tricks of time ― grayson hawthorne [the inheritance games]

015. HOT STITCHES

Emily is still lingering in the air. No one had to say anything, but we all knew the conversation was over.
___

After several directions form several servants, a lot of back, side, and collarbone pain, I found Hawthorne House's bar. And sure enough, Jameson was there on one of the stools, downing what looked like a shot of vodka. He must've heard my footsteps approaching, because he turned to me almost almost instantly.

"Heiress?"

I smile awkwardly. "Hey."

"Why are you here? And since when do you drink?"

"I drink since now."

He smiles at me with a mischievous grin that I've seen one too many times. He goes over the bar to the area where the Barista typically hangs out, and then to the large glass bottles full to the brim with booze. I raised my brows at the sight. He rummages among the bottles, all of which look to be the same to me, and ultimately picks up several. I just watch him with wide eyes as he grabs as many as he can hold. He looks up at me.

"You wanted to drink, right?"

I nodded.

"Well help me carry these up then!"

I furrow my brows. "Where are we going?"

He smiles again at me. "You'll just have to wait and see."

___

I'm surprised to find us up on the roof. It's not ideally the safest place to drink, but it felt good and the cold air made it feel cool and breezy. The  grounds  were  immaculately  kept.  There  was  a  fountain.  A  statue garden. A greenhouse. And stretching into the distance, as far as I could see, land. Some of it was treed. Some was open. But it was easy enough, standing there and looking out, to imagine that a person who walked off to the horizon might never make their way back.

He tears his shirt off. Always a good decision in the middle of winter, I thought acerbically, but I couldn't keep my gaze from traveling downward from his face. His torso was lean, his stomach defined. He had a long, thin scar that ran from collarbone to hip.

I frown. "What are you doing?"

He looked estatic. "I heat up quickly when I start really drinking. It would be quite strange and somewhat inappropriate if I asked you to do the same, so I won't."

I laugh. Laugh harder than I have in a while.

I watch him prop himself up on the edge of a balcony overhead, balanced precariously on a wrought-iron railing. He's clearly very drunk: nobody in their right senses would think that was a good idea.

"You're going to fall," I told him.

He smirked. "An interesting proposition."

"That wasn't a proposition," I said.

He pops open a bottle and gulps at least an eighth of the bottle down in one. How does he do that?

"Well, Heiress, c'mon, join me."

I look at his positioning again. "You sure this is safe?"

He nods at me, but he doesn't look very sure. Or maybe it's just because he's drunk. "I'm sure, Heiress."

I hesitate for a few seconds before walking over. I grab his shoulder to stable myself: his skin is soft and supple. I sit down next to him and he passes me a bottle.

I take a deep breath before placing my lips on the bottle and drinking. I gulp down at least 4 or 5 times before I stop, cringing at the feeling in my throat. I cough, and a few droplets splatter out into the distance.

He laughs. "Well. You've clearly never drank before.

I cough again, sputtering like an engine. "Was it that obvious?"

I feel warm and cozy, like I'm one giant vibrating being. Everything became twenty times as exciting as it was a half hour ago: and Jameson was looking incredibly attractive right now.

___

50 minutes in, I've downed two bottles and me and Jameson were both giggling and slurring our words.

"Okay, okay, where do we live?"

I'm giggling uncontrollably and my stomach hurts. I pause for a minute. "I...I don't remember," and then I continue giggling.

"Heiress! Try!"

"I think we live in Texas."

There's an awkward silence before both of us burst into laughter. "That's not it, is it?" I say, laughing so hard I end up wiping a tear from my eye.

He's laughing harder and louder than I've ever seen him laugh. "I don't think so, Heiress!" My eyelids feel so heavy it takes me time to open my eyes. But I feel better compared to how I usually feel for a long time.

"Okay. Wanna have some real fun?"

I look at him. "Obviously," I slur.

"Follow me," he says.

He brought his feet up to the railing and stood. He wobbled, and I had a moment of chilling prescience. He shifted his weight to one foot and held the other out.

"Don't!" Before I could say anything else, the boy twisted and grabbed the railing with his hands, holding himself vertical, feet in the air. I could see the muscles in his back tensing, rippling over his shoulder blades, as he lowered himself... and dropped onto the perfect turf grass on the lower floor of the balcony.

I widen my eyes.

"C'mon Heiress! You'll be fine. I'll catch you!"

I shake my head several times. "I need some more wine." I leap for a bottle and gulp some of it down, a bit of it trickling down my chin. I hold it in my hand, gripping it tightly as I look down at Jameson who is easily 10 feet below me.

I leap through the air, and in that moment, time seems to slow. I felt a high state of euphoria I'd never thought I'd feel. The wind was blowing through my hair and I embraced the cold and dewy day.

I fall right into Jameson's arms which topple us both down so that we're lying next to each other, facing the sky and drinking the wine every few minutes. I wondered if he could tell how fast my heart was beating. I wondered if his was racing at all.

He breaks the silence and I feel a few droplets of liquid touch my face. At first I thought it was the alcohol, before realizing a storm was breaking. But we were both too drunk to care.

"If I do what I should no more often than I say what I shouldn't"— his lips twisted— "then what does that make me?"

"What," he repeated intently, "does that make me?"

I giggle, before even saying anything. "Drunk. Makes you drunk. Makes me drunk."

He chuckles, and in just a few seconds, the rain is pouring down on us.

"Okay," he says, standing up, "I'm going. Hangover is going to be bad enough tomorrow. I don't want to deal with a cold too."

I nod at him, but I'm still staring up at the sky.

"You coming?"

I nod slightly. "Maybe."

He shrugs and saunters off without another care in the world.

I stop staring at him for a moment, staring at the puffy white clouds coating the gray sky. When I look back for him, he's already gone. I take another swig of the alcohol and crawl my way to the exit, dripping wet everywhere.

authors note 

kinda a cute chapter, in my opinion. she has no romance with jameson - but i just thought it was fun to include a chapter of her feeling the amazing state of euphoria that she's never felt before. please vote and comment - it's appreciated!

word count: 1856 words