Complicated (Alex Gaskarth)

The Best Damn Thing

It's finally the Godsmack concert and Elizabeth is in for quite the surprise.

Above photo as visual. Credit to owner.

Still in the dressing room, I stand shocked in front of Alex, as I attempt to make sense of his revelation.

"So, what you're saying is—"

"That we're not engaged until you say yes to my proposal." He finishes.

Now, that just make me optimistic.

"So just ask me now." I shrug my shoulders in offering, "It's not like I really care about the formality of it and I'll say yes no matter what."

"Much like you cared about the formality in yours." He murmurs under his breath, then feigns introspection, "I don't know whether to be flattered or hurt by the fact that someone is disgustingly in love with me."

Oh, so he's really doing this. Throwing words, which I wasn't even in complete control of myself when I said them, in my face? We'll see about that!

"Yeah, well, you messed up my plan!"

"And, what was it, exactly? To use more horrible objectives to describe your love for me?"

Accompanying his question is a flash of a shit-eating grin and soft, forgiving eyes that have me instantly launching myself into his arms, which let me know that this incident is forgiven, just another quirky anecdote to add to our rather complicated arsenal of memories.

As our gazes meet for the second time in a span of minutes, we fall back into our usual embrace, his arms around my waist, while mine remain around his neck.

A perfect position, really, for a rather poor explanation.

"I was going to use Avril Lavigne lyrics to chronicle our relationship."

"I wonder why." He taunts.

"Because she brought us—"

"Apart?'

"Together," I correct, "She brought us together, Alex."

"And even more together we will be when you say yes to my proposal, which will be," he leans into to whisper against the shell of my ear, "bulletproof."

_______

Filled to the brim with the three-course meal that was served earlier at the joint Father's Day/Elizabeth birthday celebration—the latter having fallen two days prior, on June 16th—from which we've just been driven back from, and Alex and I but flop unto my bed, too stuffed to even change into lounge clothes.

But not enough to instantly cuddle into one another, our separation at the airport tomorrow—me to Italy for two weeks with my family—him to Mexico to continue ''The Sound of Letting Go'' tour, an imminent reminder that this is one of the few moments we'll have together for a little while.

So, we do what any couple being threatened with an undetermined separation do: Netflix without the chill.

The answer to what we'll watch lies on the main page of the app, in the form of a Netflix original by the very evocative name of Framed! A Sicilian Murder Mystery, or in the form we'll watch it in, Incastri.

With Sicily as our last destination for the trip, according to my cousin Walter, the choice of this show is perfect. Granted, in less than 24 hours, I highly doubt I'll become fluent in the dialect, yet that doesn't mean I can't immerse myself in the feel, not to mention, get a sense of what the iconic views will be like. Plus, with the subtitles at the bottom, Alex can also join in on the learning experience. He has been showing signs of wanting to learn the language of my ancestors.