A/N: Well this update took way too long once again. I'm doing a crap job at updating regularly. Hopefully I can update this a little more frequently once I finish one of my other stories. Anywho this chapter's basically a bunch of slumber party/girls' night stuff, with a dash of plotting and scheming. It was really fun to write and I may have listened to trashy early 2000s music while writing it XD (Sorry I'm not sorry :'D).

Guest - Thanks for the review! I'm glad you like the story so far and I'll do my best to impress you with the rest to come :)

Till next time,

D.L.D

~Heather~

"Catherine! Helia!"

I can't help but stiffen and cringe as Lindsay greets us with a warm hug, her tanned and skinny arms somehow giving a strong bear grip. As always she got my name wrong, calling me Helia instead of Heather as if the two names even sound similar. There's clearly a difference between the two. It's so simple of a fact, that I'm actually sure that Lindsay just does it on purpose at this point, her dumb blonde brain actually being good for something for once. But then when I think about it, maybe I was giving Lindsay too much credit.

After all just a look at her will show you what's she like.

She's too kind to be real mean girl material.

Her bleached blonde hair lacked its usual sparkly headband or bandanna, a pink sleeping mask instead plastered to the bottle blonde locks. A set of skimpy pink pajamas clung to her form, a cropped top that could pass for a bra with thin straps and shorts that may as well be underwear just about covering her Brazilian waxed ass. How do I know Lindsay got a Brazilian? Well she told me after she got it, saying that she was seeing if the rumors were true. However I feel she did it to get her game on. If you know what I mean...

Anyway paired with the slutty pajamas and the perfect, white manicured nails she sported, anyone could tell what sort of person Lindsay was. Even the sound of her babyish voice made you aware that she was a complete airhead, Lindsay's 'bombshell looks' only adding to the already stereotypical package. Plus those looks were all achieved through society's stereotypical image of beauty.

Nevertheless I always greet Lindsay with a wide smile and kind words, hiding my disdain for her idiocy by instead focusing on her...better values. You know the sort of values that brought Courtney here today, allowing me the perfect opportunity to grab more information. Cause let's face it, even dumb bottle blondes can be useful if you utilize them in the right way.

"Um...it's actually Courtney," The basic brunette spoke in a critical tone, but I nudged her slightly. A sharp look was then sent and Courtney fell silent, her lips pursing as she bit into them.

Good. I want her to know who's boss around here.

"So what's planned this time, Linds?" I almost throw up from the tone of my voice as I slide into the house, Courtney following close behind.

I always hated having to talk like this: in a way that was simply barbie doll-like and babyish. Holding idle chatter when I really just wanted to go home was really a curse. As an intellectual, I find it hard to hold conversations about nail colours and the latest hair dye; I like to talk about trends from time to time, but majority of the time I like to focus on things like going out to fancy restaurants or nice places to shop. I even talk about good movies and the very rare documentary I've watched like that one about lip gloss being made of whale sperm.

So when I have to talk about dull things like the 8Teen magazine it was boring and torturous, much like having to write an essay or do a project. But even so I had to do this task of chattering, the time-wasting habit being a key element to sleepovers.

Courtney seems to sense my agitation though, a small snicker coming from the slightly brightened brunette. She carries her bag on her shoulder, warily eyeing her surroundings with both awe and caution. Smart, but sadly not smart enough.

"Just the usual things," Lindsay speaks in a casual tone, seeming to have not noticed the small chuckle. Instead she saunters deeper into the house, her barely clothed hips swaying as she leads us to the kitchen. "Although I did want to have some girl time with Cathleen. I think it'd cheer her up a bit about Dirk."

"It's Duncan."

A small whisper corrects the blonde, however it's barely audible. Actually I'm sure it was barely a whisper at all, the words actually being breathed or coughed as if she had phlegm in her throat since Courtney seemed very saddened by their utterance. Her coffee eyes were cast to the floor, her cropped chestnut locks falling at an angle to hide her expression as she clenched her fists slightly. The slight glimmer of melancholy melted from Courtney, some sort of negative aura seeping from her quiet form.

But even so I don't bring it up.

It's not my place to care after all.

So all I do is chuckle a little, my snicker gaining Courtney's attention as well as Lindsay's.

"What's so funny?" The blonde raises a brow, confusion painted on her features as she stopped by the kitchen threshold. Her blue button eyes are wide and unblinking, like an innocent deer, and the look only amuses me further as I think about how many innocent lambs and deer have been led to their 'deaths' because of me.

I was like a deadly hunter or farmer these days, selecting the most innocent yet meatiest of the group to do my bidding. Then when they had lost their use I'd get rid of them, or even kill their social lives, just to make a point as to how powerful I am and how I don't need allies or friends. I've never needed them since changing myself and so I will never ask for them. I learned about the defaults of friends many years ago and so I've learned to never fall victim to the trap of friendship.

By doing this, I'm only showing other girls how friendships are the ultimate downfall. Having ties is often what causes the hero to fail in the final showdown, so I'm naturally avoiding my own painful defeat.

In fact I'm winning in ways that many heroes and villains could never even dream of.

"Oh it's nothing," I flash a simple smile, my hand absentmindedly waving it off. My red painted nails catch the light, glimmering like rubies. "Just thought of something funny."

A shrug was given by the blonde, Lindsay most likely used to my odd musings as she gave a look to Courtney. A look that told her to just get used to my crazy and odd self. However Courtney did not join or return the lighthearted gesture and continued into the kitchen in silence, the stillness speaking more than words ever could.

~Courtney~

You know I should be having fun.

I should be joining all these girls who are having a very vigorous and fun looking pillow fight, their skimpy, fluffy or pastel coloured pajamas only screaming their social status as the 'it girls' of our high school. I should be enjoying the trashy pop music that bubbles from the pink bluetooth speaker that rests on Lindsay's dresser, and I should be dancing along to it while giggling and joking about. I should let loose and just not care, allow myself to blend into my new world of plastic and glittery pink things.

But even if I should do all these things, I just can't. I can't find the will to enjoy this stuff when all these things were things I would do with my friends. My real friends. My friends who I had met from a pretty young age or when I had started dating Duncan. The same friends that had been there when I was down. The friends that would never let me go and do something stupid alone. The very same friends who also held back a secret that has now caused me to cut myself away from them.

Yeah, I severed those ties and burned those bridges in one swift action. An action I'm now regretting as a bitter taste settles in my mouth, a taste that feels a lot like stale cake or biscuits that remind you of a bad memory.

But I deserve that I guess.

"What's got you so down, bub?" Anne Maria plonks down beside me on Lindsay's white loveseat, her tanned skin glowing in the pale shade of Lindsay's room. Her pajamas were a fur-lined two piece, the top and shorts being of a similar fashion to Lindsay's own pink two piece. However Anne Maria's had fur lining the neckline and straps and shorts that lacked the faux fur. Her sliders had fur to make up for that though. She also had a lit cigarette between her index and middle fingers, the cancer stick spewing a thin trail of curling smoke as she inhaled each puff.

She took a long drag before speaking once more, "That Duncan guy still gotcha down, babe?"

The smoke from her cigarette spirals and spreads all around, some of it going directly into my face. It takes all the willpower I have not to start spluttering, my lungs not used to the sudden attack of nicotine smog. It's quite thick and overpowering, smelling a lot like the tobacco used to make it. An odd thing since Duncan and Gwen did smoke from time to time...

And there I go thinking about them. Something which I shouldn't be doing at all. This slumber party was meant to be a distraction, a way to forget, after all. Plus I needed to blend in with my new 'friends' now that I'd ditched my old ones. That meant I wasn't meant to dwell on the past.

But that so damn hard to do when you've been good friends with your enemy.

Ugh!

"Yeah...it's something like that," I can only blink in response, my lips pulling themselves into a small grimace. I need to get rid of these thoughts - wipe them away. But how can I ignore those thoughts when the emotions of this afternoon are still buzzing around my brain, the clip of Gwen's guilty expression replaying in an endless loop no matter how much I tried to make it stop. It just kept running and running, her crestfallen and shocked features telling me everything I needed to know.

It said more than words ever could.

"Well, I ain't one to be emotional and all that shiz," Anne Maria shifted beside me, taking another short puff of her cigarette. She then stubs it out in a crystal ashtray, frowning. "But if I was, I'd tell ya that this Duncan guy doesn't deserve someone like you. I mean you're a pretty good catch, doll, and I'd say ya have a shot at bagging someone better if you just embrace it."

Anne Maria's expression remains sincere as she begins to mess with her dark hair, spraying the poof she had left while adjusting her curly ponytail. She had tied a head-tie around her hairline, hiding her edges and highlighting her highly bronzed forehead. But even with the superficial appearance and behaviour, I could see from her expression that Anne Maria was being serious. She was actually offering the advice she had been talking about, her behaviour only being a front to protect her 'persona'.

And I respected that. I respected the fact that she went out of her way to console and support me in her own way.

Nevertheless the words still stun me, especially since Anne Maria was more or less a stranger to me. We'd only crossed paths every now and then in school, her classes mainly being the lower achieving ones. That meant we didn't really interact, our impressions of each other only being surface level, yet here she was giving me a pep talk. It wasn't just any pep talk either, it was like a very short motivational speech as to why I was good girlfriend material.

Not many girls would do that these days. Hell, they'd enjoy to see me wallowing over what's happened.

"You...You really think that?" I breathe the words in disbelief, instinctively chewing on my bottom lip. My hands begin to knot and twist, the fingers and palms growing sweaty as I hang onto Anne Maria's response.

I hate to seem so needy, but recently I've barely heard anything good about myself. All I've really been exposed to his hatred and self-loathing, Heather's schemes always reminding me of betrayal and my own mind reminding me of how I can never be enough for Duncan. All day and all night I'm just listening and seeing negativity, my own brain not even trying to be positive as it was hellbent on revenge and getting what I deserved.

That's why I didn't really love myself right now. I can't lie that I haven't been caring about my appearance in the way I usually do. My hair's been neat but obviously done hurriedly, my makeup was cut down to a bare minimum to cover the dark patches around my eyes and my clothes were Courtney-esque but was quite clearly picked out the front of my closet. I didn't bother to look pretty anymore when I didn't feel pretty.

I mean why should I when my boyfriend's a lying and cheating scumbag?

Oh sorry ex-boyfriend.

Yet another reason for me to feel like shit.

My anxiety seems to be palpable, like a layer of sludge or mist, as I look at her and it causes Anne Maria to give a massive grin. A massive grin that shows off her pearly white teeth and maroon shaded lipstick. It's paired with a slight chuckle as she puts down her hairspray and turns to look at me, a motherly yet also authoritative look in her eyes.

"I know so, doll," Anne Maria clicked her tongue, winking as she pulled out some eyeliner. She then began to apply it to her eyes, making sure to rim them perfectly. Her grin remains, morphing into a smirk as she continues. "I know it so well that I'm actually gonna show ya."

Once again I'm caught off guard, my nerves being forced to freeze as I look at her in pure curiosity and awe. Yes awe. Awe for how Anne Maria's always so easily nonchalant and carefree, her attitude providing the perfect front to hide away that she actually cares. She doesn't show how people's words affect her, nor does she care for how she affects others. Anne Maria is loud and proud, controversial but also lawful, and I bet no-one would mess with her the way Gwen and Duncan messed with me.

I bet she would gain revenge just like I was but would do it like a flashy villainess instead of an angry and betrayed teenager.

"But...how could you do that?" The question slips out of my mouth much like a child talking to an adult. I'm sure I sound like an airhead like Dakota or Lindsay, my pink pajamas probably not helping, as I look at Anne Maria with a pleading and yet hopeful expression. I'm sure my eyes are filled with sparkles like all those cartoon characters, the puppy look already in play.

"By going out for a night on the town of course!" Anne Maria announced, proudly fanning out her black silk dressing gown with dramatic flair. Her false eyelashes bat as she closes her eyes, grinning widely. "And from the looks of it you need one, babe."

Clubbing? That did sound like fun.

I mean clubs were filled with music and people having a good time, dancing and meeting new friends always being in infinite supply. Clubs were the perfect place for someone like me to forget all of my troubles, the pulsing music and lights paired with good quality alcohol and drugs always being beneficial to forgetting the troubles of the waking world. Pair that with going with a group like Heather's posse and the club seemed perfect. It seemed like the perfect way to show my friends, mainly Gwen and Duncan though, that I was moving on. That I was doing well without them all and the things we used to do together. Things like going to the park to have stupid water fights or having petty movie marathons.

But then again clubbing was kinda illegal for us. We were all below the legal age and going clubbing meant we had to sneak in. That would mean having fake IDs and fake IDs meant that we were more or less committing a crime. We weren't at legal age to drink too and my moral compass is one that is adjusted very, very well. Just the thought of sneaking in and drinking underage made me shiver. Plus clubs were often filled with older men, so wouldn't that mean...

Ok maybe clubbing isn't so great of an idea.

"Anne Maria, maybe we should - "

I go to grab her before she can blab to the others, but I move too late. Before I can even protest, the bronze female was already heading to her bags and calling out to the pillow fighting group.

"Girls change of plans, we're going Tony's tonight!"

The room was instantly filled with cheers, the pillows and their feathers crashing to the floor as all of the girls rushed towards their bags or Lindsay's closet. They all babbled about how much fun it would be, while some checked for the fake IDs. Others were already brandishing sparkly or tightly cut dresses, while most were worrying over their hair and makeup. All of them seemed to be excited about the prospect of going clubbing. All of them except for me, Courtney, the basic and law abiding Courtney.

"Come on Court, you need to do this," I whisper to myself, my hands balling into fists as I squeeze my eyes shut and breathe in deeply. "Just this once to fit in. Then you can wave goodbye to it all when Gwen gets taken down..."

I shuffle towards my bag, trying to ignore the voice of my moral compass but ultimately failing as I falter. I just about manage to open my bag before my goody-two-shoes side comes out, her voice high and reprimanding as she tells me that I haven't even brought a dress. That meant I couldn't possibly go clubbing, even though it was technically illegal, as I didn't have anything decent to wear. No nice clothes meant no fun and wasted times for Courtney.

"You need a dress, Court?" Dakota raised a brow, her green eyes fixed onto me as she smoothed out her own. It was a midthigh length white dress, with the sleeves falling to reveal her tanned and even shoulders. The neckline dipped to reveal a bit of cleavage, the cocktail style of the dress accentuating the hidden curves of Dakota's hourglass waist and healthy chest. Paired with the elegant white and gold heels that wrapped around her ankles and lower calf and I was in awe of Dakota's style.

"Oh, um...yeah," I respond sheepishly, blushing slightly as I look at the pitiful contents of my own bag. I had only brought sleepwear and a change of clothes for tomorrow, my logical brain always thinking of what I need more than what could happen. "I only brought basic stuff."

"Well it's no trouble at all," Dakota gave a gentle smile, waving a hand absentmindedly. "It happens to all of us at the first sleepover! But here, take one of mine! I'm sure they'll fit."

I'm then passed three dresses: one red, the other blue and the final one shaded a pretty pink. All of the dresses were short and styled for maneuvering around clubs, the designs slim and lacking the ribbon and frilly extras that ordinary dresses sometimes donned.

The pink dress was the first one I put down, the baby pink hue turning me off completely. The design was rather nice though, the skirt of the dress flaring out slightly to hide the curve of the owner's behind. It had loose and ruffled sleeves that fell off the shoulder and a corset-type back that you could tie up. The bodice was tight and owned a sweetheart neckline. It stooped low but not too low, decorating one's chest perfectly. The skirt itself was plain and simple, the flaring out doing all the work but being styled in way that looked intricate.

The blue dress, my second favourite dress, was a pretty shade of cobalt blue. It was more loose and drapey, most likely styled after the togas and tunics that the Romans and such wore. It had sleeves that reach up to the elbow and a v-cut neckline that didn't reveal much. The waist had a silver belt which could be tightened or loosened to adjust the looseness of the dress for the bodice and the skirt reach around knee-length.

The red dress was the one I chose to wear. I ultimately chose it because red is a colour that means boldness and sensuality. It was a colour that turned heads, grabbed attention, and made me look and feel good. It made me feel untouchable and godlike.

The red dress was a cocktail dress, the back of it being backless and having strings to tie it around my neck. It was a halter-style bodice, the keyhole cut in the chest providing the perfect window view of the chest area. The skirt was tight and form fitting, reaching around the lower thigh region but highlighting the curve of the hips and behind. Paired with some black heels I'd found laying about and I figured that I could slay in this outfit.

Who was I kidding?

I could go on a catwalk looking like this.

But even so that didn't stop the jittery nerves and whisperings of my conscience, both of the little voices being louder than the roar of my pride and hunger for vengeance. They decided to grow stronger once my hair and makeup was done, both tutting at the gold-specked eyeshadow and shining lip gloss. They were even more disappointed at the elegant but also formally messy french twist I had pinned my hair into, the few mocha locks that fell into my face and around my ears seeming like wisps of rebellion.

"It's just this once, just this once..." I whisper to myself, trying to pacify the voices as I look at my reflection. My reflection which I don't believe to be my own. It can't be me. Not when I look so glamorous, beautiful and seductive. I'm not like this after all. I'm organised, pretty and bold when I'm ready, but I'm not always so glammed up and flashy. I'm not...like Heather.

'Are you sure you wanna risk becoming someone like me or Heather?'

Izzy's warning rings in my head, loud and ominous, as I look at my reflection. A few days ago I would've known what I wanted to say. I would've said that I won't become someone like Izzy or Heather. I would've said that I won't ever become someone like them because I'm made of stronger stuff. I've got a stronger moral compass and sense of direction than anyone else I knew.

But now, staring at my new image and feeling the adrenaline and anticipation pumping in my veins, I'm not too sure about it all anymore. I can't be sure of it when I feel like I'm already becoming something else. Something else that wasn't basic Courtney at all.

'But you know you have to be like her...'

The gelid hiss of revenge is like cold water as it wakes me from my staring, the tone hard and sharp as it brings me back to reality.

It's true. I have to be like her to get my plan done. Being a Courtney, a basic, smart but also ambitious Courtney, would not get me anywhere. Even if she was amazing, even if I knew that she was more useful than I was giving her merit for, being Courtney right now would not help. It would only hinder all of the progress I've made towards taking Gwen and Duncan down. Plus I'm so close to the end. I'm closer than I ever would've been if I did this alone.

So taking a deep breath, I grab the shiniest and most ridiculous clutch purse I could find on hand and follow the others to the cars.

"It's time to get wasted!" Anne Maria's voice booms from a black four by four, her tanned arm waving from the opened tinted window.

"Hell yeah!" A shower of squeals and cheers follow her proclamation, my own voice mixing with them.

I know that basic Courtney won't like this. I know that she'd tell me that it's reckless and irresponsible to sneak out and go to a club just to gain revenge. But that same Courtney sadly won't survive long if she remains that way. So in order to do what I need to do, I need to change.

I need to become a Heather.

The club is vibrant, booming, and I can't help but feel a little stiff as I perch on the bar stool and casually sip away at my glass of coke. Yeah that's right, a glass of coke with nothing but ice. Heather and Anne Maria had suggested getting a Scotch on the rocks or a fancy cocktail, but I had happily declined such offers. I think it was after getting into this place ID free, because Anne Maria knew a guy who knew a guy who knew Tony (the owner of the club), that my sudden thirst for being rebellious had died down.

Well perhaps it was that or the fact that it was suddenly my reality and not a dream. Reality tends to be a bit different from dreams after all.

I can't help but let out a small sigh as I lean on the counter, absentmindedly twirling the straw of my drink. Perhaps I was a little stupid to think that I could suddenly change into a partying machine like Anne Maria. It can take weeks of self-oppression and pretending you don't care to ever get to her level. Plus let's face it, I'm the last person to drink their problems away because I believe that a bottle of whiskey will help me more than seeking professional help.

I'm a realist, a person who doesn't hide behind dreams, drugs and miracles, and therefore I should've known that a nightclub wouldn't help me forget everything. In fact I should've known it would make things worse, the dazzling and blaring atmosphere of the club giving my mind the cue to slip into its deep and dangerous thoughts.

"Give me the usual, Jer," I feel the warmth of another person close to me, the unmistakable sound of a stool moving hitting my ears. The voice is calm and charismatic, charming, and I can't help but feel my bored mind fill with curiosity.

I glance towards the person who slid into the stool beside me, taking a cautious sip of my drink. I'm not usually this bashful, but in an atmosphere like a club I had to be careful. I could meet a axe-murderer or rapist after all. However I couldn't be anymore wrong.

Tanned skin and a well chiseled form immediately meet my gaze, familiarity flooding me like a gigantic tsunami. A pair of blue almond shaped eyes glistened in the low lighting of the club and I'm sure that dazzling smile was one that every girl in our school has fawned over. A necklace with that stupid turtle-shaped charm was around his neck, matching with the shaggy but also well put style of his dark hair. Pair that with his perfectly full but not overly plush lips and the squared but also slightly cleft chin and you could name who this person was.

I mean he was the reason why most girls in our schools had petty bitch fits when it came to prom or homecoming. The school was a total war zone over this guy (and that's not including the damage caused by the guys who went gay for him).

"I didn't take you for a clubber, Courtney," The man scoffs slightly, a grin lighting up his gorgeous model features as he raises a brow.

"Oh I'm just enjoying being single again," I instantly feel my cheeks warm, the familiar feeling of squirming hotness overtaking my senses as I can only chuckle lightly. My hand continues to stir the straw in my drink, ignoring the sensation to faint or swoon. "I've always been with Duncan so I wanted to try out the feeling of being free to flirt with whoever I want to. But what brings you here Justin?"

His grin grows a little from my question, a glint of something filling his eyes as the bartender slides him his drink.

"The usual," Justin spoke in a light tone, nonchalant, as he takes a sip from his own drink. He still has that cheerful and charismatic air, the tone of his voice only causing my heart to stutter all the more. "However seeing you here was a pleasant surprise."

Just having a grin from this guy shot in my direction is crazy, world changing, and I can't help but feel all the air leave my lungs and body. It leaves in one sudden huff, one breath, my cheeks feeling warm as I try not focus on the deepness of his blue eyes or the dazzle of his smile. Justin was just eye candy after all, he was gifted at looking good, hot, sexy - whatever you wanna call attractive Justin was that. Like Alejandro he was a master at looking too damn fucking good.

But what was bothering me now, what was making my heart race and body feel way too warm, was the calm and intent look he had. The way he seemed to be talking to me for something other than knowing each other. It had to be something...tension-sparking.

"Likewise," I can barely get the words out, my voice sounding small and choked as I continue to stir my straw.

A small silence settles between us, my heartbeat echoing in my ears even though the music is still booming and blaring. It's fast and erratic, much like how it was when Duncan used to flirt with me, and I can't help but take it as a warning sign. A sign as to what was happening. But it was impossible to exit the conversation/exchange, because that damned look in his eyes. Plus I was trying to prove to Heather, her posse and my conscience that I was changing to have revenge.

I had to show to everyone that I was becoming a Heather.

"I heard about you and Heather," Justin was a lot closer than before, his voice sounding much clearer and louder than before. It's then that I notice that his stool had shuffled closer, close enough for me to see the shape of his brows and the lashes that framed his eyes. "Is it true?"

"W-who's asking?" My voice shakes from both his close proximity and the fear of someone knowing about my and Heather's plot. It was bad news if someone did know. Heather and I were aiming to work secretly, discreetly, but if people knew about our alliance then our plans were screwed.

They were well and truly screwed.

"I just wanted to know," Justin shrugged a little, moving away a little but not a lot. He then rested his pretty face against a palm, his elbow placed on the counter as he gave me his undivided attention. Attention I did not need right now. "You know I've always admired your skill Courtney. You're so smart and pretty and it angered me every time Duncan overlooked that. I mean you're such a catch that you could easily outdo Heather."

His words make me breathe in sharply, strongly, as I try not to let the spell of his alluring appearance draw me in. That's why Justin and Alejandro were dangerous after all. They used their looks and natural charm to wrap people around their fingers, their dazzling smiles and amazing eyes always deceiving the victims of their charms. It was never something that they used to just be friends or to score a date. These two weasels always had an ulterior motive.

"What do you want Justin?" I let the words out in a sigh, rolling my eyes to try and bat away the warmth bubbling in my stomach.

I'm not looking for a rebound.

"I simply want to help you, Courtney," Justin smirked a little, knowing all too well how his pretty spell was working. "I have not lied to you at all. I just believe that beautiful people should stick together."

"Beautiful people?" I scoff, now rolling my eyes for real as my insecurities were taking over. Sure, I was pretty but not Justin and Alejandro pretty. I was the sort of pretty that people would remark on but forget about when amazing and glamorous models walked by. I'm sure Justin knew that.

"Yes," He nodded, frowning at my eye roll. His blue eyes crinkled slightly, Justin seeming hurt by my own insecurities. His hand rests above mine, a thumb tracing circles on the back of it. "And you are beautiful Courtney. So beautiful that I would date you myself."

"And what's stopping you from doing that?" I raise a brow, a little of the old and smart Courtney slipping through the heart palpitations and shortness of breath. "What stopped you from making a move?"

"Duncan was," Justin sighed slightly, before brightening up slightly. "But I believe now nothing is."

The next thing I know his lips are pressed against mine and I'm not fighting back. I'm not slapping him and proclaiming my outrage of him thinking that I was an easy lay or something. I wasn't even frozen to the spot or unable to think of what to do next. In fact I'm not doing anything to push this tanned model away, my brain instead urging it on and willing for my arms to pull him closer. Telling me to do this and push out all of the pain. To welcome something that will bring me happiness for once.

Pure happiness.

'Forget about Duncan. He doesn't love you anyway. He wants Gwen, so move on.'

The realisation is cold, surreal, as I pull away from Justin to catch my breath again. I had never in a million years, never ever, imagined that I would move on from Duncan. I never would've imagined that I would kiss Justin at a counter, in a nightclub, while waiting for the hours to tick by.

But I just had. I had and it was real. A hundred percent real. It was as real as the air I was trying to pull into my lungs, the smile on my face betraying that my mind really liked what had happened. I had actually enjoyed what happened.

And with that final thought, I grabbed Justin's hand and dragged him towards the dance floor. Perhaps coming to the club tonight wasn't a mistake.