uhhh I'm not sure what happened here…so I usually work on two or three chapters at once. If I get bored of one, I switch to the other. but idk I guess I was REALLY bored of the other two bc this ended up being really long.

also umz warning: this chapter has some kind of suggestive content LMAO no smut obv but there's some implied stuff…i was giggling quite a bit trust me

song: take a slice by glass animals! this might be my favourite song. I'll have to think about it. debated replacing it with a different glass animals song but I think I'll use it later

Enjoy!

Chapter 102

Take A Slice

"Okay, how about purple?" Katy asked, holding up a purple knee-length dress with ruffles along the hem. "It'll offset the green in your eyes."

Clara wrinkled her nose, taking the dress and holding it up to her dressing-room reflection. The lights were harsh and seemed to highlight every imperfection on her face. "I don't know. Don't you think the collar looks too kiddish? And the hemline is far too long. And eggplant is good for teal eyes, and mine are lime. If I have to go with purple, I should pick magenta over anything else."

"You're such an art kid," Katy said with a roll of her eyes, throwing the dress on top of the steadily growing pile on top of the stool. "You turned down six perfectly good dresses because the colours 'weren't in your aura.' But, I guess the collar and ruffles are a bit much."

"Try something off-the-shoulder," Clara offered, fluffing her hair and pouting at her reflection. "Or maybe a halter. And get me something bright, okay? Or even pastel. Just no dark colours, they don't match my light hair."

"I have light hair, and I'm wearing dark colours."

"That's because you're a goth, blondie." She stuck out her tongue. "And you look good in every colour. I'm jealous."

"I thought you said green wasn't your colour?" Katy teased.

"Dark and fern green, no, but sage green and—"

"Noooo, I was joking! Don't give me another speech on colour theoryyyy!" Katy ran out of the dressing room curtain, shrieking theatrically. Clara rolled her eyes, yanking it closed, and turned back to her reflection with a critical glare. She hated dressing-room lighting. She could see the frizz in her curls, the blotching on her cheeks, the tiny blackheads on her upper lip that concealer only made bumpier. The turquoise silk of her spaghetti-strap minidress suddenly felt like a slippery eel on her milky thighs, the wool of her white cardigan hot-itchy.

It wasn't that Clara found herself particularly ugly—most days, at least—it was just that in the presence of petite, pretty Katy, she always felt large and awkward in comparison. Though she didn't envy her friend's wardrobe being limited to whatever she could find in the tweens aisle, her fashion creativity was incredible, though part of it only worked due to her attraction. She sure admired Katy's confidence, however. It was the main reason she was one of the most popular girls in school—after all, if you dressed as wildly as she did, you needed a truckload of confidence to make it work. Clara had never been confident, always picking apart her appearance in the mirror and stumbling over her words in class, but she found comfort in the fact that she was attractive enough and interesting enough to be Katy Liu's closest friend. Not just because being her friend meant automatic popularity without having to be particularly pretty or funny or sporty or even interesting, but because Katy was genuinely fun to be around.

"Back!" Katy crowed, swinging the curtain open.

Clara yelped in surprise, jumping back. "God, Kat! What if I was naked?"

"They've got cameras in here, you know." She informed her, pressing her cheek against the mirror glass and holding her chipped aqua nail against it. "Oh, I guess this store doesn't have one. Feel free to strip all you want!"

Clara reapplied a layer of cookie-dough-flavoured clear gloss and tossed it back in her black bucket bag before spinning around to examine the dresses. She selected a cardinal-red strapless one and just barely squeezed it on. The sides scratched her armpits and crept up her hips "Katy! I'm going to rip this! What size is it?"

"Large."

"Ugh, the last dress I tried on was a medium, and that was down to my ankles! What is with these inconsistent sizings?"

"For realz," Katy said, crossing her legs over her plum chenille micro-mini. On one foot was a chunky light-up sneaker, the other had a holographic stiletto. Clara's beat-up periwinkle ballet flats felt like plastic trash bags in comparison. "Of course, the only stuff they have in my size are little-girls Halloween costumes. Shall I be Snow White or Aurora for our grad party?"

"Oh, I actually saw an extra-small section by the hats. Why don't you go check that out while I work my way through this pile?" She held her breath as she tried not to tear the red velvet.

"Kay-kay!" She dashed out of the room for a second time, and Clara tried on two more dresses—one powder-blue and one orange—before Katy came back with another armful of dresses, her shiny, cheap bead jewellery swinging.

"What do you think?" Clara held up both dresses. "Slut or nunnery?"

"Clary, you know what my answer will always always be." Katy hummed, squeezing a black lace-up corset top over her leopard-print tee.

"This is hopeless. How am I supposed to find an outfit? This is supposed to be the night of my life."

"Well, you at least have a swimsuit picked out, right?"

Clara froze. "She has a pool?! Kat-yyyy!"

"Aww, just wear your yellow one. It's cute." She spun around, placing her hands on her hips that jutted out sassily. "What do you think? Like?"

"Love," Clara confirmed, pulling on an egg-yolk-yellow satin off-the-shoulder dress and examining her reflection. Her light ginger curls that cascaded from her high ponytail matched the sunshine shades of the bright dress and made her long, sooty eyelashes (courtesy of Maybelline) pop.

"Love it too. It gives me Clary boobs." Katy grinned devilishly and unlaced the top, dodging her friend's swipe with an evil cackle.

Clara sighed. "You're so dumb. Should I get this? I can wear my hot-pink butterfly clips with it, plus it matches my swimsuit."

"Yesss!" squealed Katy, clapping her hands. "Ugh, I'm so excited. We look hot."

"Exactly." Clara grinned, running her white nails over her collarbones. This party is going to rock!

~lll~

"So you're sure there's not going to be any alcohol or drugs?"

"For the millionth time, Mom, no! It's just going to be a quiet movie night at Jen's, nothing more." Clara crossed her arms over her conservative wool cardigan that she wore over her jeans and swimsuit. Katy would bring the dress with her to change into in the car.

"And what about her brother and that English boy?" Her father said, raising a silver brow skeptically.

"They're out doing their own thing. It's just going to be me and Jen and…" she hesitated, "and Katy."

"Oh?" Her mother smiled like she'd just found a breakthrough, and Clara wanted to punch her. "That grubby Chinese girl? You know how we feel about her, Clara."

"She's Taiwanese, Mom, and she lives in that fancy Elderberry place. Remember? She's not poor. Besides, the Emily's will be home all night, and she's like, four-foot-eight. She's not going to do anything." Horror flooded her body as she pictured her parents locking her in her room all night, forced to watch G-rated sitcoms and pray while everyone else was living it up at the party.

"Physically, maybe," her father huffed. "She poisons your mind, Clara Roselle. I've caught you using the Lord's name in vain on multiple occasions, and your skirts have been getting shorter and shorter. I always ask myself, what happened to my decent little girl? And then I remember Katherine."

That's not even her real name. "I'm eighteen. In less a month, I'll be heading off to college. This is my last night of being a high schooler, can't I enjoy it with my friends?"

"Friends," her father rasped bitterly. "That girl is not your friend."

"Now Sean, let's at least be reasonable. Clara is a legal adult now, and I trust Jen and her parents to look after our daughter." Her mother smiled, her crow's feet crinkling. "I don't like Katy, but I suppose Clara is a good enough judge to pick and choose her own friends. You may go."

She hugged her mother impulsively, joy surging through her. "Thank you, Mom!" The doorbell rang, and Clara rushed to grab her bag and slip on her sneakers. She waved goodbye to her parents and exited quickly.

"Hey, Clara." Jen said, flattening her stringy ash-brown bangs awkwardly. Her gold wire-frames were foggy from the temperature adjustment.

"Hi. Is Katy in the car?"

"Yup." She unlocked the doors and offered up shotgun, but Clara brushed past her to the backseats.

"Clary, ohmygawd!" Katy beamed, hugging her tightly. "Your hair looks so good!"

"Really?" She squished her loose bun self-consciously, where she'd done two little braids held with butterfly clips. "I wasn't sure if the braids were too much."

"No, they're awesome. Like my extensions?" Katy waggled her eyebrows as she shook her newly purple streaks, which matched her feather earrings and plum velvet crop top. She wore a leather miniskirt and knee-high striped socks, which she'd actually worn to her knees. Her angular features and maroon eyes had been highlighted with glittery blush and violet eyeshadow, and random barrettes were clipped into her white-blonde hair.

"Love. Hey Jen, here's your mon-eyyy." Clara fished out a twenty and waved it in front of her eyes.

She swatted her hand away. "I'm driving, give it to me after."

Clara and Katy raised their eyebrows at each other. "Sure thing."

They drove in silence for a bit while Clara wriggled out of her jeans and into her dress before Katy turned back to her. "So, did you hear about Anisha and Nate?"

"No?" Weird—she was usually the one telling Katy all the latest gossip. People didn't tend to notice her, with her blandly trendy outfits and borderline mute personality, so they'd share right in front of her as if she wasn't even there. She wasn't proud of it, but she was like a moth to a light when it came to secrets and rumours. No matter how obviously fake or disturbing they seemed, she'd immerse herself in it, then spill to Katy in an instant, and telling Katy was like broadcasting to the entire town. Maybe she was living vicariously through these braver, more interesting people, but being the shy good girl was risk-free and was a label she didn't much mind. She got along much better with the elders at the old-folks home her church volunteered at, anyway.

"Well, I heard they did it in the pool."

"Eww!" Clara yelped, slapping her hands to her glossy mouth.

"Don't talk about that here." Jen complained childishly. "That's inappropriate."

Clara ignored her. "Wait, which Nate?"

"Gibson, obv, not the depressed one."

"That's so gross!"

"Uh, yeah. I'm thinking we skip the pool, but that's just me."

Clara giggled in agreement. "Can't believe that's where they did the horizontal tango."

"The cheesy bread."

"The buttered muffin."

"The jalapeno peppers."

The pair burst into giggles. "The—the pickle jelly," Clara said, for no reason, and they erupted into hysterics.

"What?" Jen asked, glancing in the rearview mirror. They ignored her, still laughing. "What's so funny?"

"It's just—" Clara caught her breath, grinning at Katy. "Oh, nevermind."

"Really?" Her nasal voice was starty to get that whiny tone she used whenever she'd tell on the class for goofing off in elementary. "'Cause—"

"It's nothing, Jen, don't get your glasses in a twist." Whatever that meant.

Jen sighed dramatically and turned back to the road. "Fine."

Clara and Katy shared an amused glance.

It was nice to be the one in on the joke, and not the one being left out like in grade school when the cooler, more extroverted girls would giggle over secret knowledge that she'd been banned from learning by her strict parents. But now, finally, she was the cool girl, and Jen was the dork.

Jen was complicated, because Clara really had tried to buy nice and understanding of her, since in all the cheesy books she'd read, you were never supposed to ditch your old friend for a new shiny version. And she'd been a great friend in the early years, sharing her books and having such open-minded parents.

But Jen just made it so hard, with her cluelessness and fashion-backwardness, and how on the bus home she'd whoop with laughter like how a small child or someone with a mental disorder would and Clara would duck her head in embarrassment and pray the other kids thought she'd been forced to sit with Jen and hadn't chosen it. Or someone would tell a joke and she'd laugh too loud and too long, even if it was something really dumb, or she wouldn't even get the joke. And if Clara ever wanted to talk about something serious, she'd cover her ears and hum the national anthem all obnoxiously. Plus, she'd become friends with this heavy girl Erin Clarke who was always slurping peanut butter out of the jar with her fingers and notoriously never washed her hands, and would always tattle on the kids who skipped like a kindergartener, and Clara just couldn't pretend her and Jen had anything in common anymore.

Girls like Jen Emily and Erin Clarke had always fascinated her with their confidence, only it wasn't the enviable kind that Katy had, because at least she knew what was and wasn't accepted. How they were able to get up in the morning, dress in the most hideous, clashing outfits without bothering to fix their hair or lipgloss or acne, and go to school and ask everyone annoying questions and eat messy, processed foods out of little-kid lunchboxes and wear embarrassing cat onesies on pajama day while everyone else knew to wear plain shirts and flannel pants, or maybe something cutsier like leopard or space or strawberry-print, even babyish prints were ironically okay if you were pretty enough to pull it off, like the bulldozer bottoms Katy wore last year. It was almost brave of them to even be happy, because Clara figured if she looked and acted like them, she'd have fallen into a miserable depression and homeschooled herself.

It wasn't even that they were that ugly—Erin had clear brown skin and shiny black hair that could be striking if she wore it down every once in a while, and Jen had a strong, sharp jawline and heart-shaped lips, she was just a bit plain with an acne problem easily solved with makeup—but the fact that they chose this lifestyle, chose to be silently mocked and taunted everywhere they went facinated her. It was like every other girl got a memo once they turned thirteen, and they didn't. Or maybe they did and just ignored it.

Suddenly, Katy gasped and jammed the button for the seatbelt, clamouring onto her knees on the seat and slamming her hands on the window. "Holy guacamole, is that Wilburt and Henry?!"

"What?" Clara craned her neck to look past her friend. "Seriously? I thought they were going out for pizza or something."

"Uh, I think they still are." Katy's gaze remained glued to the window, while she still couldn't see past her head. "Omigod, Clar, he's wearing a suit."

"What?! Who is?! Move your fat head out of the way so I can see." She tapped the seat in front of her. "Jen, pull over."

"Huh? No, no way. My parents said I couldn't pick up anyone else."

Clara rolled her eyes, wiping a stray mascara smudge away in the mirror. "They're your brothers, Jen, I don't think your precious parents will mind."

"Fine," she sighed, as if she was doing some great service in pulling over on an empty road to pick up two family members that they had more than enough room for already.

She parked, and Katy unrolled the window to stick her head out of. "Hey, weirdos! Why are you wearing a suit?"

"Because I wanted to look dapper on the big night." William called back, avoiding a mud puddle on the side while Henry trudged through it in his brown gumboots, matching corduroy pants and worn green flannel.

She tried to process the sentence, then gave up. "Get in! We're going to the grad party!"

"And we're getting pizza," Henry chimed in. "No ride needed. We prefer exercise, thanks."

"I wasn't asking. Clara, go get 'em." Katy clicked her tongue like she was calling a dog.

William stopped. "Clara's in the car?"

"Oh, so now you want to come. Hop in already and stop embarrassing yourselves, 'cause it's embarrassing me."

The pair discussed it for a minute, before Henry reluctantly opened the passenger's seat. "Fine, but you'd better tell Mom where we are, Jen. And maybe pick up takeout on the way back."

"I don't want—"

Katy interrupted, "So, Clar's getting the hump seat, unless Will's okay with switching?"

"That's fine. I don't think I'll even fit if I take that side." He turned his stormy eyes to meet hers earnestly. "You don't mind, right?"

"No, I-I don't." She cursed herself for the stutter and wiggled into the middle, buckling her seatbelt. No matter how much Katy insisted that it didn't matter, car safety lessons had been drilled into her by her parents every day since she got her licence, and her subconscious would never let her live it down.

She felt fingers brush her hips through her jeans and she froze.

"Oh, sorry. I was trying to get my seatbelt in." William did not sound very sorry. "Can you move over?"

"Sure." She scooted to the side and was suddenly very aware of their proximity, with his head bent focusing on the strap mere inches from her. She could smell the musky scent of his cologne—which was a little odd since he'd only been going to pick up pizza but was a welcome surprise—and see a ball of gray lint on his shoulder. It would be so great to pick that off, she thought. Or to just touch him.

They didn't touch for the rest of the ride, except when Henry was showing off his new watch wristband and William's foot bumped her ankle for a split second. The spot tingled where he'd touched.

"Okay, we're here. I'm not going inside. I don't drink alcohol." Jen announced. Clara fought the urge to shout; Nobody cares!

"Do you want a trophy or something?" Katy said irritably, climbing out of the car. She silently thanked the universe for giving her a friend who spoke her mind.

"At least I wear a seatbelt!" Jen called.

"At least we have lives!" Clara snapped back, feeling brave.

Katy hooted; "Damn, Clar!"

"Well, at least I don't look like a skeleton who hasn't hit puberty yet. Maybe before you try to roast me, you should go eat a sandwich." Jen sniffed.

Clara's mouth dropped open. She did not just say that.

"And you should go eat a salad. Later, prude." With that, Katy stormed off without a second glance back. Clara and the boys caught up to her.

"I am so sorry for my sister," Henry said with genuine remorse on his face. "She just…she doesn't look at the other side of things, I think."

"Oh, you think," Katy said bitterly, and she instantly felt awful. She'd seen her friend in the depths of insecurity for never growing curves or long, toned legs or lengthy hair no matter what she ate or exercised or slathered creams on her scalp, and Clara supposed it just went to show that no matter how gorgeous a person was, they could still have things they hated about themselves, too.

"Hey, just try living with her." Henry said cheerfully.

"It's a nightmare. She and that fat pig Erin Clarke put up so many pro-vegan posters all around OUR house that I went on an all-meat diet for two weeks straight." William added.

"Wow…that sucks." Clara was a little off-put by his description of Erin, but so what if it was mean? Erin was a self-centred pest, and she wasn't even there to hear it!

Just as they were about to open the door, a big jock guy wearing a football jersey stumbled through the opening and bent over, hurling into the bushes. He wiped his mouth, grinned dazily at them, and promptly passed out.

"How pleasant," William said dismally, kicking at his body with the two of his dress shoe. "And this is the party you all wanted me to go to?"

"Aw, c'mon, Wilburt! It'll be fun!" Katy coaxed, grabbing at his forearm which was almost comical considering she only came up to his elbows—spiky hair and all. And Clara suddenly felt violently jealous of her friend, for being sure enough in herself to touch a boy so effortlessly, to make teasing nicknames and be able to convince him to do things in a friendly way that could so easily be edited to flirtatious.

Entering the house, they were greeted with white popped balloon corpses strewn limply across the hardwood floor and deafening music blaring from a stereo in the other room. Spilled cherry punch soaked into the carpet of the living room, and glittery purple streamers hung from the ceiling, a group of very drunk girls swatting at them like cats.

"Katy!" The hostess of the party, a short curly-haired brunette named Rosalie Marino, waved her over, and the group followed. She was standing with her blonde sister Daisy, who shared her olive skin, round figure, and hazel eyes, and her friend Adam Carter, who was the only gay guy out at the school, which along with being an all-around nice person had instantly skyrocketed him to popularity. Rosalie, according to the latest gossip, was dating a Saffron college guy named Ross.

"Hi, Rosieeee!" Katy squealed, hugging her tight.

Rosalie laughed and patted her back, a Diet Pepsi clutched in her other hand. "Hey, babe! Good to see you here! Oh, and hey to the rest of you. Class of '92, eh?"

Clara stood there quietly as they exchanged small talk. She really didn't dislike Rosalie, but the few times they'd hung out as a trio and Katy, the mutual friend, had left the room, their conversations had been awkward at best, silent at worst. Their personalities just didn't seem to work together, and that was that.

A ping-pong ball hit her in the head and she whirled around.

"Oh, sorry, didn't see you there—" Cole Lowell-Hastings apologized as he bent down and picked up the ball. His voice lingered a moment too long, as if he was going to say her name and then realized he didn't know it.

Clara mumbled something like 'that's okay' and moved out of the way to stand in front of an antique bookshelf.

Katy dashed over, cheeks pink and smelling of alcohol. "Clar, Rosie says we're going in the hot tub now! C'mon!"

She let her friend drag her through the crowds of people, weaving in and out and trying not to get anything spilled on them. They left through a sliding door and into the warm summer night on the pool deck, where guys were doing flips in the pool, trying to make the biggest splashes, and girls would sit on the sides and shriek in that fake-annoyed way. They made it to the Jacuzzi, where Rosalie, Daisy, Henry, Adam, and William were already sitting and Katy was setting her clothes to the side. She almost laughed at the sight of William, fully clothed in a suit of all things, sopping wet in the Jacuzzi.

Clara looked around the backyard, making sure nobody was paying much attention to her, before pulling her dress around her ankles and revealing her new canary-yellow tankini with ruffles on the edges that matched her fake gold bead necklace she'd borrowed from Katy. She sat down at the edge to slowly sink into the bubbling jets, wincing a little at the hot water. Then she realized that she was seated right next to William, and tried to make eye contact with the others as if it didn't affect her.

"I like your suit," Daisy complimented. She was wearing a silver lattice bikini that brought out the platinum streaks in her flat-ironed hair.

"Thanks," William and Clara said at the exact same time, then laughed. "Sorry," he replied. "You carry on."

"Oh, I was just saying thanks. You?"

"I was also just saying thanks." He gave her an amused look, and she flushed with embarrassment.

"My glasses are foggy," said Henry, for no particular reason, and folded them on the edge of the tub.

William lightheartedly flicked water into his face. "Nerd."

The conversation drifted into colleges and the price of tuition, and Clara daydreamed about the decor of her apartment in New Harmony she'd been dreaming of, where she'd be going to university and learning to be a social worker. She'd like to work with older people, preferably in a nursing home. And New Harmony was a quaint little desert town, with museums and cactus-covered canyons and all sorts of little organic farms that sold fresh vegetables at the farmers markets she hoped to shop at on Saturdays. She loved to garden.

Suddenly, she felt something on her leg that was most definitely not bubbles or jets. A hand, huge and rough with definitive calluses, rested on her thigh, just lying there. She shot a look at William, but he was staring straight ahead at Henry. His thumb began to trace circles, wide and loopy, yet the whole time he remained engrossed in the conversation about trash can prices, of all things.

She sort of liked it, though, how he was paying attention and nodding along while everyone else was none the wiser to him turning her leg to jelly. She liked that it was a secret only the two of them shared.

"Clara, what do you think?" Adam asked.

She blinked the cotton from her brain and saw that everyone was staring at her. "I—uh. The, er, trash cans are, um, it's…" She trailed off. Stop the word vomit!

"C'mon, Clary, we'd love to hear your opinion." William sang, mocking.

"Pricey. They're pricey." Wow, great work! I should try stand-up!

The others gave her a quizzical glance. "Um, we were talking about who we'd like to room with."

"Trash cans are pricey, though." Henry offered. "I just use Tupperware containers in my room."

"Lucky me," William said drily. His hand suddenly left her thigh as he crossed them behind his head, stretching. Clara looked down and fiddled with one of the ribbons on her bottoms, the colour of ripe lemons in December.

Suddenly, Christian Lee jogged over, holding a case of beers. He was wearing a Hawaiian shirt and navy swim trunks, and his dirty blonde hair was messy and damp. Blades of grass stuck to his wet, hairy legs. "Hey, guys! Guess who brought twelve friends!"

Everyone cheered and grabbed some as he slid into the tub between Daisy and Adam. "I wanted Sprite," Rosalie complained, but took a can anyway.

"You want one, Clar?" He asked, dragging his greedy eyes down her body shamelessly. She couldn't help but feel William's muscles stiffen as he did so.

She crossed her arms over her chest and sank further into the water self-consciously. "Um, not right now." God, why does he always have to make things weird?

"You sure? How about you, Will?"

"Why not?" His voice was cool and clipped, like someone who'd been stung by a wasp and was trying not to let the pain show. Chris tossed him a can and he popped it open, letting the bubbles hiss and fizz down his forearm.

"Y'know, I didn't expect to see you here. Are you going anywhere for college?" Chris's eyes seemed to go right back where they had been, and Clara wished he'd just disappear.

"I-I'm not sure yet." She looked to Katy in desperation, but she didn't seem to notice his gluttonous gaze all over her skin. If only she'd brought a cover-up with her. If only she'd stayed home in her room and watched G-rated sitcoms all night. If only, if only, if only.

Then, William wrapped his arm around her shoulder and dragged her so she was pressed right up against his side. Despite her burning all over, his skin was icy to the touch. Henry raised his eyebrows, but didn't say anything. "Chris, I think I heard someone calling your name."

"Really? I didn't hear anything."

His eyes were surprisingly intense in the cold lighting, they looked a glacial blue. "Trust me, I heard it."

"Funny. I didn't."

The others watched them go back and forth like a ping-pong match, before finally one of the jock guys actually started calling his name for some stupid match of Marco Polo.

"Told you," he jeered. Clara grinned, jubilant, and squeezed his bicep in a silent thanks.

"Whatever," Chris practically spat, splashing everyone as he stepped out of the pool. He flashed William an accusatory glance. "Dick."

He flipped the blond off, but there was no malign in it, like Chris was nothing more than a pesky mayfly.

While everyone else talked and sipped beer, Clara snuggled closer. When he didn't respond, she murmured, "Thanks for that."

"Mm." He seemed distracted, staring off into the inky blanket freckled with stars.

She poked his side. "Hey. What's up?"

He flicked his gaze over to her own pleading one. "Nothing. Nothing's up."

Clara blinked. Before, his eyes were furiously frigid, and now they were practically simmering. Looking at sugar could've bronzed it to caramel. "Okay." She swished her feet in the water, changing the subject. "I'm thirsty."

William snapped to attention. "Do you want some of my drink?"

The truth was, the only alcohol she'd ever had was a sip of gin at her family's wild Christmas party when she was fifteen, and it had tasted metallic and chalky and slid down her throat like gritty slime. "Actually, I'm alright."

"You sure?" There was something more in his eyes, something shadowed and tempting.

"We're going to go play Marco Polo with the others. I'm guessing you two are busy…?" Katy questioned with an all-knowing grin on her face.

Clara barely noticed her friend, sinking in the twin nickel pools under his eyebrows. "Sure. Have fun."

Katy elbowed Rosalie, giggled, and scampered off across the yard to the main pool.

"Why don't you want some?" William asked again.

She shrugged. "Tastes bad."

He picked the Bud Light up with thick, metal-jointed fingers, and took a languid gulp. She watched his Adam's apple bob as he swallowed, cleared his throat, and swished the can. "Tastes fine to me."

"Good for you. I don't want any."

"Have some."

"No!"

"Have some."

Clara glared at him. "Why do you want this so badly?"

"I don't know. It'd be funny."

"Funny?"

"Funny."

"No!" She'd never seen him act this way before. Whenever they'd hang out in a group, he was always quiet with calculated, intellectual additions to the conversation. Maybe he'd tease Henry or make a cruel passing remark, but that was really the worst of it. This…this was a new side of him, one she wasn't sure she wanted to meet.

"Drink it, or I'll make you drink it yourself." His voice was dark and husky and everything sinful, the whisper of a smile ghosting his face.

"I-I don't want to." She mumbled, sounding half-hearted even to her own ears. "It's got your spit all over it. It's not…it's not…"

"For someone with such pretty lips, you don't seem to speak very well." He took her jaw in his hand, tugging her onto his lap feather-light underwater, and holding the can up high. "Very well then. Open, please."

She tried to squirm out, but he held her tight and squeezed her cheeks to part her lips. The sparkling liquid rushed out like a waterfall, like acid on her raspberry-coloured tongue. Without much other choice, she swallowed the molten magma. This time it tasted stronger, more bitter and less slimy.

"There you go," he murmured, eyes glazed over as if in hypnosis. The grip on her jaw went slack and she rubbed at the throbbing skin. She could feel her heartbeat in her chin. They stared at each other for a moment, his eyes just as torrid as before.

William cleared his throat, but spoke with the same gravel as before. "I think that we should get out of here."

"Okay." She could feel the alcohol pulsing in her veins, turning it to ichor sparks as he took her hand in his and helped her out of the Jacuzzi, putting on shoes as she peeled her dress back over her wet tankini and slipped on sandals that weren't hers, but looked fairly replaceable. Then she saw Katy playing beach volleyball with a group of guys and halted. "Hang on, I'm supposed to go to Katy's after."

"Your parents let you go with her?"

"No, I told them I was at a sleepover at Jen's…oh."

"You're a moron," he said affectionately.

"I know." Then something occurred to her. "Do you have a car?"

He stopped. "Dammit."

Clara worried her bottom lip with her teeth as she hugged herself for warmth. "Should we call someone? Like a taxi?"

"They aren't going to drive all the way out here. We're in the middle of the woods." Then he noticed her shivering. "Oh. Do you want my jacket?"

It was completely soaked through, but she draped it over her shoulders anyway. "So what are we going to do?"

"Shh, please. I'm thinking." He pressed her fist to his mouth with brows furrowed as he scanned the front yard, mumbling under his breath.

Clara stayed quiet, until her gaze landed on a shiny-new red Dodge Viper with loudmouthed bumper stickers plastered all over the back. "Will?"

"Mm."

"Do you know how to hotwire a car?"

"What?" He gave her an incredulous look. "No, why?"

She nodded to the car. "That's Christian's."

Realization dawned in his eyes as he grinned wolfishly. "Oh, Clary, you're my soulmate."

A flush crept up her neck. "Well, we still don't have any way into it."

"Don't even worry, darling, I'll be back in a flash." He patted her firmly on the shoulder and ran back into the house with long-legged strides, disappearing before she could process how easily the pet name slipped off his tongue.

After a few minutes, he returned with the keys jingling in his hands. "Got 'em."

"How did you—"

"Ah-ah-ah," he tutted, "that's for me to know and you to find out."

"Dummy." She clambered into the front seat and unrolled the window to smirk at him.

William bent over, resting his elbows on the windowsill. "You're driving, eh?"

"Yup. Bite me."

He chuckled darkly, heading across to the other side. "We'll see about that."

That's exactly what I hoped you'd say.

He got in the passenger's seat and gave her the keys with amusement written all over his face. "Drive safe."

"Oh, I will." She turned on the ignition and began to back out onto the gravel path lined with tall black pines.

"Will you, though? You've been drinking tonight." He clucked his tongue. "Naughty naughty."

"And who's fault is that?"

"I have no idea what you're implying."

"Whatever you say." She pulled out of the crowd of cars, driving uphill back through the thick forest that stretched from the outskirts of Hurricane all the way to Katy's house. Streetlights bathed them in golden, before they broke out of the woods and into the multicoloured nightlife of downtown. Clara cast a glance over to William and saw that he was toying with the thick iron rings on his fingers, hammered with jewels. They glinted tantalizingly.

"Clara?"

"Hm?"

"Drive faster."

"At least I have a license and didn't fail—how many times, again?" The moment the words were out, she instantly regretted them. Henry had told her how after he'd failed the final time, he'd punched a hole in his wall and had bruises on his knuckles for weeks.

"You know, you really piss me off." The words were punctuated with a laugh, ivory teeth flashing with marbled white. "You're lucky you're attractive."

"Flatterer," Clara scoffed.

"You calling me a liar? Come on, sweetheart, I'd never lie to you." His voice was thicker than molasses and sweeter than brown sugar, and she wanted to taste it so badly it hurt.

Not knowing how to respond, she turned down a familiar neighborhood and parked on the side. She left the keys in the glove compartment with a passive aggressive thank-you note on the steering wheel, and exited. She knew his house was about a block away. "So he doesn't track us."

"Beauty and brains," he marvelled, "the whole package."

Clara rolled her eyes. "You're trying too hard," she retorted, but made sure her tone was light.

They exited the car and began to walk, William slumped over and pouting. "Aw, come on. Compliment me. What do you like about me?"

Clara almost laughed at his puppy-dog-esque eyes. "Oh, I don't know. You're really…funny, and…cool."

He raised his eyebrows. "So you like me for my personality?"

"I know, I was surprised too," she shot back. They were standing right in front of his house. There were no lights on with a missing car from their driveway. One parent had probably gone out while the other slept. "But I don't know, I'm not good at putting it into words. Isn't it enough that I like you?" Her tone dipped into something softer, more unsure.

William took her face in his massive hand, tilting her up to look at him. He smiled, showing off his sharp canines. "Of course it is. It's more than enough."

And with that they hurried inside, and Clara realized that finally, she was above average to someone. Intriguing to someone. To someone, she was more than enough.

A/N

*SOBS*

WAS THAT TOO MUCH. PLEASE LET ME KNOW IF IT WAS TOO MUCH. I WAS GIGGLING THE WHOLE TIME IDK IF I WENT TOO FAR?

Question/Challenge: what's your favourite 90's movie? Mines probably clueless, I LOVE the fashion plus it's so funny

Have an amazing day/night!

~ghost