I'll be trying a new type of chapter format! I think it would very fitting for this particular chapter.

There will be two songs attached to this chapter. When you come up to it and can play the song, start playing it and read the chapter along with the lyrics. You can also listen to the song first and familiarize yourself with the lyrics. The lyrics are important. You might have a fast reading speed and you will reach the next song part before the previous one finishes. At that, you can either wait for the song to finish or just stop it and move to the next one. I got the idea from Webtoons when they have songs available to be played as you read.

I hope you have fun!

Recap:

Dominic finally got his turn in the schedule Jordan made for Naomi's time, but only to figure out if he is Nicotine, leader of the Lost Boys, a gang that is stirring up trouble in the city. They went to a Korean BBQ Restaurant and bumped into Jae Seong, gang leader of the Blades Syndicates. Dominic and Naomi then broke into their old elementary school to talk about the past. Afterward, Naomi went back to the base to recollect herself only to find out that she wasn't alone.

On the skin of the Four Musketeers are two marks of ink to symbolize their solidarity amongst each other. The first is the fleur-de-lis, a brand once for criminals and now for royalty. The second is the letter M with a number at its upper corner: one for the captain on his index finger for the victories he led, two for the diplomat on his pinky for the promises he made, three for the strength on his middle finger for the cruelty he faced, and four for the smarts on her ring finger for the hope she manages to hold.

-

"I've been expecting you."

I froze at the sentence that hung in the air. Slowly turning towards the direction of the sound, I realized too late who it was.

There was a stifled snort until it turned into laughter. In their fit of laughter, a thud followed after as they fell off the couch.

"Y-You should've seen your face!" Jordan managed out through his cackling.

What is Jordan doing here? The guys told me that they all were busy to hang out today during my outing with Dominic- Bennett had to go to the main house again and Declan was going to babysit his sister. Did Jordan take advantage of the fact that no one was going to be in the base?

I went up to him, ignoring how hilarious he found this. "Are you ok?"

He stopped laughing and instead put the back of his hand against his forehead and wailed out, "Painnn. All I feel is pain. Oh, woe is me. Spain, but the 's' is silent."

I rolled my eyes. "Nice try, Jordan. You were laughing just a second ago."

Jordan sighed. "And here I was going to get some comfort points."

Holding my hand out to him, I said, "Here let me-"

Jordan took my hand and pulled himself up. But once he stood back on his own two feet, he slumped over me, having his arms draped over my shoulders and his chin resting against my right shoulder. My legs nearly buckled in his weight as I was forced to hold him up.

"Naomi," Jordan whined out like a child. "I'm bored. Amuse me."

I would like to say I know Jordan, so I think I can say that he's acting more Jordany than usual. The room was dark but moonlight managed to slip through the windows, illuminating the room. That was when I saw the array of bottles on the coffee table that weren't exactly coffee. There were different packs and a couple of larger bottles. With a hesitant sniff, I knew what was going on.

"Are you drunk?" I asked in disbelief.

"Nope," Jordan said, popping the p.

"Then what are you?"

"Not drunk," Jordan replied before snickering to himself. "Sorry, that's probably trademarked," he said in sing-song.

"It's dangerous for you to drink alone," I told him. "You need someone to look after you. Let's have you sit down and-"

"Nooo," he whined out again before hugging me tightly. "I don't wanna be alone. I don't wanna sit alone." He let out a sigh as he nuzzled against my neck. "You're warm and fluffy. Be my pillow."

"I'll take it as a compliment," I told him. "And you're not alone. I'm here. I'll sit with you. Can you sit down on the couch for me?"

There was a pause. "Ok..." He mumbled reluctantly.

Jordan let go of me and walked backward before plopping back onto the couch. I exhaled then sat down next to him.

"Drink with me," he declared, holding a bottle of beer in the air. "Drink to my honor."

"You're not dead nor have you achieved anything notable to drink to."

"Rude," he huffed.

"Smart," I corrected.

"I'm not going to drink with you, Jordan," I told him flatly. "I don't exactly have a good history with alcohol."

"Then you should replace it with a good history, memory, yeah memory," Jordan told me with a bright smile.

"How much did you drink?" I asked, looking over at the table to count how many empty bottles there were.

"Shh, shh, shh," Jordan said, his hand moving my cheek to look at him then covering my eyes with his hand. "Don't count. The only time you count is when you're doing a drinking game. Or money. Mostly money."

I removed his hand and looked at him. "Jordan, let's just sober you up."

"No, I don't wanna be sober," Jordan pleaded. "Sober Jordan is a sad Jordan. Just drink like one bottle. This one. It's like a soda. You like sweet things. Like me."

Jordan grabbed one bottle then held the top against the table before hitting it with his hand for the cap to come off. He handed me the bottle and I took it. The cover read Smirnoff Ice with a 5% alcohol content.

I hesitated then looked back at him and saw him giving me puppy dog eyes, a mistake on my part. I took a small sip and my eyes widened in surprise. It was fizzy like soda and tasted like lemonade with a stronger kick.

"Chug, chug, chug..." Jordan began.

"No, there will be no chugging," I told him, ignoring him booing me. "I'll drink one bottle and then that'll be it."

Hopefully, if I play along with him, he'll listen to me and sober up so then we can talk about why he's drinking by himself.

Or that was the plan.

"It should be illegal how sweet this is," I told him between a fit of giggles before taking another swig. "It's like juice. You can't tell it's alcohol. I already drank three bottles."

"I told you so," Jordan said in sing-song.

"It's like... adult lemonade. That's what they should call it- adult lemonade." My eyes widened and I stood up from the couch and raised the bottle over my head like I was sacrificing it to the alcohol god. Dionysus? "I should call the company, pitch the idea, then I'll be rich."

"Ooh like Bennett rich?" Jordan asked excitedly. "I wanna be Bennett rich too. I gave you that drink. I should get like... 100% of the money."

"No, that's unfair. It was my idea," I argued back, sitting back on the couch. "You can have like... 99%. Wait no..."

Jordan snorted to himself. "You'd still probably be Bennett rich even if you get 1%. Well, he's the top 1% anyway."

"Ha, true," I said nonchalantly. "Eat the rich."

"Eh, he'd probably taste like chocolate," Jordan said, waving it off.

"Milk or dark chocolate?"

Jordan nodded. "Yes."

"Imma play some music on my phone," Jordan said as he looked at his screen. "Then... shuffle."

A random song played on his phone and the volume suddenly increased most likely from him adjusting the volume. He then tossed the phone on the table for us to enjoy the music filling the room.

"I know. My songs are amazing-"

"It's a nice song, but you only played one song."

"Doesn't matter, my music taste is magnificent. You can now compliment me."

"I'm not gonna do that."

"Hit me with your praise."

I suddenly karate chopped his stomach.

"Ugh," Jordan groaned out, clutching his stomach. "I said with your praise."

"Oh, right, sorry," I said before chopping his stomach once more. "You're not modest."

"I'll take it," Jordan croaked out.

The two of us started playing a handclapping game and the first one who messes up will have to take a shot of random alcohol. We only started our first round when Jordan suddenly raised his hands over his head.

"I have an idea!"

"You messed up the game! Take a shot!"

Jordan groaned. "Fine." He poured some vodka in a shot glass then gulped it. "Ugh", he managed out, shaking off a shudder from the alcohol. "This fake, adult water tastes gross."

"So what was your idea?" I asked.

"Boop," he said when he tapped the tip of my nose.

"Boop," I said back when I tapped the tip of his nose.

"I have an idea and it's one word," Jordan declared. "Rolling chair race."

I blinked then counted slowly off my fingers. "That's two words." I stopped then counted again. "Wait no, four words. Roll, ing, chair, race."

"Ok, fine, four words," Jordan said in exasperation. "Rolling chair race."

Jordan and I moved some furniture around to give enough space for the race. We grabbed two swivel chairs that appeared in the last book as our noble steeds. We each were in position. Jordan had one leg on the chair and the other as the engine or motor or whatever to push the chair to victory. I, on the other hand, or maybe... I, on the other chair, am sitting regularly on the chair but have my legs ready to be the engine/motor to push my chair to victory.

"On the count of three," Jordan began.

"No," I whined out. "On the count of four. Because there's four of us. We're the four musketeers."

"But there's two of us."

"Wait, you're right," I mumbled. "Ok, on the count of two then."

Jordan nodded. "Alrighty, on the count of two. One... Two!"

It was a heart-racing race. No one knew who was going to win. The odds were stacked against us, or maybe just one of us. But there only could be one winner. However, we still put our heart and soul into the race, having given up everything to be there. It wasn't a mere race. It was life.

"Winner!" Jordan declared, jumping off his chair and cheering at the crowd. "You lost. I won. I am victorious! Great show. We are the champions- Wait, no. I am the champion, my friend!" He sang out.

"Booo!" I called out. "You suck! No one likes a sore loser!"

"You're the sore loser," Jordan retorted back.

I paused then called out, "Booo! You suck! No one likes a sore winner!"

Before Jordan could argue back, the playlist coming from Jordan's phone had switched to a different song.

"Fred Astaire" - Jukebox The Ghost

"I love this song!" Jordan exclaimed.

Jordan grabbed my hands and pulled me up from my seat. As the music played, he moved my hands with his so we started swaying to the upbeat music, our energy increasing along with the song.

Jordan then began to sing out to me with a grin, "It seems like I can do no wrong- Through your eyes!"

He dramatically put his hand on his chest and looked away before singing, "Sing the wrong lines to my own song- You don't mind!"

Then he suddenly lifted my arm and twirled me around as he sang out, "Make it up as we go... All the words we don't know..."

Jordan let go of my hand then grabbed an empty bottle off the table. He jumped onto the couch and sang to the bottle like it was a mic.

He pointed at me. "Even when I'm a drunken mess- You don't care!" He sang out with a brilliant off-key passion.

Then he pointed up into the air. "Still like me better than the rest- I swear!"

Jumping off of the couch, Jordan grabbed one of my hands then serenaded me with the bottle-mic, "I don't understand it... How you like me when I'm dancing-"

Suddenly, he threw the bottle behind him. "Hey!"

Jordan took my hand and pulled me to the large space of the living room. With a hand on my waist, we began to dance to the energetic music.

Those eyes, damn, those eyes- They get me every time!

We clumsily danced together, moving all around the space as if we owned it. Looking at each other, we shared our laughter as the song played.

Those eyes, in those eyes- I can do no crime!

Letting go of each other, we now danced on our own, having the music take us. It wasn't possible to separate our laughter from the lyrics.

When I dance like I don't care- You call me Fred Astaire!

As the chorus repeated, Jordan and I were now singing and dancing together.

"Those eyes, damn, those eyes!" We sang through our laughter. "They get me every time!"

"Those eyes, in those eyes- I can do no crime!" Our dancing was most certainly a crime.

Jordan twirled me again as we bellowed out, "When I dance like I don't care- You call me Fred Astaire!"

At the instrumental break, the two of us danced like we didn't care, danced like no one was watching. My heart was doing backflips, my head was dizzy, my face hurt from laughing so hard, and yet I still danced with him. It helped that Jordan didn't care either as he danced with no grace but with fervor and fun. We were a mess, an absolute mess.

"All my idiosyncrasies- You like 'em," he sang out with a wink to me.

Jordan looked at me with both his face and voice marked by sincerity, "Annoyed at all the little things... I know I can be frustrating..."

Then he suddenly grinned at me and his eyes lit up the room as he sang, "But you still like me when I'm dancing- Hey!"

As the chorus continued to play, we kept on dancing. I didn't know who else I could relax and have fun like this. I didn't know I was going to spend my night dancing and laughing like this.

We were dancing closely when Jordan held my waist then lifted me up, making me squeal at the action. He brought me back to him and we crashed into a mess of arms. My arms wrapped around his shoulders for dear life and he hugged me back at my waist. Then I realized that I was still falling.

We burst out laughing after having fallen onto the floor. I managed to roll off of his and patted his shoulder to check if he was alright. Jordan stood back up with little to no grace in his drunken state. The song continued to play as if nothing had happened.

When I lose myself.

He held out his hand to me to help me up.

There's no one else.

I clasped his hand with mine, and he pulled me back on my feet.

Who else sees through me quite like you?

Then Jordan pulled me into a hug and I laughed and hugged him back. We swayed as the energetic music dipped to a slow beat.

Those eyes, damn, those eyes- They get me every time...

Those eyes, in those eyes- I can do no crime...

When I dance like I don't care...

At the rise of the energetic music, Jordan grabbed my hand and twirled me once more.

You call me Fred Astaire!

We danced until the song ended then collapsed back into the couch.

"I didn't know I was going to get my daily exercise by dancing," Jordan said with a grin.

"I'm just glad I'm not the only one dancing. At least then you wouldn't laugh at my dance skills when you've got your own to worry about."

"Hey, I'm a great dancer," Jordan defended. "And you're great at dancing too."

"Really?" I asked with a smile.

"Yeah, but only if I close my eyes, then your dancing is-"

I smacked his chest before we burst out laughing at that.

"Now I'm tired," Jordan complained before resting his head on my shoulder. "You're the perfect height as my headrest. Promise me you'll never get taller."

"Oh, shut up."

I slumped in my seat, decreasing my height.

"Nooo," Jordan whined as his head resting on my shoulder lowered. "My optimal rest position..."

Jordan shifted his body then hung his arms over my shoulders and nuzzled his cheek against mine. "You're like a cuddly teddy bear," he whined out. "No one should know of your secret weapon. Don't abuse your power. Responsibility has great power. Wait, no..."

"You're very cuddly when you're drunk," I told him. "I just hope you've never been this drunk with the others."

Jordan let out a laugh. "I remember that night. I blacked out then woke up smelling like puke and had bruises on my face."

"What?" I asked.

Jordan suddenly shifted his head off my shoulder and had it land on my lap instead. I ruffled his dirty-blonde hair, the curls running through my fingers. I noticed he closed his eyes as I twirled his hair. Then I got annoyed by the fact he was looking so peaceful. I tapped the side of his head with my hand, then lightly smacked his forehead.

"Your head's heavy," I complained. "You're going to flatten my lap. I can already feel the blood circulation on my legs being cut off. Nooo-"

"It's only because of all of the knowledge I carry," he retorted back.

"Just because you have some knowledge doesn't mean it's useful. It's probably filled with useless trivia."

"It's not useless trivia," Jordan defended. "Did you know that wombats poop out cubes?"

"Ew, you said poop," I said with a giggle.

"You did too!" Jordan said with a laugh. "Okay, okay, another one. A jiffy is one-trillionth of a second. I'll be back in a jiffy."

"Still useless," I pointed out.

"The dots on top of the letter 'j' and 'i' have a name- tittle."

"Tittle," I repeated then burst out laughing. I paused once more, then said in a serious tone, "Tittle." Now the two of us are laughing.

"Here, this one," Jordan told me. "Dr. Seuss invented the word 'nerd'."

I gasped. "The person who made my childhood also ruined it." I then burst out laughing.

Jordan turned his head that was still resting on my lap and looked up at me. He then lifted his hand and lightly tapped the bridge of glasses.

"Here's another useless fact," Jordan said quietly. "You still look like shades of gray to me."

I paused at what he said then I tapped his nose. "That isn't useless. It is a fact though."

He smiled at that. "Alright, then here's a useless fact. I wish I wasn't colorblind."

My smile faded at that. "Jordan..."

"If I wasn't colorblind, I'd paint you in color in a heartbeat," Jordan told me, his green eyes glinting at his words.

"I'd be able to know what color your eyes are," he said, tapping my glasses once more.

"Or the color of your hair," he continued, twirling a strand around his finger.

"And the color of your skin," he told me, his fingers brushing my cheek.

"But most importantly," he whispered, "what shade of pink to use when you blush."

His words hung in the air and I realized I was holding my breath not knowing how to respond.

"I... I think I'm feeling flustered," he told me softly, holding a wry smile.

Jordan's hand was still outstretched in front of me,