Author's note: Here is the last time jump, Emma at age 17, which is where the story will take place in from this point forwards.

Chapter 35

Emma glared at her reflection in the mirror. Bright green eyes lined with black stared back at her, illuminated by the sparkly eyeshadow she'd chosen. Nude gloss shone similarly, as did the "casually tousled" curls that had taken her a while to style.

A horn honked outside, and she turned away to stuff her phone into her pocket. One last glance at her outfit, deeming it perfect, and she was on her way outside.

"Hey." She slid smoothly into the passenger seat of Jasmine's car. "Right on time." As soon as her butt hit the seat, she felt the car lurch forwards.

"Of course." Jasmine weaved through Storybrooke's quiet streets. "Griffin may be a meathead who is a little too obsessed with his raw egg habit, but he does throw pretty good parties. So excited."

"Same here. I needed to blow off steam, like, yesterday."

"Tough week, am I right? Three tests in one week. Were they trying to kill us?" Jasmine groused.

"Yeah." Emma replied absently. Her mother's hurt face from hours before flashed momentarily before her eyes. "Tough week indeed."

As soon as they made their way inside, Emma headed in the direction of the keg in the kitchen. "I'm gonna get a drink, ok?"

"Grab one for me too!" Jasmine called after her. "I'm gonna go find the others."

Bass pounded in the cavernous foyer, giving off the impression that the house had a pulsing heartbeat, one that slowly made its way into Emma, causing her head to start to throb. There were people everywhere, talking, making out, and dancing in any open space. The heavy smell of sweat and booze strongly contrasted against the crystal chandelier in the dining room and the paintings that hung on the type of wallpaper Emma had only seen in lavish decorating magazines.

Inside the kitchen, stocked with the state of the line stainless steel appliances, there was the usual expected keg, as well as a table filled with various two liter sodas, juices, and glass bottles of alcohol that Emma knew were expensive only because they were under lock and key in the town grocery store. Clearly someone was supposed to play the role of bartender, though the post had been abandoned.

She curiously picked up one of Solo cups on the table, finding it full of a suspicious looking dark liquid. It smelled like rotting lemons and rubbing alcohol.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you."

Emma jumped and turned around. A girl sat at the breakfast bar, partially shrouded by the shadow coming off the giant plant in the corner.

"Excuse me?"

The girl got up and walked towards Emma, her dark ponytail bobbing up and down. She wore a denim jacket over tights, a floral dress, and black combat boots. Tough with a hint of girly. Compared to this girl, who seemed to fit right in with the throngs of dancing kids scattered around the large house, Emma felt plain and out of place. "I said, I wouldn't drink that if I were you."

"Why not?" Emma peered into the cup again. "What's wrong with it?"

"Nothing," the girl said. "if you want to wake up half naked, submerged in a pile of your own vomit in someone's inflatable pool, with absolutely no memory of the past twelve hours. You do know whose party this is, right?"

"Yes." She glared at the girl. "And you are?"

"I mean," the girl said in lieu of answering Emma's question. "I guess that could be your thing. To each his own, right? But by the looks of you, I'm guessing no."

Throwing the dark haired girl a suspicious look, Emma headed for the keg instead, pumping it several times. "What the-"

"Oh yeah, I should've mentioned. That's empty too. Probably only started out half full. I guess its Griffin Murphy's not so secret way to get everyone to chug the blackout juice here."

Despite herself, she chuckled. "Blackout juice. Clever."

As if on cue, a redheaded girl Emma had only seen once or twice in the hallway at school stumbled into the kitchen, holding her sides, laughing so hard she could barely breathe. She grabbed one of the Solo cups, took a long drink, coughed twice, and promptly threw up all over the floor. Afterwards, she wiped her mouth on the back of her hand before making her way back out into the party as if nothing had happened.

Emma stared at the redhead's retreating form, hardly believing what she'd seen. "Wow."

"See what I saved you from?" The dark haired girl took out a silver flask from the inside of her jacket. "Here. Try this." She held it out, but not before taking a large sip herself.

"What is this?" Unlike the substance in the plastic cups on the table, the liquid in the flask smelled sweet and fruity.

"Orange juice, some red bull, tequila, and my own super secret ingredient, all adding up to what I like to call the Lily Page special."

Emma took a small, dubious drink and handed it back to the girl. Lily. "Thanks."

"Awesome, huh?" Lily thrust the flask back at her. "Now take a real sip."

"No thanks. I'm good."

"Really? Are you? Because you look like you could use a drink. You can trust me, you know." Lily added. "I got your back," she paused dramatically, clearly waiting for Emma to fill in the blank.

"Emma."

Lily nodded and stuck out her other hand. "Emma. Nice to meet you. I'm Lily."

Emma shook Lily's hand, thinking hard. She didn't even know this girl. Drinking something a stranger offered her was not what she did, ever. Her mother had instilled that rule into her long ago. She should get of here, go find Jasmine and her other friends, and go dance or something.

But there was nothing glaringly threatening about this Lily. On the contrary, she seemed harmless. And fun.

And besides, maybe this was just what she needed to forget about-she shook her head. That was why she was here, right? She shrugged and took the flask, gulping down some of it. "Why not?"

Lily smiled and tucked the flask away. "Now come on. Let's go have some fun."

"Emma."

Even before she opened her eyes, Emma knew this would not be a good morning.

"Emma."

She squeezed open one eye and instantly regretted it. Why oh why had she left her curtains open, allowing the scorching sunlight to instantly blind her?

Somebody cracked the door open and popped their head. "Emma?"

Her mother's voice instantly alerted Emma to the fact that she was, at the very least, safely at home in her own bed. How had she ended up there, though?

"I'm sleeping."

"Honey. I've been trying to call you for the last fifteen minutes. Breakfast is ready."

Emma dramatically flung one arm over her face, and then realized she was still wearing her jeans and tank top from last night. She snuggled deeper into her blanket burrito. "It's Sunday, Mom. Let me sleep."

"It's almost noon. You won't be able to sleep tonight if you don't wake up."

"Ugh."

"Late night with Jasmine? Which movie did you guys see?"

"Um…" Her head felt like the inside of a bass drum, and she had no idea if last night had been a dream or not. A silver flask flashed before her eyes, as did a tray full of Jello shots, red Solo cups, and various random cute guys she had virtually no memory of.

If it had been a dream, it was a damn good dream. Fleetingly, Emma recalled how amazing, how crazy, and how free she'd been. It had been one of the best nights she'd ever had.

When there was no answer, Regina sighed. "All right. I get it. You're still mad. You need to get out of bed, though. Go take a shower and meet me downstairs."

Much to Emma's annoyance, her mother hadn't bothered to shut the door on her way out. She closed her eyes, reveling in the warmth emanating from her blanket, wanting nothing more than to stay there all day. Five seconds, and then I'll get up.

After about thirty four seconds and the best, quick, last minute sleep she'd ever had, Emma pushed herself up with a groan. Not the best idea she thought, pressing her palms to her temples as her head started to pound with renewed force.

So last night had happened, then.

A light breeze caused Emma to turn towards the open window over her desk, and she walked over to close it. That solved the mystery of how she'd gotten home, she mused as she stared out at the large tree branch that was easily within grabbing distance.

Fifteen minutes later, she sat at her usual place at the kitchen table, picking at a plate full of what was typically her favorite meal of the week. On Sundays, Regina always made apple pancakes or waffles, eggs, and bacon, rather than the healthier breakfast options she insisted on for the other six days of the week.

"Not hungry?" Her mother teased as she sipped from a cup of coffee.

Emma grunted in response. She picked up her glass of orange juice, thinking it would help, but suddenly a memory of a dark haired girl (Lucy? Lila?) mixing vodka into a cup of orange juice rushed to the forefront of her mind, and she set the glass down.

"You can't avoid it forever, Emma."

"All right, all right." Emma picked up a piece of bacon with her fingers and took a bite. "There. I'm eating."

Regina pursed her lips. "I'd prefer you use a fork, but good. That's not what I was talking about, though, and you know it. If you're not happy about-"

"I'm fine." Emma interrupted. "Perfectly fine with it. Happy, even."

"I know it feels weird, but it's just dinner. He just wants you meet you."

"I said I'm fine, ok?"

Regina ignored her and continued. "Nothing's going to happen or change. But if you're not ok with it you need to tell me. We need to talk about this."

"No, we don't. He's your boyfriend, not mine."

"First of all, I know you're upset, but cut the attitude. And you know just as well as I do that he's not my boyfriend."

"Fine. Your man friend then."

"Emma." Impatience was laced through Regina's voice as she spoke. "That's enough. I'm trying to have a conversation with you here, and you're not making it any easier."

Emma glared at her mother. Well then shut up and leave me alone! She wanted to scream. Instead, she just muttered a "sorry" that she did not mean.

"You and I have been a team for so long. I love you more than anyone, and you know that."

"Yeah."

"And all I want is for you to be happy. Now, if you're not happy about Robin coming over for dinner, you need to speak up and say so. All he wants is to get to know you but if you're not comfortable with the idea, all you have to do is tell me and he won't come. It's that simple."

Or rather, all I have to do is tell you how much I hate the idea of your stupid boyfriend coming over to play house in order to get you to shut up.

In lieu of responding, Emma shoved a forkful of eggs into her mouth.

"Emma?"

"Mmm."

"Did you hear what I said?"

Emma chewed her eggs for way longer than necessary before swallowing noisily. "Yeah."

"And?"

She swallowed some juice. "I don't want him to come over. Sorry." Again, she didn't mean it.

Regina nodded and wiped her lip with a napkin. "All right. Thank you for telling me." She reached across the table and squeezed Emma's hand. "See how easy that was?"

Emma wrenched her hand away. Though her mother was smiling, she could see a trace of sadness in the brown eyes that were so different from her own bright green. "Can I excused now? I have a ton of homework."

Regina's expression instantly changed into one of disappointment, though she quickly rearranged it into a placid one. "Sure, honey. Let me know if you need help, ok?"

Without answering, Emma pushed her chair back and headed for the stairs. It had been easy this time, preventing Robin from coming over with his stupid son. Hell, she could probably even break them up if she tried.

But there was no way she could stop her mother from dating anyone, ever.

Author's note: Can anyone guess which Disney character "Griffin Murphy" is supposed to be?