward off the edge, dropping onto his lap.

The coffee table was bumped, rattling the things it carried. I'd been completely unsuspecting of this turn of events. If anything, I assumed he'd simply fight back from where he sat. Bringing me down to his level wasn't on my mind.

Now I sat awkwardly positioned on his thighs, but I still had the upper hand. I was simply better at fighting than he was. We'd trained together for a little while but I knew more than he'd learned yet. I used that to my advantage.

Heat was flaring in my cheeks. I twisted my arm just right, quickly moving my fingers around his wrist, now the one in control of at least that scenario. After doing so, my other hand pressed on his shoulder, forcing his upper body forward to yank his arm behind his back.

It happened in a matter of seconds. The only thing he had time for was to groan once it was done. I'd positioned myself to straddle him in order to keep a better grip. "Comfortable?" I asked, a bit smug.

"Damn, Pennyworth. You're into some kinky shit," he grumbled his reply.

The words only worsened the heat in my cheeks. I could only assume they were fully pink now. Sighing, I lifted my eyes to the ceiling. Make him stop, I requested, of whoever might be up there.

I released his arm and sat back. Jason sat upright with a groan, hand moving to his shoulder, and his nose scrunched tightly on his face. "You'll live," I told him.

"I don't know...I think I might need you to kiss it better."

He'd tipped his head back, smirking a little at me, and I was once again at war with myself. Half of me wanted to slap that look right off his dumb face. The other half wanted to play along. Theoretically it wouldn't hurt if I did.

But that was no guarantee. Bruce didn't care if Dick dated someone, though who he ended up dating wasn't supposed to be his partner. Surely Bruce would find this unacceptable. Then again, that thought almost made me want to do it even more.

Curiosity and spite were the two things that fueled me, that controlled me. And both of them were screaming at me. It was no longer a whisper. Giving in to the shouts of the spite, I reached up a hand to pull aside the fabric of his t-shirt, and I placed a kiss on the skin of his shoulder.

It was short-lived, quick and painless. As I sat back, releasing the shirt fabric to retract my hand, Jason's eyes followed mine. They were filled with an intensity that sent a small shiver along my spine.

"Better?" I tried not to whisper, but failed.

He sighed shortly through his nostrils, eyes flickering indecisively between mine and what I knew to be my lips, before shaking his head. "Fuck it," he said the words beneath his breath.

Jason's hand slid to the back of my neck, leaning forward as he pulled me in, and the space between us was closed indefinitely with a lustful swiftness. Instinctively my eyelids fell closed at the touch of his lips against mine.

Our lips were only touched for a moment, before they were open and we were all but devouring each other. It brought a nervous roll to my stomach that broke out my arms in bumps.

His other arm snaked around my middle, palm pressing flat against my lower back, and I gave my hands permission to wander. They moved to his exposed collar bones and up his neck as our tongues rolled and fought.

It was utterly satisfying. So many times I'd wondered what it would feel like to simply reach out and touch him. To caress the skin of his cheeks, lose my fingers in his dark hair. So, I did just that.

Something unnamed deep in my gut was fueling me. I couldn't even begin to explain it. All I knew similar to it was what it felt like to be burned. When you only touch the heat for a split-second, yet still you pull your hand away with a sharp sting.

The burn was combining with the burning of my lungs. I needed to breathe. But I wanted to breathe him. I'd tasted him and now I didn't want to taste anything else. Not yet.

Though, the need for oxygen was mutual. I knew when he broke the kiss, gulping in air with his nose still close enough to brush mine, and I took the opportunity to gasp in a much needed breath. All that could be heard was our inhaling and exhaling.

Still, there was something poetic about it.

Our beings hung there in the almost-silence, until a gruff exhalation cut through it, filling my hears with a following voice. "Holy shit," Jason breathed.

"Don't talk."

My hands cupping the sharp lines of his jaw, I pulled him closer. I felt no protest in the way his lips swallowed mine. His palms flat against my back, my chest was flush with his, our hips incredibly close. I was lost in it all.

And I didn't want to be found. At least, not any time soon. All I wanted was to keep feeling this way. This addictive, unexplainable way. I haven't exactly had many suitors in my lifetime. A lot of guys I was interested in were too intimidated by my name.

Pennyworth was famously forever linked with Wayne. Bruce never seemed to mean any harm to these guys, but I knew he had fun with the fear he instilled in them. Though nothing he said or did could've stopped Dick from falling for Savannah.

Believe me, Bruce tried. Part of me wondered even still if Dick would've turned out differently had he not gotten involved. Maybe he wouldn't hold so many grudges against Bruce for his childhood?

My train of thought was disrupted then. Jason, an arm tight around my torso and hand against the ground, lifted up enough to turn us. He laid me down against the floor rug in a swift, fluid motion, before leaning back to pull his shirt over his head.

I'd seen him shirtless more times than I probably care to count, but it was an entirely different feeling in this context. The sight of his skin sent an anxious bolt of electricity down my spine. It landed in my gut with an unparalleled heat.

Instinctively I reached out, tracing the lines my eyes carved with the tips of my fingers, his chest rising and falling beneath them with a bit of labor. The thought occurred to me that maybe—just maybe—i was the reason for the exertion.

As far fetched as it seemed, the idea only made me crave more of him. I've never wanted someone this much. And I've never been this close to having them.

With a palm against the rug on either side of my head, he leaned in, and we found ourselves in the exact same position we'd been in before. This time, his lips traveled a straight path to mine, meeting them deeply, hungrily.

I didn't hesitate in kissing him back just as hungrily—my arms curling around his neck, fingers lost completely in his tousled hair, the acts keeping him closer than I ever thought i'd want him to be.

It was curious, the way my body reacted to his. The pulsating waves of sensation pushing and pulling me to move in different ways. I felt every uncontrollable urge and there was finally no obligation to ignore them. I could act on whatever I pleased.

No one could tell me not to enjoy his fingertips beneath the hem of my tank top, or the weight of his hips against mine and how it made me shudder.

Jason's hand slid down the back of my leg from thigh to just below my knee and pulled it up to hook around his waist. He'd attempted to do the same with the other, but he didn't need to—I was already onto his thought process.

The new heat, the new pressure, sent a wave of electricity up my spine. It arched my back off the rug, and Jason moved his lips from mine to the newly exposed front of my neck. A soft, quiet moan escaped me, my fingers tightening around locks of his hair.

Then, a bland telephone ring stabbed right through the fairly quiet room. I hadn't quite stopped to think about where I was, what I was doing, who I was doing it with until that sound filled my ears.

Even still I didn't want to let go. Not for anything. But I knew the sound to be coming from my cell phone. I could recognize that stupid ringtone anywhere. It was Bruce. If I didn't answer, he would only get worried and probably come home early.

So, reluctantly, I dropped my hands to the fronts of Jason's shoulders. "Jay. Jason. I have to answer it," I said, struggling to breathe in enough oxygen to speak.

He groaned against my neck, "Are you fucking serious?"

"Yes, it's Bruce. If I don't answer, he'll think something's wrong."

"Something is wrong, Pennyworth—he's cockblocking me."

I snorted and gave his shoulders a somewhat gentle push. Jason sat back, and I untangled myself from him to reach for the phone, but the immediate cold I felt all over my body wasn't at all worth it. My phone was vibrating across the glass coffee table, wailing.

The second I got it in my hands, I answered it, "Hey, Bruce. What's up?"

It was difficult not to sound completely out of breath. There was only a split-second hesitation before Bruce's voice came through the speaker. "Just checking in," he replied, calmly. "Thought I'd see how it was going with you and Jason."

I held a breath I probably shouldn't have. It all clicked in my mind. I've known Wayne Manor was wired with cameras for years. The untimely nature of Bruce's phone call started to make sense the more I'd thought about it.

It was embarrassing. I didn't know for sure if it was true, but I had no choice other than to act like it was. Forcing my voice into a neutral tone, I said, "It's going fine. The asshole hasn't bothered me all day."

"Patricia," Bruce sighed through the phone.

"Dude, i'm twenty years old-"

"Clearly."

Now it was my turn to sigh, "Everything's fine, okay? It's six o'clock, go eat dinner."

Of course, it was just past nine here in Gotham, but it was six in California. It was an easy calculation. Bruce caught my knowledgeable gesture with a small chuckle. The kind sound was warm coming through the speaker.

He didn't sound like I knew he would if he were truly calling for the reasons I feared, so I was able to relax a little for the rest of the call. "Goodnight, Patricia," Bruce said.

"Night, Bruce."

With that, I ended my side of the call. I slid my cell phone back onto the coffee table and scrubbed my face with my hands. Yes, knowing Bruce would blatantly disapprove made me want to do anything I felt like doing with Jason.

But, in reality, the thought of Bruce finding out terrified me.

Bare arms eased their way around my torso then, hot breath fanning on my exposed neck, causing me to lift my head in reaction. "Where were we?" Jason's voice was low, lips brushing my ear. My skin broke out in a set of bumps, but I couldn't let myself do this again.

The bravery i'd had before was gone. "It's late, Jason," I said, pulling away from him. "I have a show tomorrow, remember? Gotta get enough sleep."

I pushed myself from the floor and grabbed my laptop off the table, then headed for the hallway. "Seriously? Come on- what am I supposed to do with this?" Jason questioned. He was leaned back against the front of the couch, gesturing toward the center of his pelvis as I turned to see him.

Smirking, I replied, "Something tells me you have plenty of experience taking care of yourself."

I'd tilted my head in a teasing, patronizing expression, and he narrowed his eyes while shaking his head at me. It brought up a boiling-over set of chuckles as I left the sitting room.

That night I barely slept at all. I tossed, I turned, I repositioned a thousand times—but I couldn't get comfortable. Fingertips pressed to my skin in phantom feelings, lingering like ghosts. It was impossible to turn off my mind long enough to sleep.

When morning came, I was forced to get up and around at an ungodly hour, then be out of the house for final rehearsal before the show this evening. I didn't see Jason before I left the manor. Typically, both he and Bruce were asleep when I left.

Either that or Bruce was down in the cave—whichever way you look at it, he was absent. I got to the venue just a little later than usual. The girls were already there ready to start rehearsal. For this performance we were doing Gaga.

And when we do any Lady Gaga songs, we go all out. This time the theme for the charity was silver and royal purple. So Tiffany came up with a complimentary outfit that would match the color scheme—one piece, bathing suit looking outfits made of shimmery tinsel.

Wearing it felt like being wrapped in Christmas garland. But the outfits alternated the rich purple and sparkly silver, and they actually looked to fit in with the venue decor quite nicely. Tiffany, Aaliyah, and Rebecca all wore purple, with Daya and I in silver.

Our makeup looks matched our coordinating outfits. This time we were performing in strap on heels—not something too uncommon, just a bit bothersome. Though, converse wouldn't exactly go with the theme for the event.

We did the final rehearsal and worked out any last minute kinks, then it was off to get our outfits and put them on, along with the complicated makeup looks.

The girls came to the manor to get ready in my room. It was easier to match makeup when you were next to each other rather than over the phone or through pictures. There were makeup palettes spread across my bathroom counter, flecks of glitter everywhere.

Once again we were using glitter eyeshadow. It looked like a glitter bomb went off in my bathroom. I slid the backs on my earrings while Aaliyah and Tiffany shared the glitter palette, taking their turns with the mirror.

Together, we were at least eighty-five percent ready.

I sat on the end of my bed, crossing my left leg over my right, to better slide my feet into the high heels. "You know, if your dad's gone for the weekend, we gotta throw some kind of party," Rebecca said, dropping onto the bed beside me.

She started buckling on her heels and I chuckled. "If you could guarantee that nothing would get broken, I would agree with you," I replied, jokingly.

"Did someone just say 'party'?"

My eyes darted up to the open bedroom door at the sound of Jason's voice. He stood just outside the doorway wearing a suit, fidgeting with his tie. Deep down I knew he would probably go to the show—after all, he'd gone to every single one since he got here.

But I hadn't been expecting it in the forefront of my mind, so I was a little surprised when I saw him all dressed up and ready to go. "Need some help with that?" I asked, uncrossing my legs to stand.

Jason's nose wrinkled, "Fuck no. I got this."

"Obviously," I sighed as I crossed the room to stand just in front of him, then swatted his hands away before pulling out the pitiful knot he'd attempt to tie. "Wide end under the small end to the left, across the small end to the right, up into the neck loop from underneath, down through the loop."

I narrated my actions as I retied the tie around his neck. Jason clearly was not even paying attention anyway. His eyes were trained on mine, watching me, and I did my best to ignore it despite the light flush of my cheeks.

After patting the finished knot, I took a step back with an exhale, "There. Just adjust it to where you want it."

"You've tied a lot of ties, huh?" his question was rhetorical.

"Yeah, but Dick got it pretty quickly."

I gave a small shrug and hurried back to the bed where my jacket lay draped across the comforter. Daya came from the bathroom to get her jacket as well. "Hurry up, girls—we've gotta be there in fifteen minutes," she called, mostly to the two still in the bathroom.

The time reminder was much needed, considering I had no real idea of what time it was at that moment. It prompted me to swiftly pull on my jacket and check my bag for anything I might be missing. The last minute check.

Tiffany and Aaliyah scurried from the bathroom after a few more seconds to get their jackets from the bed, and Rebecca stood to get hers as well. We were almost all ready. My mind was so focused on not forgetting anything that I almost missed the next exchange entirely.

"I didn't know we had company," Aaliyah's voice interrupted my focus for a momentary glance. I knew she meant Jason, still standing at the door. "You really know how to clean up, Jason."

My eyes involuntarily rolled. Her tone was sickeningly sweet, and I only needed one guess as to why. She'd made it clear she thought he was 'dreamy'—to use her own word—already. It was a matter of time before she started trying to flirt.

I'd acted repulsed by him the last time we talked about him. But, given what happened last night, I wasn't sure just where I stood anymore. Still, I couldn't deny how her words made me feel—like I had something to defend.

Like I needed to protect my spot, as if it were mine to protect, because she was trying to steal it. I took a deep breath to keep myself calm, focusing on my bag, as he replied, "Thanks—not as much as you do, though-"

"Don't we need to be leaving?" I questioned, interrupting the conversation as I turned to face everyone in the room.

Daya, grinning, nodded as she pulled on her jacket. "Come on, ladies," she said. "We've got ten minutes. Let's go."

Tiffany and Rebecca finished up and were ready to go. Seeing as I was ready first, I took the initiative, and started for the door. As I passed through it, I grabbed Jason's wrist and pulled him down the hall toward the stairs.

He didn't fight me as I'd expected. Instead, at the top of the stairs, he moved his hand up into mine to hold on. Part of me wanted to say screw it and give into what I knew I wanted. And the rest of me screamed to let him go.

So, at the bottom of the stairs, I dropped his hand and walked a little faster to reach the door. The others weren't too far behind us. We took the separate vehicles we'd come to the manor in to the venue. A shiny expo center in the heart of the city.

It was a slightly bigger audience than usual, but that didn't scare me near as much as the idea of doing this performance with hungry eyes in the crowd. I wasn't ready for this. I wasn't ready to deal with this.

The five of us plus Jason walked into the expo center. An event worker met us at the door to take our group to the area we would wait in until we were called to perform. Jason decided to split off from us then to find a spot in the audience to watch.

"Are you sure? You can come hang out with us if you want," Daya said. Then, draping an arm around my shoulders, grinned through her next words, "Trish would love it."

Jason smirked, but shook his head, "That's alright. Break a leg, though."

His eyes shifted to mine, and he gave a quick wink before turning to walk into the vast sea of even goers. As soon as he was gone, I turned on Daya, pulling away from her as I glared. "I hate you!" I whisper-yelled, embarrassed.

"You love me," she tilted her head with a smile.

"Yeah..." I grumbled, with a disappointed sigh.

She laughed at the expression I made. Then the five of us followed the event worker to the backstage area. We did our usual pre-show refreshers and warm ups, talking through the way the performance was supposed to go.

Of course tonight's song was Poker Face—practically the most popular Lady Gaga song of the two-thousands. Once again we were performing a song with sexual innuendos while Jason was there to watch, and once again I would have to pretend like I didn't notice.

After a short while, we were called on stage. The lights were dimmed and we took our places before the familiar first notes of the music began to play, signaling the start of the show.

The lights pulsed softly to match the changes in the music, the first big bass beat starting our choreography. It was a little fast-paced for us dancers. Though, it was still interpretive. Daya's vocals were perfect for the lyrics.

Her voice already reminded me of someone like Gaga years ago. Now she was actually singing one of the songs. I was in awe of it while acting out the movements of the choreography. It felt good just being a dancer again.

Dancing while singing simultaneously was not at all my thing.

The performance was ended with eruptions of thick applause from the audience and we exited the stage. Wearing high heels for the dancing was not too enjoyable, but I survived without injury, and so did the others.

After the show, we were tasked with cleaning up and then mingling to sell the charity's message—as per usual routine. So that's what we did. It only took a moment to get our makeup straightened and then we were out in the crowd.

The five of us split apart to chat up random event goers. I talked to a nice, older couple who were obviously too rich for their own good. You can always tell when you're talking to old money—they wear it like a badge.

But, I guess, didn't I?

I'd just finished talking them into a large contribution when my phone vibrated in my clutch. So, I excused myself to check it. When I pulled it out, I realized it wasn't my cell phone. It was my bat phone. Someone was in trouble.