"I have shots," I whispered in Jace's ear.
He was chatting amicably to Elena's mother, being all ridiculous and charming as usual. It was criminal, his ability to make everyone—excluding me—fall somewhat in love with him. Elena's mother was giggling like a teenage schoolgirl, and looked about ready to ditch her marriage of 20 years for an 18 year old schoolboy. His wiles should be illegal. He should be banned from using them against any member of the public. It was unfair to the female community.
I'd been chatting to a collection of family friends and cousins and grandparents for the last hour or so, before pilfering alcohol from behind the bar when no one was looking. Along with her generally chill wedding planning came a chill bartender, it seemed, who had not bothered asking for my age. And really, I turned 18 in a week, at which point I would officially be at the legal age limit to get as hammered as I damn well liked.
When I came up behind Jace and placed my hand on his shoulder, he swiftly turned to face me, a surprised and dazzling smile on his face. "I have shots," I repeated in a whisper, flashing a quick grin to Aunt Camille over Jace's shoulder.
"What was that, Lena?" Camille asked.
"I have pots," I said brightly. "I was just telling Jace. I've become an avid collector. Pink ones, red ones, short ones, stout ones. The whole shabang of, uh, pottery."
Camille gave me a disapproving stare, but I could see her eyes sparkling. "Thank you for the lovely chat, Jace," she said. "You two enjoy your pots now. Make sure you don't get too dru— I mean... potty."
"Have a good night, Camille," said Jace. When she walked off to join Elena, who was smiling so vivaciously I almost thought she would strain a muscle, Jace turned towards me with one eyebrow raised. "Shots?"
I gestured unsubtly towards my general boob area, where I had stashed mini vodka bottles from the bar. "I might as well use these things for something, right?" Jace was looking studiously upwards, as if the ceiling patterns were a particularly fascinating art installation. "Oh, don't be a prude, Hartley. C'mon, let's go outside. I want to get a little tipsy, and I want you to join in."
Jace looked over at the rest of our friends; Daria and Jonah were dancing—Daria taking the lead in an animated waltz while Jonah stumbled awkwardly around after her—and Kaelin and Julian were chatting to their Casserine friends Celeste, Lyria and Joel. "Should we invite them?"
A few weeks ago, I would've insisted upon it. Today I just grabbed his wrist, dragging him slightly towards the side door with a cheeky smile on my face. "Nah. Who needs them? We're way more fun."
"Me? Fun?" said Jace, with dazzling surprise, letting himself be dragged with no resistance. "Who are you and what have you done with Lena Montez?"
I grinned. "I might've downed a shot or two before I came to find you," I whispered with a wink, giggling. "Vodka is saying these things, not me. I plead the fifth!"
As we walked, we passed by Knight's parents. I hadn't seen them for the entirety of the wedding. They tended to mix exclusively with the upper class attendees, and seemed generally disgusted by the thought of a wealthy heiress hosting her nuptials in a renovated barn in the countryside. I was surprised they came, really; they were more of a courtesy invite than anything, I supposed. The Knight's had always been close family friends of ours, but I never particularly understood why. They seemed like absolute wankstains to me, personally.
The Knight's were tall, distinguished people. Dark hair and piercing eyes, both so akin to the Knight sitting in the car outside now. In looks, though clearly not disposition. They both looked like my boot had been lodged in their assholes like the rich, pretentious dick heads that they were. If my Knight were here, he'd be at my side, cracking jokes and poking fun, and I would be in stitches the whole night. But instead of kicking them in the shins like I longed to, I smiled graciously at them, imagining how fun it would be to fling a bag of shit into their car.
I'd had fun with Jace tonight, really, truly, but Knight had been driven from my side by these psychopaths, and I didn't appreciate people treating my friends like that.
"Don't do anything violent," Hartley whispered in my ear. I felt his closeness with a spark of awareness that made my nerve endings spark.
"But I love violence," I whispered back. Then I pouted. "And I don't have anyone to take it out on anymore."
Hartley grinned. "Give me a shot or two, and then I'll let you hit me. Outside."
"Why, Hartley, you kinky motherfucker."
He shoved me. "Oh, shut up."
I smiled and kept walking, past Knight's parents without even a rude glance in their direction. I still hated them, but somehow, the presence of the guy who'd elicited feelings of intense rage and anger my whole life now calmed me. Weird.
The patio doors of the country barn that Elena and Jack had converted into a stunning wedding venue opened into a small garden on their farm. It was where Holly grew vegetables and tended a cute flower garden. There were a few guests milling around the yard—mostly couples looking for a quiet spot to chat—but it was mostly empty. The rest of the crowd was inside, eating and drinking and dancing and laughing.
It was chillier outside, and the only light to see by was provided by a few dim strings of fairy lights surrounding the doorway, but anywhere further into the garden was cast in a thick shadows.
I pointed to a row of hedges just beyond the reach of the light. "Let's go behind there before my mum sees me."
"Doesn't she let you drink?"
"She does," I said. "Just not as a bridesmaid at my cousin's wedding."
"What a spoilsport."
I led Jace behind the hedges, squatting down on the grass behind. It was cosy and small, behind the thick hedges were pressed against a brick wall that left a small gap that allowed us to avoid a face full of leaves, but probably not enough room for Jesus.
Jace came and spread his jacket out on the ground, and we both sat huddled on the fabric, pressed close together to avoid grass stains on our asses and to conserve the heat. The breeze was cool and refreshing after the dancing, but if we sat too long, I was sure we'd begin to freeze.
"Did you lead me here to accost me?" Jace asked.
"You have to stop asking that every time I take you somewhere to hang out," I said, leaning into him slightly.
"We have hung out alone, like, four times, and we have made out on two of those occasions. You have a 50/50 accost ratio."
"Didn't we establish that you accosted me?"
Jace looked at me innocently. "Don't recall that conversation."
"That's because you're a dick," I said matter-of-factly, sticking my hand down my top with purpose.
Jace pointed a finger at me. "Accosting! This is accosting!"
I freed the little shots with a triumphant grin.
"And now you're trying to get me drunk. You are so determined to have your way with me," said Hartley. He still plucked it from my hand and unscrewed the lid, downing it in a single motion with only a slight wince. "God, that stuff tastes like poison."
"And you thought I was trying to have my way with you," I said. "I was trying to poison you this whole time. The friendship was a ruse to get you to trust me."
"Poison me?" Jace said sceptically. "Lena, necrophilia is illegal. You kinky psychopath."
I slapped him. "Ew. No one asked you to go there. You didn't have to go there."
Jace leant back against the wall with a satisfied grin. "But I did promise you one good hit."
"And I'm the kinky psychopath?"
Jace laughed. It was one thing I loved about us. The conversations, the jokes; they could be as strange as possible, and there would be no judgement. Because anything we said as friends, we had said a thousand times worse as enemies. I realised that Jace was a name that had been added to my mental list of people I could speak completely freely around. Olivia, Austin, Kaelin, Alec, Knight and Jace. A small list, and one that Jace had somehow found his way on.
"Hey, Lena," said Jace. "What really happened with your accident?"
"Is that what you've been thinking about?" I asked, downing another shot.
Jace wasn't looking at me. "I was thinking about how we got here. Friends. Occasional make-out buddies."
"Mistake-out buddies."
"Yeah, okay," said Jace. "I just feel like, in a lot of ways, it all started when you came back to school after the accident. And I never knew the true story." He looked over at me. "I asked every day, you know? When you were gone. What happened, how you were."
I tilted my head. "Why? You hated me."
Jace laughed without humour. "I was worried." He didn't answer my question, but I didn't have time to press it before he continued. "But the others didn't tell me much. They told me to call you, instead. Ask. But I didn't. I figured you wouldn't pick up the phone."
"I might've. Probably to just yell mean things down the line, though."
"Figures," said Jace. "But I'm asking now. And I'm hoping you will tell me instead of just yelling mean things."
I inhaled deeply. "I don't think the others would've said much because I didn't say much. I don't really like talking about it."
Jace just nodded, giving me the space to share.
"Olivia was driving," I said quietly. "The driver was drunk. We were driving back from Casserine, and he hit the passenger seat. Hard. My whole leg was crushed. God, I remember hearing the bones as they snapped. It felt like I was dying. I couldn't breathe, I couldn't think. They had to cut me out of the car; they said I was lucky to be alive. I spent a while out of school because I couldn't breathe properly without a tube. I couldn't walk." I stopped speaking, shaking my head slightly. "I couldn't get into a car."
Jace's voice was quiet. "I didn't realise. You seemed so... you. Full of confidence and bravado. Completely Lena."
"I went to therapy. Had a long time off school." I shrugged. "I couldn't change. I refused to be anything but myself. Or at least, I couldn't show that I was anything else." I smiled at him. "You know me. I'm stubborn."
"The stubbornest girl in the world," said Jace.
"But you know, I'm okay now," I said. "I think it's a combination of things. Knight. My friends." I hesitated before I added. "You."
"How did I help?" said Jace. He seemed touched, his hand coming up to rest on my knee. His eyes were like melted butter, so soft and golden as they rested on me.
"A distraction. A friend," I said. "I don't know. You just... you calm me. I think you're predictably unpredictable."
"That's a thing?" said Jace, looking surprised.
"I know you," I said with a shrug. "You challenge me. You never say exactly what I think you will say. You're surprisingly funny, you keep me on my toes. But I can still trust exactly the way you'll smile at me, or the exact expression you'll make when I make a joke. Exactly when you'll be snarky with me."
"I can do the same thing," said Jace, his hand reaching upwards to pinch at a lock of my hair. "I can map the exact way you would react to any little thing that I see, or that little scrunch of your nose every time I make a joke. And yet somehow you continually surprise me."
"You know," I said, sipping lightly at the remnants of the vodka glass. I stared upwards, admiring the stars that I could see through the gaps in the hedges, so prevalent in the country sky. A spiral of tiny pinpricks in the darkness, burning and dying and still shining down on us. "When I imagined how tonight would go, it was exactly like this?"
"Really?" said Jace, looking over at me. "So did I."
"I wonder why that is?" I asked. "You've always been unpredictable. Saying something I could never expect, making me predict your next move. I guess in the process, the unpredictability became predictable. I know your every move, now."
"Oh, do you?" said Jace.
I grinned at him. "Of course, I do."
"Are you sure?" he said, his eyes meeting mine.
"Yeah," I whispered. "You're about to kiss me."
"And how do you know that?"
"What was once unpredictable has now come predictable, Hartley. I guess the thought of you kissing me doesn't surprise me all that much anymore," I said. "You know what I didn't predict?"
"What?" He was a hair's breath away from me now, so close, ever so close, in a way that was not entirely unfamiliar to me now.
"That you would waste time with it."
He smiled into the kiss, his lips carefully coming over mine, gentle, gentle, in a way he had rarely kissed me before; only for a moment, the first time, before I'd demanded more. This time, I didn't. I took only what he gave me; the gentle slide of his lips against mine, the slow and sensuous run of his tongue against my lower lip, his hands coming up to cradle my jaw. It was perfect, beautiful, a slow melting of everything within me.
I pushed my hands through his hair, savoring the feeling of the soft strands between my fingers. The kiss was exploration, it was tenderness, it was a confusing muddle of feelings, with the ones I wanted to ignore—jealousy, hatred, anger, and the overwhelming knowledge that this was another tally on our ever-growing list of mistakes—buried deep beneath the surface. And all that was left was kindness, undeniable passion, and the realization that despite everything, there was a strange feeling of rightness about this. It made me think, in the slight recesses of my mind, that maybe Hartley and I should've been friends all along; friends who did this, always, always, this.
I could feel him smiling slightly against my lips, just slightly, as if there was no place he'd rather be right now than here, with our knees turned in to each other, kissing beneath a sky of stars burning as brightly as us.