Nonofficial Love - Ace Merrill (Stand By Me) (New Version)

Chapter One: Damage Control

Rebecca roused when the morning sunlight glared across her face. A meek moan escaped from her dry and lipstick-stained lips as she scrunched up her nose, pulled her blanket over her head, and retreated underneath it. And despite her pounding head, she vowed to hunt down and kill whichever one of her brothers had pulled open the drapes.

She was hungover. A Thursday night at Irby's Billiards, playing pool and innocently drinking 7-Up had turned into stealing a half-bottle of rum and downing White Cubans.

"Get up," A familiar voice growled, and although his voice was smooth and low to Rebecca it sounded like a nail on a chalkboard.

"Go away, Ace," she muffled from underneath the covers. "I'm dreaming."

"Don't make me ask you again."

"Or what?" she taunted unaware of the glass of water he held in his hand.

And without a second thought, Ace yanked the blanket off of her and then, with a quick swoosh, he had drenched her with cold water.

Rebecca gasped for breath as she shot upright in shock, coughing and spluttering as droplets of water rushed down her face dripping onto her lap.

"Must've been some dream, Chambers?" Ace remarked. "You're looking a little wet."

Rebecca could feel the smirk in his voice before she glared up at him as he stared  wickedly down at her.

To the surface, their eyes were a similar blue, but underneath they were vastly different. Hers were cool and inviting, while his eyes were cold and calculating as if they could pierce right through her.

His ducktail haircut was styled just as immaculately as it had been the night before, and his three-day stubble, along with the turned-up collar of his leather jacket, helped define his chiselled jawline.

How could he look so vibrant and fresh, without so much as a whiff of a hangover?

"Screw you!" She spat, angrily.

Ace smirked as he goaded, "You asked for it."

"You could have nudged me."

"If you didn't toss and turn so much, maybe you'd feel me trying to fucking wake you."

Rebecca glared at him as she ran her fingers through her wet and tangled hair. Thanks to Ace and his glass of water, her curls would soon become nearly impossible to tame.

"What are you doing in my room, anyway?" She sighed. "If my brothers' left the front door open again, I swear..."

"Do you even know where the fuck you are?" Ace said amused, watching as she struggled to get her feet off the mattress.

And as soon as Rebecca's bare feet touched the cold concrete floor and not the carpet in her bedroom she instantly groaned.

She had spent the night inside Ace's uncle's auto shop. And spending the night in Pop's office, sleeping on the infamous 'Pop Merrill is in the doghouse' mattress, was not something she had wanted to wake up to.

Rebecca feebly stood up, her legs feeling like jelly as her head pounded and her neck ached. She brushed Ace aside as she stumbled over to Pop's desk to fetch her purse. She knew it would be where she always left it and she wasn't mistaken, there it was perfectly positioned on top of Pop's mountain of paperwork, next to a bunch of half-eaten apple cores, and the usual overfilled ashtray.

"God, this place reeks of old men!" She grimaced as the strong stench of the place filled her nostrils, and the White Cubans tried their best to resurface from her gut. "You sure this place isn't a morgue?"