Another edited chapter! Oh, what a surprise!

This one has also changed quite a bit, but the general plot os the same.

Enjoy!

"Jack," I whispered through the silence. "Take me home."

"Of course," he answered without hesitation.

It was only then, when he took my hand and steered me away from the dark alleyway that I realized that it had started to rain.

I reached up with my free hand to touch my cheek, where I had just felt the icy chill of a raindrop splatter against my skin. I felt another one on my nose, then my head, and another and another until the rain was pouring so hard that there wasn't an inch of me untouched by the icy droplets.

By now Jack and I were running down the street, his arm around my shoulders keeping me securely by his side.

We turned left into a smaller alley, and parked haphazardly on the sidewalk was a large, black motorbike, covered in dirt and keys still in the ignition.

He hurried over towards it and picked up the red helmet that was lying on the floor, shaking the water off of it.

He then made his way back to where I was standing, paralyzed, still shaken up from what had happened only minutes ago.

Having probably noticed my catatonic state, Jack went straight to place the large helmet onto my head, pushing my hair out of the way and adjusting the straps to better fit my slim neck.

It was only when I heard the *click* of the buckle that I realized that he actually expected me to get onto that giant death machine with him, and more importantly-or so it seemed at the moment-that he only had the one helmet, and that he was putting it on me.

"Jack," I started to protest.

"Kim, it's fine." He cut me off, catching on to my train of thought. "I've ridden countless times without a helmet, and through worse storms than this one. I'm a daredevil, baby." His teasing tone and reassuring smile did little to appease my worries, but I was too tired to press the matter further.

"Fine," I sighed. "But if you die tonight, don't even think of coming back to haunt me. I don't wanna have to go all Ghostbusters on your ass."

He smiled, seemingly relieved that I was able to crack a joke in my condition, which I admit, was completely for his benefit. As sweet as it was, I really didn't want him to worry too much about me. I'd be fine in a few hours, anyway.

I was shifting the heavy helmet on my head, trying to get used to the foreign feeling, when I saw Jack grab the bike by the sides and lift it up into a standing position as if it weighed almost nothing.

That had me seriously doubting the quality if the vehicle.

He slung his right leg over the leather seat and got into a comfortable position, before turning back to me and saying :

"Hey, hop on. I promise it's one hundred percent safe. You are with a professional, after all."

I was far from reassured by his cockiness, but I nevertheless approached the bike and copied his movements, swinging my leg over the top and wiggling into a comfortable position.

My hands were limp at my sides before Jack took hold of them and wrapped them around his hard stomach, sending the butterflies in my belly into a frenzy.

"Wouldn't want you falling off, now" he said, as if he had no idea just how much he affected me.

Although on second thought, he was a boy, and therefore generally oblivious to most things.

He turned the key into the ignition and the engine roared to life, making me jump a little bit. jack then turned to look at me, his head now completely soaked, making his locks of chocolate hair stick to his face, giving him a 'I just got out of the shower' look, which then made me start to think about all sorts of things.

"So where are we heading?" He asked, waiting for me to give him an address, or maybe even just a street name. Problem was, as hard as I started picking at my brain, I just had no clue at all as to where I lived. Sure, I could picture the street and stuff, but I had no idea how to get there.

I gave Jack an embarrassed smile. "Uh, I don't suppose 'my house' is enough of an indication, is it?"

He just looked at me for a moment, as if expecting me to crack a smile and shout 'Psyche!', and spout some fancy, long-ass street name to him so that we could ride off together with no complications.

Yeah, not gonna happen.

When he realized that I was serious, his eyes widened slightly in realisation, and he let out a low whistle as he raked a large hand through his wet hair.

"Wow. Uh, okay. You really don't know, do you? You can't even give me a description?"

I shook my head. "Not unless you can find it based off of 'white house with a garden'. But I'm guessing that that isn't all that uncommon over here."

"Yeah, that might be a problem. You really do have a shitty memory, by the way."

"Hey, what can you do?" Suddenly, I had a little realisation. "Hey, I could call my dad! He has the address, he can just tell you over the phone!"

He seemed to contemplate the idea for a few moments, before dismissing it with a shake of his head. "Nah, no use. You'll never get any signal in this weather. It looks like a storm's coming. It's already raining pretty heavily."

It was true. I was having a hard time keeping myself from complaining about the cold. It rarely rained like this in Tennessee, and when it did I had always made sure that I was wrapped up warm inside, curled up by the fire and nursing a hot cocoa. Those were good days.

"Besides," his smooth voice tugged me out of my memories. "We're probably gonna catch pneumonia if we stay out in the rain any longer. I can already feel my legs going numb," he joked. "How about I take you back to my place, get you dried off, and then we can call your dad from the landline. Sound good? Or do I still need to prove myself trustworthy even after just saving your life from a dangerous criminal?"

I scoffed at that. "Oh puh-lease. That guy was about as dangerous as a dung beetle, which is coincidentally also what he smelled like. I had it under control."

Jack gave me a pointed stare. "Oh really? I suppose that almost fainting was also part of your master plan, huh genius?" He challenged.

I suddenly felt the need to defend my pride. The thought of him thinking less of me made me feel oddly sick in the stomach. "Hey. I only fainted after you showed up, and only because I thought that you were some crazy murderer. Come to think of it, you didn't even tell me how you knew I was in danger in the first place. Were you stalking me, Brewer?" I had to admit, the idea didn't appal me quite as much as it should have. I was genuinely curious, though. How on earth had he ended up there right at the exact moment I needed him? Maybe he was a ninja.

He scoffed. "Ha! Don't flatter yourself, Crawford. I was just on my way home when I heard you two 'conversing'. Thought I'd check it out." He shrugged.

I still wasn't sure how he could have possibly heard me with all the ruckus that his motorbike could make, but I didn't press the subject any further. I was too tired.

"Well, now that that's out of the way, what do you say we head to your place now? Like right now." I could barely keep my teeth from chattering. Jack didn't seem even a little bit phased by the rain. And he was still incredibly warm, despite the layers upon layers of water soaking through his shirt. Lucky bastard.

"He chuckled at my words. "Eager, are we? Okay, hold on tight. This might be a bumpy ride."

And hold on tight I did. So deliciously tightly.

Woah.

That seemed to be the only word that I could come up with to describe what I was seeing.

Right in front of me, in all its glory, was the Brewer estate.

Fucking. ESTATE.

When Jack had driven his motorbike up towards the massive iron gates, I thought that we might just be passing through some really fancy neighbourhood, but when he dismounted to input the security code into the little keypad on the wall, I got a much better look at the property.

Winding up towards the humongous house was a stone driveway, decorated on each side by various plant sculptures; I saw a dinosaur, a giant rose and a pair of scissors - which I assumed was a witty reference to Edward scissor hands - and the beauty of it all was only further enhanced by the beautiful arrangements of flowers adorning the lawn, the whole scene made visible by the bright porch lights by the house.

It was like something out of a movie.

The large gates made a loud beeping noise as they opened up to make way for us, and Jack took ahold of his motorbike and started walking it up the driveway, leaving me standing there in the pouring rain until I realised that I should probably follow him inside.

Common sense. You either have it, or you don't.

I caught up with my friend, and slowed my pace so that I was walking beside him on the other side of the bike.

He turned his head and smiled at me, flashing me his pearly-whites, and for the first time since it had started pouring down that night, I felt some warmth creep into my cheeks. Fuck.

"So, how d'you like my garden? Pretty cool, huh?"

I gave him a duh look. "Jack, your garden's amazing. I mean, fuck. You didn't tell me you were rich." I would have at least pretended to be a little bit civilised if I had known...

He just shrugged it off. "Didn't need to. You didn't seem like the type of girl to be won over by money." He looked at me confidently. "You still don't. Besides, I'm not rich. My dad is. And after the epic house party of '09, I kinda got cut off from my allowance." He scratched the back of his neck, looking a little embarrassed. I have to say I giggled a bit at that.

"But wait. We're in 2012, now. That means you must have been, what...thirteen? That's no age to be partying, mister," I scolded him teasingly.

He returned my playful nudge with a not-so-subtle shove, which caused a little shriek to burst out of my throat and sent me stumbling sideways. I had my arms out, flailing in the air trying not to fall down, and when I was securely back on my feet, Jack was leaning onto the side of his motorcycle, one hand clutching his stomach as he burst out laughing.

I wanted to look indignant, but God help me, his laugh was infectious.

"Hey! You know, you're being awfully rough with your guest. That's bad manners." My failed attempt at a pouty face seemed to only make him laugh louder.

"Puh-lease. You're, like, a blackbelt. I know you can take it."

I loved the fact that he seemed so confident in me, that he knew that I didn't need to be treated like a china doll, that I was strong enough to take a few hits.

"And I'll have you know that I was fourteen, little missy. I'd just started High-school, and everyone knows that the best way to make friends in a new environment is to throw a wicked party. And is was wicked. Almost the whole school came, and at four a.m. the cops had to come and break it up. Let's just say my parents had a very interesting late-night phone call on their business trip."

I could certainly imagine that happening; even after only a day of knowing him, I could already tell that he was one hell of a trouble maker.

But there was something still bothering me.

"But...if you were fourteen then, then you must be, like, seventeen now. How come you're a junior?" He didn't seem very dumb, so it was hard to imagine him being held back a grade for intellectual reasons.

His smile turned sheepish, and he seemed almost reluctant to explain. Was he embarrassed? Oh, now I just had to know.

"Well, I kinda got held back in my Freshman year for disruptive behaviour and excessive tardiness and absences. It's stupid, I know, I just figured that as long as I aced the tests - which I did every time - then there was really no need to go to class; anything I needed to know I could learn from the internet." He seemed more bothered by the reasons for it than the actual fact that he had to repeat his Freshman year.

"Of course now I'm a changed man," he boasted. "I am now always on time, and I only get into trouble about three times a week. They should name a saint after me."

I laughed out loud at his last remark, steadying myself on his motorbike to keep steady as I wavered slightly on my feet.

I hadn't laughed this much since my mom died.

I'm not sure at what point I had stopped noticing the torrent of rain falling from the sky, but after my little laughing fit, a giant, ice-cold raindrop hit the ever-sensitive base of my neck, and brought me back to reality. A very cold, wet reality.

"Oh shit," I cursed as the water slid down my spine. "We should probably head inside, now," I suggested, teeth suddenly chattering harder that a power drill.

Jack seemed to sober up, too, taking in my disheveled image and nodding his head.

"Good idea."

He started walking the motorbike again, and we continued our journey up the humongous driveway as we approached the Brewer household.

It was nothing short of a mansion. It was at least three stories tall, towering over the trees in all its glory.

Potted plants decorated the porch, and beautiful rosevines could be seen snaking up the walls and branching out, creating a beautiful fairytale effect.

The large shutters were a freshly-painted white, matching the imposing front door adorned with a rather humongous metal knocker.

It was unreal.

As we stepped onto the stone porch, we were finally out of the rain.

Jack left his bike leaning against the brick wall, probably not wanting to go back out into the storm to put it away in the large wooden shed on the other side of the house.

he started to walk up to the door, but stopped in his tracks before turning around to make his way towards me.

I was caught completely off guard when he suddenly got all up in my personal space, leaning down to face me and placing his hands on my waist.

I swear my heart stopped. Just completely stopped beating. What the hell was going on?

I was just about to ask him that very question when I felt one of his hands slip into the front pocket of the jacket he had lent me, and before pulling it out he bent down so that his face was level with mine and whispered into my ear :

"Forgot my keys"

Before pulling away from me and dangling said keys in front of my face, with a cocky smirk playing on his lips.

The damn bastard knew exactly just how much he affected me.

I glared holes into his back as he shoved the main key into the keyhole and wiggled it around a bit, before harshly shoving the door open, making the oak creak noisily.

The room that the grand entrance gave way to was beautiful; it was almost like a ballroom, marble tiled floor, huge, ornate chandeliers hanging from a ceiling so high you could have fit a giraffe in the room, and, to top it all off, an amazing double staircase at the far end of the room, leading up to a long, elegant indoor balcony, like something out of the 1800s. Littering the walls were beautifully painted portraits of whom I assumed were past family members, and despite the grandness of it all, it still managed to feel like a home, and I could tell that the Brewer family was not your average, run-of-the-mill rich snobs.

As if on cue with my thoughts, a door to our right swung open and through it waltzed a man, middle-aged in appearance, wearing a yellow, fuzzy onesie.

He seemed rather occupied with his nintendo device, shouting "Go, Mario, go! rescue your peach from the clutches of the evil Browser!", until the doors slammed shut behind us and he jumped, clearly surprised, and turned in our direction.

At first his eyes landed on Jack, and he gave the boy a warm smile, leaving me to deduct that the onesie-wearing man must be Jack's father.

But when he spotted me standing, in all my wet, soppy glory beside his son, his large eyebrows scrunched up slightly in confusion.

I could just imagine him thinking 'Who's this tramp you've brought home? Did you pick her up off the streets?'

But he said none of that. Instead, when he was done observing me, he looked back to Jack, and his friendly face broke out into a huge grin.

"Well well, finally managed to get a girl then, did you? I must admit I'm surprised, what with your ugly mug and two left feet." The words were teasing, and he had a humorous glint in his eyes as he came forward and envelopped his son in a giant bear hug, giving him a nuggie when Jack was set back down onto the ground.

"Aahh! Dad, quit it," Jack complained.

His father flashed him a wicked grin and looked over to me. "Why? Am I embarassing you in front of your lady friend?"

Jack only flushed with color, becoming suddenly shy, and I had to contain the smile that threatened to break out on my face.

God this was just too adorable.

Mr. Brewer (I was assuming) then focused his attention on me.

"I'm terribly sorry for my son's rudeness, but he neglected to introduce us properly. I'm Mark Brewer, Jack's father. But you can call me Mark." He looked at me expectantly, waiting for my name.

"Nice to meet you, Mark. I'm Kim Crawford, a new friend of Jack's," I smiled politely, extending my hand.

He looked at it as if it were some kind of disease, and I before I could pull it back and play it off as some sort of arm spasm, I found my self engulfed in another huge, bone-crushing, oxygen-cutting bear hug, to the point where I even felt my feet leave the ground for a few moments.

I think that my wheezing must have been an indicator of my lack of air, as he then put me down, giving me a huge grin.

"Sorry about that, I guess I'm more used to roughing it with Jack that I forgot that girls are more fragile." I wanted to be angry at the sexist remark, but he had said it in a way that made it very hard to take offence. I could tell that Mark wasn't the type to have very many enemies.

Just like his son, I mused.

"Anyway, your first lesson in the Brewer household; we don't do handshakes. We're huggers, we are," he stated as he pulled Jack to his side, squeezing his shoulders and giving him a nuggie.

"Ah! Dad! Now you are embarrassing me!"

Mark only chuckled at his son's protests as he let him go. His hands went down to smooth down his onesie, but pulled them back as his face scrunched up, seeming to have realised something.

"Son, why am I all wet?" He then looked at the two of us, inspecting our appearance. "And why are the two of you soaking?"

I had up til then completely forgotten that I probably resembled a wet dog, and I suddenly felt quite embarrassed that Jack's father had sen me so disheveled.

"Wow, dad. As perceptive as ever, I see. In case you hadn't noticed, it's pouring down outside."

Mark craned his head slightly to the right, getting a glimpse of outside through the large windows.

"Hmm. I see. Well then do you mind telling me why you're back so late? And with a girl?"

Huh. I guess he's more perceptive than Jack thinks.

Jack sighed. "Well, Long story short; Kim got lost on her way home, I happened to stumble across her and offered her a ride home, but then it started raining so she agreed to let me bring her back here and phone her dad with the landline, although in this weather, I'm not sure that he'll be able to come and pick you up, so you might have to spend even more time with me," he gave me a cheeky grin.

I was just glad that he hadn't mentioned under what circumstances he had stumbled across me.

"Well alrighty, then. Jack, why don't you be a gentleman and fetch your lady friend a towel to dry herself off with and meet us in my study. She must be freezing."

Jack at least had the decency to look embarrassed. "Sorry, Kim, that completely skipped my mind. I'll be back in a minute, okay? And don't let my dad get you started on his fishing trophies. You'll be there for hours."

I giggled. "I think I'll survive."

Okay, I have no idea if any of you people are british, but if you are, I just wanted to say that in my head, Mr. Brewer in this story looks exactly like Stevi Ritchie from the X factor...Because I watch way too much TV.

-CCC