"Now that girl has left, we can finally go about our business! Come, I want you to meet my new friend."

I turned, tongue in cheek, to face my roommate.

"She wasn't that bad." I lied, the dishonesty in my voice way too obvious. Casey had been downright terrible. If I'd any doubts left in my mind about refusing to go to UCLA with the rest of the girls, Casey's behaviour towards Milena had been the final straw. Bad had been when Casey had loudly demanded if Milena could speak properly English, after hearing her accent – downright awful had been when Casey had asked if Milena if she was an illegal immigrant or not. "Okay, so she was, but thank you for playing nice. We're not going to stay in contact through college and I've known her for years, but I'll be damned if I'm the one who gets the blame for ruining our friendship!"

"Spoken like a true politician's daughter." Milena smiled knowingly. "You said before you were like her. I am glad that has changed."

I just kind of nodded at that and pulled my hair away from face. I wish I could be glad, too.

Yeah, ever since the Hawthornes had left town way back when, things had been different. There were some things a girl just couldn't come back from – and finding out that her Daddy was just as a big of a gangster as the man be condemned, both of whom ran on crooked politics? Yeah. Yeah, that was one of those things.

Dad had – obviously – won the election again and stayed Californian governor.

But then Troy Hawthorne had been accepted into Congress, as Senator of New York.

You kind of had to applaud it. I mean, Troy Hawthorne was not the type of man to give up.

"So, who is this new friend of yours?" I hated talking about politics. Not because I wasn't proud of my Dad – of course I was! And I supported him like any good, Christian daughter would be expected to support her father. But I also knew that the packages he'd get me to post, and the files, back in California, weren't all above-board stuff. Every time I thought about it, I felt like a drug mule. "You said you met him on your evening run?"

Any guy who had met Milena on her evening run I was cynical of. I mean, Milena looked like a supermodel – the tanned skin, the big eyes, the Victoria's Secret model's body. And her running around campus, sweaty and in Lycra? Of course she was going to make a lot of new friends.

"His name is Neil and he is inviting us to a party this weekend." Milena told me, rifling through her bag for something. I shrugged, going for my jacket. "No! You cannot leave looking as you do!"

"Why?" I pouted. It was our first week of settling into the dorms, I didn't have to look good. Back in California, being the governor's daughter, I always had to look perfect. But at college? No way. At least not during the settling-in period. Nobody cared enough to look at me twice and I was enjoying the experience.

"At least put on some lip gloss." Milena murmured in disgust. I cheated and used Chapstick, but she didn't notice.

"So, what halls are they in?" I asked as we left our room, smiling as we walked by windows, seeing the Green looking all pretty outside. I perked up. The campus here was so pretty. "Do they have a working laundry room?"

Milena rolled her eyes at me. Whilst Hope College was pretty and cute and all of that stuff... Our laundry room had all but broke from the excess of students who had decided to clean all of their clothes... After arriving. Milena didn't seem too worried because we could always just leave the dorm to have them cleaned, but I was freaking out. What about period leaks? Coffee stains? Milena's sexed up bedsheets? What if Hope College became a smelly, disgusting hovel of unwashed laundry before the semester had even started? Then what?

I was a little OCD about my laundry. Which was sad, actually, considering I wasn't the neatest person in the world – but, in fairness, I wasn't the messiest, either.

"Yes, they live in Andrews." Milena told me stoutly. I did a little wriggle of victory. Maybe this friendship wouldn't be so bad – if all Milena had to do was exercise to get guys stumbling over themselves to talk to her, she'd probably only have to bat her long, sultry eyelashes and they'd be doing our laundry for us. Honestly, I'd lived in Cali all of my life and Milena had been in the States all but a week – and she was a better Valley Girl than me.

We talked about nothing for a little while. Milena was still freaking out about the fact half of the textbooks she'd ordered to pick up when she arrived hadn't come in, and classes started in a few days. In fact, this was the last weekend of being slobs we had – come Monday morning, college was officially opened up for the new academic year and the beginning of the semester.

Milena's new friend was a guy with dark-reddish brown hair, called Neil. He was a friendly guy and when he shook my hand in an oh-so-gentlemanly manner, I saw Milena gave me a sly wink.

As much as I loved Milena, her addiction to Beverly Hills, 90210 was just too much. Gone were the days when a guy's chivalry was believable, but hey, who was I to burst her bubble before classes had even started?

"I guess it's true then, huh?" Neil had grinned at me with an easy smile. Aw, he was cute. It was a shame that you could find cute guys a dime for a dozen in California. He was attractive, but not enough for me to even pretend to allow Milena to set us up. "Politics really is being brought to Brown this year!"

I just smiled and nodded at that one, because I had no idea what he was talking about.

I let Milena do the talking. Don't get me wrong – I was the social type! I was just feeling a little worn out after Casey's visit. UCLA's semester didn't start for another two weeks and if the other girls hadn't planned a trip to Miami before moving, Casey would have been staying with me, here in Rhode Island.

Honestly, I'd had a lucky escape.

I glanced around Neil's dorm as he and Milena discussed party plans. I'd probably have to stock up on the shakes to bring me back from the dead in time for tonight – there was no way Milena was going to let me out of this party. I'd already bailed on two and had only been to one – a pizza party down our hall – the entire time since we'd arrived, on the first day of the residence halls opening. Milena kept threatening me that unless I started partying up like a "typical American blonde from all of the movies", she was going to leave me in a ditch to die, Slovak style.

You could tell it was a guy's room. Neil seemed to be the one more settled in; there were some clothes flung at the end of his bed, there was a signed soccer ball balancing proudly on a pile of scarily large biology textbooks on his desk and a issue of Playboy stuffed hastily between sports magazines.

The room itself was pretty spacious, considering. Everything was symmetrical – one single bed on either side of the room, one desk, one chair. On Neil's side, there was a fancy music system and Xbox, the TV angled to face both.

And then there's was Neil's roomie's side.

I mean, I figured that Milena was already planning double hook-ups or something. And if I told her I wasn't into Neil – who she knew, as opposed to his roommate that she didn't – I was probably going to have to endure the mysterious other guy, who Neil had graciously told us was in the shower. There was no way I could get out of allowing her to try and set me up – I'd already blown off her legendary matchmaking skills twice when, according to her, there were three newlywed and extremely happy couples thanks to her, back in Croatia.

I couldn't help but notice that Neil's laundry basket was already overflowing. It must be nice to have that luxury.

I turned, taking more interest in Neil's roomie's side of the room. Milena and Neil weren't paying enough attention to care.

This guy's side of the room didn't look anywhere near as homely as Neil's did.

"Oh, he only arrived yesterday." Neil randomly told me, seeing where I was looking. "He'll be around at the party tonight, if you didn't want to wait to say hi? I mean, I figure it's not a big deal to you anyway-"

"Whenever is sufficient, Neil." Milena said quickly, getting his attention again. I let her get back to it. Maybe it was just because my brain felt fried from Casey and moving and my obsession with not having a functioning laundry room, but nothing Neil was saying was making any sense to me.

The way Roomie's desk was made out kind of made sense, considering what Neil had just told me. There was a small toy car collection of sports cars on one side of the desk, a picture frame on the other end. A pile of textbooks were lined up neatly against the wall, with a book list placed under one of the cars. There were some titles added in rushed handwriting underneath, too. It was a pretty long list.

I didn't know why I was being so nosy, but I was acting on some crazy impulse. I touched the spines of the books as I read them – political science textbooks, government textbooks, debate reading material, a copy of The Art of War... But the reading list came as a surprise. It was a combined list of reading material from the Literature and Music majors, with references to sheet music and which copies of what books to buy from the on-campus store.

I walked a little, glancing over my shoulder and smiling as I heard Milena's tinkling laugh. Looked like her and Neil were getting along.

There was a duffel bag on his desk chair, half unzipped – oh, come on, I had my limits! I wasn't that nosy! – and one of the suitcases had been unsuccessfully stuffed into one of the closets, another wrestled haphazardly on top of it. There was a Gibson guitar case resting carefully between the desk and closet, with a load of stickers on it. Some of flags, some stickers, some slogans...

I wrinkled my nose. A Vote Hawthorne! sticker.

I didn't mind people being Democrats, so much. It was just... You know. Hawthorne.

Oh, right. Why was there even such thing as a Vote Hawthorne! sticker, you ask? Daddy was Californian governor, again, Troy Hawthorne was New York Senator, Brown was in Rhode Island...

They were both running for presidential campaign.

Moving on.

I glanced at the picture frame, scanning the walls of the room. Neil already had a few posters up, but his roomie just had that picture frame –

The picture frame.

This was an attest to the fact my brain really wasn't ready for college yet.

"Oh, shit!" I yelled, stumbling backwards and just about catching myself on the desk before I toppled onto the floor. Was I crazy? I'd seen the frame and picture, but it hadn't registered... What was wrong with me? Had I magically turned blind?

What had Neil said? He was in the shower. He could already be on his way back!

"Rhea, are you-"

"Haha, Milena sweetie, we gotta go." I was laughing manically because, HA, this was cruel. This was real cruel, messed up shizzle from the universe, like wow. "Milena sweetie, we have to go. Like now." I was already tugging on Milena's hand, even though she wasn't moving and staring at me like I had totally lost it.

Which, fine, I had - but with good reason!

I glanced over my shoulder and glared at that stupid picture frame. There they were, the two of them, in their suited and booted glory, all dark hair and dark eyes and brooding pouts and sharp West Coast suits.

Troy and Ares Hawthorne were mocking me from a picture.

"But the party-" Neil was pouting. No. No, no, no, no, no time for pouting.

"We'll make it, we just, to make it later tonight we have to go now. Like right now." I promised desperately, still tugging on Milena's arm. The small part of my brain that was still functioning berated me for that. I mean, if he was going to be at the party, why the Hell was I promising to go?! And I was a Merrick, we kept to our word... Kind of. "Milena, come on, we have that-" Idea! "Laundry! We have that laundry to do, so please, can we – I have to – let's go!" I gave her the best puppy eyes I could. "Please?"

Maybe I had been too harsh about Milena's Beverly Hills 90210 obsession. Clearly, the look I was giving her was reminding her of something she'd watched on the show, because she was suddenly making excuses with me.

"Rhea is right." Milena announced regally, slowly allowing me to tug her away. "We will see you this evening, Neil. These are private, female roommate matters of-" Milena looked at me, confused.

"Laundry." I puffed. We were halfway out the door. We could do this. We could get away in the nick of time. "These are private, female roommate matters of laundry."

"But-" Neil began, but honestly – no time. No time. I was too unprepared! How could I have not known?

"Bye now!" I yelled, before unceremoniously yanking Milena out of the room, Neil staring at us as Milena let out a shriek.

I was practically running down that stupid corridor, fighting Milena as she tried to slow me down thanks to all of the strange looks we were getting. Let them look! I was on the run!

"But look, he's already here!" Neil shouted down the hall.

"I'm here for who?"

"Well, hello handsome." Milena breathed smugly, pausing.

I froze in my tracks, Milena's dead weight slowing me down – as well as the feeling of an extra pair of eyes watching us, eyes different to Neil's and the people playing catch in the hall. An extra pair of eyes I knew. Ones that I was running from, and that time, they'd just been on paper and propped behind glass when I'd hauled my ass and Milena's out of that stupid room.

I couldn't help it. I didn't want to but – I don't know, I guess that impulse that had made me pay so much attention in Neil's room was a kind of self preservation? It was fight or flight and even though I was choosing flight, it was... Inherent. Second nature to me. I couldn't just keep walking away and, after three years, I remembered the last thing we'd said to each other. The promise. And out of pride and vanity and an arrogance I thought I didn't have any more, I turned.

It was like something out of those terrible horror films. You know, the ones where the heroine turns in slow motion and knows it's too late? That all of her efforts to escape, everything she's tried – it's all about to go to dust?

Yeah. That was happening.

"Merrick?" Ares Hawthorne yelled in disbelief, in his birthday suit save for the bath towel wrapped tightly around his waist.

And just like that, all of that pride and vanity and fighting spirit was knocked the Hell out of me and I did what I should have done in the damned first place – I grabbed Milena's hand, dived behind the corner and didn't stop running until we were safely back in our room, back at Hope.

/

"You must come to the party tonight." Milena was telling me stubbornly. "You have made a solemn promise."

It had been nearly six hours since I'd seen Ares.

I still wasn't over it.

Let's just start with the normal reactions first, shall we? Like who – and I really do mean who – just strolled around, fresh out of a communal shower in a busy residence hall, in nothing but a towel wrapped so tightly around the waist, you could see where the fabric was stretching? From the other side of the hall?

And – and what about his stubble? Ares had always been known for his weird hormones in high school. He'd always been tall and back then, he'd had his hair down to his chin and easily passed for a junior, at least. What, now there was facial hair, too? The guy was a freshman in college, like me! And he had full-on, man stubble!

And then there was the fact his hair had still been wet, I mean, come on. Did he have no sense of awareness for people who might object to having droplets of water all over their residence hall floor? And it wasn't long anymore. It was cut short now. Well, not short by any normal, neat guy's standards, it was just Ares trying to look cool and different, no doubt. It had been all messy and tousled and falling in front of his eyes, because it was still dripping and hadn't been combed. I guess all the rumours of him using straighteners in high school had been true, who knew?!

He'd had his clothes in his arms. Why not just change? Why walk around shirtless? Time had clearly done nothing to diminish his cockiness. At least I'd – at least I'd tried to better myself as a person! But there he was, parading himself like some sort of... Some sort of – of peacock!

Okay, that was a lame analogy.

But still! And that would have been any girl's reaction, so don't judge me! I hadn't seen this guy since the first year of high school. Of course I was going to pay attention to detail!

And then there was the personal stuff – like the Hawthorne-Merrick thing. Suddenly, everything Neil had been saying, the stuff I hadn't understood? It made sense! I guess politics are really coming to Brown, huh? That was what he'd said, right? Urgh!

What was this, some cheap trick? Was I being spied on by Troy Hawthorne, as a way of putting Dad off his game? Or was it the other way around?

No, that was stupid. Unless...

Well. Sarah Lawrence, Carnegie Mellon and Yale had all said they didn't want any official political affiliations... And Dad had said it was my right to campaign Merrick if I wanted, like any other student would... But everyone knew that the Merrick-Hawthorne debate was personal. Nobody knew how personal and anybody back in Sacramento who did was so sworn in allegiance to the Merrick name, that they wouldn't say anything could make Daddy look bad.

Still, everyone knew our families knew each other and that, underneath the catty, well-dressed surface, there was enough tension to fill up Congress.

Except that Troy Hawthorne was actually in Congress and Daddy wasn't, but whatever.

I mean, was this all some Hawthorne trick?

No. No way. There were no way respectable colleges like Carnegie Mellon and Yale and Sarah Lawrence could be influenced by any Hawthorne, let alone Ares' dad. I was getting ahead of myself.

But... That didn't explain why Ares was here! The last time I'd even spoken to him, he'd practically told me – in lesser words – that our families were, at heart, no more than gangsters, criminals. And sure, I knew without ever having to ask that Daddy believed in whatever bad he did for the greater good, but – well, what about Alexei Ettore? The man had been stubborn, even when facing death by natural causes and from the news reports, he'd died a whole year after Ares and his family had moved to New York. One of the main angles on the Hawthorne for Senate campaign had been that it supposedly been Alexei's dying wish to see his son clean up the dirty streets he'd helped create in the first place.

I wasn't sure how much faith I had in that, but it had worked wonders as a campaign strategy.

Why wasn't Ares in some fancy school in New York? And yes, okay, I was on the West Coast, which was Hawthorne territory. Yes, I didn't even apply to the majority of the just as good East Coast schools. But... Still! I mean, despite all of the madness of his Dad being an international gangster kingpin, Troy Hawthorne went to Harvard law. Why wasn't Ares... I don't know, following in his footsteps?

I mean, Troy Hawthorne barely knew his Dad growing up (another shot for his campaign for Senate) and his admission had basically been because of the whole thing with Dean Jonson being corrupt and that whole scandal that erupted a few years back. This made Ares, what, one of the first people to get a legitimate education in his family? Without the criminal swing? And it probably wasn't even legitimate! Ares had always thought he'd known everything, even back in high school. I doubted that had changed. So what did purpose did it serve for him to college, seeing as he was so damn omniscient?!

"Milena, I made that promise so that we could get out of there before I was ambushed by the Democrat of the generation." I told her, still pacing and wringing my hands. I hadn't stopped freaking out since we'd gotten back to our dorm – and I'd locked us in. "Which became redundant because I ended up seeing him anyway! I mean, what is he even doing here?"

"It does not matter. This is not the type of dirty politics like my country." Milena told me stubbornly. I sighed. If only she knew. "You both nod and smile and shake hands in front of the cameras, do you not?"

"No." I told her, kind of proud over even this pitiful victory. "No, we never go to the same events. I mean, if he's here in Rhode Island, then I guess-"

"You brought lots of pretty dresses, no?" Milena interrupted impatiently. I opened my mouth – I knew exactly where this was going – but Milena shushed me and I was so shocked that she'd shushed me, it worked. "And I know you will be wearing them to lots of fancy politician's balls and so you brought lots of spares. Choose one. If he is as bad as you are making out, then we cannot show fear in the face of the enemy, or am I wrong?"

Of course she wasn't wrong. She was totally, 100% right. Now Ares knew I was here and, assuming Neil had told him he'd invited Milena and I to the party – I had to go. I didn't have a choice.

But I could still stomp my feet and complain about it, right?

"But Milena-" I whined, already seeing her rifling through my already packed closet. My dresser and the top shelf had my everyday wear, whereas the array of fancy cocktail dresses and outfits appropriate for my itinerary were hanging from silk hangers and covered in protective plastic covers.

"Maybe a dress is too much. It shows you are making an effort and we have to recoup after your show of weakness this morning." Milena was muttering grimly, her lips scrunched together thoughtfully. On one hand, I was grateful for Milena's crazy upbringing and how she understood this kind of "warfare" – but at the same time, she was the one who'd stopped in the hallway to ogle at Ares. She was hardly taking her own orders. "Something like this, perhaps? For confidence, for rebellion?"

I rolled my eyes and looked at the outfit she'd laid out on my bed. Black, high-waisted shorts, a baggy, sleeveless red top in the trademark Merrick red – a deep burgundy, that kind of reminded me of blood, which was creepy – and a pair of, admittedly cute, black ankle boots.

"Jeans would make you too much of a rider slut." I think she meant biker slut. She was going through my makeup bag now, totally ignoring the fact I was watching in silent horror. "Have you washed your hair today? If so, go do it again. We must make you look attractive, attractive enough for him to forget you running from him like a scared piglet from slaughter."

"Surely a piglet would be justified in running from slaughter?" I frowned. "And... That isn't the best metaphor, it's not very confidence-inspiring!"

"Well, how about this – stop being such a – what do you Americans call it? Ah, yes – pussy." Really? She had the whole of the American English language at her disposal and that was what she learned first? "You may still look like a high-class prostitute unless you wash your hair and let me style it, you are a wreck to my sight." Milena told me impatiently before – and I am not even kidding here – waving her hands at me. "Shoo!"

"Why can't you just be... One of those... Loser roommates!" I yelled, as she threw underwear at me. My best underwear. My best, red, lacy underwear. What did she think I was going to be doing tonight?! "Who... Who sits at home eating ice cream and watching 90210?!" I'll admit, I was trying to bribe her. Against my competitive nature, I'll admit, but it was still worth a shot.

"Those are for the days when I am bleeding and do not feel my feminine force is going to be positively used in regards to seduction. In this country, such feminine force on days of hormones is considered rape, which I have been led to believe is a very bad thing." I narrowed my eyes at her. Oh. Right. Now she was playing the cute, dumb Croatian chick that just looked pretty. Uh-huh. This was a girl whose major was in Physics and her minor in fashion. "Rhea Rose Merrick, I am warning you, I will-"

"I'm going!" I groaned, trudging towards the door with my bathroom bag and fresh undies in hand. I hesitated in the hallway. "Milena, do we really have to-"

Before I could answer, she'd slammed the door in my face.

/

The party was at some house off campus. Not too far – close enough to be able to walk to, but far enough for us to not get busted for disorderly behaviour, or anything of the like, on campus.

Dad had spoken to me about college and partying. He had reminded me that I was still a role model for young people and that my father was a Republican running for President, with a lot of people who considered the Republicans to be outdated and restricting.

But in the same breath, he'd told me he wanted me to have fun and experience college the way I wanted to... And that he had full faith in my faith and my values and my strength to not bend to the mould. Basically, he was confident I was frigid enough to get through it okay.

What had Ares called it, all that time ago? Merrick family values, ladies and gentlemen.

I guess seeing him after such a long time was reminding me of... Well, him, in Sacramento. That last big fight we had, over Chelsea Danes (who later turned out to be the school slut and a compulsive liar, in case you were interested) and the revelation that my Dad wasn't as bad as Troy Hawthorne; no, he was worse, because he was a hypocrite, too.

This was the kind of thought pattern I was having... At a party.

Milena had done her job well, I had to admit. My hair was pulled back in a messy bun and she'd spritzed my hair with more products than I could recognize – which was an achievement for a girl like me – so that it was still in soft, golden brown waves from the shower. My bangs seemed shorter that way. My green eyes were delicately outlined with black eyeliner and mascara and I was wearing bright red lipstick, to remind everyone to vote Merrick as soon as it was time to vote.

I was standing against the wall, watching Milena sway in time to the heavy bass of the music. I was trying not to snort into my bottle of beer; the guys were practically tripping over themselves, snapping and griping at each other for her attention, when she was hardly aware they were even there.

Milena looked... Amazing. Tight black dress, long dark hair, smooth butt and flat stomach... It was a no-brainer that she'd be the centre of the party.

Which was why I'd chosen my vantage point against the wall. I could watch Milena and make sure she wasn't mauled... And wait for Ares to walk through the door.

I was glad Milena had made me come. I probably would have come anyway, later if Milena had actually left me, but being here – prepared, ready, wearing my battle colours, if you will - ... It was better this way. If I'd stayed at home, freaking out over Ares being at Brown... I mean, that'd be forgetting who I was. I was Rhea. Rhea Rose... Merrick. And he was Ares. Ares Hawthorne. This was as much of a power-play as that stupid playground fight had been when we were freshmen in high school, fighting like animals and imposing our political power on the tweens of our generation.

I randomly checked my pocket as some guy brushed past me. I'd already seen three guys jack people's cell phones. I was on high alert.

"Crap." I muttered, dropping the damn thing. I needed a new phone case. This one was black and had a Vote Merrick sticker plastered on the back, but I kept dropping it and bashing it all over the place, so the sticker was peeling and it just looked disgusting. Not even a way I could pass off as attempted cool or "grunge".

I had just picked it up off the ground, when I felt somebody behind me.

"If only Daddy could see you now... Not so conservative anymore, huh?" Ares tutted in my ear. I swear, I turned so fast, it was a miracle I didn't tumble into the table behind me. Clearly, he still had no concept of personal space. And every muscle in my body was locked with tension, because clearly he remembered that him intruding my personal space pissed me off. "Wearing your armour, I see." Ares nodded to my red tank top. He wasn't wearing a spot of blue.

"You have facial hair." Was the first thing, stupidly, that came out of my mouth. Quickly, I tried to act like a normal person, which was difficult for me most days anyway. "Ares." I said coolly. Somehow, we could both hear each other perfectly, even over the loud music.

"Rhea." Ares smirked, fighting a full-out smile. "As always, your deduction skills are unparalleled."

I gripped my bottle that little bit tighter. Hey, at least he hadn't said something about me.

"You look good. Being outside of California suits you." Ares told me conversationally, leaning his shoulder against the wall. I didn't go anywhere near it. Ares watched me for a second, looking thoughtful. "Damn, Merrick. Dare I say it – did you get hot?"

Oh my God. It was worse than I thought.

He thought he was charming.

"Wish I could say the same for you." I said sweetly, grimacing as soon as I'd said it. He was pathetic. How had I run from someone so pathetic this morning?

I had been wrong about not liking Democrats. I didn't like anyone who thought the man who'd helped bring Ares into the world was anything more than a total idiot.

"Oh, you don't need to wish, we both know you're thinking it." Ares grinned. I glanced away, over to Milena. She was in the middle of her adoring crowd of testosterone. "So," Ares continued conversationally. I pretended to still be watching Milena. I hated how tall he was, that I had to look up at him, no matter where we were standing. He'd always been freakishly tall. Had I mentioned that already? "We both got through puberty okay. I guess it helped that we weren't near each other, all those excess hormones were released in much healthier ways."

Now, I had been telling myself as soon as he started talking, that I shouldn't rise to his bait. I knew he was going to try and goad me. Sure, I wasn't expecting... This, but I knew to be on my guard with Ares. Nothing surprised me, it just... Mildly irritated me that he hadn't changed. He was as damn arrogant and cocky as ever.

But at that little jibe, about hormones? I couldn't help it.

"Speak for yourself." I muttered in disgust, cursing myself as soon as I did. There I'd gone and done it – risen to the bait. Ares was grinning again, finding this all oh so entertaining.

"Still a virgin?" Ares crowed gleefully. I gaped at him. Well, that was direct and painstakingly personal. "Damn, you really are your father's daughter." I tensed up even more, if that were possible, at the mention of my Dad. I had been waiting for that little topic to come up. "You know, Rhea, I'm getting the feeling you don't want to talk to me."

"No." I gasped. "Really?"

"So, if you stayed the good girl, what happened to your mindless drones?" Ares continued, happily, as if I wanted him to talk to me. Which I didn't. At all. What was worse, was that he was totally ignoring the fact I was being completely unresponsive. "I don't see any of them here and you certainly seem-"

"You know, you seem different?" I interrupted, forcing myself to look at him.

I wasn't just deflecting, either, from the way he was so openly talking about our past, almost with... With relish, with intimacy. He had changed.

The Ares I'd known in high school was... Well, not unpopular, but not social, either. He had his group of friends and he kept to them, a lot of them older kids from rougher schools, or just people who thought he was cool. He'd had this whole messy, grunge look going for him – untucked shirts, skinny ties at formal events, khaki jackets, ripped jeans. He'd been tall and gawky, sure, but not in a nerdy way – and he'd been often quiet, yet outspoken at the same time, foolish yet serious. He'd always been sarcastic, but with me – I hated even phrasing it like that, like we had a "history" worth mentioning, if you could even call it that – it had been tainted with open hostility. He wouldn't be just kidding or messing with your head, like he did everyone else – it was when we were fighting that he was just some stupid, angry kid with long hair, a bad family name and no sense of dress. He hadn't even worn sneakers, just weird oversized trainers. He'd never cared.

This Ares... Oh, wow. This Ares was different. The only thing that connected the two images in my head – the one from high school, from years ago and the guy standing in front of me, leaning over me, towering with his goddamn height – was the black cord around his neck, his baby sister's necklace.

This Ares was kept together. His eyes were the same dark, almost black brown, but there was a confidence in them now, more than the cool disregard he'd had before. His hair was the same colour, but before it had looked black against how pasty he looked, even in California – now it was lighter, a chocolate brown in some strands and his face had more colour in it. He still had this morning's stubble, which bothered me – hadn't he bothered to shave all day? But a part of me told me this wasn't just grooming, or vanity – it was him not caring again, but using it to his advantage. Girls liked stubble, girls liked older guys who had stubble. He looked older with it, more... Manly, for lack of a better phrase.

His dress sense had greatly improved, which bothered me. He was wearing black ankle boots, flat unlike mine, with black skinny jeans, a baggy white vest and a black blazer with the sleeves rolled up. He looked just as scruffy as he had in high school, but it was a different type of scruffy. The kind of scruffy that was orchestrated, that had girls at the knees – but it was just so him, too.

Even the way he used to talk had changed. It was smoother, silkier, more confident. One thing I'd always secretly thought to myself, was that Troy Hawthorne had a way with words. Dad was passionate, yes, and of course he could talk in a charming way too, but you never forgot why. You never forget that Christopher Merrick was talking with a purpose, proving that he was always in control and would be, if he had the power he wanted support for.

Troy Hawthorne was different and apparently, Ares had finally inherited that. Troy Hawthorne didn't always speak smartly and use big words – sometimes he'd say "screw it" in a campaign speech or something, and once, he'd been eating a burger from McDonald's at one of the debates, during Dad's round, because he hadn't had the time to eat breakfast – and he'd apologized, it hadn't been a snub. When Dad laughed, he was always polite, always dignified, but a little bit detached – Troy Hawthorne wasn't like that. He could smile in amusement, politely, but if he laughed, if he laughed properly, it took over his entire body. He'd bend over laughing, lost for breath. It was a type of... Scruffiness, too, I guess, a messiness where Dad – and I, I suppose – were refined. The Hawthorne's didn't mind their manners and how to stand and how to sit; that was our jobs, the Merrick's, to look proper and disdainful and that little bit unapproachable so nobody forgot their place.

Ares reminded me of that. Everything about him now reeked a type of confidence that only came with being a little bit of a man-whore. I didn't mean that in a bad way – it was something I'd seen in friends, something I'd laughed at and joked about. The only difference was, was that with Ares, it was... Unsettling to me. He'd never been like that before.

I'd never been able to understand why Chelsea Danes, who was pretty and smart and careful who she cared for back then, had wanted to get into bed with Ares Hawthorne. I'd laughed with the other girls, the night he'd left, at the Dairy Queen. We'd all made jokes, how he must be pimply, or skinny and weak, and how awful he'd be shirtless – that the entire East Coast had been spared such a ghastly sight.

The Ares standing in front of me made me realize I'd been wrong. All of us girls, we'd all been wrong. Chelsea Danes wasn't an idiot. She'd been smart and still was. She'd seen something in Ares, a potential that I was seeing had come to life. She'd been one step ahead of the game.

I had never been able to see Ares as somebody who got girls. It had baffled me, every time, and the fact he'd managed to get a senior to sleep with him – and it was confirmed, Karen Lotus had admitted to it proudly, like he wasn't just a freshman and that was usually so not done and uncool – after Chelsea... I'd been lost. And angry. Lost and angry, because it didn't make sense and I hated not understanding.

Now I did. I'd been so angry and hateful towards him, I hadn't even taken the time to step back and see him as a person, hey, even as an enemy. I'd just seen... Hawthorne, in a big, blinding rage.

This Ares was confident. He was nonchalant, like before, sure – but he cared. There was something about the way the look in his eyes had changed that somehow just had me knowing that if he wanted something, he'd go out and get it. Ares had always been smart and not easy to scare – but this was different. This cockiness was, seemingly, earned.

In high school? If somebody went for him, sure, he'd get into the fight – but it'd take him that split second to realize he was in a fight, to prepare. This Ares... The way he was standing, the way his expression was, cocky as if he knew all of these thoughts were flashing in my mind a million at a minute when I hadn't even drunk enough to use that as an excuse... I could imagine it. I could see it, that he was ready for a fight, he was always ready for anything.

He was, for lack of a better term, a Hawthorne man now. I didn't like the phrase and it made me want to press two fingers to my temple and pretend to shoot at even thinking it, but he was Alexei Ettore's grandson and Troy Hawthorne's son. He was Ares Hawthorne and –

That was it. He looked like his namesake now. He could pass for a god of war.

Also, I guessed that if the girls saw him now, we wouldn't be so sure about him looking like a child shirtless. In fact, it'd probably be pretty interesting -

Wait, what was I even saying? Had I lost my mind?

"You do, too." Ares told me seriously, his mocking disappearing for a minute. It snapped me back to reality. My head heart from all of that thinking in such a short space of time, and the insanely loud music wasn't helping either. But then his cockiness was back and I wished it was just the music I had to worry about. "You're not as hopelessly naive anymore."

I knew that wasn't the only thing that had changed about me. Despite the way any other girl would have seen it, standing from afar, we weren't looking at each and flirting in our own weird way. We were assessing each other. Assessing the enemy.

I was taller. I didn't dress like I was in a show on The CW Network anymore and I was a little more laidback, in every way about me – the way I dressed, what I ate, how I spoke. And the same way I remembered everything about Ares – he had to have known me just as well. So he was looking at me in the exact same way, except he was being more open about it to tick me off.

"So, catch me up, what's new in your life?" Ares continued, settling himself comfortably against the wall to watch me. "You know you can't totally ignore me. We're going to have to learn to play nice – everyone knows whose kids we are and it's not exactly sporting to be at each other's throats all the time, is it now?"

I knew he was right. Of course he had to be freaking right.

This conversation was just getting progressively worse.

"What's there to tell?" I shrugged. I could feel it, rising up into my chest – fighting spirit. I wanted, more than anything, to start screaming at him like I had three years ago. And trust me, those days were something I had been glad to have left behind me. "Daddy won the election, I went up two bra sizes, Daddy's running for President and I'm being stalked by you at Brown." I flashed him another fake smile. Apparently it was becoming a pattern. "Did I miss anything?"

"Oh, you mean apart from the details of the bra sizes?" Ares gasped back, just as falsely. I couldn't help it – I flushed red. I know, I know, I suck. Suddenly, Ares chuckled. I swear, if he made a jab about me blushing I'd – "Come on, let's talk outside for a little."

That threw me.

"What?" I asked intelligently.

"Oh, get over yourself." Ares rolled his eyes, already gently pulling me through the crowd. I shrugged him off. No touchy. "Come on. We're going to have to practice pretending to like each other anyway."

For some reason, I took insult at that, even though it was hardly unexpected.

I didn't want to go anywhere with him, but if I didn't, I knew it'd look weak. Plus... Well, how much damage could it do? It wasn't like I was going to have Ares pull out a gun and shoot me between the eyes at a freshman party in Rhode Island.

I followed him out of the French doors and onto the back porch. He half-closed the door behind me.

"Just in case you started freaking out." He told me, rolling his eyes. I just settled on taking another sip of beer. Being alone with Ares made me want something stronger. I knew this probably meant we'd talk about the stuff we couldn't say in front of other people, which was actually exactly what I had been avoiding but... No. No! I could do this! Why was I freaking out? I'd treat this conversation like a Band Aid. Just... Get it over with. Rip it off. "Aren't you going to ask me about how I've been doing? What's been happening in my life?"

"I know what's happened in your life." I shrugged, leaning against the porch ledge. Ares sat in a chair opposite me, leaning forward with his elbows resting on his knees, his hands clasped together. "Your grandfather died a year after you moved to the West Coast. You have a little brother now, he's almost three and your Mom is pregnant again."

"And I'm being stalked by you at Brown." Ares added wryly. I rolled my eyes. "Impressive, Merrick. What's my brother's name?"

"I don't-"

"His name is Hector." Ares told me, smiling a little. "We call him Hiccup. You can tell that to your Dad the next time you talk to him, if you haven't already."

I wanted to defend myself and say how I didn't tell my Dad everything – but I probably would end up mentioning Hector, just in passing – and it wasn't like Ares would believe me anyway.

"What's that supposed to mean?" I figured that was my safest reply. God, did Ares still think I told my Dad every little detail about my day?

... Okay, I did. But with selected information. Either way, that wasn't Ares' business.

Ares narrowed his eyes at me, smirking still.

"Oh come on." He muttered. "You must have did what I did."

"Which was?" I questioned. "Sorry, my psychic skills are a little off today. They only work if the sun's out."

Ares chuckled.

"As soon as I saw you so gracefully dive for cover behind that turning this morning-" I flushed. "- I called my Dad to see if this was all some crazy set-up. That, or I was going crazy and imagining you, which would have been weird in the first place, seeing as up until this morning, you were hardly my top priority."

I didn't voice the fact I'd noticed the implication – that suddenly, I was his top priority.

Or I was just thinking crazy.

"Okay, I kind of did that, too." I admitted, seeing how Ares was waving a silent white flag. It didn't mean I trusted him, but I could hardly keep up being bitchy to him for the next three years, right? "Apparently, nobody had a clue you were coming to Brown."

"You know me." Ares apparently found something funny, but I was going to be damned if I asked him what. "Always for subtlety."

I snorted. Yeah, right. Ares was about as subtle as a brick in the head.

There was a silence. Not awkward, not comfortable, just... A silence.

"So, what're you studying?" Ares finally asked, apparently remembering I was still standing there.

"Majoring in Political Science, with minors in Economics and Media Studies." Ares seemed to blink funny as I said that and – with dread – I remembered the government textbooks I'd seen on his desk. I didn't even what to ask what I had to next. "... You?"

"Political Science." Ares told me with a tight smile. "Minors in Literature and Music."

We both couldn't even stand to look at each other for a couple more minutes.

What was I going to do? We were both Political Science majors, by some cruel, cruel twist of the universe... Except I should have seen it coming. I mean, it made sense for Ares to do Political Science, so that he could follow his Dad's footsteps and go to Harvard Law. I mean, I wanted to be in law. We were basically doing the same thing!

That was so painful to admit.

Not to mention – even if Ares didn't know it yet – my Media modules overlapped with the humanities. There was a whole buddy system and everything. What if I ended up spending loads of time with Ares? Even outside Political Science, but in other lectures, too?

I had the sudden, overwhelming desire to do Pre-Med.

Seeing as neither of us were saying anything and I didn't want to be here anyway, I started walking back towards the French doors.

"Can I ask you something?" Ares paused. "Well. Two things, actually."

"You're going to ask me anyway." I sighed, turning back to face him, but not moving back to where I'd been standing before. "Hurry up and ask it already."

"What did you do?" Ares asked me curiously – and the way he was so obviously super interested in my answer, had the back of my neck prickling. "I thought about it, you know, after that time you came to see me?" Oh, God. The night he'd left California with his parents. "What did you do, once you found out that Saint Christopher wasn't as saintly as he made out?"

I didn't know what to say. What could I say? Ares was talking to me as if we were old friends, not like we'd constantly wanted to rip each other's throats out for years. But it wasn't like I could answer the question honestly. Even lying was a can of worms, because there was something about the way Ares was watching me so closely that made me know he'd figure out if I was bluffing. That was the whole point of him catching me off-guard – I wasn't ready to talk about things yet.

But I guess one of the perks of having a politician as a father, crooked or not, is that you learn a few tricks. Like to always be calm in the face of the opposition, even if you both know you're faking it.

"I dealt with it." I said shortly, following a simple shrug. "And the other question?"

He seemed surprised that I hadn't just stormed off. He was right, though – we were both at Brown and everyone in Brown knew that, even if by some mysterious and quite frankly, suspicious, miracle, our parents hadn't. Not that I could share my scepticism with Ares – it wasn't like we were suddenly friends that I could bring it up.

"Do you remember the last thing you said to me?" What was it about the way he kept giving me funny looks tonight? I was tempted to tell him to take a picture, because it lasted longer, but if anybody even heard me say that sarcastically, it could turn into a political fiasco.

"It was a couple of seconds ago, Ares." I muttered, disliking the taste of his mouth on my tongue. Yucky yuck-yuck, it was so personal. "It's not that much of a stretch."

Ares rolled his eyes, pushing himself off the chair to stand a few paces away from me. Why was he doing that? He didn't need to do that to talk with his mouth. His mouth made sounds. Mmmmamamamama, see?

I was officially going crazy.

"You know what I mean." He smirked. Of course I knew what he meant, but I was allowed some deniable. "You plan on sticking to that little promise?"

That little promise. Ah, that damned little promise that I'd had such fun remembering all day.

... Doesn't mean I'm going to let you off and not get you back for being an utter asshole!

Fine!

Fine!

It had gone along those lines, if I remembered correctly.

"Why wouldn't I?" I shrugged, struggling to come off as cool. There were a million answers to that question. Like the fact we had to play truce in front of everyone and, that meant by default, any sniping at each other would have to be done in private – and being with Ares in private was hardly something I was into.

"Oh, I don't know." Ares shrugged, stepping a little closer, his horrible little eyes filled with mischief. "I mean, of course, I want the Merrick-Hawthorne feud to go on, but after today..."

I couldn't help myself.

"After today what?" I asked, sounding confused.

"A little part of me was hoping we wouldn't." Ares shrugged, glancing me up and down and raising his eyebrows.

I didn't know enough to fully gather whether he was messing with me or not, or if I was imagining the... Thing that was happening, that I would have called out as flirting – on his part! – if it were anyone else.

But it was enough to freak me the Hell out.

"Rhea! There you-" Milena stopped, seeing Ares and I standing opposite each other in the dark porch. We were at a respectable distance. Sort of. Kind of. Not really. But I mean, it wasn't like I could feel his breath or anything! "Ah. It is the attractive, enemy peasant boy from this morning."

"What?" Ares faked a gasp, clutching his heart. "And this peasant boy was just to ask you to dance!"

Milena's eyes instantly widened. It was cute, how she tried to hide it and go back to being all stern for my sake, but I could see she'd wanted to do the funky worm on Ares since she'd laid eyes on him this morning.

"Don't worry, you stay here and hang out, I was just on my way back to the dorm and a tub of Ben & Jerry's." I told Milena, slyly winking at her.

"You are sure?" Milena asked, at the same time Ares turned to me, shocked, and said –

"You eat Ben & Jerry's now?!"

"Knock yourself out." I told her. "With both things." I whispered as I hugged her goodbye. "Call me that you're safe?"

"I shall do." Milena beamed, already looking at Ares with a predatory look. In a weird way, it was an appropriate match. "You are sure you do not want to stay? I saw Neil-"

"I'm really all good." I said quickly. Neil was nice, but after the conversation I'd just had... I needed some recoup time. Already, about several different – and strong – emotions were swimming around in my head and I felt like I was going to drown, if I didn't get some peace and quiet and sort through it all. With ice cream and PJ shorts. "See you later."

I'd just reached the French doors again, walking back into the house and wondering how I was going to get through a crowd that had basically just decided to grind against anything in the vicinity without getting some sort of human liquid on me, when I heard Ares' voice over the noise again.

"I guess I'll see you in class..." I glanced at him over my shoulder, with the best bored expression I could muster. "Rhea."

I felt a tingle run down my spine and my hand tighten around the bottle of my beer. Rhea. Much, much too intimate. I didn't like it all.

"I hope not." I told him honestly.

Ares grinned.

"But you will."

I had a lot of fun writing this. It's also way longer than I thought it would be.

People who read my other stories may already know this, but for those who don't – I'm on summer break and exams and weird wrist stuff is behind me, so more frequent updates should be a thing now.

That was fun. The writing thing, I mean.

Let me know what you think and thank you to everybody who reviewed, read, alerted, etc :)

- henbee