First of Many: a Grester Fanfic

            Ding ding.  Two short dings. Chester. I had a specific ring on my phone for each of my contacts. Mamrie's was bells, Hannah's was chimes, Tim's was two long dings, and Chester's... Chester's was two short dings. Two short notification that made me smile whenever they graced my ears. Two short notifications to which I looked forward. It meant smiles and long awaited fits of laughter and memories to be made. Two short dings.

            I hustled over to my phone, which was perched perfectly on the table by the end of the couch.

Chester: Meet me at our place on an hour? :)

            I smiled. I loved that he called it our place. We didn't go there on dates, like everyone (including Hannah and Mamrie) thought, but rather we attended the small hole-the-wall as friends, who just liked to grab a beer together every once in a while. He called it our place because we discovered it together one lonely night post-wrapping of Camp Takota. Neither of us could sleep, so we texted for a little while and ended up going out for a walk and accidentally stumbling upon a place which would ultimately become my favorite destination.

Me: Absolutely. I just have to finish editing tomorrow's video. No drunk editing for me!!! :) 

            I added in the last special effect and told the large Mac to export the video. After touching up my makeup in my small bathroom, accompanied by none other than the classic picture of Abraham Lincoln, I walked out of my house, hopped in my shinny, freshly waxed car, and drove to my small slice of heaven.  

            As I walked into the well-kept LA secret, I was engulfed by the sound of music, and the sights and smells of dancing. Sweat. Alcohol… and joy, lots of it.

            "Grace!" I turned at the loud mention of my name.

            "Hey Chester!" I spun around, spotted his face moving quickly towards me, and gave him a hug. It was as if this was our tradition. A quick text, usually containing a time, I finished a video, and then we met. He always managed to see me first (I have no idea how), and then we gave each other a quick greeting, which concluded in a hug, and then a beer. We hadn't had the opportunity for the beer, yet.           

"You wanna a drink?"

            "I thought you would never ask." I smiled at him like I always did. He smiled at me like he always did. Chester really was a great friend. Like clockwork we met, and like clockwork he never faltered in his steady step of grace.

             As the night continued, more alcohol was consumed; more fun was to be had. I noticed that Chester wasn't drinking as much as I was, but I had been stressed lately, what with all the movie dealings and the book deal I had just obtained, so I didn't worry about becoming a little bit inebriated. In addition to all of these things, I knew that I was in good hands with Chester.

             The night continued. Eventually small talk turned into deep conversation about the importance of the smashed face on a pug. Liquor. Weird faces turned into standing up. Alcohol. Standing turned into dancing. Shots. Sweat. Light. Closer. Colors. Fading. Louder. Closer. Darker.

 Black.

 Blinding light. 

             I could feel my brain pounding against my skull, and the sound of my heartbeat rung in my ears. As the area of my eyes went from a mere squint to a state of observance, I noticed that I was not in my bed, wrapped up in my comforter. Instead I was on a couch... some one else's couch.