She wasn't sure why she'd come to Jackson's place. She wasn't even sure how she knew this was his place. Well, his truck was in the driveway—at least, she thought it was his truck. She'd passed about fifty bajillion on her way down the street.

Maybe that was why she'd picked his porch. Because he was closer than Eric and Nathan, and she'd lost her shoes somewhere along the way. It was strange, because she didn't even care about the shoes. There was a part of her, really, that was screaming about those shoes. Absolutely wailing. They were designer. A gift from daddy. You just got them, how could you lose them?

But that part was dulled somehow, and she contentedly dipped her little wand into the cheap bubble solution that had been passed out before the drinks. She could see rainbows swirling around between the wires when she pulled it out of the container and held it close to the light. She moved the wand close to her lips, and, cross-eyed, blew. Soap splattered all over her dress, and if there was a bubble, she certainly couldn't see it.

"You've got to be gentle, Tay," she heard her Daddy say. "Try again, but don't blow like your birthday candles, okay?"

She sighed and set the solution aside. Maybe that was why she'd picked his porch. She wanted someone who could understand and someone who would be gentle with her. She wasn't in the mood to hear how wrong she was, and being ridiculed wasn't exactly her aim either.

And just as she was thinking he might not be awake—it was awful dark outside—the door flung open and there he was.

"Taylor?"

"Long time no see, pookie," she giggled, fluffing her hair.

"What are you doing here?" he asked, and her smile only grew as she realized he was examining her new, red-satin cocktail dress.

"Isn't it daring?" she purred, sitting up straight and looping her thumbs under the skinny straps. She meant the neckline and he knew it. She could be very sexy when she tried.

"It certainly plunges," he replied. It was like something Eric would have said, and she was almost disappointed.

"Daddy bought it for me today… for my birthday," she told him. She didn't know why, either. She didn't think he cared.

"Happy birthday."

"Thank you."

"Taylor, what are you doing here?" he repeated, asking her face this time, rather than her chest.

"Don't be silly, Jackson," she laughed, slumping down again and pushing herself back and forth in the porch swing. If she had wanted to be annoyed, she could have just gone to Eric's house. "I wanted to see you, Mr. Jacksonator-Awesome-Man."

"No, really, Taylor," he persisted, "what are you doing on my porch?"

"Okay, fine," she pouted, blinking innocently up at him. If she had wanted a prude, she could have just gone to Nathan's. "The par-tay I was at got totally busted by the po-lice. I escaped out the back door. It was, like, just down the street from here."

"You walked?"

"God, no!"

"Then where's your car?" he asked.

"It's at the party, duh," she said, giving him one of her infamous eye rolls. "I was gonna go back for it, but you keep asking these dumb questions…"

"They're gonna know you were there because of your car, Taylor," he told her, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed. She noticed he looked a little cold in just his boxers, and it was a pretty chilly morning.

"Nanny made me go out in a sweater. Do you want it?"

"No."

"No?" she asked, eyebrows raised, blindly trying to unclasp her purse. These things were so hard to undo in the dark, and the dying porch light really wasn't helping much. "It's designer. When's the next time you'll get to wear a designer sweater, Jackson? Hmmmm?"

"Listen, Taylor," he began, gently, but trying not to sound too sweet, she noticed, "how are you going to stay out of trouble? I mean…"

"Maybe I won't this time, Jackson," she sighed, shaking her hair in front of her face. She was tired now. His questions were wearing her out. "I don't really care."

"I'll give you a ride," he offered, and she blew her hair out of her eyes so she could see if he was really serious. "Don't look at me like that," he laughed. "I've got a nice car! Working radio, power windows…"

"Huh." She shook her head, and said, "That's a truck, you know, Jackson, not a car. A truuuuuck."

"Eric drives a Jeep."

"Truuuuuuck."

"Fine, then, I'm calling Melissa."

She blew at her hair again. Now? Was he serious? It couldn't be any later than three in the morning!

He was serious.

"Um! Um! Ew!" she protested.

"Taylor—"

"I mean, she's a nice girl and all, and she's smart and fun in an eight-year-old-birthday-party kind of way… but what if she tries to talk to me, Jackson?"

"I could call Daley," he suggested with a grin.

"You have Daley's number?" He couldn't be serious. He was bluffing. This time he had to be bluffing.

"I'm going to call Mel, okay?" he laughed, opening the door. "You'll be okay out here by yourself for a few, right?"

"I've got a sweater, remember?"

"I remember. Vuitton, right?"

"Merino," she laughed, "but close."

When he left, the part of her that had been screaming about her missing shoes started to complain about those soap spots on her dress that still hadn't dried and maybe they were going to stain, but soap was supposed to make stains go away, she thought. That part of her wasn't so dull anymore, and she was starting to worry about things again. The drinks were wearing off.

She was pacing by the time he finished his phone call. They were going to find her car at the party and maybe they'd find her lipstick on those cheap plastic cups and her shoes and she was going to get in trouble and Daddy would be so upset and—

"She'll be here in a few minutes, Taylor," he said, interrupting the screaming inside her head.

"Jackson, I didn't mean to get drunk!" she almost shouted, her eyes filling quickly with tears. "I just wanted to try it and they kept giving it to me and I think they were putting stuff in it but I'm sober now and I'm sorry and I'm too young to go to jail!"

"Breathe, Taylor. Just breathe a second, okay? Can you do that for me?"

She nodded, clamped her lips shut, and tried to calm down. He reached out and gave her arm a little squeeze and smiled.

"See, we'll get you through this," he told her. "Worse things could have happened, you know. There are some pretty bad people around here and—"

There wasn't even time for him to blink. Almost instantly, she had her arms around him and her lips pressed against his, her hands working their way up his back and coming to rest on his cheeks. Melissa wouldn't be there for another minute or so. There was still alcohol in her system. There was still time for her to do something reckless.

But before she was ready to pull away and catch her breath, the sound of a car in the driveway drove them apart and he was wiping at where her lipstick had smeared on his lips.

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Thanks to everyone who has reviewed! :) This chapter is a little longer than the other two, but I hope you enjoy it all the same!