Fall For You

(27)

 "Are you planning on telling me where we're going?" Alex asks from beside me as he buckles his seatbelt. "Or do I have to guess?"

"What's wrong, Alex? Don't like surprises?" I tease, putting the key in the ignition.

"Fine, don't tell me," Alex smirks. "I'll just sit here, confused, hoping that this isn't an elaborate plan to kill me."

"Don't be so dramatic," I say, rolling my eyes. "I'm not planning on killing anyone. Well, unless you annoy me."

"Well, then, I will try my best to be the least annoying version of myself," Alex grins. 

 I smirk and nudge him lightly. "You'll have to try harder than that."

He looks at me, suddenly serious. "Is it far?"

 "That depends," I say. "Is 15 minutes give or take a few far?"

"No. I suppose not." Alex replies.

"Then, no. It's not far."

 "You're a very mysterious girl, Gem," Alex says, leaning back in his seat, like I didn't know that.

"Maybe I just want you to trust me," I try to tease but my voice comes out too rough. "If I told you every little detail, then how are you ever going to trust me?"

"Is that something that's important to you? My trust?" Alex asks.

I nod, wondering how this conversation took a turn into territory I definitely wasn't aiming for.

"Why?" Alex asks, really furthering this odd conversation. This was just supposed to be a fun little drive. I don't know how we got from him asking where we're going to... whatever this is. 

"Isn't trust important in friendships?" I ask, trying to steer this conversation away from me.

"Of course," Alex agrees. "It just seems like it means more to you than it usually does to others."

Damn. This boy and his observational skills.

 "I don't have good experiences with trust, Alex," I say softly. It's the truth.

After my mother left, trust went out the window. How could I trust anyone... when I couldn't even trust the person who gave birth to me to stick around?

 Alex reaches up, laying a warm hand on top of mine. "I'm going to change that for you," he says, his voice full of undeniable certainty.

"Why do you want to?" I ask. "Why do I matter to you?"

"The truth is, there's just something about you. I don't even know how to explain it, but I want to know you. All of you. I see it every time I look at you. You're so much more than the girl with the purple hair and the tattoo. I was wrong when I said you hate yourself. You don't. You're afraid. You're afraid to let people in, to let them see you. It has something to do with trust and feeling like people will run, but I want to prove to you that that's not me. There is nothing about you that could ever make me run."

"Alex," I breathe, my chest tight. I feel the weight of his confession over me. It's too real. Too honest. "I didn't know you saw me like that." A warmth spreads through me, and I can't help holding the steering wheel a little tighter.

"I didn't. Not at first," Alex admits. His thumb traces circles over the back of my hand while I drive. "I thought you were untouchable, that no one could really get to you."

"Really?" I ask, surprised. "I can't let people get close to me, Alex." I shake my head. "The closer a person gets to you, the more chances they have to hurt you. And I... I don't think I can handle being hurt any more."

This is the most honest I've been in a long time. Not only am I being honest with Alex, but I'm also being honest with myself. I've never been able to fully articulate how my mother leaving, and the dark spiral it sent my father into, has affected me.

"Do you wanna know what I think?" Alex asks after a moment of silence. "I think hurt is a part of life," he says, his voice low, sounding wise.

"There can't be any good without a bit of bad. I know it sucks, but it's true. And I think, at the end of the day, it's how we choose to deal with that hurt that makes us who we are."

His words hit something deep inside me, something that I've spent years pretending wasn't there. My grip on the steering wheel loosens just a little, like my body is finally relaxing, letting out the smallest breath I've been holding for too long.

I sneak a glance at Alex, his eyes are already on mine. "No one's ever said anything like that to me before," I say, my voice quiet, barely there.

"Maybe they should have," he says softly. "You deserve to hear it."

"Thanks, Alex," I say, and the small smile I give him doesn't feel forced.

"I'm just glad I said it first," Alex says, returning my smile.

I roll my eyes, but my chest feels warm. "Of course you are."

The car falls into a comfortable silence. Neither of us speaks, we don't have to. But Alex's hand doesn't leave mine, so I let my hand drop from the steering wheel. As I drive one-handed, I interlace our fingers, holding his hand against my leg. I feel the warmth through the denim of my shorts as his thumb traces the back of my hand.

I sneak another glance at him. He's looking out the window this time. How can one person hold so much good? How can someone as good as him want to see the good in me?