Fall For You

(12)

Alex looks different. 

He's not dressed in his usual clothing. The jeans he's wearing are tighter and his plaid button-up shirt  - his default - has been traded for a white t-shirt, the kind that Harley wears.

He's standing with his back pressed against the wall in the lounge room, a red Solo cup in hand. Is he drinking alcohol again? Did he enjoy it so much last night that he couldn't wait to have another taste?

I walk up to him. 

"You're here again," I say.

"Yeah," He nods, taking a sip. His face doesn't scrunch up in disgust so it's probably non-alcoholic.

"You're also wearing someone else's wardrobe."

"Kiera wanted to style me," he says, a little shyly.

"It looks alright." It looks hot, is what I really mean. 

Alex looks so much better than he usually does when he's wearing his own clothes. Usually, he comes off too formal, too stiff. Like he's going to a business meeting or like he's been helping out at Old MacDonald's farm. 

But now? This style suits him more. He looks casual and fun, even.

He's someone you'd notice.

Alex must think that I'm mocking him, but he stands up from leaning against the wall and walks away. No comeback. No comment. He's just... gone. 

"Gemma!" I hear Kiera screech from across the room. "Come and dance with me!" She demands and stretches out her hand, wobbling where she stands. I grab it to help steady her, but she tugs me with her, dragging us both back to the dance floor. 

Kiera immediately begins moving to the beat of the song, swaying her hips from side to side with her hands on my shoulders.

"Come on, Gemma," Kiera complains. "It's a party and we're on the dancefloor. Loosen up, would you?"

***

I stayed on the dance floor with Kiera for a few songs, long enough for her to get tired and want to sit down. Harley has work tomorrow at the garage, and so he had decided to remain sober, so I handed Kiera off to him.

Done with the party downstairs, I walk to my room to settle in for the night. As I get closer, I notice that the door is slightly open, sending off warning bells in my mind. Something isn't right; I always lock the door so that no one can get in to touch my things. I can't have forgotten to lock it.

My phone vibrates in my hand, temporarily distracting me from the intruder in my room. The caller ID makes me angry. Mum. She can't seem to understand that I don't want to talk to her.

I shove the phone into the pocket of my shorts, ignoring it for now while I deal with the person in my room.

Inside, the brown haired boy sits on my bed, his face buried in one of the books from my collection. The cover is tilted downwards, so I can't tell what it is.

The anger in me transfers from Eleanor to Alex. He's a hypocrite. I can't be in his room without Harley, but he can waltz right into mine? Does he think that the rules don't apply to him? Does he have some sort of immunity?

I take a few steps forward, closer to him. "Alex, what are you doing in my room?" My voice rises slightly. 

Startled, Alex looks up from the book, snapping it shut. "I, uh, well, I..." The boy is nervous. It's clear in his stuttering. "I didn't realise that this is your room. You didn't say anything last night," He tells me. His eyes are wide, resembling a deer caught in headlights. He looks down and nervously taps his fingers on the cover of the book. 

"Well, it is," I snap. "No one comes in here. You need to get out," I demand.

He looks up at me, and I see tears glistening in his eyes. He can't honestly be on the verge of crying because I told him to leave.

"Why don't you like me?" Alex asks. His voice is shaky, but he's trying to be tough. For a second, I almost feel bad. Almost.

"Why are you asking me that?" I retort. Isn't it obvious?

This boy is annoying as fuck. Judgemental. He's been judging me from the moment we met, constantly. The way I look, the way I act.

Alex glares across the small space between us at me, waiting for an answer, trying to be intimidating. It's not working. He can't come into my room, ask me stupid questions and then look at me like that.

"Because I want to know what I did to you that makes you so horrible to me," he tells me.

"I'm not horrible to you," I say and fold my arms across my chest.

"Yes, you are." Alex snaps and stands from the bed, sitting the book down. "You have been rude to me since we met. With your insulting comments and remarks, teasing me. I've been nothing but nice to you."

"Nice?" I scoff. "So, you being nice to me was you kicking me out of your room because Harley wasn't there. Nice was basically implying that I'm a criminal. Nice was letting your parents insult me and my friends over the phone?" I ask and cross my arms over my chest. 

"Okay, maybe not. But I was still putting in more of an effort to be friends than you," He protests. 

Friends? He actually thinks that we could be friends? Alex is delusional.

"We'll never be friends," I tell him. 

His face softens, losing his glare. "Why not?" He asks, his voice returning to weak and innocent. 

"Are you serious?" I ask. "It should be obvious by now why we can't and will never be friends."

"It's not obvious to me," He says plainly. I thought this kid was supposed to be smart, but he sure as fuck isn't showing it right now. I hope he's joking, but his firm tone of voice lets me know he actually believes what he's saying. This boy is crazy.

He really believes that someone like me could be friends with someone like him? We come from two completely different backgrounds.

"Let me spell it out for you," I start. "You and I are totally different people. You grew up in a nice fancy home with a mummy and daddy who loved and cared for you no matter what you did. You probably never had to want anything in your life. Your parents bought you everything you desired and more."

"Stop it!" Alex yells. "Stop talking to me as if I'm a child and stop talking to me like you know me."

"Go on then!" I yell back. "Tell me I'm wrong."

I don't know how it happened, but during our shouting match, we've moved closer. So close that I can feel his anger radiating off him in powerful waves. His breath comes out in rapid puffs, hot against my face. I take a step back. He's so close. Too close. It's suffocating. 

There's silence. Alex doesn't challenge what I said. I know I'm right, and he does too. He clenches his jaw, his eyes narrowing.

"I wouldn't want to be friends with someone like you anyway!" He yells. 

"Finally! We agree on something."

"You want to know why I would never want to be friends with someone like you?" His voice is quieter now, but the sharp edge isn't lost.

"Go ahead. Tell me." I dare you.

He stands for a moment, staring at me. His green eyes don't leave mine. My chest rises and falls, burning with anger. His eyes soften, and he takes a step back. 

"You know what?" He says. "It doesn't even matter," he steps around me, his arm brushing mine. He closes the door gently - softer than I expected - like we weren't just screaming at each other.