"History is full of stories about people falling in love in just one night. Poets and songwriters write endlessly about this particular kind of love."
"Yes, but-" Alexandria began to protest.
"The heart knows what the heart wants," Andrew said, finishing his coffee. "Trust me, I know firsthand how powerful the heart is. The heart has its own reasons, whereas reason knows nothing of such things. I read that somewhere. On a wall somewhere in spray paint, if my memory serves me well. What I'm saying is, you're not the first girl to fall in love after one night, Alexandria, and you won't be the last. Just go with it, see where it leads you. What can it hurt?"
Alexandria nodded her head, rinsed out her mug and placed it upside down on the sink to dry. "Thank you, Andrew. That kind of puts things into perspective in an odd kind of way."
He shrugged. "Any time. If anyone deserves to be happy, it's you."
Alexandria tilted her head and frowned, her heart going out to Andrew. "Everyone deserves to be happy, Andrew."
"Except that bitch that cursed my family," Andrew replied vehemently, his eyes growing dark.
"Yes, except her," Alexandria agreed fervently. "And I'm going to do whatever it takes to make sure you get your life back, and Eden."
"I know you will," he replied. "Just don't get yourself hurt in the process, okay?"
"I promise." She looked at the old clock on the wall, that hadn't missed a beat since it had first been hung by one of the original Harvey witches, Desmond Harvey, in 1779 when he had built Witchwood for his one true love, Emmaleria. "I should get going, if you're okay with everything here. I promised Kat that I'd help her clean up after the party. Then I'll nip into town and pick you up the things you need. Can you write me a list of what you want while I run upstairs and grab my bag? I'll be back down in a sec."
"Sure," Andrew said, quickly jotting down a list on an old notepad he had found in a kitchen drawer near the telephone. "Phone still not working?" he called over his shoulder, tapping the phone with his pen.
"Not yet. This week, I hope," she called back, tearing up the stairs two at a time, which was certainly something she had not been able to achieve as a child.
Chapter 2 – Broken.
Alexandria pulled up in the driveway in front of the Abbots' mansion and climbed out of the car. There were still a number of cars parked randomly in the expansive driveway. She discovered one of the occupants of the Jeep asleep in the front seat, another in the back, his legs hanging out of the window. A boy was propping open one of the pretentious double doors of the mansion, his legs stretching haphazardly across the entrance. Alexandria recognized him as one of the boys that had been dancing with Kat on the table the night before. She searched her memory for his name. Stanton Jameson, a good-looking rich kid with a God complex. Currently, though, he did not appear very God-like at all. Someone had used a black marker to draw whiskers on his cheeks, and had painted his fingernails with fire engine red nail polish. She could only imagine what he had done to deserve that.
She stepped carefully over his long legs just as he let out a loud snore, shoved his hand down his jeans and scratched the family jewels.
"Lovely," Alexandria murmured. "Your parents would be so proud right now." She walked farther into the house, stepping over the occasional sleeping body, realizing that the party must have continued well after Bran had taken her home. She headed for the elaborate staircase leading to the second floor and Kat's bedroom. She climbed the ivory-carpeted steps, careful not to step on any of the empty beer cans, plastic cups, champagne bottles and discarded paper plates with stale pizza crusts stuck to them that littered the steps.
A smiled stretched across Alexandria's face, and her eyes sparkled even brighter than they usually did, when a memory came to mind of Bran kissing her lightly on the cheek as they stood chatting on these very steps. Last night had been perfect: the party, meeting new friends, talking with Bran ... the kiss at her front door after he had driven her home.
When she reached the top of the stairs leading to Kat's bedroom, she flicked a black lace bra off the banister with her finger, and was surprised to hear a shriek seconds later. She peered over the balcony just as a girl sprang off the couch she'd been sleeping on, flinging the bra to the ground and stomping on it as though it were a giant spider. The girl looked around in a daze, then looked up and smiled at Alexandria, then she buttoned up her half-open shirt, curled herself back up on the sofa, and went promptly back to sleep without a care in the world.
A creak came from the direction of Kat's bedroom, and Alexandria turned around. She could see the door to Kat's bedroom opening, then closing, then opening again. Suddenly a loud bang had her jumping backward. It sounded like something hitting the wall inside the bedroom. She stood statue still, pondering her next move. Should she go investigate to see what was happening? Was Kat in trouble? She took a step forward, then halted once again as a tall, semi-naked boy lumbered out of the open door, his t-shirt thrown up protectively over his head as though he were expecting another missile at any moment. He had been correct. Seconds later there was another loud bang, as something ricocheted off the doorframe and cartwheeled through the doorway after him, just missing him by a hair's breadth and slamming into the opposite wall in the hallway. Alexandria recognized the weapon immediately as it tumbled to the floor. It was one of Kat's four-inch designer shoes.