Romance is Dead to Me

one

"Romance is dead to me." Alex blurted out into the world, the universe. As she tossed her phone onto her couch and grabbed a bottle of cold Corona. She took a look around her apartment and knew what she had to do: renovate.

Ten in the evening on a Friday and while the world is out — partying, hanging, sleeping — Alex is busy re-decorating her place. After another lousy date, she began to move stuff around her apartment. It became a habit of hers when she had a failed date; re-decorating gave her a sense of control over something that she couldn't.

Living in Los Angeles, she got her dream job of being a graphic designer and a private interior designer, as a side hustle. Designing gave Alex the creative freedom she never had growing up, so being able to say she can do it as her job was more than a blessing for her.

Ding! Her lock screen lit up, indicating a message. Alex grunted as she saw the message was from her one and only, best friend, Isabella. Turning it off again, she couldn't be bothered to respond but then the messages started to overflow then she began to call.

"Wha —"

"Alexandra Thorn! Why are you not with your date?"

"Bell, I know you didn't follow me tonight. Or did you ask the guy how it went?"

"Neither. I'm at the club and he's here too with a different girl!"

"Sounds about right. He was a sleaze bag and I couldn't be bothered."

"Oh honey, I'm going to find you someone."

"No. Don't you dare Bell."

"Sorry, music is loud! Talk to you later!"

"Isabella!" The line went out. Alex wanted to scream but knew if she did her neighbors would come rushing to check on her. So she settled for screaming into her pillow.

-ˋˏ ༻❁༺ ˎˊ-

One a.m. and Alex slumped onto her couch, which was on the opposite side of its original spot. Along with every other piece of furniture, she realized she mirrored her apartment and shrugged it off, still pleased with the results.

Alex turned on her phone after she turned it off because of the countless messages and pictures that Bell texted her. Once it turned on, there were even more messages that she missed. Groaning, she cleared her phone notifications so she wouldn't be reminded of the 45 messages that were waiting to be read.

The two girls met when 5-year-old Bell joined the orphanage that 10-year-old Alex was at. Bell had trouble making friends with the others because no one wanted to be associated with the daughter of a serial killer. And Alex didn't have friends because everyone thought she was weird just like her mom. So when the two found each other, they found a sense of belonging, a sense of home in each other's arms. Bell was the complete opposite of Alex — she was the girl who believed in fairytales and happy endings and was always positive, despite the life she used to have. Alex knew all this and still wondered, after 15 years, how the two were still friends. But Alex will always be grateful for Bell's unexpected entrance in her life.

Just as Alex was thinking back on their friendship, her doorbell rang. "Of course, I bet she wants to crash here." Opening her door, she was prepared to see a smashed blonde who reeked of alcohol, but instead it was a tall (maybe 6 '4), muscular, fit, man with brown hair that was ruffled giving a bed head, yet handsome, look. Damn, he's handsome as hell. Alex's eyes went down to under his arm, a motorbike helmet. Oh god.

The stranger knew Alex was checking him out, so when her eyes slowly trailed back up and they locked eyes, he was smirking at her. "I didn't realize I looked that good."

Anybody would have blushed or felt embarrassed, but Alex was not like the other girls, "I mean, if I like what I see then I might as well check it all out you know?" He was stumped, surprised to have met a blunt girl.

"So who are you and why are you here at my place at...1 in the morning?"

"That's a good question. Your friend, Isabella, sent me here."

"What." Bell has done crazy things when she is drunk but this tops the cake. Alex had to take a deep breath and control her emotions. "Where is she?"

"She got a ride with some of her friends before she sent me off. She said, and I quote, 'Tell Alex that I sent you. She won't be able to take her hands off you after she learns you ride a bike. And that we are friends.'"

Alex wiped her face, "Come inside. You can take your boots and jacket off here." The man was huge, Alex didn't realize her entryway was small until she stood next to him. Not wanting to be near him any further, she ran to her phone and began to call Bell.

After two rings, "He-lloo." A loud, slurred response came on the other line and Alex had to hold her phone away for a moment.

"Isabella you better have a good reason —"

"Oh you m-met Connor! Don't worry girl, he's a good guy!"

"I don't care if he's a good guy, Bell. You can't just send a stranger to my house at one in the fucking morning!" No response came as Alex's phone died, "Great."

"Um...honestly I can go." Alex forgot about the man, now named Connor, who was awkwardly standing by the door and looking out of place.

"Want a drink?" Alex walked over to her fridge and took out another bottle of Corona for herself and for him. "No thanks, I have to ride soon so don't want to be intoxicated."

"Good choice. So tell me, Connor, what made you want to listen to Bell? She said you were friends?"

"'Friends' is a loose term. I just met her tonight and she was really drunk."

"Figures. She must've been really drunk to have passed you up and sent you to me." Connor felt shy as he rubbed the back of his neck. With that action he was flexing his muscle which looked as if it would rip his black fitted shirt. "Thank you...I think?"

"Sorry, I meant it as a compliment. Anyways, you seem like a good guy. I don't know how far out you live and since you got your bike, I'm sure there are plenty of drunk drivers around in LA. Feel free to crash on my couch."

Connor was speechless yet again, "I've never met someone who's...carefree like you."

Alex laughed and Connor felt proud of that, "Nope. Wrong term there Con — it's okay if I call you that? — I'm not carefree. I'd say, I'm a 'I see how it is' type of girl. I see that you're a good guy so I know you won't do anything except what I suggested."

Connor's eyebrow was raised as he leaned against her small island counter, leaning opposite of her, "And who says I'm a good guy?"

With no hesitation, "I've seen and experienced my fair share of bad guys." The conversation stopped as Alex took another swig of her beer. "It's getting late, I'm going to sleep. If you need anything, just knock, although I might not answer. Goodnight."

Connor watched as her small frame retreated to her room and with a click, he let out a breath he didn't realize he was holding. Connor has met plenty of women who would throw themselves at him and try anything to get with him, which is why he's become so guarded. But when he heard about Alex from a drunk girl, he was hoping she was different, and she definitely was.

So showing up at her door was something he never thought he'd do. He second guessed himself and wanted to leave but when she opened the door, he was in awe of her beauty. She was maybe, 5'3", with shoulder length black wavy hair, wearing a tank top revealing her smooth tan skin and shorts that were too short for even him.

Now inside of her house, Connor didn't know what to do and he felt like a high school kid. Visiting his crush and wanted to make a good impression, which seems to be the case since Alex let him crash on her couch. A stranger.

In his lifetime, meeting Alex was the most interesting thing to ever happen to him. And he doesn't live a boring life.