F i v e : Heart-breaker, Nose-breaker

"Most likely to..." Alec's eyes flit dangerously around the table. "Get arrested."

There is no pause for deliberation, because we all know where to look. Chase and Joe, who are sitting opposite me at the table, instantly glance towards each other. Joe smiles his signature cheeky grin- the one that breaks hearts from afar.

"Together?"

Chase nods. "Together."

The two boys tap their plastic cups together and lift them to their mouths simultaneously. A few seconds of respectful, hushed silence pass as we watch them drain the remainder of alcohol from their cups. I've lost count of how many drinks that they've had during this game, but I can recognise the hazy, unfocused glimmer in their eyes. It's the same one that's in my eyes. The same one that everyone at this table has adopted. Regardless of who has consumed how much, we're all absolutely, unquestionably sloshed.

I glance around sheepishly at the other people around the table, my vision blurring with alcohol. I'm sitting between Riley and Miko, who joined in as soon as she'd managed to persuade Kai to go home. While there's only eight people playing the game, we've been surrounded by a crowd of interested onlookers, commenting and cheering as they gather around the table. I suppose it's entertaining to watch people destroy their livers.

Joe hums loudly, his head rolling to the side. "Most likely to have a hangover."

With a resounding noise of complaint, every person at the table lifts their cups.

As the last of the drink in my cup runs down my throat, I squeeze my eyes shut in relief. My throat is burning, physically rejecting the flow of alcohol, and I slam my empty cup down to the table with watering eyes.

"That was awful," I complain. "Who poured more vodka into my drink?"

"You did," Riley replies, grinning.

"Oh."

I stretch my fingers out for my vodka bottle and refill my cup with a shaking hand. I'm pretty sure each of my drinks have grown progressively stronger as my ability to measure has degraded. As I add in the pink lemonade, I glance up and through my foggy vision, distinguish Chase watching me. I stick my tongue out at him.

"Most likely to steal a bra," Dylan pipes up.

Rolling his eyes, Alec drinks from his bottle.

"Maybe you should slow down a little bit," Riley says teasingly to her boyfriend.

Alec smiles at her, grabbing her hand and squeezing it tightly. "I'm not drunk, Greene, just intoxicated by your effect on me."

The boys cheer, and Joe slaps Alec supportively on the shoulder. Riley pulls her hand away from his and rolls her eyes, but there's a smile on her face. There seems to be some sort of inside-joke when it comes to Alec's pick-up lines. I admit, from the ones I've heard thus far he's been very creative.

"Most likely to break someone's heart," Violet drawls, her elbow on the table.

Joe leans closer to Chase, his voice apologetic. "Well, don't worry, I'll get that oak casket you like for the funeral."

"Hey!" Miko protests as Chase reaches for his cup, edging forwards in her chair. "I think this one needs a discussion."

"A discussion?" Violet repeats incredulously. She points a finger at Chase. "You do realise that this guy singlehandedly keeps Kleenex tissues in business, don't you?"

Miko props up her swaying head with her hand. "Everyone knows that Chase does one date before he loses interest in a girl. How can someone truly be heartbroken if they've only had one date with the guy?"

I notice a hushed murmur of agreement from the onlookers surrounding us.

Alec frowns. "She raises a good point."

"Who would you say needs to drink, Miko?" Violet asks curiously.

"I nominate Erika," Miko says, pointing at me with a shaky finger. Her face is lit up with wicked humour, dark eyes sparkling. "She breaks hearts, and she doesn't even try. She becomes their friend, ensnares them with her killer personality and then they break their own hearts crushing on her. It's like magic."

I shake my head, blushing under the weight of people's attention. "That's not true!"

Dylan, sitting at the head of the table, scoffs. "Oh, come on, enough members of the football team have thought about shooting their shot with you and cowered out."

"That doesn't make me a heartbreaker!"

"You're right," Riley chimes in, grinning mercilessly. "It makes you competition."

I follow the meaning of her words and instantly, my gaze flits over to Chase. Our stares lock instantly and a tingle dances downwards from the nape of my neck. His eyes are practically buttery with playfulness, the small upward quirk of his lips somehow simultaneously irritating and captivating. "Bit of a heartbreaker, are you gorgeous?"

I lean back in my seat, my arms crossed over my chest. "No but I will happily break your bones if you keep calling me that."

"I vote they both take a drink," Dylan says smoothly. "Chase for being a one-date-wonder and Erika for being painfully unattainable."

"All in favour say I!" Joe calls.

A multitude of voices, both sitting around the table and surrounding it, chime in with the irritating vowel sound. Muttering low complaints, I reach over for my cup again. Just as I've lifted it from the table, I feel something bounce against the rim. I glance up to see Chase, leaning forwards with his own cup outstretched, only centimetres from mine.

"Drink up."

I roll my eyes and lift the drink to my lips again, wincing as the familiar burn of alcohol sears my throat. After a few seconds, I finish, wiping my mouth dry with the back of my hand. The world is rolling and lulling around me as I glance around the table.

"I'm going to go and get some water," I announce suddenly, standing up from my chair and wobbling with the sudden shift in balance. "I'll be back in a minute."

I don't wait to hear responses and drunkenly wind myself through the people in the living room towards the hallway. I've sunken into my usual routine at parties: to drink too much, dance too much, cry a bit and then get a cab home with Miko. I push my way out into the hallway and blink at the change in pace; everybody seems to be moving into the dining room. They're playing different music in there, and the two songs are overlapping hideously in the hall.

Led by curiosity, I follow a group of people into the smaller room. The room is at full capacity, and I struggle to squeeze in. The music is louder, a indie track by The Wombats that ricochets through my legs and into my chest. A guy I know from track is dancing on the table, cheered on by his friends. I can't remember what his name is.

I'm not sure what it is in my alcohol-induced brain that tells me to join him. Whatever it is, I listen to it.

Wobbling precariously on my heels, I place one foot on a leather dining room chair and giggle to myself.

"I used to do ballet classes," I tell nobody, and climb onto the seat.

Cheered on by the hoots and wolf whistles of people around me, I take one wobbly step onto the table and push myself up next to my friend. Nicolás- that's his name. He greets me enthusiastically, hugging me tightly before grabbing my hands and pulling them in odd directions. A little squeal of excitement exits my mouth as I look down and see that I'm taller than everybody else in the room, and they're all looking at me.

"I used to take ballet classes," I repeat loudly, and they cheer once more.

"Let's see your dancing, sweetheart!" Someone shouts.

"Erika!" I hear another shout from my left.

I turn towards the source of the voice, but it's difficult to make out faces in the crowd below. I spot someone, a boy, pushing through crowds of people and headed towards me. His hair is dark, but other than that, I can't see anything. I shake my head to clear some of the fluff from my brain so that I can concentrate. The song changes to a fast-paced dance track, and I begin to bump my hips against Nic's, to the delighted cheers of our fans.

Suddenly, someone grabs my leg.

I gasp in surprise, looking down to see a smug blond guy called Max, his hand on my calf. Frowning, I quickly shake off his hold.

Beside him, Chase appears, standing in front of the table. He's staring up at me in disbelief and I can't help but laugh loudly at his expression.

"Are you insane?" Chase shouts over the music.

I continue swaying, ignoring him, until Max grabs my leg again. This boy needs to be careful before I shove his grabbing hand so far up his ass he has to sit on his elbow. I try to shake him off again but this time he's more persistent. I shriek a little in anger, straining to pull myself away from his grip without losing balance. Chase finally notices the tool bag standing next to him and even through my drunken vision, I can see his eyes narrow.

"Get the hell off of her."

Max, oblivious, lifts his hands up to my knee.

Thinking quickly, I pull back my leg sharply, before sailing it through the air. I intend to kick him lightly in the shoulder, but the room is swaying. The toe of my ankle boot hits Max right on the nose with too much force behind it. He yells out in pain as he stumbles backwards in the mass of dancing bodies, knocking people over behind him and falling to the floor amongst them. Oops.

Dropping to my feet on the table, I slide off the edge and ignore the grumbling complaints around me. "Um, sorry, I didn't mean to kick you that hard."

Max silences me with a heated glare, a hand covering his nose. When he finally lifts it away, I stiffen at the sight of the blood seeping from his nostrils.

"Well crap," I mutter, falling to my knees in front of him. I reach out and grab his chin firmly, tilting it back to stop the blood flow. Max seems so surprised that he doesn't even resist. Then, I lift his hand back up and force him to pinch his nose, arranging his fingers with my own. "Hold it up here, like this. Keep your head back."

"You're getting blood on your hands," a voice comments from behind me. I look to my side to see that Chase has appeared beside me; his unimpressed frown trained on Max.

"I might've broken the guy's nose, Chase! I don't care!"

Chase shrugs. "He deserved it."

"That's not the point."

Chase leans down beside me, his jaw taut with irritation as he examines the boy in front of me as if he were something slimy. Max, even with his head tilted back, manages to glare back. "What the hell is your problem?"

"You are," Chase says simply. He cocks his head slowly, watching as a drop of blood dances it's way down Max's neck until it stains the collar of his white t-shirt. "Strange. I always thought Maxi-pads were supposed to soak up blood, and here you are gushing it out."

"This bitch kicked me in the face," Max hisses.

My bloody hands fall from his chin and I scowl. "I only meant to tap you."

"Trust me, Erika, you can tap far better than this guy," Chase says bluntly. "Come on, you need to get that blood off."

Nodding, I stumble up to my feet, the alcoholic rush returning full force. Chase loops a hand around my wrist and pulls me back through the crowd towards the quieter hallway. It's quite funny how quickly a crowd parts when they notice a girl with blood all over her fingers. We make it through the hallway and up the stairs without a problem, but we're finally forced to stop by the closed restroom door. Chase leans against the wall, releasing my wrist and sighing as he notices the blood on his own hand.

Two girls stumble past us, staring at my hands with wide eyes. I wiggle my fingers tauntingly, a smile on my face. "Don't worry," I call. "I'm just on my period and I sneezed!"

The girls drop their gazes to the floor and quicken their pace.

Grinning with self-satisfaction, I glace back at Chase. He's watching me with a faintly amused expression, his cheekbones highlighted in the low lighting of the corridor. I lean a little closer, squinting to focus my vision on his face. "So, you're helping me."

Chase glowers down at me. "Not really."

"You are," I insist. "Very uncharacteristic behaviour. Are you feeling alright?"

Without warning, I press a bloody hand to his forehead, miming concern. I watch as the action dawns on him: the way that his eyes light up with horrified realisation, the way he stumbles away so quickly that his legs almost tangle together. He looks at me in shock, but the sight is made infinitely more amusing by the dark red handprint stamped on his forehead.

A boy wanders past us next. Without wasting the opportunity, I gesture a frantic thumb towards Chase, widen my eyes and whisper. "Big Twilight kink."

"You're going to pay for that, gorgeous," Chase mutters darkly, stepping towards me. He reaches for one of my wrists, and the very second that he pins it against the wall is the second that the restroom door unlocks beside us, with a loud click. Violet emerges, ruffling her hair until she spots us. Her eyebrows shoot upwards as she registers our compromising position. Then, her gaze falls to our hands and her mouth pops open in horror.

"Oh God, you didn't actually rip someone's heart out, did you?"

Chase scowls. "She got into a fight with Max Tennyson. Spread the word."

Before Violet or I can protest, he utilises his grip on my wrist and pulls me sharply into the restroom behind him. When he releases my wrist, I stumble a few steps towards the bath. The door clicks shut behind me and I spin just in time to watch Chase lock it.

"Spread the word?" I echo incredulously.

"You want to ruin your reputation, don't you?" He asks, walking around me in the white-tiled restroom and heading for the basin. The music is muted in here, and it's suddenly a lot easier to hear him speak. "If people think you've been in a fight, that instantly tarnishes your shiny halo. Max has the bloody nose to prove it."

"Right." I nod uncertainly. "Of course."

Only I don't actually want to tarnish my reputation.

Chase turns the faucet on. He waits a few seconds for the water to heat up before plunging his hands into the stream, tinting the water a rusty red colour as Max's blood washes away. Then, he cups the water in his palms and stoops down to wash his face clear of my mark. After a minute, he turns to face me again. The front of his chocolate coloured hair is darkened with moisture, and droplets dance through the hollows of his face and cling to his angular cheekbones and jaw. He swipes a towel from the rack and begins to dry himself.

"Are you going to keep staring at me or are you going to clean?" He asks, his voice muffled by the thick cotton.

"I was staring at you because I was concerned," I say coolly, gliding over to the running faucet and submerging my hands in the warm water. "You have no idea what people have done with that towel, and you're rubbing it all over your face."

Chase stiffens, before promptly throwing the towel down to the tiles. His hair is messy- damp spikes sticking in odd directions and he'd look cute if it wasn't for the scowl.

Before I can react, he leans over to the faucet and places his finger over the lip of the opening, angling the water stream directly at me. I squeak as the water sprays over my face and chest, stumbling back a few steps. My eyes fly open in disbelief, and my gaze lands on the laughing idiot standing beside the basin. "I can't believe you just did that!"

"Now, now," he says teasingly. "What will people think of you when you emerge soaking wet from the bathroom with a boy, I wonder?"

Without hesitating, I cup my hands under the faucet to fill with water and fling it directly at his face. As soon as the splash hits him, Chase dives towards me with a wicked grin, seizing my wrists and pushing me backwards until the back of my calves hit the bathtub.

"You wanted to ruin your reputation, didn't you?" He tilts his head to the side and droplets flick from his wet hair over my face.

I push my wrists forward as hard as I can, bumping his chest. "You're infuriating."

"So are you."

I scowl up at him, my makeup undoubtedly running down my wet face. Slowly, he detaches his fingers from my wrists and leans down to turn off the running faucet. The floor tiles are slick with water, and the towel that he has abandoned is lying in a crumpled pile.

"Are you-" Chase murmurs, interrupting my thought stream. My eyes snap up to his instantly and he clears his throat. "Are you sure about this?"

I stare up at the boy with the wet hair and the sparkling dark eyes, and I feel a sudden rush through my body. The alcohol in my system nods my head before I give it permission to.

"I'm sure," I say, with a dry mouth.

"Okay, then we're not half-assing this." Chase states, lifting his hand to his mouth. Slowly, almost tentatively, he bites down on his left knuckle as he thinks. It takes him a few seconds to speak again, and his hand falls. "I'm going to do some graffiti on Mr Blythe's car tomorrow. Meet me at the bike sheds at noon, middle of third class."

"The middle of third class?" I echo. "How will I get out of lesson?"

A smirk tugs at Chase's lips. "I'm sure you can figure something out."

Then, without looking back, he unlocks the restroom door and saunters back into the party- the one that I'd forgotten entirely.

A/N: Next update will actually notify you! Don't be a silent reader <3