I'm supposed to be working on my English paper right now. What do I do instead? Update fanfiction.

WELCOME TO THE TENTH CHAPTER OF LOVE GAMES! I made it extra long just for the occasion, which is why it took an obnoxious amount of time for me to update.

Just as a foreword, I'm asking everyone who supports me and my writing on this site to please, please, go on and vote for my short story entitled Revenge is Bliss. I'm entered in a contest and it'd be an absolute dream of mine to win and get my name out there in the literary world. Thanks to anyone who heeds my plead!

Anyhow, enjoy(:

I'm your national anthem
God, you're so handsome
Take me to the Hamptons
Bugatti Veyron

He loves to romance 'em,
Reckless abandon,
Holdin' me for ransom,
Upper echelon.

He says to "be cool" but,
I don't know how yet.
Wind in my hair,
Hand on the back of my neck.
I said, "Can we party later on?"
He said, "Yes, yes." (Yes.)

CPOV

A yelped expelled past my lips in a rush as the iron-hot straightener scalded my neck. My hand jerked back just in time to prevent an angry mark from puckering up to the surface, much to my relief. Static sounded from the speaker of my phone, Izzy shifting on the other end.

"You alright?" Her soprano question sounded almost muffled.

"Yeah, yeah. Just my straightener. You sure you can't pick me up?"

More hair-raising static. "Clary, if you saw this catch I've got reeled in, you wouldn't leave either."

Unplugging the flat-iron from the wall, I picked up my powder brush and dabbed the fine white particles lingering to the applicator across my lightly-freckled face. My nose wriggled against a sneeze, eyes rolling up towards the ceiling. "You're such a slut, Iz."

"But it's okay, cause so are you." A giggle bubbled out from the end of her sentence.

Rummaging about the colossal pile of shoes I had stashed in my closet, I released a dry little laugh. I found a pair of strappy silver stilettos and slipped them on my freshly-pedicured feet, wobbling only slightly as I adjusted to my new height.

"Yeah," I agreed, exiting the closet. "I guess I am. Okay, you have fun with your new boy-toy. I'll walk to Pandemonium."

"Don't freeze to death!"

Eyes tilting up toward the ceiling once again, I snatched up my phone and stuffed it in a clutch. A leather jacket hung over my computer chair and I shrugged it on swiftly before escaping through the door. The sleek material hugged at what meager curves I had, outlining all of my attributes while still keeping some modesty. Yes, I knew it made me look good, and that was the exact thought that brought a hundred-watt smile to my lips as I leaned suggestively against the doorway of my art room.

"What do you think?" I spoke low, enunciating each word perfectly on my full, glossed lips.

Simon looked up from admiring one of my water-color paintings to gape at me. His mouth flapped open for a second, eyes wide, before quickly composing himself. A darker look than what I was used to shadowed his features as he crooked one slim finger towards me. Lowering my lashes, I dutifully obliged with his silent request; as soon as I was close to him, he snaked an arm around my waist and tugged me near-flush against him. Only a sliver of air stood between us, stirring the butterflies hidden beneath the supple skin of my stomach.

"I think you look far too good to go out tonight," he said huskily, hands slipping down from my waist to firmly grip my hips. His lips were right at my ear. "Why don't you stay here?"

I laughed haughtily, knowing perfectly well I had Simon wrapped around my finger. "You know I can't. I have a reputation to uphold."

Simon groaned, releasing me so that I could step back. "I wish you would quit that."

"I know," I said, softer now. "But I can't."

"We'll see about that."

Stunned, I snapped my gaze up to meet his eyes, trying to read the expression on his face. But he wasn't looking at me, features hidden beneath a shadow. I swallowed hard, averting my eyes as unnervingly silent seconds ticked by. Cleared my throat.

"I have some business to take care of with my father tonight." My voice was barely above a whisper. A floorboard creaked somewhere in the house as a howl of wind caressed the night sky. "We shouldn't be back before four, but keep the door closed just in case. I have to go now."

I turned to leave, heel spinning smoothly on the hardwood, but Simon's hand quickly shot out to catch my wrist. I paused, allowing for him to speak, but did not twist around to face him.

"What are you doing out at four in the morning with your father of all people?" he questioned.

My teeth clenched, tension rippling through me. "Business."

I felt his calculating gaze skimming over me. "Dressed like that?"

"I'll put on some tights first," I muttered, smoky eyes shutting. I recoiled from Simon, walking until I met the threshold. "I've got to get going now."

Before Simon had a chance to get some more rebuttals in, I slipped out the door, shutting the solid wood behind me with an audible click. Feeling deflated, I sagged against the door as shudders trembled through me. Every part of me screamed to tell Simon about what "business" I had to take care of with my father every week, but I couldn't. Because if I uttered even one word about the secrets I was entangled in, my father would kill me.

JPOV

A stray, chilling breeze of wind escaped through the calm city. One could sense the people stirring up in their apartments, preparing for another peaceful night of sleep. For Jace, though, his night was just beginning.

He loped down the cracked, litter-strewn streets with the hood of his black sweatshirt tossed up to obscure his face. Something tickled at the back of his head, telling him that he should turn around and go back to the comfort of his studio, but he pressed forward. The urge to talk to Katie ran on an impenetrable zip-line through his body; after Alec, she was the only person he knew who could screw his head on about something.

The familiar dirty, red-brick apartment building nearly caving in on itself rose into view and Jace hustled over to it. Fluorescent lights buzzed a low greeting to him as he stamped into the shabby entry way. The white, cracking linoleum floors were scuffed with all sorts of stains Katie and him had once tried—and failed—to scrub off. Speaking of the tall, mousy brown-haired girl, Jace peered around for her familiar form, but came up empty. Ambling forward to lean on the poor excuse of a front desk, he slammed his palm down repeatedly on the gleaming bronze bell resting there. At the irritating alarm that rang out, Katie poked her head out from a storage closet, brown eyes beaming question marks.

"May I help you?" she asked, stepping out with a rather large box swallowing up her curvaceous body.

Smirking gloomily, Jace threw back his hood, messy golden hair curling along his jaw line to kiss the nape of his neck. Eyes widening slightly, Katie set the box down on the cluttered desk and tugged the hem of her snug-fitting band tee down, rounding the edge of the desk. He met her halfway, enfolding her in a burly hug that knocked the air out of her with a tiny "oof."

"Jace," she said with mild surprise once Jace had set her back down on her ratty sneakers. "I think this is the first time I've seen you sober past seven-o-clock."

His eyes glinted devishly. "Leave my demons alone, Kat."

Katie clucked her tongue, face contorting. "I told you not to call me that."

"I told you not to worry about my drinking; it helps me."

"Your sweetest cure is often your darkest poison," she muttered cryptically, going behind the mammoth desk to rummage about in the box she had carried out.

Jace heaved a long, weary sigh and leaned his elbows on the dusty counter, watching Katie busy herself with taking out the wrapped stacks of paper from within the box and placing them on the table. Taking a pocket knife out from the confines of her skinny jeans, she began cutting the wrapping off the paper and creating the base to what was quickly blooming into a colossal stack. A dark storm was roiling in his head, churning his blood hotly. Words formed of their own accord on the tip of his tongue, sprawling about irritatingly. Eyebrows furrowing down, he tapped his fingers rhythmically on the counter, drawing Katie's attention.

The paper screeched out a sharp tear. "Why'd you come down here anyway, Jace? What's troubling you?"

"What makes you think something's bothering me?" he retorted.

"Well," another swift slice, "judging by the way you sprinted out of here yesterday and have only come back now—void of your bags, might I add—I can only assume." Jace blanched, gaze snapping up to her face. She met it with a steady look of her own. "What, you think I didn't notice?"

Jace swallowed, turning the stones of his thoughts over while his tongue fumbled to form the right words.

"Arianne," he began thoughtfully, "has pushed me past my limits. I'm ill just thinking about my sister. That's why I left."

"Where are you living now, if not here?"

He shook his head vehemently. "It doesn't matter. Katie, I've changed."

A warble of laughter escaped past her lips and she used the point of her gleaming blade to tear into the now-empty box. Its severed pieces fell limply to the floor, useless and dank; Jace couldn't help but feel like those were his own insides lying dead on the floor, getting stamped on by the firm sole of Katie's worn sneakers.

"Mind me, Katie. I haven't changed fully—yet. But a part of me recognizes it lingering behind the scenes."

"Jace, what are you babbling on about now?" she asked, sounding exasperated as she bent to gather up the discarded pieces of box.

"I need to get out of here," he explained, gesturing around him. "If I don't, I—I'll end up just like her. Just like my sister, slumming around in the allies with a bottle of gin in my old, withered hands."

Katie whirled around, cardboard strips clutched flush against her chest. Her eyes were blazing, lips pursed tightly. Jace was positive that if her hands weren't occupied, she would have slapped him directly across the face. She took a bodily step forward, a personal, physical threat.

"Don't you dare say that, Jace Herondale. You would never turn into the monster your sister is."

"Why not?" he demanded, straightening up as his muscles rippled with tension. "I'm already a worthless drunk, aren't I?" Katie opened her mouth to refute, be he silenced her with a cutting glare. "Don't even try to deny it. You've only said as much five times a week for the past three years."

She swallowed gruffly, fingernails digging crescent indents into the cardboard. For a while, the both of them remained in a terrifying silence; the kind of silence that seems to stick to your skin and pool at your feet with the thickness of tar. The only sound that filtered past their stony barriers was the irking buzz of the lights and the rustling of Katie tossing her shredded box into an electric-blue recycling bin. Jace lost himself in the steady rise and fall of his chest, relieved to finally be releasing all the pent-up rage. His blood coursing through his veins was scorching hot, making the cool of the night outside that much more appealing. In a last-minute decision, he shook out his curls and snapped his hood back up to shadow his defined features.

Just as he was turning, he heard Katie's voice. "Jace—stop, don't. Please." Her small, thin fingers were clammy as they encircled his wrist and spun him around to face her. Yanking his hood down, she cupped his feverish face in her palms, forcing his fiery eyes to lock with her fierce ones. "One day, you will find worth and meaning to your life in the place you least expect it. Until then, just hang on. For the love of God, you can even drink if it will help you. Just don't give up hope—not yet."

Jace stared steadily at Katie's heart-shaped face for a long moment, both of them breathing with effort. At last, he gave a slight inclination of his head, agreeing to heed her advice. Stress visibly left Katie, smoothing out the wrinkle between her brows.

Squeezing the college-grad's hands firmly, he lowered them back down to her side. "Drinking it is, then," he remarked. Without giving her a chance to respond, he donned his hood once more and disappeared on a wisp of wind frosty enough to chill the cartilage in one's bones.

CPOV

There was an unnerving chill hanging in the air, matting down my needle-straight copper locks. It was a winter night no-doubt, with the sky as dark as the void you linger in just before slipping into sleep. Wrapping my arms around my thin frame, I expelled a quavering sigh, wondering what had happened to the warm weather we had been experiencing earlier this week.

Another gust of ghastly wind rushed past me, lifting up my hair and twirling it around playfully. Cursing Izzy for not abandoning her boy toy long enough to come give me a ride, I smoothed my hair down delicately. Fortunately, Pandemonium's pounding bass flooded through the concrete of the sidewalk and trembled up from my feet. A smirk lit up my lips; the club was just around the corner.

Sure enough, I rounded the building on 75th street and was hypnotized by the flashing multicolored lights swirling through the fogged glass of the Pandemonium. My smirk morphed into a full-blown grin as all thoughts slipped away like sand through fingers. The pounding bass was my drug, filling me full with tiny glass bubbles. I was as light as a helium balloon, floating languidly towards the golden, glowing doors. Jolts of pure electricity filtered into my skin, instantly warming me all over. I bodily jerked open the door and was consumed.

Throngs of ecstatic, drunk teens dressed in scraps of skin-tight material molded around me, welcoming me into the center of their night with open arms. Music engulfed me, blooming inside me and guiding me around like a practiced puppet; my hips swayed slowly as I ventured further into the crowd. Lust was humming like a live-wire, connecting all of us in some otherworldly way.

"Clary!"

"Hey, baby. Hit me up later."

"What's goin' down, Fray?"

People shouted things to me from every direction. I responded as I usually did—a smile, a wink, a private grazing of my hands. I was a queen here, ruler of every admirer. Their comments adorned a tiara in my fiery locks, fueling the sense of power coursing through my veins.

"Clary-girl!" This voice was not part of the crowd. The high soprano lilt was an equal among me, and I would recognize it anywhere.

Raven hair and eyes like the Arctic Ocean at night flashed once before scrawny arms constricted around me. A breezy laugh left me in a whirlwind as I returned the squeeze.

"Apology accepted," I stated pointedly.

Pulling back, Isabelle made an apathetic face. "I am sorry, you know I am. Just look at him, though. He's gorgeous!"

My emerald green eyes followed the direction of Izzy's meticulously manicured finger and spotted a tall, dark-haired man with dull brown eyes. He seemed far too old to be hanging around a teen club like Pandemonium. A cigarette was held loosely in his hand, pressing a crinkle into my nose. Normally the attendees of the club took consideration to smoke only in the back room, where all the pool tables were located and the college kids smuggle in gin and whisky.

"Him?" I asked, incredulous. "He's, like, in his forties!"

She shrugged. "I like my men older."

"Yeah, older. Not senile."

"Oh, stop," she ordered, clucking her tongue. I laughed it off and twirled around in a slow, lazy circle to the screeching of a techno song flitting about the space.

Halfway through my circle, someone's strong hands latched onto my hips and tugged me taut against them. There were fireworks crackling on my skin, my heart stuttering almost painfully against my ribs. Gasping, I twisted around as best I could in their unrelenting grip. A hot flush warmed through me when I saw the chiseled features of his face, the perfectly messy locks that curled at the ends to frame his perfect face. The gold of his eyes were twinkling with something devilish.

I swallowed, composing myself, but did not pull away. Our faces were mere inches apart, noses practically bumping.

"Jace Herondale, what are you doing here?"

He grinned blasphemously. "Can I show you something?"

"What something?" I asked, lips turning down in a frown.

Jace pointedly chose to ignore my question, and moved his hands to the small of my back so he could efficiently maneuver me around the crowd. I resisted, but it was a feeble attempt that he didn't even seem to register as he plowed through the sweaty cluster of bodies. Two more staggering heartbeats, and a blast of cold air slammed into me with the force of a brick wall. Sucking in a sharp, stunned breath, I dug the sharp point of my heels into the concrete, forcing Jace to a halt.

"What are you doing?" I demanded. Chills bit into my skin with an effect that had me aching to go back inside the club and get swept up in the suffocatingly hot dance floor.

Jace spun around abruptly enough to make me jerk back in surprise. His hand shot out and caught my arm to keep me steady, though the touch only made me feel dizzy. A feverish flush had flooded into his features, something that I had failed to notice under the flashing, multicolored lights of the club. Out here in the black of night, you could easily see the high flags of color staining his cheeks in a way that looked like smeared berries.

"Just go with it.

Before I had the chance to respond, he was off again, tugging me along behind him. I huffed with exertion, my short legs struggling to keep up with his long strides.

"Are you drunk, Herondale?" I called gustily.

A few notes of musical laughter were plucked out from some hidden place inside him, and floated back to awaken a butterfly in my stomach. "Not yet," he responded suggestively. From inside the confines of his sweatshirt, he pulled a bottle of some sort of liquor and began waving it in the air like a flag, earning an eye roll from me. Knowing Jace's reputation, he was probably going to take me to an alley, liquor me up, then try to get in my pants. Suddenly, I felt a lot more reluctant to keep following him, but knew I had a reputation to keep up so I squelched the feeling instantly.

We ran for what seemed like eternity. The thin skin at my wrist burned with a heat as intense as the sun's; I hadn't yet deducted whether it was a pleasant feeling or not. Finally, just as I was beginning to think my legs would fail me, Jace slowed down to a trot in front of a grand, palace-like structure that took my breath away and tickled at my memory. I took hold of the two stings unraveling in my mind and forcibly tied them together to make a connection.

"Art Angelorum," I marveled. "It can't be."

A slow, angelic grin spread like warm butter across his lips. "It is."

"Why are we here?" I asked breathlessly as we ambled up the numerous marble steps.

"Well, would you like to go inside?"

My eyes widened perceptibly. "Inside? Won't we have to come back tomorrow when it's open?"

Ignoring me for the second time that night, Jace drawled out a low, haunting tune through his teeth. The whistle could have been called casual as he waltzed forward to round the building, but there was a lulling undertone to it that told a larger story. I shuffled awkwardly, not sure whether to follow him or not, and drew my coat tighter around me. Without Jace's skin around to scorch uncomfortably against mine, shivers were given a nicely-printed greeting card to snake themselves down under my skin.

Speaking of the golden-eyed child, he poked his head around the corner, a finger crooking at me to come near. Hesitating just a second, I dutifully went to him, the cracking sound of my heels stabbing into the concrete sounding painfully loud in the silence of the night. I rounded the corner and stopped abruptly, staring at what was in front of me. My eyebrows darted up into my hairline, questions already beginning to swirl around in my head.

"How did you…." I trailed off as my head started shaking back and forth with disbelief.

Running a hand through his already-tousled locks, Jace smirked at me. "Don't tell me you don't believe in secret entrances."

And a secret entrance it was. Meticulously carved into the sturdy marble of the museum was a dark, gaping hole that undoubtedly led inside the building. I traced a delicate touch around the outline of the entrance, not quite conceiving it still.

"How'd you get it open?" I asked.

"I never reveal my secrets." I made a face at him, earning a chuckle. "Are you going to go in, or what?"

I wavered, peering inside the depths. Who knew what Jace had planned, what tricks were lying up his sleeve? Plus, it was getting late, and soon I would have to meet my father. Imagining the grief I would receive for showing up late—or worse, drunk—to my father's business made me unwilling to go any further with Jace. I opened my mouth to tell him so and—

A gasp was wrenched out of me, and a gun shot went off in my chest. Jace suddenly had his arms wrapped tightly around me and was smuggling me through the passage. Within mere seconds, we were encompassed in a darkness as rich as dark chocolate. I was close enough to Jace to feel his heart beating against my arm, to melt into his sweet breaths tickling feather-light caresses across my cheek. Everything inside me jumbled incoherently at his proximity; a heady sensation bubbled up inside me as the scent of warm, freshly baked chocolate cupcakes wafted up to meet me.

"Sometimes you just need to have a little faith," Jace whispered. His lips were hot at my ear.

I had to swallow to compose myself, licking my lips. "I'll trust you—tonight."

A rumble of laughter vibrated through me, making me involuntarily shiver with pleasure.

"I wouldn't expect anything more."

The instant Jace released me, I was kissed with the hair-raising cold air circulating through the dead museum. Wrapping my arms tight around the indent of my waist, I resisted the urge to clasp back onto Jace as he wandered off somewhere in the darkness. My vision had been reduced to ink, but I knew he remained close by with the way my skin tingled in the peculiar way it always did when the golden-eyed boy was around.

"There's a light switch around here somewhere…." The muttering of his smooth voice was enough to fill the silence lurking around us. Blinding fluorescent light seared through my eyes suddenly, a hand unconsciously coming up to shield them. Blinking past the light, I peered around me.

We were standing in what appeared to be a janitor's closet, bottles of all sorts of suspicious liquids piled up on the rotting wooden shelves that reached towards the ceiling. Without the cupcake scent Jace carried with him, antiseptics tickled at my senses, wrinkling my nose. The perimeter of the room was small, the only thing separating Jace, casually leaning against the oak door, and me was your classic yellow mop bucket.

Catching his heavy, stoic gaze, I turned my eyes smoldering, twisting one strand of long, silky red hair; the cherry red of my plump bottom lip was kneaded between my teeth. Jace's eyes bore deep within me, the fire blazing inside the golden flecks hinting that he was thinking hard about something. His jaw was clenched tight, hands fisted in his pockets.

"Are you going to take me for a ride, or what?" I asked sweetly. The innuendo wasn't missed by Jace, who rolled his eyes up towards the ceiling, hand reaching for the doorknob.

"I thought you were one for courtship, Clarissa," he responded, holding the door wide for me as he scanned the shelves of the room absently.

"Clary," I corrected. "And is this not courtship?"

"What's that?"

I strolled over to the threshold, pausing there to lean against the doorframe. "This—bringing me out to an art museum, breaking me in at the dark of night so that the two of us could explore it alone, and let's not forget the ever-so-tempting bottle of whiskey in your sweatshirt."

"It's gin, actually, and no one ever said you have to drink it." Pausing, he plucked a black, gleaming object off one of the top shelves, and walked past me out the door. "If you want my opinion, though, it does make everything much more fun."

I sucked on the inside of my cheek, mulling over his flippant use of alcohol as he flicked off the lights inside the closet and shut the door. There was never a teen I had met that used alcohol as much as Jace did, as if it were some sort of medicine to him. In a way, it almost reminded me of my father; of the numerous nights I would come home to find bottles of hard alcohol strewn across the floor, shards of broken bottle digging into my feet as I cleaned the mess up. Involuntarily, I shuddered, knowing very well that my life was miserable, my father was miserable, and maybe Jace was, too. If not, he certainly had a death wish with the way he used the bitter liquid.

Once again, the clicking of my stilettos against the marble flooring as we walked was the only sound drifting up into the high, domed ceilings above us. Jace fiddled with the object he held in his hand, and a light burst out, illuminating the darkness around us and casting the shadows away.

"So why take me out here if not to court me?" I continued to pester, worrying the zipper on my jacket

"I told you I have to show you something."

I groaned inwardly, eyes following the light darting around the encompassing space. "There's more?"

"There's always more when it comes to me, Fray." Before I had a chance to respond, Jace veered off to the left. A large crack rang out in the silent air, goading a yelp out from the bottom of my throat. The small amount of light that was spilling from the flashlight went out. Startled, I spun around in a circle as my heart hammered in my chest. For a moment, my labored breath was all I heard.

A low rumble surrounded me, sounding vaguely like the first spurts of thunder before a raging storm. I was about to shout, but then something inside me clicked—it was just Jace, as per usual, pushing my buttons. I squinted into the inky black darkness Jace had left me in, hands on hips, and spotted the faint silhouette of a laughing Jace.

"Oh, ha ha," I drawled, vigilantly stepping over to him. "What are you doing now?"

"Stairwell," he stated plainly, giving me a soft shove in front of him.

I stumbled past a doorway with a slight noise of disdain and was immediately enclosed inside what seemed to be a small, cellar-like area. There was a soft pang, and then Jace flicked the flashlight back on, showcasing a rusting metal staircase winding up farther than what we could see.

My face must have shown my disgust, for Jace beamed at me with a knowing glint in his eyes. "Want to take off your heels, princess? Might make it easier to climb."

Jutting out my chin, I crossed my arms taut across my chest and stalked in front of him, beginning the ascent on my own. "I'll be just fine, thank you very much."

Jace's laugh echoed behind me, and then the rickety staircase was groaning painfully as his boots pounded behind me. At first, I was holding true to my word, having no difficulty navigating the twists and turns of the metal platforms; but the further we climbed, the more my muscles screamed out. It was enough to make me shoot my hand out and grip the railing hard enough to paint my knuckles a startling white. The iron was freezing my skin through and through, locking up my joints uncomfortably.

Just as I was about to spin around and pronounce my apparent failure with the simple task of climbing an old staircase, the stairs leveled off and emptied into an empty doorway. I think at one point a door may have been attached to the rusting hinges, but at the moment only dark, heavy air hung in the doorway. I stamped up the last two steps and sauntered forward, peering curiously inside the darkness.

"What is this?" I asked, turning only slightly towards Jace.

The boy came up behind me, breathing steadily over my shoulder. All nerves in my body became hyperaware of him, the pinpricks of emotion standing straight at attention like little toy soldiers waiting to be marched into battle. My breath was hitched on an invisible string in my throat, making any attempt at breathing a minimal struggle.

"Let's go find out."

Without asking my permission, he took up my hand in his and propelled us forward into the dark abyss of a room. And actually, it ended up not being a room at all. In fact, it was one of the most amazing places my wide, emerald green eyes have ever taken in.

The second we were over the threshold, Jace set his flashlight down in such a manner as to illuminate the entire space. With a start, I realized we were on a sort of balcony with only the shortest of a pure, marble white railing stopping me from teetering off. If you walked all the way to the end, your thighs pressing flush against the cool stone, you could literally reach out and stroke the hair of the massive granite statue illustrating the goddess Aphrodite.

My jaw dropped open, the tips of my sensitive artist fingers tentatively reaching out to trace the miraculous curves and indents of the precious Queen of Love. All the air had left me, leaving me with a breezy, feather-light feeling, adrenaline shining like a spotlight through my veins. My eyes fluttered shut, a content little sigh flying out of me and twisting up through the air.

Whirling around, I marveled at Jace, the sinister, golden boy who seemed only to care for himself. What he had just shown me, though, proved my incredulous ideas of him wrong. For what it was worth, this boy truly did have a giving, caring heart, and he was showing me a small glimpse of it for whatever reason that night.

"This…." My sentence traveled, then dropped off as I scrambled for words. I shook my head. "This is amazing. Really."

Reaching deep within his sweatshirt with an unreadable smirk painted on his lips, he produced a bottle. "I know something that would make it even better."

I eyed it hesitantly, not quite trusting myself enough to take a swig from the now-open bottle of gin. The brown-tinged liquid sloshed around a little, and a bit of the bitter scent tickled at my senses. Vaguely, I flashed back to the last time I let myself indulge in the demons of alcohol. Least to say, I woke up shivering on the kitchen floor with tears streaking my soot-smeared face. The memories of what exactly happened that night never quite resurfaced, and honestly, I didn't want them to. That was a night I enjoyed cramming down into a little black box labeled 'Do Not Open.'

Ever since, I had vowed not to allow myself to dive in that deep with the foul drink; and I felt like I could control myself, for the most part. But I couldn't help but realize that I was never really myself around Jace—something was always off-kilter. Would I be able to stop myself once I began?

Seeing the hesitation in my eyes, Jace waved the opening of the bottle just under my nose. "One sip can't hurt, can it? Or are you afraid, Clarissa?"

Defiance crawled up my throat, choking all forms of a response down. Actions speaking louder than words, I drove my hand out, took up the cold, glass bottle, and put it to my lips. In one swift motion I had the burning fluid downed, a tingly feeling already beginning to spin through me. Jace's mouth opened to say something else, but I cut him off with another swig.

That's how it went the rest of the night, the two of us finding ourselves draped gracelessly over the short marble guardrail and passing the bottle back and forth. Soon, we were giggling our spirits up to the high-dome ceilings, letting our inhibitions to go. Everything spun and pirouetted by my vision, and yet I still took my proper sips of the demon. At one point I think I tried to refuse the bottle swimming in front of me, but then Jace knocked my head back for me, and I was melted from then on out.

Later, I would sift through my memories and realized what really happened that night. That at one point I leaned across the sliver of open air separating Jace and I, and I planted my lips on his. Scorching heat flooded through my veins as he gripped me tighter against him. There was a feverish intent burning inside the both of us, and it definitely showed with the intricate dance our lips created together.

Tangled, distraught, and not quite registering what we were doing, my phone vibrated violently in my bra. I yelped, springing back from the heat of the brooding boy's hands and tugged it out. Sudden realization coursed through me with a personal, cracking slap as I checked the message there.

It was from my father. And it was telling me how late I was.

I didn't even have a coherent explanation to offer up to Jace. Head full of bursting champagne bubbles, I skittered up from off the floor where the two of us had fallen, and I darted down the staircase. There was no pain this time as I clomped noisily down the steps, but there was a stabbing in my heart as it banged up against my ribcage.

My father was surely, and truly, going to kill me.

Thanks for reading, guys! R&R, and once again, please support me on Figment if you have an account. The story title is Revenge is Bliss. Thanks much, loves!