AN: I'm back! Heh heh heh please don't kill me. I was really busy, but honestly, I wasn't really inspired to write and I was waiting until the next GG book came out. Except it's already out. I had no idea so I haven't read it yet—please don't spoil it for me! I also wanted to warn you guys that my story is probably going to get darker and more action-y. It's not jut going to be Zammie fluff/light angst anymore, partially because I want to include more Macey/Nick (any good couple names, anyone?) I know a lot of you guys like them and Nick has become one of my favorite characters. This chapter is the start of some more serious stuff, so sorry about the lack of humor. Also, don't be confused if you see some older chapters being reposted. I'm just doing some minor editing for continuity.

Warning: This chapter contains a very brief mention of underage drinking. With all due respect, if you can't handle that, you probably shouldn't continue reading because there's going to be worse later on in the story (it will still be rated T though.)

Disclaimer. I own nothing.

Chapter 17: Instant Turn-Off

"I wasn't raised the way most kids were. From the moment I was born, my father's expectations and ambitions had been thrust on me. My father, if you could even call him that, is the CEO of a large corporation, BiogemTechnologies, and he's been training me to take over from the moment I could talk. I remember him giving me a book on stock trends analysis for my sixth birthday," Nick chuckled bitterly. "He is also a politician, so I'm also expected to keep a good face for the media. That's all he cares about, money and prestige. My younger brother has avoided all of this pressure because my father has apparently chosen me to be his heir and the face of the family because I "have more potential." Don't get me wrong, my brother is smart and all, but he's more naïve and less ruthless and ambitious than I am. He's also really awkward around strangers. As a result, my father completely ignores him even though he gets great grades and volunteering medals and such. I, on the other hand, reacted to my father by rebelling. Flunked classes, robbery, vandalism, fights, I've done it all." It was hard to tell just looking at Nick, the picture of quiet grace with his aristocratic features and blue eyes. The only visible signs of Nick's past were the small, nearly invisible scars on his hands and the slight crookedness of his nose.

"That sounds just like Macey's story," Bex pointed out.

Nick paused, "Somewhat. She rebels to get attention, I rebelled because if my dad is going to try mold me into his sparkling heir and vote grabber, I'll try damn well to make sure he fails,"

Cammie's mind was going a hundred miles a minute. Biogem, where have I heard that before. His dad is a politician. Politician. CEO. Cross. Cammie went through the list of prominent American politicians in her head before widening her eyes. It couldn't be.

Bex noticed Cammie's preoccupation. "You look like you've just discovered the meaning of life. Want to share your epiphany with the class?"

It took all of Cammie's spy training to keep her voice steady. "One question, Nick," the boy raised his eyebrows expectantly, his mouth quirking in amusement, "Your brother, does his name happen to be Preston?" Nick leaned back in his seat.

"For a group of spies, that sure took you awhile," Everyone openly stared at him like they were finally seeing him in a new light. It was then that everything clicked, Nick's story, his familiar features, Macey's jab about his social station…

"Hello, my name is Nick f-ing Winters, it's nice to meet you,"

The room was silent as everyone tried—and failed—to absorb this bombshell.

"Please continue with your story," Cammie finally said.

"We continued this way for years, me trying my best to ruin my father's reputation, my father trying his best to cover up my tracks, until two years ago."

I shielded my eyes from the June sun. It was ridiculous how my father's newest piece of arm candy, the lovely and airheaded Sharon, thought that the middle of summer was the only appropriate time to have a pool party when we live in Southern California. Well, vacation, not live. Other than the fact that her platinum blonde head was absolutely hollow on the inside, I didn't really have a problem with Sharon. I didn't bug her, she didn't bug me. Sometimes, I got the feeling that she actually liked me. Like today, when she begged my father to let me come to the party. Actually now that I think about it, her kindness was really not working in her favor today. I groaned and inched closer to the shade. My father, of course, had seized the opportunity to make an offhanded comment about how he would allow me to go an "event full of investors and other important figures" if I wasn't "determined "ruin my life and take my family's happiness down with me." Harsh, but admittedly true. After some cajoling, and by that, I mean they spent two hours in the master bedroom, I was allowed to attend the party as "Nicholas James, Preston's friend from school. Good luck with that, Preston and I looked incredibly alike. Not to mention my irritating resemblance to my father. I can't look in a mirror without grimacing. I don't think any of the guests were fooled, but they were the same type of people as my father, so they were probably a little understanding of someone pretending their delinquent son didn't exist. Since I was aware of the kind of guests that were going to be present, I hadn't accepted my father's gracious invitation. (I'd responded with some strong Italian terms that I'd learned the year before on a cruise.) But Preston had begged me to come and as much as I hated parties, pool or otherwise, I didn't want him to suffer alone.

I began to regret that decision as I saw a group of five girls approaching Preston. I watched for a bit longer in the hope that they were genuinely friendly people that wanted to partake in some intelligent conversation. Doubtful. Preston was a magnet for girls. He was fairly handsome (obviously, since he's related to me) and any remaining faults were overshadowed by his father's candidacy.

I didn't make a move until two of the girls started giggling and playing with his tie (yes, he had been forced to wear a tie at a pool party) and one started arching her back and tossing her hair. I approached Preston who was desperately looking around for a diversion. As bad as his people skills were, they exponentially worse if the people he was talking to happened to be attractive girls his age. Preston gave a huge sigh of relief when he saw me and waved.

"Preston, your father wants to talk with you," I said. The girls turned and their reactions were comical. They openly oogled me. Two latched onto my arms, one ran her hands up her body slowly, and two girls critically scanned Preston and I from head to toe before turning back to Preston. It's not that I didn't enjoy the show—I was a teenage boy—but I didn't want to spend more time in these girls' company than I had to. They didn't seem like they could be very engaging conversationalists. And as for the other type of "company" they were offering? Well, it seemed kind of rude to ruin Sharon's efforts to allow me by sleeping with father's investors' and friends' daughters and making him angry at her. Plus, Preston was looking at me with such hope in his big brown eyes. "Sorry girls, he wants me there too. It was nice to meet you," There were pouts and exaggerated groans all around as I led my brother away.

"Thanks," he mumbled not-so-subtly. I nodded. We walked towards father so that we could shake off the girls' suspicions. But when he saw us, he actually waved us over. Actually, he waved Preston over and turned a piercing gaze to me. I groaned internally but followed anyways.

"Jimmy, you remember Preston," Preston shook his hand. Fortunately, here was someone he was familiar with. Preston had spent a lot of time at press events with the McHenrys in preparation with the campaign and Senator James "Jimmy" Winters and his wife, Cynthia were some of the few people he could act normally around.

"Nice to see you again, sir," I glanced at the Senator. Now that I wasn't looking at him from a television screen, I could see the deep wrinkles around his eyes and the tiredness in his face. Campaigning will do that to you. He noticed me and politely smiled.

"And who is this young man?" My father introduced me as Nicholas Fitzgerald, Preston's friend from school as if I couldn't talk. He explained that I was staying with them for the summer while my parents vacationed in Bora Bora. "It's astonishing, you two look so alike. The same nose and eyes," Senator Winters mused.

"They are distant cousins," my dad quickly explained. The senator looked doubtful, but seemed to accept the explanation. My father turned to me, "Nick, I thought you said you were going to stay by the house. You don't want to overtax yourself and make your infection worse. Don't worry Jimmy, it's not contagious anymore. He's just recovering," No one's overtaxing people but you, father. However, I understood the warning and said my goodbyes, internally scoffing. Like an infection would keep me from going outside.

Senator McHenry craned his neck and said, "Just a second, son. I want to introduce you to my daughter. I expect you'll accompany Preston to more events like this, so you are bound to meet her eventually," The use of "accompany" made it sound like I was Preston's date or something. Cynthia and Macey McHenry strolled towards us. I glanced at Macey out of my peripheral vision. Sure she was attractive, even moreso than she was onscreen, but her upturned nose was an instant turn-off. Her black her was cut in a sleek asymmetrical hairstyle, which made her instantly stand out in the sea of dyed pincurls and straightened locks. Big Jackie O—how appropriate-sunglasses framed her pale face. She wore a ivory dress that was loose fitting but somehow highlighted her fitness. I ignored her beauty—easy when I thought about her probable personality—and introduced myself.

"It's not like I need an introduction, but I'm Macey McHenry," Cynthia Winters introduced herself afterwards and I excused myself. I had had enough of this party. Preston was just going to have to manage by himself for the next hour.

I was sprawled out on the couch watching Sherlock when I heard someone say, "Good choice," Macey McHenry walked around the sofa and sat in the loveseat next to me without needing an invitation. I nodded, my eyes not straying from the screen. "It's the bottle on the right,"

"What?"

"Look at his carefully at his face right…now," I started. I never would've noticed that revealing detail if she hadn't noticed it.

"You're surprisingly smart," Macey glared. Wow, I had said that out loud, hadn't I? She turned towards me, face cold as ice. I was startled by how different she looked from her TV appearances.

"You met me two hours ago. Don't pretend like you know me, Nicholas," I snorted. Preaching to the choir. I shrugged and returned my attention to the screen, all the while pondering her comment. I guess I didn't know her. But did I want to? I examined her face, the ice blue eyes, diamond nose stud, and the eyebrow that rose challengingly when Macey realized I was looking at her.

"Hey, do you want a beer or something?"

"I thought you'd never ask."

AN: And there it is! Were you guys expecting that? Also, who saw the subtle Parent Trap reference? As for the Sherlock reference, this is something my friend pointed out to me. If you are rewatching "A Study in Pink" or even watching it for the first time (highly recommend it), take a careful look at the man's eyes during the scene (you'll know which one I'm talking about) when he's talking about his motives. Message me if you really want me to tell you. Sorry I made it so vague; I didn't want to give anything away for people that haven't watched the show. If you're confused, all you have to know is that this scene shows that Macey is surprisingly perceptive. Don't worry, there's going to be more of Nick's story. I've already written the next chapter and I'll post it next week. Anyways, thanks for reading and reviewing!

Anh