Alright, alright! I finally finished this chapter. It was super long so I split it.... So guess what? That means the next chapter should be up in a couple of days.

I hope you guys enjoy it.

Stark

I watched Erik's lolling body wander off and I could see the tension he held within the cage of his shoulders. His tailored designer jacket was merely a charcoal outline of the stress that this meeting had brought him. Fantastic, I thought.

"James Stark, what is the matter with you?" I could sense her fire, it permeated the air, but I paid it no attention.

"Ready to head up to the room?" I asked, sliding my arrow back into its quiver lithely and turning to face her for the first time.

Her tattooed arms were folded across her heaving chest and her face was a mess of exasperation. "Yes, because in our room there won't be any witnesses to the huge fight we are about to have." Zoey spread her arms wide and I could feel the air prickle with fury.

I shrugged and motioned to the door. "Well, shall we?" Following her angry footsteps out of the foyer, we walked like ghosts past the concierge. The journey to the room was quick yet still a nest of barbed silence. When we opened the door to our room, I had to recheck the number to be sure we hadn't been so preoccupied with anger to land on the wrong floor.

The concierge had worked quickly and efficiently. The room was a mass of the deepest purple peonies, tiny white candles, chocolates, and numerous bottles of champagne. It was the Honeymoon paradise I had ordered, down to the last detail.

Zoey spun around like a top to face me. "What the hell, Stark?"

"Well, before I interrupted your little rendezvous with Erik Night, I had planned a special evening for us." I spewed. Tossing my bow and arrows onto an unwitting pile of flowers, refusing to regard Zoey at all. They puffed and scattered as if aroused rudely from a daydream.

I stared over Zoey's painted shoulder out the open balcony door, distracted momentarily from the room of tension by the serene view. The curtains seemed to breathe in the breeze, allowing the moonlight to dance around the room like a welcome guest, coloring everything more deeply with the slightest tender touch. "It is almost magical here… isn't it?" I turned back to her and exhaled.

Her face softened and a slight curve tipped the end of her lips. "You planned all this for me?"

I merely grinned.

Zoey reached a quick hand to pat my arm once and then dropped it in an almost embarrassed gesture. "Thanks." She added, unabashed.

I mocked her rapid movement and tossed in a 'you're welcome.' She giggled and in an outburst of movement, she launched herself into my arms, sending us toppling back on the bed of peonies and candles.

"Watch the candles!" She cried as my back burned with fever and then with a breath from Zoe the fire was gone.

"It's good to have you around when my romantic escapes result in accidental arson." I elbowed the quiver to the floor and ripped my shirt off in one motion.

And just as I felt like I had been witnessing the rebirth of my seventeen-year-old nightmare, I was now frolicking in a seventeen-year-old daydream. We rolled around in the ideal fantasy for hours, flower petals and chocolate joining the sweat of our bodies.

Finley

What the hell was I doing down here? Did I have some outrageous wish to lull the party to sleep with one of Sam Beam's classic ballads? I rolled my eyes and tossed the guitar strap over my shoulder, thinking of the reason I had allowed myself to be talked into this ridiculous display.

"Man, I would absolutely die if they played some Blink 182 right about now!" Thatcher bellowed over the crowded bar.

My face whipped around in a whiplash-inducing movement. "I hope you mean you would either a. assassinate someone for playing that band or b. hire Dr. Kevorkian for some rescue euthanasia."

His goodhearted chuckle was beginning to be his usual reaction. "Well, obviously, I'm not going to win with this conversation." He took a long drink of his beer.

"You were being serious, weren't you?" I asked, wide-eyed.

"I'm always serious."

"Apparently." I set my glass down and eyed him overtly. "Favorite bands, go."

His handsome face lifted and he thrust his head back like he had been shoved. "Just like that?"

I nodded, resting my head on my hand and waiting with a sweet smile.

His head was still shoved back but a grin slowly melted through his rebuffed face. "Don't stone me." He added and made a show of glancing at me before making his list. "Blink 182…"

"Please don't say U2."

"U2."

"Impale me."

"Blue October."

"I'm choking on my own bile."

"Taylor Swift."

Immediately, I stopped fake vomiting to stare him down. "I'm literally suffocating on my words of dismay."

"Just seeing if you were paying attention." He spat, shaking with laughter.

"Those are pretty much the favorites."

"I thought we had friendship compatibility…" I drained my glass in a flourish of defeat and sat it upside down on the bar.

"You're always welcome to supplement my iTunes. I've been in training for years, I haven't had time to peruse iTunes for the latest world-saving tracks."

"Supplement? Nah, you need a complete overhaul."

"Okay, rude. What's your favorite band?"

"Iron & Wine. Easy."

"What? Who are they?"

"I'm out of synonyms for death. Hold on, I'll be right back."

I make a movement to get up but he impedes my escape. "All right. Why don't you just sing me something of theirs?"

"Right here? Without accompaniment? No." I shake my head vigorously and order a refill.

"What? Finley "I have huge balls" Night won't sing me something without 'accompaniment'?" His fingers wagged in the air as he mocked me. He hooked his chin down to the stage. "They've got instruments. Oh, I'm sorry 'accompaniment.'"

That is how I came to be standing before this confused, slightly drunk crowd, playing a slow song in which they kindly swayed. I let my eyes scan the balcony and none shown brighter than Thatcher's boppy beaming face. Although Thatcher's smile held something so unnervingly familiar to Alden, his personality was so distinctly uncommon. He was like a glass window, translucent and functional. So simple, what he said he meant and how he acted was not convoluted in some double meaning that I would have to translate. He was such a welcome surprise. Smiling up at him I continued to play and be thankful for his new friendship.

My eyes continued to wander and they landed solely on Alden's paralyzed face. He was like a shell, hollowed and completely immobile. His overt sadness unnerved me for a few moments and my song suffered several sour notes. Then towards the end of the last course I realized the truth behind his gloom: defeat. He had set out to master the new girl and I had played right into his ploy, but in the end I hadn't given in. I was probably the first. Of course he was depressed, he was being made to look like a fool in front of his protégés. I finished the last chord in a vigorous flash of fingers and bowed to the audience and band.

"That was sick!" Thatcher roared from the top of the stairs.

I laughed and gestured his compliments away.

As I reached the top of the stairs he whipped me up in a bear hug and spun me around the room. I giggled for a few moments until his light touch suddenly turned sour and heavy. Then, I grasped his arm to a pinch and begged him to put me down. The rest of the poker table stared in bemusement at the affectionate greeting Thatcher smothered over me. "Blinds doubled?" I asked as I slithered into my seat.

"Yes," answered the dealer.

The table had dwindled; the only remaining players were Thatcher—by a thread, Alden, and myself. After the break most players had begun losing regularly to Alden. I had no idea what had brought on the change in consciousness, but apparently, he was in fact alive. He still sat emotionless across the table, hardly seeming to pay attention, but his winnings showed his alertness. His ear was turned to me and fingers tapped the table as if he was peeved to be playing.

I won a hand, he won a hand. Never did he force me in or actually call upon my poker skills, he folded when it became sticky or I folded in turn. The game was dead center, and boring. Alden finally took out Thatcher in one hand leaving us with even pots and it was apparent, we were going to be here for hours.

"Alright, Redbird, I'd love to sit here and continue this game of high card with you but I'd actually like to play poker now." I spat across the table. Thatcher now stood behind me, urging me on like a soccer-mom on speed. He had invented little encouraging comments taken from cheers and made poker-y. I mainly ignored him.

Loch hovered on the other side of me and took the opposite approach. He would murmur dirty comments in my ears between the rah-rahs and I would elbow him in the groin with relish.

Alden's corresponding stare was as heavy as steel. He looked once at his cards, and then shoved his entire pot into the center of the table. "Alright, Night. Let's see those balls you've been playing with all night."

After my annoying, self-righteous speech, I wasn't going to just let him bully me into a bad hand, but I also was a hothead and I wasn't going to let him bully me out of a good hand either. My cards had the greatest potential; I was disgustingly close to a Royal Flush… But I didn't have it yet. One card was about to be slapped onto the table and if it were my night then it would be that lucky number ten of hearts. Without a breath, I shoved my chips to the center of the table where they merged with Alden's.

Loch inhaled harshly and ran around the table snapping his fingers. "Oh no she didn't!"

Thatcher rubbed my shoulders and whispered encouragement to me that I didn't hear. I was staring fiery holes into the cards laid out before me: king of hearts, seven of clubs, jack of hearts. Squeezed between my index finger and thumb were the ace and queen of hearts. If the next two cards contained the very, very unlikely ten of hearts I would have the unbeatable hand. I have never possessed such a win and my hands shook at the prospect. Alden leaned back in his chair lackadaisically, and tossed his cards across the table, they hopped and skipped to a halt below the line of cards revealing a king of spades and jack of diamonds—two pair. As my shaking hands flipped over my cards, the room saw that he had me completely cornered and the only thing that could liberate me was the capstone to my Royal Flush.

The next sequence of events happened like the turning pages of a comic flipbook.

I stood up and gripped the edge of the table sweaty fingers.

Alden leaned forward and sat his head lazily upon his upturned palm.

The dealer nodded and turned over one card.

Jack of spades.

My elbows gave out for a moment.

I tripped forward, collapsing to the floor.

Thatcher swooped in like a rescue eagle and caught me in his powerfully built arms.

My eyes flickered to Alden's emerald eyes.

He watched me with unflinching care.

The dealer lifted the last card and like a slow moving film, he flipped it over onto the table.

Dust billowed up around the card and then settled in a shower of sparks.

Ten of hearts.

The world around me hurtled down to the floor and my feet swung above their faces, careening to the ceiling.

I was flying! Soaring through the room on a cloud of elation. What a feeling! There is nothing to compare to the absolute ecstasy of a win such as that. The blurred faces around me whirled and pirouetted before me until one face edged its way in front of the rest and interrupted my euphoria. Alden's features were washed in a calm sadness, a resigned look rested in the curve of his mouth.

Suddenly, I questioned how and why I was flying. Awaking to myself, I realized that Thatcher was spinning me around the room like a child in his burly arms. He laughed and kissed my cheek in excitement. I hugged him once and commanded him to put me down. With Alden's face still in view, I declared drinks on me and the flood of onlookers rushed like streams of water past me. None moved me but Alden's expression. We stood facing each other like two unmoving boulders in a mighty river. After everything, I still wanted to move closer to him, but the river kept us separated by our differences. Yet we were the same, two stones fighting the current in our own way, choosing different tactics but struggling the same.

"That was a fantastic win!" Screamed Aiden over the roar of the crowded bar.

I forced myself to look away from Alden's frown and over to Aiden's dark beaming cheeks. "Yeah, I can't believe I actually pulled it off. Lucky."

He smiled and shook my hand. "No one has ever beat Alden. That I can remember, at least."

"Like I said," I turned my head to face Alden. "Lucky." But he had disappeared down the stairs. With that I walked to the bar and kept my promise.

Alden

It was a delightful goodbye. Touching, yet unsatisfying. That's how parting is supposed to be, right? The best ones always leave you dreaming for more; otherwise it wouldn't be a goodbye but a see you later. I commanded myself to shut up because I was being lame.

I stumbled down the stairs after she had allowed me out of her polarizing gaze. With whiskey in hand, I wandered through the main room searching for an open room along the edge of the vault. I staggered into the first one that stood out to me and crumbled onto a crimson silk wing backed chair. I was breathing like I had just ran a marathon and the welcome respite from the search was soothing. Across the room was a table laden with crab cakes, sushi, and other finger foods, I hoped whomever was to eat the food wouldn't be entering soon— the silence was calming. I stared at the food until my vision blurred and I was forced to blink.

Abruptly, I realized I wasn't alone. There was a body lying across the gold couch a few feet from me. The candlelight hadn't allowed me to see the person until I was sitting in such close proximity. As my eyes adjusted to the low candlelight, I perceived the sob-shaking body. Quietly as I could manage, in my current condition, I stood to leave the occupied room.

"Don't leave," the girl cried softly.

I looked about me confused and continued to edge closer to the door. "Um, what?"

"Alden, don't leave." Eden sat up and wiped away her tears only for more to pour over her cheeks to take their empty place.

"E, what are you doing down here?" I moved to sit beside her on the couch and offered her my handkerchief.

"Thanks," she murmured as she accepted the cloth and dabbed her face. "I just couldn't take it any more."

I nodded but said nothing.

"I hate it, Alden. All of it. I hate seeing him. I hate still loving him. I hate that I can't make myself stop. I hate that Brand's eyes are all hard and mean because he sees it. I hate that I can't hide it. I can't turn it off, Alden! I hate that of all people he chooses her, the only person that I have felt like myself with in the longest time…" She wept into my shoulder without finishing. I patted her back awkwardly and remained silent. "How are you doing it?"

"Doing what?"

Eden lifted her face from my shoulder and stared into my eyes. "Acting. Where is this mask coming from? I see how you look at her when others aren't paying attention."

I half-smiled. "Practice, I guess."

"But you've never liked anyone like her before."

"True."

She cocked her head to the side. "How do you feel? You know, when you see them?"

I exhaled and ran my fingers through my hair. "Well, at first it felt like someone had sent some vigilante knives on a search and destroy mission in my body."

Eden hiccupped.

"After they succeeded their mission I was just numb. I kind of feel like I am a dead man walking through a fog with his old life swirling about him."

"That sounds awful."

I shrugged. Eden's hair was a mess and stuck in her lip-gloss, so I leaned forward and brushed the strand from her mouth. Her lips puckered and she sucked in a rapid breath, making her chest rise and fall.

Eden leaned her face forward and held out the handkerchief to me. "Only a guy like you could carry one of these," She whispered.

I backed up to the edge of the couch and muttered that she should just keep it.

She took my hands in hers and shoved the cloth inside of my knuckles. Instantly, without a word or a hint of hesitation, she sloped her body towards mine and kissed me softly on the cheek. As she steadily pulled back her gaze twitched between my eyes to my mouth.

And her lips were upon mine, hard and sad, opening my mouth to share her sadness, frustration, and need. She was looking for a solution, an antidote for this poison and I was there, allowing her to search in a place that was a self-proclaimed barren wasteland.

There were no words just arms, fingers, hands, lips, and hair. A fever brewed between us adding to our sickness. I was lifting her dress and she was fumbling with my belt when the door swung open and a procession of dark faces paraded before me. I tumbled from the couch and one face underlined the climate change in the room. I was finally awake from my coma and I wished I were dead.

The room exploded.

Eden was screaming and Brand was throwing chairs across the room.

Loch was running at me baring fists and Finley had impeded his assault. She spoke in colorless tones and ordered him from the room.

Selene's face was a terror and she faded out the door.

Aiden shook his head and rushed after Selene.

Finley pointed to Brand and Thatcher responded to her wordless command and escorted him from the room forcefully. Blaise and Hypatia giggled and followed in Brand's fiery wake.

Finley straightened up and faced Eden and I with frigid eyes. "Thatcher, will you call a cab for Eden? She needs to get out of here quickly. Eden," She turned her icy face to Eden specifically. "Don't try to talk to Brand tonight. There's nothing you can do right now. He needs to be angry before he can forgive you. I'll let you have the room to yourself tonight." Thatcher walked in and picked Eden up by the elbows and walked her out.

Finley turned an indifferent stare upon me and I felt my blood turn into an icy river within my veins. "You need to fix this. I hope you are willing to take some punches, because I'm sure they're coming you way. You need to talk to Brand tonight, explain to him what happened and apologize. You do know what contrition means don't you?"

I was up on my feet, barreling at her, seeking her hands, legs, something to hold onto, to show my sorrow. "Finley, I'm so sor—"

She looked at my outstretched hands as if they were vipers and cut across me: "Please! Don't apologize to me for something that you aren't sorry for."

I withdrew my sweating palms and breathed, "I am sorry."

Finley's face was in a rage. She spread her arms wide and spewed, "What are you sorry for? Having sex with a friend's sister? Hooking up with a girl who's obviously vulnerable? Taking advantage of a best friend's girlfriend? Fucking your brother's ex? Which one? All seem in character to me."

I fell to my knees. How could I possibly lose her again? She was never mine to begin with… But nothing has been as torturous as hearing Finley hurtling the truth at my feet and begging me to refute it. It was all true and there was nothing for me to do or say to stop the verbal assault of validity. I was guilty and I wanted her to know everything.

"What makes you sorry now, Alden? That the line you dance around finally swooped under you and you got caught up in your tangled life? Do you finally feel guilt for something?"

"I'm just so messed up right now." With my face in my palms, tears rained down upon my blue suede shoes.

"Why? You seem perfectly typical to me. This is normal for you."

"I love you."

"Don't you dare!"

"I'm telling the truth." I chanced to peek at her expression through the fence of my fingers and her intensity stung my retinas like smoke.

"Fantastic way of showing me. Thanks for messing up my only friendly relationship at this school." She now had her back to me, staring out of the open door at the unknowing partygoers who frolicked outside, another world away.

"I messed up. Immensely. But the gargantuan mistake doesn't overshadow my feelings."

"Shut up, Alden!" She screamed, the ice had ignited and a fire was brewing, it melted her mask of frosty aloofness and behind it volcanic fury threatened. "You don't love me! You don't know anything about love! You are intoxicated by the fact that you can't have me!"

"No, you swept me off—"

She slapped me, smiting my jaw and censuring the words on my tongue. "You gave me the broom, Alden, the very first day you saw me. You want to know the saddest part? Although I knew you were a lying, manipulative womanizer I thought that I would give you a chance, then I gave you another, and another. That's not who I am. I knew! I knew the whole time that you would make me look like a fool. I changed myself for you! Never again, Alden. We are done before we even started. We can't even be friends, and that's all I ever really wanted from you." Finley's face was inches from mine and the indifference from before had scratched itself back to the surface. "Find a way to fix it. You owe them." She turned and left me in the room.

Kneeling on the floor, I was a rooted, ruined statue, forced by the gods to weather the hurricane that I caused out of my own caprice. She had cared about me and I had sabotaged my own dreams with my idiocy.

I don't know how long I stayed there but the building grew gradually more quiet as I sat in my deserted prison cell of self-loathing until all that was left of me had melted away leaving me empty.

Okay, I got upset for Alden in this chapter... which is why it took so long to write. Next chapter you guys get to have the full affect of Finley's hurt.

As always, read and review!