Tightrope

Shots

"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.