𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐦𝐩𝐚𝐠𝐧𝐞 𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐛𝐥𝐞𝐦𝐬 || Jameson Hawthorne

the heiress

༄ 𝐃𝐈𝐍𝐍𝐄𝐑 𝐃𝐈𝐃𝐍'𝐓 𝐋𝐀𝐒𝐓 𝐌𝐔𝐂𝐇 𝐋𝐎𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐑 𝐀𝐅𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓, and I was more than happy to leave the table quicker than I had planned. Rebecca went home with Lottie and Andrew, but I couldn't leave without finding one person.

He's not your responsibility anymore, I thought. I knew that to be true, but I also knew Jameson Winchester Hawthorne didn't care about much anymore, and that was bound to get him into trouble.

I found him on the roof, lying on his back, and a vodka bottle in his hand. His hair was splayed all over his face, and it was hard to not get caught up in his features.

His green eyes met mine, and he smiled. "Hi Lizzie."

"Drinking again?" I skipped over to him. His eyes were crimson red, and my heart dropped at the sight.

Of course he was hurting, but never wanted anyone to see it.

"Take some," He placed the bottle in front of me, and instinctively I took it. Tonight wasn't a normal night.

Screw it.

I took a huge swig at the bottle and laid down next to Jameson.

"I'm sorry about Thea."

Jameson held his hand out and I gave him the bottle. He took another sip. "I think I found something out."

Or he could ignore me. That works too.

"About?" I knew what he was talking about, but i'd rather beat around the bush.

"Westbrook, Davenport, Winchester, and Blackwood," He looked at me, and I almost gasped at how luminous his features were in the lighting. "Does that ring a bell?"

I nodded. "Your middle names."

"Me and the heiress figured something out—"

Heiress? "You and who?" I sat up, trying to process what the hell he'd just said. Call me crazy, but Jameson Hawthorne had a motive behind everything he did.

"Avery, the mystery girl? You know.. the one who inherited—"

"I know," I held a hand up to him. "I just don't get— never mind." The nickname.

"Lay back down," Jameson patted the spot next to him, and reluctantly I sat back down. My arms were at my sides and I felt stiff as a board. I could feel his hand gently grazing mine, and I didn't do anything. I couldn't move.

I hadn't drank that much, but I was a lightweight. It's been a while since i've touched alcohol, mainly because of the detrimental outcome it's had in the the times i've—

Anyways.

Jameson leaned in closer to me, his face nearly on my shoulder. The sun had just set, and in the night I could almost pretend things were normal. That we were normal.

"Lizzie?" Jameson whispered, his voice so soft I almost missed it.

"Yes?"

He slipped his hand through mine, and a small gasp left my mouth. Stay focused.

"Jameson, what are you—"

"I remember everything, Lizzie. But right now? I need to play this game. His game," He didn't have to specify. "Avery is the game."

"She's a girl," My breath hitched. "And I think she's more than just a game."

"I know. I also know you might hate me for doing this, but I need to play. This game gives me purpose, Lizzie. It's like oxygen."