Don't Go There

about that coffee

[a/n: this fic was recently rewritten entirely. if the comments don't make sense that's why!]

       Your legs turned to jello on the drive over and you lost all your nerve. Okay, 90% of your nerve. Instead of knocking on his door like maybe a normal person would, you parked a couple houses down from his, hoping to regain the confidence you had before actually coming over. What if he wasn't home? What if he was, and you were being a bother? What if he already had a girl over?
You were craning your neck to see if the car you'd spotted was actually out front of his house, or if it belonged next door, when Alex's front door opened. You stooped down as if he were even looking this way, and was flabbergasted upon noticing he was only in a t shirt and basketball shorts, as if it wasn't 36 degrees in late December. He was headed quickly for the mailbox, so you revved the car up like an idiot, and that of course got his attention. You pressed the gas and slighted left to leave, but Alex's gazed was fixed inside your car, and he raised a hesitant hand to wave. You so awkwardly tried to play it off as if you'd just been happening to drive by, but once you acknowledged him back, a smile spread over his face. He waved you down with both hands and abandoned his mailbox.

You pulled back to the right to parallel park in front of his house, and he came up to the passenger's side window. You rolled it down and immediately apologized.

"No this is perfect," he spoke sincerely. "I realized I didn't give you my number, and I had no way to contact you either. I was considering putting Have You Seen This Girl posters around town to see you again."

You sheepishly giggled then said, "Well, no need to waste the paper. I know where you live remember?"

"Good thing," he patted the roof of your car. "You should come in."

You took a nervous breath in, hesitating, but knew you couldn't pass this opportunity up. You playfully shooed him away so you could fully park, and he waited for you in the cold until you were finished and by his side.

"Where are your parents?"

"Marriage counseling," he glanced sideways with a sarcastic grin.

"Yeesh," you cringed. "Think they could convince my parents to go?"

"They could barely convince themselves to go," his brows came together as he held his front door open for you.

You laughed through your nose and stepped inside; their living room was to the left and consisted of a long, weathered looking brown leather couch and an old-school TV. The only decor were some family photos, and some art of various kinds of dachshunds. Which reminded you of Shiloh, who you spotted sprawled over a dog bed in the corner, lazily wagging his tail and looking over at Alex and I. The brown from around his eyes and muzzle had turned gray, but he was still tiny and adorable. You noticed the kitchen next, which was straight ahead and had counters full of ingredients that were clearly being or about to be used.

"Oh, see? Look how busy you are," you stopped walking for a second, as did Alex to see what you were referring to. "We can hang another time, I was just wanting to bother you about that coffee you promised."

"Bother no further," he walked over to push an open bag of flour out of the way to reveal a Nespresso machine that looked brand new. "My dad just bought this for my mom to try and make up for one of many arguments."

You nodded with amusement and an impressed smirk, silently accepting his offer. The counter was covered in other ingredients like a container of sprinkles, sugar, and multiple bowls and baking scrapers.

"What do you have going on over here?" you finally asked, jerking your chin up in the direction of the food mess.

"Ah, my dad's birthday is tomorrow," he scratched the back of his neck. "My mom wanted me to put together something for him."

"What a sweet son you are," you said in a teasing tone.

"Only when they force me to be," he swept up some flour with his hands and dropped it into the sink. "So.. how did the service go? You okay?"

"Eh," you shrugged, still not ready to talk about it. "It was short, bearable. I was glad a lot more people were there than I expected."

He nodded sympathetically, "I wasn't gonna intrude, but, I would've came. I know I didn't really know her well, or really at all, but... you know, for you."

You had an almost overwhelming feeling of gratitude, and another unfamiliar feeling of being genuinely cared for. You couldn't look him directly in his eyes as you thanked him. A few silent moments later, you spoke first while he was tidying up more spilled ingredients.

"What are you attempting to make over there?"

"Apple pie," he answered, then held up a can with a green label. "Not homemade, nothing fancy."

You tried to fight a smile, the word pie bringing you back to the day you guys met. "Hope you're making it the right way," you teased, crossing your arms.

He turned back to face you so slowly, you burst out laughing before his eyes were even on you again. There was a devilish smirk on his face that had you nervous and excited all at once, "And what if I'm not?"

You padded over and slid past him in the cramped kitchen, and took the can of apples from him at the same time he slowly grabbed a handful of flour. You two had just started a war. 

He brought his hand to his mouth, palm upturned and said, "I know this, goes here." And blew all the flour he'd grabbed right at you. You ended up inhaling some as you gasped, and watched the white powder land and settle on your shirt. You pursed your lips, and moved to hover the open can of apples over his curly hair.

"You wouldn't," he challenged, eyes wide with anxiety.

"I would," you replied confidently, and tipped the can slightly so only half would come out.

You couldn't tell at first if he was angry as he stood there, mouth ajar, hair covered in apple scented goop. The two of you stared at each other in disbelief for only seconds before the corners of his mouth turned up, and he said, "You're gonna regret that."