AN: Yay. No long note at the start. JoA's not mine. Grace isn't mine. Luke isn't mine. Sadly. None of the other characters are mine. Blah blah blah. And thanks to wallflower04/shadow/whatever for helping with the painful summary process.

She couldn't believe it. There were times when she was an idiot, and this had been one of those times. She had kissed him. There had to be a full moon or some other sort of explanation for her insane behavior. She could ask Luke, chances were he would know. No.. She couldn't ask him. Talking to him right now would be a bad idea. She might end up doing something she really didn't want to do. Like make out with him. Again. She knew that she couldn't avoid him forever, he was her best friend's little brother, after all. But she didn't need to avoid him forever. Just long enough to pull her thoughts together and get her defenses back up, so she could make sure that she would never kiss him again. Of course once the kiss had ended he had offered to walk her home with that dopey kiss-mushed-brain grin on his face. She had only been able to give him a confused look before she took off alone. Thankfully, he hadn't followed.

And now, here she was, standing on her front porch, staring at the door, wondering what to do next. The way she saw it, she had three options. She could ignore it and pretend it hadn't happened, she could tell him to stay away from her and threaten his life or she could give in. While the last one sounded the most appealing, it was also the most dangerous. Life could never be simple, could it?

Snapping out of her thoughts, she reached into her jacket pocket and pulled out her key, unlocking the door. She hadn't seen her father's car in the driveway. He must have still been at his office. As she closed the front door, she heard the clanging of glass, a sign that her mother was home.

"Mom?" she called.

"Gracie! Where have you been? It's late," her mothers overly cheery voice called from the kitchen. Grace tossed her bag on the couch and picked up an empty bottle of Vodka.

"I was out. How much have you had to drink?" she asked as her mother stumbled into the living room, glass in hand.

"Only a little. Stop worrying about me Gracie. I can take care of myself," she told Grace, taking a long drink.

"Yeah, I'd like to see you call 911 while you're passed out. That would be impressive," Grace muttered.

"What was that?" her mother questioned. Grace shook her head.

"Nothing. Is dad still at work?" Her mother took another long drink.

"Is he? I don't remember him coming in," she said, taking another step towards the couch and slamming into the wall. "Gracie, could you get me the bottle in the kitchen?"

"No I can't mom. I'm going out," Grace told her, grabbing her bag.

"You just came in! Come on! Spend some time with your mother!"

"I'm on summer vacation mom. Later. I promise," Grace told her, leaving the house. Great. Now what?

----

And for the second time that night she found herself engaged in an act of idiocy. She could have gone to Rove's. She practically lived there. She could have gone anywhere. And yet, here she was, standing in the middle of the road outside of the Girardi's.

"Well.. Here goes nothing," she said quietly to herself, crossing the street and walking around to the back of the house. A few minutes later, she found herself hanging onto a pipe for dear life outside of Luke's window. Wrapping her arm and legs around it tighter so she wouldn't fall, she let go of the pipe with one hand and pounded on the window. The window swung opened and Luke stuck his head out.

"Grace?" he asked, surprised. "What are you doing?"

"What does it look like I'm doing?" she asked. "Can I come in?"

"Oh, yeah, of course," Luke said, stepping aside as Grace climbed in his window.

"What are you doing here?" he asked her.

"We need to talk," she told him.