Uhm...hello? Shockingly, I am still alive and I apologise dearly for the lengthly absence I've taken. This chapter has actually been written for over a month , but I've been cautious about publishing it. Obviously, by now you all know that my story is entirely OoC, but even so..this one may not be suited to everyone's tastes nor belief system? However, this is the direction I've chosen to take my story with the personalities I've given our favourite characters. I hope you all still enjoy the chapter despite of any moral issues you may have!-KM x

(Translation: "wanker" is a popular British slang term, and is perhaps the most versatile word since "fuck". As well as its other possible uses, it can be used to describe getting drunk- which is how I've used it in this chapter.)

The Morgan Family Luck

Chapter 23 (part 2)

New Years Eve: 1900 hours

If there's one thing I've learnt during my time on this planet, it's that everyone deals with loss differently. Some require movies, or music, or ice cream. Others careen down a route of self destruction, and find relief in drugs or pain. Unfortunately, my mother turned to alcohol after my father's demise.

Matthew Morgan died two years ago, from a particularly nasty cancer of his lungs. Born in Nebraska, previously a respected member of the armed forces, a fondness for peanut M&Ms. To Grant and I, he was the bravest man we knew, a father whom all others should aspire to be.

To my mom, he was everything.

Her dalliance with drinking lasted only about six months, but was enough to change everything.

And tonight was her first night "out" since then. Aunt Abby had arrived to Roseville, dressed the both of them up, and whisked my mother out of the door, with a charming salutation of "Don't worry about it! I'll make sure she has a good time", the words accompanied by a none too reassuring wink.

The thought of my rather insane aunt acting as my mom's wing woman was not exactly what I wanted to ponder on New Year's Eve. And as I made my way to Bex's house party, following the sound of raucous laughter and the heavy beat of music, I was filled with a determination to forget everything, savour my freedom, and just enjoy myself.

In other words, I was out to get absolutely wankered.

Gliding in, I looked for my friends, and found them all in varying states of drunken debauchery. I was assailed by uncoordinated limbs when I attempted to hug them in greeting, and escaped to the kitchen ( the hub of activity due to its storage of all things alcoholic and liquid), smiling and nodding at those I recognised in passing, and shooting finger guns at those I didn't who somehow knew my name.

Unfortunately, (or fortunately, if one were to consider the catalytic effect of his presence in that moment on the following events) I found Zach there, leaning against the counter, drinking bottled beer and looking altogether too lonesome for someone of his esteem and reputation.

Feeling his eyes on me, I grabbed a random bottle and raised it in an awkward salute, prompting a mirrored action and the usual smirk from Zach. The air was thick with unsaid words. I fiddled with my drink, trying to search for something, anything to say. Nada. God, I curse my inability to socialise normally. So much for liquid luck.

Apparently Zach was experiencing similar problems, for he gave an awkward cough, pushed himself up off the counter and made his way towards me. I hated my body's instantaneous reaction to his proximity; my heart rate picking up, my breath catching.

However, it was all an overreaction really, all he did was lean in (oh God), kiss my cheek, and mutter "Have a good night, Gallagher girl," in my ear, then left.

( I may have swooned a little.)

Gulping my drink in an attempt to recover, I decided to take his words to heart. With a newly strengthened resolve, I re found my (our) friends, and with a reverberated cheer of "Ayyyyyy!", quickly found and joined in with the swing of the party.

Zach's POV: 2330 hours

Having wandered into one of the upstairs rooms of Bex's house, I accidentally found Cammie, leaning on the windowsill of one the spare rooms, illuminated only by the street lights. Rapping my knuckles twice on the opened door, "Can I come in?"

Seemingly startled, yet without turning, she replied, "Sure, Zach."

Unwilling to disturb or interrupt her inner contemplation, I only took a couple of steps into the room, remaining silent. Knowing Cammie, she would talk only when she wanted to. And sure enough-

"Do you ever feel like you've made a huge mistake? One that you can't seem to fix?"

Starting with the easy questions, I see. How the heck do you answer that? I took a shot in the dark, "I guess?"

Another silence.

"Sometimes I wish I'd never moved to Roseville. In the four months I've been here, all I've caused is chaos. I just wanna escape, y'know?"

Here she spun to face me, casting shadows along her cheeks and nose. Squinting at me through the darkness in the room, she turned to face the window again. "Run away. Maybe to New York City. I could be a nobody, like I used to be in Washington. Fun fact: my friends used to call me The Chameleon. Cammie the Chameleon."

Her voice had taken on a bitter tone. Time to intervene. Stepping forward, I soothed, "Gallagher girl, you could never be anonymous."

She exhaled a breathless laugh, resting her forehead on the condensation soaked window, looking out at the lamppost lit street. "Why is it you make me feel like I'm under a spotlight?"

My own voice seemed to tighten with the next confession. "Probably because I'm always looking at you. Same as everyone else."

Shaking her head, she said, "I'm not a star Zach."

Easing forward, I placed my hands on her hips, the soft material of her dress glinting in the dim light. When she didn't tense, (thank every god) I began kissing the soft skin on the back of her neck. "I don't see the stars. I just see you."

"That was unbeliveably cheesy," she laughed, her voice sounding strained. I chuckled, not stopping my mapping of her neck, "Must be the alcohol. Blame it."

She turned around in my arms, and placed both hands on my chest. "Is that so?" Not breaking eye contact, I nodded. A wicked glint entered her eye, and warily, (hey, she is well known for being spontaneous) I took a step back.

Laughing, she threw her arms around me, and I relaxed, tightening my hold on her.

And then she pressed her ice cold forehead into my neck.

"FUCKING- Cammie!"

Cammie POV

Once he stopped grumbling and wincing, I don't know how long I stayed in Zach's tight embrace, my face pressed into the hollow of his neck. One hand on the small of my back, the other stroking my hair, he alternated between resting his chin or cheek on my head, and pressing firm kisses on my forehead.

Sudden cheering from downstairs brought us back to reality, and I pulled back, looking up at Zach, half expecting to see discomfort, or wariness, or a desire to escape.

Instead, he was nonplussed (thank all the saints), grinning down at me.

"Happy New Year, Gallagher girl."

Obviously, me being me, witty as I am, my response was, "Ditto."

But Zach didn't mind, if him laughing and pulling me in to kiss him was any indicator. If not, his continuing to kiss me made sure of it.

Minutes, or maybe hours later, I have no idea, he pulled back, leaving me breathless and shocked-and more than a little disappointed, not gonna lie. Backing away, he kept his darkened eyes locked on mine, but I was still confused.

"What are you doing?" Was he going to leave? NOW? Talk about leaving me high and dry! (My inner immature and rather dirty minded self questioned the truth of that last word. )

But all he did was close and lock the door, pulling off his sweater-side note: nothing looks better on boys than a well fitted sweater, just sayin'-on his return to me.

I was shamelessly transfixed, (of course applying my usual subtlety).This time I was the one to initiate the kiss, stretching up and wrapping my arms around his now bare neck and shoulders.

We only paused when I retracted my arms, and unzipped my dress, nodding at the silent question in Zach's eyes.

And when he kissed me again, I forgot about my (most likely drunk) mother gallivanting around town, about all my Roseville friends and my brother just downstairs from us, and everything apart from Zach, his kisses, the feel of his skin, the touch of his hands on my body.

And, uh, yeah... *coughs* We may or may not have had sex in Bex's spare room.

*shrugs unapologetically* Whoops?