CHAPTER FIVE

The first thing that popped into Lisa's mind upon opening her eyes and slamming them closed was the adamant promise to herself that she would never drink again. Ever. Her head felt as though an ax was slamming into it every half a second, she had a vile taste in her mouth, her shoulder hurt from being slept on, and her chest ached.

She creaked her eyes open once more, realizing in a daze that she had forgotten to take her pills last night. Sitting up groggily, she looked around the room wildly, not quite knowing what she was looking for until her eyes landed on two tablets and a glass of water on her nightstand. Without thinking, Lisa grabbed the water and gulped down the medicine, and after finishing, placed the glass back on nightstand.

That was when she noticed a bucket placed at the side of her bed. An image of two concerned and mirth filled ice blue eyes flitted through her hazy mind. Lisa instantly felt cold.

Her bare feet made contact with the floor; she sat that way for a full minute. Then she heard a crash downstairs. Her head jerked up, and along with it her body. Lisa almost retched, but nonetheless stumbled out into the hallway and began the perilous journey to her kitchen.

On her way, she noticed two very important and unusual things. First, every window in her house was closed…throwing open her windows was the one clear thing she remembered from last night. Second, there was a fresh bouquet of lilies on her mahogany coffee table.

Feeling somehow drawn to the living room, she staggered over to the blooms, extending her hand. Lisa's fingers were almost touching one when ABBA blasted through the house.

She nearly fell over.

Turning around, she ran to the kitchen and grabbed the broom. Then she stalked up the stairs, fully intent on hearing the hollow metal hit his hard head.

"Waterloo, couldn't escape if I wanted to

Waterloo, knowing my fate is to be with you

Waterloo, finally facing my waterloo

Waterloo, knowing my fate is to be with you"

Lisa growled; she knew just what his would be if she had anything to do with it.

Her march up the stairs was almost over when she realized that the man was probably listening for her. She had to keep from slapping her forehead.

Then she heard a creak from behind her.

That was all the motivation she needed; the next second Lisa was running as fast as her legs could carry her into her room. Looking around for a hiding place, she heard another creak, and was that…raspy breathing?

Oh shit.

She dove as quietly as she could into her closet, still clutching the broom with white knuckled hands.

The stairs groaned; her breathing got ragged.

And then she heard laughter. Quiet, contained laughter, but it was laughter at her expense.

The bastard.

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Jackson didn't know what it was exactly that had possessed him to start toying with her. Maybe it was the fact that some of his anger still remained. Maybe it was that he enjoyed seeing her reactions to him. Or maybe it was an extreme desire to see if she remembered anything from last night.

And if grabbing a broom and very nearly flying up the stairs in rage was any indication, it was obvious she didn't. That was what made him more than a tiny bit sad. He supposed that she couldn't be blamed; she had been plastered. But still, he couldn't help but wonder if under normal circumstances—namely sober circumstances, she would have still let him hold her.

And God damn it, he wanted to find out.

This was why it was somewhat unexplainable that he found her fleeing one of the more funny things that had occurred lately in his life. She had kissed him and cried in his arms, and now she was hiding in a closet with a household weapon no doubt clutched at her chest.

Ah, the irony of it all.

So engrossed was he with pondering the situation, that he nearly missed the bright blue instrument of emotion based, female-driven death come swinging at his head.

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Lisa couldn't contain herself. Did he think he had any right to waltz into her life and start playing with her mind? How dare the son of a bitch show his face after all that he had done?

She jumped up, almost knocking half of her wardrobe to the floor, stepped quietly out of the closet, and there he was.

In all of his blue-eyed smirking glory.

Chuckling.

She swung.

Just before the broom impacted, Jackson turned around and grabbed it, pushing it against her chest. She soon found herself pinned to the wall with his furious gaze on her face. Lisa shivered unconsciously, and not entirely from fear.

Suddenly, the weight of him was gone, and she was almost falling over. After righting herself, she looked up and saw him staring at her with a look that she had never before seen in her life.

Anger, hatred, concern, desire, and something else that she couldn't identify were portrayed in the steel pieces of burning ice that were the eyes of one Jackson Rippner.

He took a small step in her general direction. She placed the broom directly in front of her. He took a larger step. She took a step back. He took another.

Her back was against the wall again.

Jackson smirked and crossed the remaining space between them. Placing a hand on her cheek, he threw the broom into the hall with the other.

The smack of metal meeting wood resounded throughout the house.

He brought his lips down to hers, half expecting her to slap him and start screaming. But she didn't. Instead, she wrapped her arms around his neck and drew him closer.

Lisa felt Jackson smirk again. And then he pulled away.

"We'll talk again," met her confused ears before he was gone.

All she could do was sigh.

Author's Note: Merci beaucoup for the reviews! I appreciate it greatly! Sorry for the long update, by the way.