The night took a whole different turn after Grayson left. I heard a small tap on my window followed by a whisper, "Strawberry." I groan in irritation as I move out of my comfortable comforter and head to look out my window. Grayson waves at me with a grin, out of his suit and back to his original clothes, he looked like the Grayson I knew.

"What do you want?" I whisper-yell at him.

"Come down," he tells me, "let's have an adventure."

I narrow my eyes at him as he holds up the duffle bag in his hands. I hold up my hand, signaling 5 minutes, and quickly change out of my pink satin shorts and blouse into a more appropriate attire. I climb down the fence of my room and Grayson looks at me. "Really? All in black?"

"That's what you're wearing," I point out.

He nods his head, "True. Besides, those clothes will serve us greatly."

I followed him to his motorcycle and put on my helmet. As I strap it in, I lean over and ask. "What's the adventure?"

"We're going to spray paint a mural," he tells me.

"You mean we're going to vandalize a wall and I'm not a good artist," I tell him.

He shrugs, "neither am I."

We stood on top of the building of the designated wall, I looked at Grayson and blinked once. "What are we spray painting?"

"School sucks?"

I look at him unhumourous, "that's your big idea?"

He starts strapping harnesses and I watch as he hooks the side of the hook to the wall, securing it tightly before coming to help me with my harness. "I figured we could paint anything you wanted. How about the world and a big Fuck you on the top?"

"Why not just a middle finger?" I told him.

He nods, "I like where you're going with this." He contemplates as he brings out some spray cans, "how about a grave with our dad's initials? A way to celebrate them."

I look at him and nod my head, "I like that idea." So off we set to work. It isn't hard work, but the filling-in is murderous on the spray cans. "Grayson," I say as we spray paint, "I'm sorry about your family."

He shrugs it off, but I know he wants to say more. I wait and sure enough, he speaks. "We used to be close, regardless of all the problems. Mom and me anyway. My dad was always tough on me and my mom always told me how much he cared, and he did. Holidays were sacred. They were filled with tension but sacred." He stops after that.

"Do you usually spend them alone? The holidays."

"Sometimes. Link always insists on bringing me over, but sometimes I'm able to get out of it." He looks at me, "your family is really nice. They made me feel-" he looks for a word and ends it with, "special."

"I'm glad. My mom wasn't lying when she said 'anytime you need someone.'"

"I'll keep it in mind." He takes out his photo and takes a picture of me. I gasp and he laughs. "Now I have some dirt on you, anytime she asks what you're up to."

I lightly punched him, "not funny."

"Where is Abacus this day?"

"Family dinner. I told him I invited you. Even texted him about meeting my parents."

"He hasn't met them? Oh, this must be killing him."

"Shut up. No, he hasn't but soon, maybe."

"What's stopping you?" At his question I looked at him, his eyes trained solely on me. Part of me wants to scream, you. Although the feelings were brief, he made me question them and I didn't think that was fair. "Strawberry?"

"Why do you call me Strawberry?"

He looks a bit disappointed at my question and all he says is, "you still haven't figured it out."

"What does that mean?"

"Nothing," he says and keeps painting. I do the same, not sure if I wanted to know the answer. We continued to paint until we were down a couple of cans but luckily finished with one to spare.

"How long do you think we've been here?" I tell him, stretching my joints and looking out into the horizon. "I wish it would snow this year. I love the snow," I say as I look at the sun. It was starting to come out and my yawns were getting bigger as my eyelids drooped.

"We should get some breakfast and leave before someone spots us."

"Agree," I say and try to move my harness, but it was stuck. "Grayson, it won't move," I told him in fear.

"Hold on," he says and comes closer to help me. He moves it but has no luck. "Fuck," he yells. And just like a jinx, we see the cop cars way before we hear their voice.

"Put your hands up," the cop yells through the megaphone.

"Run," I tell him and put my hands up.

"I'm not leaving you," he tells me, raising his own hands.

The anger rises in me and I lash out, "I can't believe I listen to you." My parents were going to be so pissed. Not only that, but this is going on my college transcript was not going to be favorable. I was so screwed.

"You weren't complaining moments ago," he tells me. I glare at him and get into the cop car. They had been able to get me out of the harness in minutes and now we were riding downtown.

When we get to the station, I cower close to Grayson. Although I was mad at him, he was my only safety net at the moment. The police station was different from what I had imagined. There were desks with officers and at the back, there were holding cells. I could see a couple of guys passed out on some of them and crossed my fingers we would get one away from them. They all looked rough and the smell of beer was strong.

"Archer," one of the cops says without indifference as he leads us to a holding cell of our own. I sigh in relief at that fact. "Who's your friend? I'm used to seeing you alone."

"Her name's Amelia, Richie," Grayson responds.

I hit Grayson and whispered, "Don't tell him my name. It's going to go on my permanent record."

"I hate to break it to you, but we would have found out your name anyway." He turns to the guys, "book em."

"Grayson," I whine, hoping he had a magical way of getting us out of here.

"Richie, how about giving me that one phone call first?"

Richie looks at him with raised eyebrows, "you know we have to book you first Grayson." He walks over to his desk and pulls out a huge stack of paper in one envelope. "Although, judging from this, we might not need your photos again. Maybe just your friends."

"Well, while she does that, can I get that phone call?"

I glare at Grayson and he gives me a sheepish smile.

"Alright," he tells us. He opens the door and waits for me.

"Relax, it's going to be fine," Grayson assures. I flick him off and the cop laughs.

I follow Richie to his desk, where he pulls out blank ink. "Place your thumbs," and I followed all his instructions. Once that is done, I see he is able to pull up my name and information. "This is your first time here." He laughs, "hanging with Grayson will do that."

"Why is his stack so big?" I say and look over at the papers.

"Grayson was a troubled kid. Although, it seems he hasn't gotten over it. He's been caught mostly starting fights or being intoxicated." He looks over the papers and says under his breath, "it's a good thing his parents are who they are." But I can hear him.

So I say, under mine, "Maybe they're the reason for it all?"

"Anyway," he says and begins walking, "follow me." I followed him to a room where a camera was facing the background. I had seen shows where the people who got mugshots stood behind a striped wall, and now here I was. Richie hands me a plate with my name and date on it. I sigh and walk to the place. I do the side, front, and side.

The process doesn't take long and I am back sitting in the holding cell, clutching myself close at how cold it was. I can see a group of the guys leering at me from their cells and huddle closer to the wall. I watch as there is one handsome face that stands out, Jace. He gives me a nod before going to the corner and disappearing from my view. What was he doing here?

All thoughts disappear as Grayson runs in. He places his hands on my cheeks and looks at me. "Are you okay?" he questions, looking deeply into my eyes. If his hands weren't keeping me warm, his words and proximity were making me feel hot all over. Thumb, thumb, my stupid heart goes at his actions.

"I'm fine," I say through squished lips. "Who did you call?"

He releases his hold on me and takes a seat beside me. He looked grim, "about that." I look at him, expectantly. "I spoke to my mom. She was not too happy to hear about this situation. Even wanted to leave me here until I 'learned my lesson'. We got into a mini argument."

"Oh-" is all I can say.

"Yeah." He stays quiet and rubs his forearm with hesitation. "But-" he starts and stops again. This was like torture. Waiting for the words to come out to know my destiny.

"Spit it out," I urged him.

"She says she's willing to get us out if- if we go to the ball she's throwing on Christmas. She wants to meet the person I got in trouble with."

"And you said?"

"Yes."

"So that means?" I knew the subtleness of what he was hinting at.

He gives me a giant smirk, "Abacus won't have a date but I will."

Fuck. 

>>>>

Dramaaa. 

Well, I hope this was a cute interaction between them. Let me know your thoughts. 

Please, don't forget to vote, comment, and share. 

Also, let me know what you think might happen. There is a ball coming up.  So, any predictions??

Also Pt. 2. I changed the cover, let me know what you think. 

Till next time :)