A/N: Ah yes, yet another sporadic update from your local overloaded student. How's life going for you guys? Good? Bad? Honestly, I wouldn't be surprised if it were the latter. The world sure has gone to shit within the space of like... two years. But that's just my opinion on it all. Nothing truly objective.

This chapter returns with quite a lot to digest. I kind of forgot how much goes on in this chapter and adapting it for the new rewrite definitely was quite fun - especially because it can be interpreted in SO many ways. But I'll leave that part to you guys, my dear readers.

So, till next time,

D.L.D

Response to Reviews:

Gucci Mane LaFlare - The setup for Heather and Chris is WAY more complicated this time round. I'm trying to keep that in mind as I type up the newer chapters (while also remembering my edits for the plot).

Drunk, Busy and Cooling Nights

Gwen's P.O.V

Maybe I've pushed myself a little too far tonight. Going out - while being mostly positive - definitely is taking its toll on my introverted personality. Being around so many people, all at once, is definitely something strange for me. Even at school, a place filled to the brim with dozens of kids from dozens of different grades, I've never really thought about what it would be like to socialize with them. Usually I'm too busy barging past people, rolling my eyes at slow walkers while trying to get to class, to even think about it all.

But now, saddled in the middle of a throng of people, feeling awkward as hell in my tiny little corner, I can't help but feel overwhelmed. I never have been much of a people person. I don't think I'll ever be. Even now, trying to dip my toes into the water, I'm struggling with it all. Crowds, parties and social scenes never really were my shtick.

No wonder why people don't even bother to try and invite me.

Yet, in an effort to drown out all the background noise in my head, I found myself here. Trying to get involved, sticking close to my small circle of friends, I'm trying to keep my mind occupied. I'm trying to have a good time. But having a good time had been written out of my DNA as soon as my mother had remarried; having fun was a concept lost to the sands of time after my mother was married and my brother was born.

"Whoa, careful there," Catching my unbalanced body with speedy reflexes, Duncan frowns as he looks me in the eyes. Maybe I have done a little too much to try and shut my mind up. Maybe I have gotten a little tipsy. Maybe, just maybe, I'm doing all of this for the wrong reasons. "You feel like leaving?"

"Yeah, kinda," I admit, attempting to raise my voice to compete with the booming bass of one of Geoff's remixes.

Apparently he has a few of them prepped for the night, a DJ never being necessary when you have Geoff around to plan the music. If it isn't Geoff, then Trent would always be on standby, a multitude of playlists stored within that phone of his. Tonight, though, he isn't here. If Trent had been here tonight then I definitely would have been a much more nervous wreck. People and crowds already make me antsy - having someone I want to avoid being mixed into those crowds only amps up my jumpiness.

Going out tonight is something I did to try and shake myself out of the depressingly familiar feeling of shittiness that clings to me. So far it's working relatively well, a lot of the background noise fading to a dull buzz in the back of my brain. However, I fear that quiet just as much. When my brain is quiet, it means it has room to grow dangerous and life-ruining ideas.

Dumb ideas, barely thought out ideas, tend to form when I am at my most peaceful. Ideas like letting Duncan convince me into coming here in the first place, making a spur of the moment decision in a thoughtless fit of self-pity. Finding the old Gwen is a quest better left to be forgotten in the past. Old Gwen, unlike present Gwen, doesn't truly understand how the world around her works - not in the ways that she does now.

That's why, even though she really wants to, present Gwen can never tell anyone how much they really mean to her. I could never tell anyone - tell Duncan - just how important they are to my everyday life.

"It's getting late, you know," Sighing, I bite into my lip as I step out of the way, letting someone pass by through the crowd. Gnawing my lip anxiously, I let an awkward chuckle leave my system as I nudge Duncan's side, "And... well, I don't feel like nursing a killer hangover tomorrow."

"Wisely said, Pasty," Nodding, Duncan seems to agree with me as a wicked grin fills the features on his face. Nudging me back with his elbow, he wiggles his brows. "Plus we can grab some drunk tacos on the way back."

Of course that's his first thought! Drunk tacos are the usual tradition whenever we sneak a few beers from his father's supply, sipping them on his roof as we try to - and fail at - naming different constellations. Staggering and giggling, we'd make our way over to the tiny building by the local convenience store, slamming down the money to pay and demanding that David make our order extra special.

Honestly, we definitely piss David off every time we come to him drunk out of our minds, babbling like a pair of middle school students. Part of me wouldn't be surprised if he puts something nasty in our tacos just to mess with us.

"Do you ever not think with your stomach?" Cracking something like a smile, I couldn't resist the subtle verbal jab as I slip on my jacket and dig in its pocket for his car keys. "Because every time we drink you have to get something to eat. It must be something hardwired into that thick skull of yours."

"A man's gut is the way to his heart, dear Gwendolyn," Gratefully grabbing the keys, Duncan winks as he pats at his belly. The supposed pathway to every man's heart. Dropping his voice to a secretive whisper, he continues, "Gotta make it easy for the ladies to get in."

Rolling my eyes, I simply smile as we make our way toward the front door, sloppily maneuvering through the equally as impaired partygoers. "So you say."

None of us even think about telling everyone else that we're leaving - they'll probably assume as much anyway. By the time we're outside, cold midnight air hitting us fresh in the face, the last thing on our minds is what's going on within the stuffy, people-filled walls of Anne-Maria's family restaurant. Instead, still trading subtle jabs at each other as we waddle toward his car, Duncan and I are fixed on our next agenda of the night: drunk tacos.

Getting the tacos is light work - even when Duncan nearly runs over a pair of kids playing Knock Down Ginger. David even slips us some free dip, grinning as he wishes us well on the rest of our drunk misadventures in our crappy town. Totally surprising. Not at all disappointing. In fact he earns himself a dollar tip, slipped into his shirt pocket with a wink as I pat his shoulder and said something about doing us a great service. Duncan laughed at it so I must have been funny.

All too soon, the tacos are nothing but crumbs and the road is nothing but the curb lining the pathway to my front door. Silence - for once - hangs between us, and I could only slump against the passenger seat as Duncan drums his fingers against the dashboard. None of us want to call it a night. Not yet. At the same time, though, there isn't much reason to stay.

So, without saying anything, I simply sigh as I push open the car door with a click and step out into the night air once more. Only a few steps are taken before I hear another click, much louder, signalling Duncan following me. Well, the loud ass click and the fact that his stupid, longer steps could always cover the distance that I make no matter how far I walk away.

"Aren't you gonna go home?" Frowning, I stuff my hands into my pockets as I stare at him. Almost rocking on my heels, I know that I'm giving off nervous body language, the antsy, anxious kind. Waiting for an answer always tends to make me like that, especially when it comes to Duncan. "Your parents are going to freak if you don't."

"Night's still young," Shrugging, Duncan mirrors my full pockets, sniffing as he stuffs his hands into his jeans pockets. Jingling, the loose change in them clatters. "I don't usually go home on a Saturday. They won't mind."

Oh. So I guess that's sorted out. Not like I could do anything about it - plus Duncan has stayed over many times before. Too many times before. Most of the time, my mum likes to double check if Duncan is around so that she can set out an extra plate of breakfast for him. Duncan's like family, She'd told me once, frowning when I'd asked why she's so fine with him hanging around, I know he looks after you just as well as I would.

Yeah, he does. I can't deny that. Even though I'd scoffed at my mum's words, rolled my eyes and brushed them off, deep down I know that they are true. Duncan, like most of my close friends, would always look out for me in ways that only family would. Even when I'm at my worst, slinging spiteful words and shutting myself out, they stick around and persist. For two years, Duncan has been slowly piecing me back together, waiting for the day I'd be back to how I was.

Or maybe he hasn't been piecing me together. Maybe he's been waiting for me to naturally fix myself.

Every thought falls short - just like how I fall flat on my face, tripping on the damned loose slab. I always forget about that damned loose slab! But before I can even scramble to my feet, even register the dull throb of pain from the fall, Duncan is tumbling too. Falling unceremoniously, like a slab of thick stone, he more or less crushes me against the cold, hard ground, preventing me from getting up with his heavy, warm body.

"Get your fat ass off me!" Muffled, my words come out almost jumbled due to my cheek being pressed against cold, wet pavement. "I can't breathe, Duncan!"

"My bad," Duncan responds, his hot breath sending a chill across the back of my neck. Totally because of the contrast in temperature, the sudden heat after feeling intense cold. Pushing some of his weight upward with his hands, he gives me some airspace. "Although, this isn't too bad. You're surprisingly comfy."

Multiple parts of my brain stop working. Scratch that, several parts of my body stop functioning. Eyelids, lungs and my heart all seem to be included in the list of systems currently failing, my lips pressed together tight and my eyes wide open as I forget how to breathe entirely. Oh, and how to control my stupid ass heart rate that is really important in keeping me alive and well and... you know, ALIVE.

"Duncan..." I grouse, definitely uncomfortable. Definitely trying to calm down my once again racing heart, hammering against my ribs as my brain begins to blare in red alarm bells. Shifting so that my face isn't pressed against dirty, cold ground, I frown as I muster a small glare at him, "Right now really isn't a great time."

"You know I love you, right Gwen?" Ignoring me entirely, Duncan murmurs out the words, his voice still soft, almost pensive, as his eyes flicker to mine. Another wave of heat prickles my neck, inducing another shiver that I manage to withhold. Shivering would only reveal how uncomfortable I feel right now; shivering would reveal how I really feel about him. "You can tell me anything, you know. I'd, like, always be there for you. No matter what shit you throw my way."

"Yeah, I know," I respond, throat feeling dry despite the thick swallow I've just done. Still, my heart is doing overtime, thumping and thumping and thumping like a damned fist pounding against a door. If it keeps going like this then I'm definitely going to have a heart attack. "Same back, Dunk."

"I really appreciate what you do for me," Duncan continues, seeming to enter a tangent. Part of me swears that I spot red creeping up the side of his neck, peeping out shyly from the tips of his ears. But it all could have been due to the cold - the normal, autumn chill. "Even if I don't act like it half the time, what you say does stick. I do listen."

"I know, Duncan," I huff out this time, annoyance now overclouding my own bashfulness. This isn't a confession. This isn't a true sign. All this is, all that he's doing, is revealing his drunk thoughts and babblings to me. Tiny, drunk insecurities. All of this is simply a confession slipped from clumsy, drunk lips; it is meaningless words that would be forgotten tomorrow. Not the first time Duncan has gotten emotional with me. Surely, this won't be the last.

Sighing, I force myself to meet his gaze, "I really do know that."

"I know you do," Duncan affirms, something like a smile worming its way onto his face. All too soon it turns into a frown, curdling into a somber scowl as his grip tightens ever so slightly. "But when stupid Elvis worms his way back into your life, I need to know that you'll remember that," Glancing at me once more, something like clarity and sincerity all wrapped in one fills his eyes, "I really do like you, Gwen, and I don't want to see you hurt by a scumbag like him."

"Duncan," I let out a soft sigh, unable to shake my head properly beneath his stupid weight. Instead I place a hand against his cheek, forcing him to take in the disapproval settled within my eyes, "I want to make two things clear. I will never go out with Trent again. And, look, I feel the same, you're my best and closest friend... but seriously get the fuck off me! I can't breathe."

"My bad," Finally giving me sweet, sweet personal space, Duncan gets back onto his feet. Laughing nervously, a habit he only does whenever he was trying to redirect, he smiles a little. "Guess, I'm way too drunk to think straight."

"You don't say," I snark, rolling my eyes as I dust myself off. Luckily for him, I'm wearing a pair of dark jeans tonight - otherwise he would have gotten a earful about ruining one of my favourite dresses, or - worse - my favourite jeans. Smiling, I can't help but add, "But it's alright. I don't mind this side of you."

"So I can stay?" Too much hope fills his eyes. Oh my god so much hope fills his eyes. I couldn't be the one to crush his hopeful, beautiful eyes.

Releasing a defeated sigh, I trudge toward my front door, "For one movie."

"I think you mean three," Duncan happily chimes in, effortlessly keeping pace as I pull out my house key and stick it into the lock. Sticking my tongue out at him, I pull a face as I yank open the front door.

"Yeah, yeah. Just don't piss me off."

In the end, that night, I find myself falling asleep, curled up against Duncan's side, a single blanket thrown over us and the TV buzzing in the background. Some kind of movie is playing but my brain's too tired and skewed to even make sense of it. Instead, lazily watching the screen change colours, I simply take solace in having the atmosphere. Silent, comfy, calm: three things that I can always find with Duncan, even if we are on our way to cause trouble.

But, even in that moment, curled up close and still unspoken on so many different topics, I know one thing to be true: 'I love you' is never needed to be said in words; we understand each other perfectly fine without them. Even if one of us means it in an entirely different way from the other.

Leshawna's P.O.V

If there's one thing I can appreciate, then it's definitely a good hit on Heather. Even though Anne-Maria and I don't exactly see eye to eye, agree on the way people should do things, I can appreciate the effort and planning she does to get a good jab at Heather - to show the mean old, hag that she isn't going down without a fight. Determination like that, dedication like this, has to be recognised.

Even if Anne-Maria is the last person I'd ever think to befriend - we won't even get into that - I can see where she's coming from. Part of me has to respect the good people skills she has to pull off an event like this, only a week's notice on the table and her family's restaurant as her venue.

Countless cars are parked all over the block, some people squashed on motorbikes and scooters just to get here. There are all sorts of students, some from our grade and school, but a lot pouring in from the neighbouring towns nearby, hearing word of the party through social media. Planning is flawless, on par with Courtney and her one-hundred-step plans, and I have to admire the foresight Anne-Maria has to have DJ prepare a few goodies.

By ten pm, the party is kicking into full gear, music blasting and food being served out by DJ. Deciding to keep him company, because I couldn't deal with the noise and obviously jealous looks as I tore up the dance floor, I make myself useful and pass full plates to waiting people.

In the kitchen things are quieter. Thick walls mute the powerful bass of whatever song Geoff has put on and most people are crowded into the main floor of the restaurant, swarming like a bunch of bees. Some people have even poured into the joined apartment, Anne-Maria calling out that she's left the door open as she disappears upstairs. No doubt to stake her claim on whatever unlucky soul mistook her for a bombshell model.

Deciding that teenage-shenanigans are off the table tonight, I'm rather thankful that DJ provides a nice distraction. Handing out plates, watching as people thank DJ - or nod at me - helps to sober up a bit after the whirlwind of dancing, games and drinking that has gone on. Plus, the quiet helps me to sort out my thoughts, remember my incoming curfew that is bound to be broken if DJ and I don't leave pronto.

"I gotta say," Clicking my tongue as I nod toward the industrial ovens, the stovetops gleaming brilliant silver, "Anne-Maria's folks have a pretty nice place."

"Definitely," DJ agrees, nodding in agreement as he passes off his final plate for the night. Now all of the food is gone, reduced to mere crumbs and smears of sauce in the disposable trays DJ has brought with him. "Although, it's not nice enough to consider staying any longer."

"Gotcha!" Winking, I shoot him a grin as I help to clear up.

If there is one thing that DJ and I could agree on, then it's when to leave a party before it turns into a hell-zone. Often, with Anne-Maria's gigs, the turning hour tends to be just after the food runs out and she unlocks the apartment upstairs. Something about access to the apartment always makes people a bit wild - especially when they know that Anne-Maria has near-zero rules for any intruders in her home.

So, after packing and clearing up, DJ and I make our rounds - saying goodbye to a sleepy Bridgette and hyper Geoff - before leaving the people-packed building and all its noise. Instantly, the temperature change is felt as soon as we leave; humidity is replaced with wonderful, cooling midnight air. That wonderfully soothing feeling only increases as we head toward my car, DJ snagging the keys (since he's sober as a judge).

Once we're on the road, rolling farther and farther away from the party, I turn up the radio, hoping it's already tuned in to a decent channel. Sometimes my car just likes to be funny, putting on the classical music channel instead of the more modern ones.

"You know, you're not usually the party type, Deej," Winding down my window, letting more deliciously cool air hit my skin, I raise a brow at him. "Ever since we were kids, you always ran away from parties. Usually I deliver the catering alone."

"Yeah," Releasing a tiny sigh, I notice how he tenses up a little, back straight and knuckles strained against the steering wheel. Shooting me a fleeting, sheepish grin, DJ adds, "I just wanted a change of scenery tonight. Since Tyrone left for college, mama's been... acting a bit strange."

"When doesn't Auntie ever not act strange?" Snorting a little, I can't help but try to alleviate the pressure and tension. Ever since I'd first met her, DJ's mama has always been a firm and fiercely loving woman. Smothering would be a wonderful word to describe her - but not in the overly, clingy and sentimental way. No, she's much more sharp, barking and authoritative; she's the textbook definition of an old-school black mama.

Still, I know that she's probably being a bit too much around DJ at the moment. Whenever one of her kids leave the nest, his mama tends to a get a bit too overwhelming with her remaining kids. Happened three years ago with Jermaine when he left to join the army; now it's happening with Tyrone, DJ's next oldest brother and the first one to be successful in getting a place in college.

"Yeah, I know," Smiling a little, DJ gives a tiny chuckle at my words. But it's more like an exhale - plain, old air. "She'll lighten up."

"That's mamas for you man," Releasing a heavy sigh, I let it sit on the wind passing through the open window. There's never any winning and there's never any losing when it comes to negotiating with your mother. All you can really get is an award for assertiveness or a punishment for audacity. Even then, in the end, you'll still be wincing from the surprise attack she delivers, wooden spoon in hand as she taps you on the back of the head.

All too soon we're pulling up to my house. Most of the lights are off, meaning most of my rabble-rousing family are asleep - hopefully including the more annoying ones. But I know better than to hope for such a miracle. Unfortunately, my annoying siblings tend to prefer the night hours for their activities. That includes hounding me as soon as I come through the door, fighting over whatever new squabble they've started.

Since we've carpooled, DJ is crashing for the night so I'm banking on him being the main fixation of my annoying siblings. They just love to get innocent, bumbling DJ all twisted up in their petty disagreements.

"You ready to face hell?" I'd ask him, raising a brow as I stick my keys into the lock. Our last barrier from the unknown, my front door feels almost immovable as we stand there. "There's no going back as soon as I open this door."

"I know," DJ nods, securing the strap of his overnight bag. Despite the nerves I could see on his face, he adds confidently, "I'm ready."

Nodding, I turn the key in the lock and let all hell loose. Like a whirlwind, Shanice and Troy snap their attention to the open door, right in the middle of playing tug-of-war with a piece of black fabric that could only be a bonnet. Merciless, loud and chaotic: Shanice and Troy, my twin younger siblings, are like sharks. Scrap that, they are like rabid dogs when they fight. And poor, unfortunate DJ just has to be what they lock onto first.

"DJ, you have to believe this!" Shanice calls out sweetly, attempting to shove Troy aside.

"Nope, I'm right!" Troy refutes, just as vicious as he barges her back and scurries forward with her.

Releasing a sigh, I can only shake my head as I close the front door behind me. Typical. Just typical. But at least I'm not the one dealing with it.

Dakota's P.O.V

For once, I'm not returning from a party all alone. Sat beside me, strapped into the passenger seat, is Katie Gonzalez, polka-dotted baby pink overnight bag balanced on her lap and staring out of the window with wide eyes. Not too surprising for me, honestly. Usually, whenever someone first comes to my family's home, with its expansive lawns and drive, people tend to be a little awestruck. Milton money buys magnificent things; my family home is one of those things.

Katie being here, though, isn't at all normal. Having an overnight bag isn't normal for her either - at least in this context. Before tonight, I have barely spoken to Katie, someone who's been in my science classes ever since... well, at least since last year. In the past, I would have seen her a lot. Like most people in my grade, all selected and made to sign the waver, Katie is someone I see regularly. What we don't do much was interact.

At least, until today.

What happened with Heather at the mall is the final straw for me. Seeing how far she would go, the friendships she would break, just to prove a petty point made me rethink a lot. Too much. Even when I made the active decision to cross Heather's line, to follow Katie instead of remain and brainwash Sadie, I still had a lot to think about. Right now, in this moment, I am still thinking about it all, about everything I did just to please Heather.

Everyone has some kind of favour owed to her. With Heather's status as Queen Bee, the top socialite in our school's food chain, there is so much that she controls. Even though she's horrible, a common enemy of so many people within Wawanakwa, no-one ever wants to cross Heather; no-one ever wants to cross someone with so much power.

Yet, I've chosen to do something taboo. Deciding to help Katie, to become her friend in a time where Heather would make her public enemy number one, I have chosen to go against her rule. Part of me knows that it would come with terrible consequences. Too much of me knows that Heather would make sure to punish me for this. But I could live with that.

What I can't live with, deal with knowing, is that I've left someone all alone. Knowing firsthand what that's like, a victim of Heather's own cruelty when I was younger, I couldn't leave someone to suffer the same fate. Anne-Maria knows that. Better than anyone else, she knows that I'm fixed in my decision. Maybe that's why she'd decided to be so reckless tonight, dragging down her own image as well as a few others in order to try and spare me.

Still, part of me is shocked from her admissions. Part of me is fearful to look her in the eye, my perception of her changed from her own admission.

"Mine was our resident move starlet, Dakota Milton."

At some point, Anne-Maria had crushed on me. At some point in our friendship, built off our shared hardships, the solidarity that only those oppressed by Heather could feel, she had forged a bond with me that is much deeper than I had ever interpreted it to be. Is that why she has always stood up for me? Is that why, despite everything, Anne-Maria remains by my side, insisting that Heather has not made me a monster?

Subconsciously, my hands tighten around my steering wheel as I park up my car out front. Katie is silent as we get out of my car, stumbling a little in her wedges as she tries to balance the weight of her bag in her skinny arms. While she does that, I lock up my prized Chevrolet and lead the way to the front door. Almost immediately, it's opened by the housekeeper, her face stunned as she almost bumps right into me.

"Sorry, Miss Milton!" Awkward and uncertain, the housekeeper stands aside to let me pass. "I was in such a rush I didn't see you."

"It's quite alright, Penny," Smiling I hold the door open after Katie follows me through, clearing the way for her to leave. "It's late and you've probably had a long day. Try to get some rest tonight, you've earned it."

"Wisely said, Miss Milton," Warm and friendly, a laugh came from the woman as she smiles at us both. "Have a good night."

"You too!"

Then the front door is closed and it's just Katie and me left in the front entrance, standing before the large staircase. In the wave of silence, Daisy comes scurrying from one of the hallways, jittery and filled with excitement as she crashes into my legs. Stunned by the sudden assault, Katie's frozen in place as my dog scampers toward her, circling her legs and sniffing at the sparkly pink nail polish on her toenails.

"I didn't know you had a dog," Katie speaks first, breaking the silence between us as she stares curiously at Daisy. "Or that you were actually really nice. I always thought you were like another version of Heather."

"There's a lot people don't know about the real Dakota Milton," Releasing a sigh, I can't help but be stung by Katie's words as I decide to lead the way upstairs. Away from the listening ears of the staff as well as my parents. They certainly wouldn't like a live broadcasting of my technical enslavement to Heather's every demand and whim. No, they've never respected the Changs much in that regard - especially because they are "new money".

"Well, I think I'd like to get to know her," Katie pipes up once more, shooting me a small smile as Daisy barges past. Effortlessly, she sprints up the staircase, barking as she reaches the first floor's landing. "I think she'd make a great friend."

Now that is another unexpected thing. Words like that, words that offer friendship and kindness, are rare in my life after the whole brace-kiss incident. Heather and her world is all I have ever known since then. Manipulation and deception are all I've ever been surrounded by. Most of my teens have been ruled by Heather's guidelines, determined by her moods and actions and motives. Living a normal life, having normal friends, has all introduced recently to me by Sam and Anne-Maria.

What I am doing, though, has to be some kind of right. Because, in this moment, Katie seems to be telling the truth. Even if I don't want to believe it.

"Thanks," I manage to respond, returning a smile but unable to look her in the eye. "For saying that. I hope I can be a good friend."

"Worrying about being a good friend probably makes you qualify," Laughing a little, Katie holds a twinkle in her eye as she follows me down the first floor hallway. "Plus you're trying to make up for Heather's... meanness. I say that counts for something Dakota. It shows you mean well."

Yeah, I do mean well. Most of the time, I try to mean well. But meaning well and doing well always has been two completely different things. And, in the end, if I still can't tell everyone the full truth, can't fully break away from Heather and her influence, then I'm no better than her. If anything, I'm just like her: someone who would always use others to feel better about herself because deep within she knows what she is.

Neither Heather or I are good friends. But, at least, I always try to be a real one and I suppose Katie Gonzalez is proof of that.