Lucky Me (9 page)

“Let's try this room,” Jack said, more to himself than me, pushing open the door a little ahead of us.

Again from experience, I already knew that the room was for guests. I'd only ever been in it once, the first time I had come to Brendan's house. I remember falling in love with the golden lampshades and secretly wondering if I could sneak out with one if I hid it under my shirt. I didn't try it though; Brendan was with me the whole time.

“Finally,” Jack sighed, closing the door behind us and releasing my hand. “I can actually hear myself think.”

“Why are we in the bedroom?” I asked, taking a step away from him. “Brendan was in the kitchen, remember?”

The music was still loud, but at least it was muffled enough that we could have a conversation without shouting. I did some heavy breathing and reminded myself that Jack was just a guy, and not especially crafted by Baby J just for me. The bedroom atmosphere wasn't helping though. Jack moved toward the bed and sat down on the edge of it, eyeing the contents of the room with an impressed look on his face.

“Beef boy's got a nice house,” he remarked, caressing the silk bed sheet beneath him.

“Yeah, it's . . . yeah.” I put my bag on the table closest to me, tucking my hair behind my ear.

I was starting to regret those drinks I had conveniently downed out of spite and anxiety. I suddenly remembered I hadn't eaten anything since the afternoon, which probably hadn't helped. Jack raised his eyebrow at me, and I shifted from one foot to another nervously. I couldn't help it. His cologne was freaking amazing!

“Where is beef boy anyway?” Jack asked, rising from the bed.

“Kitchen. I don't know. I should go check.”

“What's wrong with you?” Jack said, looking at me suspiciously. “I've called Brendan ‘beef boy' twice and you haven't said anything.”

I fiddled with the ends of my hair and looked at the ground, reminding myself to breathe normally.

“Uh, hello? Are you listening to me?” Jack said.

Oh lord. I was going off the rails, and there was no coming back. Abort plan. Abort plan!

“Uh, mother must be calling us for tea and crumpets! I should check the parlour and find out.”

Oh crap. I slapped a hand across my mouth and gave Jack a horrified look. His smile widened and he stifled a laugh.

“Um, do I want to know what that was?”

I continued to stare at him with my hand stopping me from saying anything else that would make me look appalling stupid. That's it. I had reached the peak of embarrassment. There was no coming down from that. Ever.

“Gia?”

“I just—it's nothing.”

Okay that was a lie. When I was in fifth grade, there was a British guy in my class called David. He was my first crush, besides Nick Carter of course, and I was convinced I was going to marry him. Things didn't go down too well for that plan though. I only ever spoke to him twice, and the first time all I said was a meek “hello.” The second time, we were paired to do an assignment and I was so terrified that I barely said anything to him at all for three lessons. Finally, when he was getting kind of weirded out by me, I rambled on for twenty minutes about things I liked about England in an atrocious British accent. I talked about everything from telephone booths to the Queen, all in a ridiculous accent. It turned out he was Irish, and the only Queen he liked was the band.

He ended up requesting another partner, and eventually moved schools in the next year, hopefully not because of me. But ever since then, I automatically put on a British accent and-slash-or talk about English things every time I get overwhelmingly nervous.

“Earth to Gia?”

I snapped out of my flashback and lowered my hand, still gaping at Jack. The British accent hadn't come out in a while, but it had returned with a bang.

“Yeah, sorry. I just go a little British when I'm nervous. It's a long story.”

Jack stared at me blankly for a few seconds, biting his bottom lip. He looked like he was doing some internal reasoning, but wasn't winning the battle. Jack finally began laughing, unable to keep it in any longer. He was laughing so hard; he had to put one hand on the bed to support him.

“British!” He managed to say in between laughs.

“What!” I cried. “Stop laughing at me!”

I had intended for it come off a lot angrier, but watching Jack laugh made me want to laugh too. I only managed a smile and a little giggle, before Jack began composing himself and I forced the happiness off my face.

“Oh my gosh,” Jack groaned, wiping a tear from under his eye. “You're unbelievable.”

“It's not a big deal!” I argued. “Sometimes when I'm just a little nervous it pops out! Whatever!”

“Wait!” Jack cocked his head to one side, his smile turning to a thoughtful look. “So I make you nervous?”

It was the perfect opportunity to smash a fantastic comeback in his face, and remind him how unimportant he really was. Instead, I gulped and took a step backward toward the door.

“Of course not.”

Jack took a tiny step closer. “Really?”

Oh lordy.

“Wow,” I said. “It's hot in here! Is it really hot in here? Or is that just me? Because I kind of feel like you're hot. I mean,
it's
hot.”

Jack's lips curved into a half-smile. He was enjoying the effect he had on me. No way I could stay in that room for a second longer, I didn't trust myself. Practically launching myself at the door handle, I swung the door open, crashing right into Brendan in the process. I pushed the hair out of my face, painfully twisting my ankle on my stiletto heels. That wasn't about to stop me though. The babbling had already begun.

“Oh my gosh! There you are! I've been looking everywhere for you. Like
everywhere
!” I practically shouted at Brendan, throwing my hands straight up in the air like a maniac.

“Uh,” he said, looking a little taken aback by my over enthusiasm. “Hey.”

This was not going well. Brendan looked kind of scared of me, Jack's cologne had taken up permanent residency in my nose and I still had my hands in the air like a deranged person. Obviously nothing had happened between Jack and I, but from where Brendan was standing, I was flustered and leaving a bedroom with the guy he currently hated most.

“Hey man,” Jack greeted Brendan awkwardly. “Great party.”

“What are you guys doing?” Brendan said, ignoring Jack.

I glanced at the empty plate Brendan was holding in his left hand.

“We were . . . looking for food.”

“In the bedroom?”

“Yeah. The guy with the ukulele said there was some in here.”

I sent my mental apologies to “Ukulele guy” for throwing him under the bus. But desperate times called for desperate measures. I turned to Jack uncertainly, who was looking at the floor. What a load of help he was.

“Well you just missed out. The fried dumplings finished a second ago.” Brendan said slowly, looking from me to Jack.

Unfortunately, the music's volume was significantly lower now so I couldn't pretend that I couldn't hear anything to get out of this conversation.

“Listen,” Brendan leaned in closer. “Can I talk to you for a second?”

“Sure!” I cried, clasping my hands together as though I had been told we were going to Disneyland.

“I'll let you have a minute,” Jack said, nodding at me and pushing past Brendan. “I'll be right outside.”

He emphasized the word “right,” as a reminder that he was still my bodyguard and I couldn't go crazy and run off when he wasn't looking. I watched him leave in agony. All week I had been dying for a moment without Jack, and suddenly I desperately wanted him back in the room. Brendan shut the room door behind him, and I realized I hadn't had
enough
to drink.

“Nice outfit!” I said, giving Brendan a thumbs up.

I actually gave him a thumbs up
.
What was I, five? He looked down at his jeans, shirt and unbuttoned vest with a shrug.

“Uh, thanks. Listen, Gia, I get that Jack's amazing and dreamy and stuff, but I don't want to have to compete with anyone. So if something's going on with you two, then just tell me.”

I gaped at him for a few seconds before forcing myself to form words. I couldn't believe he
was saying this after all the crap he pulled with Meghan.

“Brendan, nothing's going on between us. We're friends.”

“You don't act like friends!”

“Yes we do!”

“He's always around you! Like,
always.
Besides, I see the way you look at him.”

I crossed my arms over my chest defensively. I could feel my cheeks beginning to heat up, but I continued to keep the glare on my face.

“The way I look at him?” I repeated, angrily.

“Yes!” Brendan replied, as I heard a group of people laugh from behind the door. “And it's really starting to piss me off!”

“Brendan, nothing is happening between me and Jack! I've only known him for like . . .” I trailed off, suddenly remembering the back-story I had told everyone. I was supposed to have known Jack for practically all my life.

“You're lying,” Brendan replied, ignoring my almost slip-up.

I was beyond livid at that point. Brendan and Meghan could play footsies all day, but I want to rip off
one
guy's clothes and suddenly I'm the bad guy? What the hell kind of double standard is that!

“This is ridiculous!” I exclaimed, uncrossing my arms.

“Yeah, it is!”

“Well what about Meghan?”

“What about her?” Brendan replied, giving a frustrated sigh.

“You two don't exactly have a sibling relationship!”

“God, Gia!” Brendan cried. “Why are you so insecure?”

My jaw dropped so low, I was scared I had lost it forever.
Insecure?
Had he really just called me insecure? Brendan couldn't deal with Jack for one freaking lunch because he was so paranoid, and he hated Lincoln because he couldn't even land himself a pathetic cheese commercial! And I was the insecure one?

“You know what?” I said, shooting daggers at him with my eyes. “I hope you and Meghan are very happy together. My insecurities and I will be just fine without you.”

“Gia—” Brendan said, reaching for my arm to stop me.

“Seriously Brendan, just—”

I felt his hand slip away from my arm and heard a loud thump behind me. I spun around just as Brendan went crashing to the floor. The empty platter in his hand landed with a heavy thud next to him on the carpet, and he grasped onto the bed sheet as he went down.

“BRENDAN!” I shrieked, dropping to my knees beside him.

His body was shaking; his eyes rolled over inside his head. He looked like he was being possessed by some demonic presence. Sure, I may have learned a medical term or two from watching all those episodes of Grey's Anatomy, but I was no expert. Mostly I just watched it for the scandalous romances. I jumped up and thrust the door open in a panic. Brendan's body had become alarmingly still, and his grip on the bed sheet loosened as his hand dropped lifelessly.

“SOMEBODY HELP!” I shouted, watching a sea of surprised faces turn to look at me.

Jack, who really was standing right outside like he said, raised an eyebrow. “What happened Gia? What's the matter?” he asked.

I scanned the room, my head spinning. Everything seemed to be in slow motion, and those drinks were really messing up my head. I could see Jack's lips forming my name, more urgently this time, but everything seemed to be happening in a different dimension.

“Brendan.” I whispered.

“What happened? Did he hurt you?” Jack demanded, eyeing the bedroom.

“No.” I said. “I—I think . . .”

“Gia?”

“I think he's dead.”

Chapter Five

I'm not going to lie. I had spent hours if not
days
daydreaming about hospitals and doctors with well-fitted scrubs and perfect hair. But I'll be the first to admit that fictional hospitals are very different to the real thing. Not everyone is Patrick Dempsey, and the nurses aren't nearly as attractive as they are on TV.

It turns out Brendan wasn't dead, which was a serious relief. I had had to sit down for a few minutes and sip water so I'd stop hyperventilating, but at least my heart started beating normally again when the paramedics assured me that Brendan had a pulse. I kept replaying the moment he went down on the ground in my head; he looked so lifeless just lying there, still clutching onto that bed sheet. I was secretly relieved that Jack was there to take control of the situation, or else I probably would have just sat there staring at Brendan and babbling to myself. I'm the last person to call in an emergency situation. I just make everything worse.

Jack and I were sitting outside Brendan's hospital room, waiting for Dad to show up so he could yell at me. I had gotten a chance to sit with Brendan for a while, holding onto his hand like it was a float and I was drowning. His parents had been called and informed of the incident, but it would be hours until their plane landed back in L.A. Aria, Veronica, Aaron and the random Italian hottie had come with us, and they temporarily left Jack and me alone together so they could get some coffee from the cafeteria downstairs.

“Do you need something?” Jack asked.

A hug would have been nice. Maybe some chocolate. Anything that would erase the night from my memory would have been great. I probably didn't need that half a cup of vodka lemonade I had downed while they were loading Brendan into the van. In my defense, I thought it was water. I just didn't stop drinking it when I realized it wasn't.

“I'm okay.”

“Gia, he's going to be fine. The doctors said that it would have been really acute poisoning if it wasn't for the alcohol already in his system.”

I shrugged. Sure, he was going to be okay. But he was still lying in that bed, poisoned. Like, actually
poisoned
. Where does someone even get poison? It's not like you can just walk into Target and say, “Oh, hi. I'd like a vial of your best poison please.”

“I just don't understand how,” I said, turning to Jack. “I mean,
how
did Brendan even get poisoned?”

“The doctors said it was from the food, remember?” Jack replied.

“Yeah, but it could've been from anything then. There was pizza and those little pie-looking things and—”

“Gia, I don't need a whole menu. Brendan told the doctors that the only thing he ate were a few dumplings. Weren't you paying
any
attention?”

“Uh, sorry. I was kind of busy freaking out over the fact that I may have killed my boyfriend!”

“Hey,” Veronica said softly, returning with the rest of the gang. She handed me a plastic cup full of watery coffee and took a seat next to Jack. “Is your dad here yet?”

“Can you hear anyone yelling at me?” I asked, slumping further down in my chair.

“No?”

“Then he's not here yet.”

“Oh come on, G. It's not your fault!” Aaron said, holding a cup similar to mine. “You didn't do anything wrong!”

“Yeah, but didn't you see those reporters?” Aria asked, and I looked up sharply.

“What?” I snapped. “What reporters?”

“They were taking pictures outside while the police were getting your statement. Didn't you see Meghan? She pretty much sprinted out of there, track star style.” Aria laughed, taking a seat next to me.

“I don't think daddy
would be too pleased if she was photographed at a party, getting questioned by the cops,” Veronica sneered.

As hilarious as that was, I was in no mood for laughing. Not only did the coffee taste disgusting, I now had the responsibility of keeping Dad away from any form of media, to stop him from looking at the inevitable pictures that would surface from outside Brendan's house.

“Honestly guys,” I said. “Thanks for being here, but it's late. You should head home.”

“Aria's sleeping over at mine anyway and Aaron's parents are in the Hamptons for the weekend. He doesn't have a curfew.” Veronica told me.

Everyone's eyes awkwardly fixed on the Italian stallion sipping coffee silently.

“Fabio lives nearby,” Aria said with a nod, as if she had solved the problem.

“It's Marco.” He said, a sigh escaping amongst his accent.

“Yeah, that's what I said,” Aria said, with a nonchalant shrug.

“GIA?”

I groaned as I saw Dad burst through the hospital doors, Kenny close behind at his heels. Goodbye cruel world. It was nice knowing you.

“Sir,” a passing nurse hissed at him. “I'm going to have to ask you to keep it down. Hey, wait. Aren't you Ha—”

“You're grounded for life! You hear me? LIFE! No leaving the house until you're dead,” Dad declared, ignoring the nurse.

I rose from my chair. “But I didn't even do anything!”

“I don't care what you did or did not do. No more going out on weekends, and your curfew for every other night is ten.”

My jaw dropped. “Are you joking? That's so unreasonable!”

“When you have an eighteen-year-old daughter who leaves the house in a heart-attack provoking dress and calls you from the hospital, you can tell me what's reasonable!”

“Hi Mr. Winters. Nice to see you again.” Aria offered him a bright smile.

Dad eyed her up and down suspiciously; most likely judging her insanely short skirt. He glanced at Marco, who had an amused smile on his face.

“Who's this guy?” Dad asked, jerking a thumb in Marco's direction.

“Mercutio,” Aria replied.

“Marco,” Veronica, Aaron, Jack and I said in unison.

“Well we were just leaving anyway,” Veronica said awkwardly, taking Aaron's hand. “Bye, Jack.”

I watched my friends leave with a sinking heart. Dad was going to go Parenting 101 on me in front of Jack and the star-struck nurse who was excitedly whispering into her cell phone.

“You have a
lot
of explaining to do, Gia,” Dad said sternly. “Start talking. Now.”

I turned to Jack for some help, but he wasn't even looking at me. Jerk.

“Well,” I began, still holding my undrinkable coffee. “We went to the party and there was this really pretty bedroom and it was really hot and Brendan was kind of angry and he was holding a tray that had dumplings on it, but I guess he ate all of them, which sucks ‘cause I was
really
hungry. But then he was yelling at me and then he kind of just keeled over and died. But not really died, he was just poisoned.”

I sucked in some air and exhaled deeply. Wow. What a night. Dad furrowed his eyebrows and turned to Jack for confirmation, as if he couldn't actually believe any of this had happened. Jack nodded at him, supporting my story, and my dad gave Kenny an exasperated look.

“Teenagers,” was all Kenny said.

“What's this about a bedroom?” Dad asked, turning back to me.

“Where's Mike?” Jack asked, finally jumping in to save my life.

“He's at home with Chris,” Kenny replied. “Should we get out of here, sir?”

“Yes please,” I sighed, completely exhausted from the whole drama of the night.

Dad did some more
I'm a very angry father
glaring before he and Kenny began walking toward the exit. Jack rose from his chair but I stood in front of him before he could walk away.

“What?” he asked.

“Do I look okay?”

“What do you mean?”

“Well there are probably people with cameras outside. I want to look good just in case I end up on Perez Hilton tomorrow. Plus, I might be a little drunk. I don't know, I can't really tell.”

Jack raised his eyebrows and turned to look at me, clearly amused.

“Let me get this straight. You dragged me to this party so that I could get groped and you could keep an eye on this psychotic chick who's after your boyfriend, who ends up in hospital because of poisoning. And your biggest problem is what you look like in front of the paparazzi?” Jack asked, his smile widening.

I stared at him silently for a few seconds.

“Wait a minute. You got groped? By who?”

__________

When I woke up several hours later it was just past noon, and I was snugly wrapped between my silk sheets. My head kind of hurt and my eyelids still felt heavy, but my brain had reached the stage where it was wide awake and not willing to go back to sleep without major coercion. I sighed and propped myself up on my elbows, taking in my surroundings. Everything seemed normal enough, but there was something off. Something I couldn't quite put my finger on.

Famous was sleeping on the edge of my bed as normal, my math books were still untouched on my desk, my walls were still pink, the walk-in wardrobe doors were closed, Jack was asleep on my couch, and my Audrey Hepburn poster was still hanging neatly above my bed. The heels I had worn the night before were lying next to my bed and I was still dressed in the tight dress, so I guess I hadn't bothered to change. I was way too tired after the whole poisoning misadventure.

Wait a minute. Jack was asleep on my couch? I shot upright and watched him silently, putting a hand to my lips in surprise. He was facing me, still dressed in the outfit he had worn to the party. One arm was dangling across his chest and off the couch, and I winced at how uncomfortable he looked there. He was still fast asleep by the looks of it, his chest rising and falling gently.

I crawled out of bed as quietly as I could, tip-toeing over to him. I carefully picked up a cushion from my bed and clutched it to my chest, eyeing Jack as he slept peacefully. He was in my room! What was I supposed to do? He was just lying there looking like perfection, while I stood there with smudged mascara all over my face. I slowly crept toward the couch, stopping when I was right above him.

“Jack?” I whispered, but he didn't move. “Hello? Jack?” With the pillow still pressed to my chest, I poked him on his shoulder. “Jack! Wake up!”

His head looked like it twitched a tiny bit, but he was still in slumber land. I sighed and clutched the pillow some more. He definitely wasn't dead because I could see him breathing. But he didn't look like he wanted to get up anytime soon. Which wasn't very convenient for me, or my mission to not fall in love with him. I took a deep breath, raised my hand and slapped him hard across the cheek.

“OW!” He yelled and woke with a start.

I gave a yelp and leapt backward, digging my nails into the pillow. Jack looked a little disoriented as he rubbed his cheek. He looked up at me, sleep still evident in his eyes.

“Hi.” I said.

“Gia! What the hell?”

“What the hell is right!” I said, the moment my heart went back to its normal rate. Almost. It was never normal around Jack. “What are you doing in my room?”

“Well,” Jack said, groaning a little as he swung his legs off the couch. He ran a hand through his hair, stretching a little. “I
was
sleeping, until you decided to attack me with that pillow.”

“Don't blame the pillow.”

“Oh, sorry. I'll blame your hand instead.”

I dropped the pillow to the floor. It hit the fluffy rug with a barely-audible thud. “You have a bedroom!” I exclaimed. “Go sleep there!”

Jack looked up at me in disbelief. “Are you kidding? You were the one who asked me to stay until you fell asleep because you felt sick, remember?”

Just as he said it, the memory of me asking him to stay came crashing back into my mind. Oh shoot. It was almost like the alcohol had kicked in
after
the party, and my brain broke or something. That is the only explanation that would make sense for asking Jack to stay and watch me until I fell asleep.

“I—I may have asked you to make sure I was safe.” I said, putting my hands on my hips. “I didn't ask you to spend the night!”

“It's not my fault
someone
is a lightweight,” Jack replied, rising from the couch with another stretch. He was standing right in front of me, closer than I was comfortable with. “You took forever to fall asleep, and I was tired.”

I took a giant step back. “If you even
tried
to touch me—”

“Yeah, Gia,” Jack said, giving me the world's most sarcastic look. “I completely took advantage of you, and then fell asleep on the couch!”

Okay, fine. Not one of my better theories. The memories of last night were becoming a little clearer now, particularly the part when I asked Jack to make sure no one tried to poison me in my sleep. So I had
been a little drunk last night, but thankfully not enough to make my dad notice. Unfortunately, just drunk enough to wait until my dad had gone to bed, after another thirty thousand lectures he had delivered when we got home, and practically beg Jack to keep an eye on me. I was wrong. The embarrassment levels had managed to hit a new high.

“Well the sleepover club is over now,” I snapped. “So get out!”

“Hey!” Jack replied, his irritation growing. “This wasn't a slumber party for me either, you know. That couch practically broke my back in two!”

I gave him a pleased smile and said, “That actually folds out into a huge ass bed.”

Jack looked at me, expressionless. “I really wish you would have mentioned that before you fell asleep.”

“My bad.”

“Yeah. Right.”

I pointed to my room door and said, “Get out before Dad sees you.”

Jack obediently began walking toward the door, as I watched him with a glare that seemed to be perpetually on my face. “Isn't that ideal for you? That way your dad could fire me and we'd all go back to living our lives?”