Chapter 12

"Jason," Elizabeth groaned, rolling onto her back and smacking his arm that was draped over her middle. "Jason, someone's at the door."

"Tell 'em to go away," he growled into his pillow.

She closed her eyes, telling herself to ignore the pounding on the door downstairs and go back to sleep, but she just couldn't.

"Your penthouse," she said, turning onto her side to find him sleeping soundly, his lips slightly parted as he snored softly.

She tried to shove his arm off her again, but he was like dead weight, so instead she reached over and flicked him in the ear. He mumbled something and slid his other arm around his pillow, hugging it against his face, so she flicked him again, much harder this time.

"Son of a bitch!" he moaned, his eyes snapping open as he yawned. "What the hell is wrong with you?"

"You were drooling," she shrugged, laughing when he jerked himself up in bed, wiping his hand over his mouth.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" he asked, yawning again as he rubbed his hands over his tired face. His eyes shifted to the doorway when he finally heard the knocking.

"That," she hissed, tugging the comforter over her tiny body and rolling back over so that her back was to him, "is what's wrong with me. Now get rid of it."

She settled against the bed, pulling the comforter away from his body, and then decided she was hot and pushed it down past her thighs, just a few inches below the hem of his t-shirt she'd slept in. Jason swore at her under his breath for taking the blanket, but his anger subsided as his eyes traveled down her back, over the small curve of her ass, taking in the exposure of her creamy skin.

"Jason!" she whined, swatting at him over her shoulder. "Make it stop before I hurt you."

"Alright," he muttered, getting up from the bed.

She watched him disappear through the doorway before closing her eyes and trying to will herself back to sleep. The storm had roared on for most the night, and she'd found it nearly impossible to get any rest. She hated that after all these years, she couldn't shake the terrible images that came with any bits of thunder and lightning, but thankfully, Jason understood her fears and stayed up most the night talking to her. Ever since she told him about storms reminding her of Jason Quartermaine's accident, he'd been extremely patient when a situation like the one last night occurred.

It was a difficult confession, to let him in on one of her biggest secrets, but it was a weight she'd carried for years, and once she told Jason about her memory of that horrible night, it almost became easier to deal with. She carried that moment with her every single day, and while she understood that Jason didn't want to hear about it, she longed to tell him just so he would know how she felt. It was a relief to have him understand her and hold her close, telling her everything was going to be okay, because when he said it, she really did believe him, and that was difficult enough in itself.

Elizabeth had always known she could trust Jason Morgan, but actually doing it proved more difficult than she thought it would. It would be a lie if she said didn't look at him for the longest time, wondering if a piece of Jason Quartermaine existed somewhere within. It wasn't that she wanted him to revert back to who he was before. She just couldn't imagine what it was like to have existed as a whole other person and have no memory of it at all, especially when they were two completely different men.

Regardless of circumstance and the friendship and feelings she had for Jason Quartermaine, she wouldn't trade Jason Morgan to have him back if her life depended on it. He just meant too much to her, more than he probably realized, and last night had reminded her why.

She laughed into her pillow when she heard him yelling at someone downstairs followed by the slamming of the door. Rolling onto her back, she waited to hear his footsteps on the stairs, but all she got was silence. She figured he was making coffee, maybe even breakfast, and the thought of it made her stomach growl.

While she had gone to dinner with Ritchie, she hadn't eaten a damn thing, mostly because between the fight with Jason and the pending thunderstorm, her stomach had been in knots. Now with both of them behind her, she was starving.

Sighing, she kicked the covers the rest of the way off her body and forced herself out of bed. She glanced around for her clothes and walked over to the bathroom, remembering that was where she last left them, and frowned when they weren't on the floor like they'd been last night. Raking her fingers through her messy curls, she headed downstairs, knowing Jason's dislike for wet items to be left on the floor. She'd heard the towel speech enough times to have it memorized, which came in handy for when she wanted to mock him.

"Jason!" she called out, her bare feet padding softly against the hardwood floors. "Jason, where the hell are my-" She paused when she rounded the corner at the top of the stairs. Johnny spun around from where he was sitting at Jason's desk.

"Clothes?" she finished weakly, her hands tugging at the end of Jason's t-shirt as her friend looked her up and down.

"It's noon, Webber," he smirked, twirling a pen around his hand. "You've always been a lazy ass, but now you're rubbing off on Jason."

"Here's the other paperwork," she heard Jason mutter, appearing at the foot of the stairs second later. He glanced from Johnny to Elizabeth, then back at Johnny before scowling.

"My clothes?" she asked, pressing her bare knees together to try and stop herself from fidgeting.

"Dryer," he replied, handing the papers to Johnny with a shaky hand, which amused Elizabeth, though she had no idea why he was so uncomfortable. He disappeared back towards the kitchen, and though she knew he was getting her clothes for her, she wanted to punch him for leaving her alone with Johnny.

"Long night?" he asked teasingly, as he pressed one of the papers against his knee and circled something.

"Something like that," she murmured, slowly making her way down the stairs, telling herself Johnny had seen her in a lot less, so this was fine.

No big deal at all.

Yeah.

Right.

No.

"So, I actually came over to see you," he said, letting out a deep breath as he shoved the rest of the papers into a file.

"Here?"

He nodded. "I went to your apartment, but you weren't there, so I figured you'd spend the night here."

"Oh," she said, knowing he had a point. She leaned her back against the wall at the foot of the stairs, crossing her arms over her chest. "Did you need something?"

He nodded again, his eyes trailing up her legs as he rubbed the back of his neck.

Well, he still found her attractive, so that had to count for something.

"There's this event tonight at the MetroCourt," he started, just as Jason appeared at her side with her clothes neatly folded in his hands. Her black, lacy bra peeked out from beneath her shirt as if he tucked it away, trying to hide it. "You know how much Jason hates shit like that."

She laughed, taking her clothes and hugging them to her chest. "He doesn't like to kiss ass," she quipped, noticing how quiet and awkward Jason was acting.

"Exactly, and we have some investors and buyers coming in from Manhattan. Lulu doesn't really like those type of parties, so I thought…" He paused, glancing at Jason before he continued. "If it was okay, you could come as my date."

Her eyebrows raised at the offer, though she really wasn't surprised. It wasn't the first time Johnny had asked her to be the token pretty girl on his arm, who could laugh loudly and flirt with all the men over sixty, convincing them nothing was better than O'Brien-Morgan industries.

"So, you want me to put on a short dress and breeze around the ballroom?" she asked coyly, a slow grin spreading across her face.

"As long as it's okay," he repeated, looking from her to Jason.

"Why wouldn't it be?" she asked, shrugging it off.

"Well, great," he muttered, getting up from the chair. He tucked the file under his arm and walked over to give her a quick kiss on the cheek, and she tried to ignore the flutter in her heart at the brief contact. "I'll pick you up at seven. Your place, I assume?" She nodded. "Okay, see you then." He smacked Jason lightly on the arm. "Thanks for this."

Jason stiffened, loudly clearing his throat as Johnny left the penthouse. "Uh, I can explain," he said quietly, rubbing his palm against his forehead.

"Explain what?" she asked, rolling her eyes as she turned to head up the stairs. She didn't even bother to hide her excitement. "He asked me to be his date, which is just the in I needed. I should thank Lulu for being so uptight."

She disappeared up the stairs, leaving a grim-faced Jason behind her.

Johnny clearly thought that Jason was dating Elizabeth. And if they weren't dating, then they sure as hell were sleeping together, seeing as his friend had easily misconstrued that morning, the last year, and Jason and Elizabeth's entire friendship.

Which he had yet to tell Elizabeth, mostly out of fear that she would kill him. Or at least bring great physical and bodily harm, and Jason wasn't prepared for either option.

Taking a deep breath, he lifted his fist to the door of her apartment, hesitating nearly a minute before actually knocking. An hour ago, he'd gotten a call from her, saying she needed his help as soon as he could come over, and if he knew Elizabeth as well as he thought he did, he knew exactly what she needed.

"Oh, thank God!" she cried, opening the door in a plush blue robe, her hair resting on her shoulders in thick, fat curls.

Blush was dusted lightly over her cheekbones, along with smidge of mascara on her eyes and just a touch of lip-gloss. It was easy for him to admit she looked beautiful, anyone with eyes could have seen that, and being Elizabeth, she had no idea how wonderful she looked, even in the bathrobe.

She grabbed his wrist, pulling him into her apartment. "I have no idea what to wear," she hissed, shutting the door and leaning up against it. "You have to help me pick out something, Jason."

Bingo.

He wasn't an idiot, and that was exactly why he'd stopped at the liquor store on the way over and picked up a pocket-sized bottle of scotch, to get him through what would be a very headache inducing process.

"You'll look good in anything," he muttered, shaking his head at her messy living room.

The furniture was piled with clothes, some of which still had the tags on them, but he wasn't going to point that out to her. He'd made that mistake and been forced to listen to a speech about the importance of clearance sales.

Elizabeth could be such a woman sometimes.

He made a face at two pizza boxes sitting on the coffee table, wondering how long they'd been there, or worse how molded the food was inside them.

"Will you stop making disgusted faces?" she asked, smacking him on the arm. "My dress is more important than listening to you tell me how messy-"

"If you don't want to clean, hire a maid," he said, walking over to the couch and pushing a pile of clothes to one side.

"I'm not paying some stranger to clean my house," she replied, rolling her eyes as her hands tugged at the front of her robe.

"Fine, I'll do it," he offered, pulling the bottle of scotch from his pocket before sitting down on the couch.

"Really?" she asked, sliding her hand over her hip. "And this cleaning wouldn't be throwing all my shit into trash bags and-"

"I only did that once," he interrupted, unscrewing the cap and taking a swig.

"Why are you drinking?" she asked, forgetting her previous argument.

"You make me want to," he teased, taking another sip.

"Asshole," she hissed, tossing her curls over her shoulder as she headed for her bedroom. "I'll be back in a few minutes, and don't touch my damn clothes."

"Whatever," he muttered, frowning at the pile beside him.

Reaching over, he ran a finger along the shirts at the top, not surprised to see that they were all the same, but just different colors. He was tempted to hide one just to see if she would notice, but he didn't have the energy to deal with dramatics today. He was exhausted, and this whole ordeal was only going to make things worse.

He and Elizabeth had stayed up talking for the half the night, mostly because she was too upset to sleep, and she had confessed she knew wanting to break Lulu and Johnny up was wrong, but that she couldn't help herself. He tried to convince her that she could, that she just needed to be happy for him, but she countered that it wasn't fair and she refused. And to keep her from getting upset, he dropped the subject completely. Jason was hoping that between the bar and their conversation last night, she would get it, but Johnny's offer only fueled the fire more.

And he had no idea how to stop it.

It was much easier to just drink.

"Okay, this is the first one," Elizabeth said, opening her bedroom door. Jason nodded dumbly, taking several swigs of the whiskey before she appeared in front of him, her hands clutching the fitted waistline of the dress. "Well, what do you think?"

He swallowed hard, tightening his hand around the bottle as his eyes trailed up her creamy, toned legs to meet the silky cerulean material, the same exact color of her eyes, as it hung loosely against her thighs.

"Jason?"

"Yeah." His eyes lifted to her face, dropping to the short sleeves of the dress and trying to not so obviously take in the plunging neckline.

"Well?"

"It's low," he muttered, bringing the bottle back to his lips and taking a swig.

"Son of a bitch," she said, turning around to face the mirror behind her. "You're right. I look like a tramp, and appearing easy isn't good…I mean, I do want to say leave your fiancé and bang me, but-"

"Next dress," he interrupted, waving his hand at her as he took another sip.

"Huh?" she asked, glancing over her shoulder at him and rolling her eyes. "I really hope you're taking a cab home."

He nodded, waving her towards the bedroom, thinking he was getting a cab as soon as possible.

And going to the bar.

And picking up a woman.

And getting laid.

Because between Johnny and Lulu and Elizabeth and wedding plans and everything else, it had just been far too long. The fact that he was sitting on a frumpy couch and drinking scotch while practically eye-fucking his best friend proved it.

This was bad.

"Okay, this is the second one," she said, her door opening again. "I have one more, well, I have more than one more, but I narrowed it down to three." She sighed heavily when she stepped in front of him, grabbing the loose material on her hips and shaking it as she laughed softly. "Well?...And go easy on me, you called me a tramp in the last dress."

"I didn't call you a tramp," he replied, his voice low and husky as he took another drink from the bottle.

She arched her eyebrows as she slid a hand over her hip, drumming her fingers on her side. Jason nodded, not sure what to say because it was just like the first dress, hugging every possible curve and showing off everything she shouldn't.

It was red – the kind of red that would turn heads when she walked into the room, and the bodice was fitted tightly, allowing for a perfect display of her cleavage. The material clung to her sides, all the way to her hips, where it belled out, allowing the material to shimmy as she moved.

"Jason?"

"Huh?" he asked, lifting his eyes to hers and realizing that her hair was swept out away from her face in a tiny red band, causing the curls to cascade down her back.

"You suck at this," she muttered, shaking her head as she turned to the mirror. Sighing, she smoothed her hands over the back, forcing the material to mold against her behind, and Jason grunted, no longer able to take it.

"Wear that," he said, getting up from the couch and polishing off his bottle.

She turned around, surprised by his quick decision. "You haven't even seen the last one."

"I don't need to," he muttered, trying several times to screw the lid back on the empty bottle before actually succeeding. "That's the dress."

"Okay," she said, turning back to the mirror and frowning at her reflection. "If you're sure."

"I'm sure," he replied flatly, knowing it was the kind of dress that should be appreciated and admired, and that Johnny wouldn't be able to fully appreciate it.

But this was Elizabeth.

She'd find someone at the party to take notice.

She always did.

"I have to go," he said, tossing his head towards the door and looking her over one last time.

"Are you okay?" she asked, reaching out to touch his arm.

He jerked away, backing towards the door. "Yeah, just work stuff," he replied, not paying attention as he backed into the door. "Have fun at the party." Grabbing the doorknob, he hurried out the door before she could reply, pulling it tightly closed behind him. He leaned up against it briefly, taking a deep breath.

What the fuck.

This was really, really bad.