It's Really Happening

I woke up the next morning full-clothed on top of the bed next to Abby, Dexter nestled between us, with a hazy idea of what had happened after Shawn’s gig. The man knew how to drink, I had to give him that. But since I couldn’t go anywhere without waking Abby up—that was a can of worms I didn’t want to open—I pulled my phone from my pocket. It was about half-past eight; there had to be somebody else awake.

However, before I could text anyone, I noticed that I had missed several messages from the night before. Strangely all of them were from one person—Alex—and even stranger, they were all concerning the same thing.

I miss you.

You should've stayed for the rest of tour. You're missing awesome shit.

Shit, I'm drunk. I really fucking miss you.

The last one was slightly disconcerting for all of three seconds until I remembered that when he wasn't a total idiot, Alex was an incredibly affectionate drunk. I see we're not the only ones who had a crazy night last night, I replied, holding my phone over my face.

I didn't really expect to get a response for a few hours, so I went to check my email, but a few minutes later, another text popped up.

Who is this?

I rolled my eyes. Of course, he wasn't the brightest bulb after waking up, either. Apparently the love of your life by your messages Alexander.

Almost immediately: Eris its too fucking early.

I couldn't help but chuckle in amusement at how quickly he guessed it was me. My laughter woke Dexter up, though, and he raised his head to look at me. I pressed a finger to my lips, which was ridiculous because he was a dog and not a Kindergartener, and he stood up and crawled onto my stomach, almost knocking the wind out of me. "Dexter, you're such a fat puppy," I whispered accusingly. He tilted his head at me, and I scratched him behind the ears. "Fat, adorable puppy."

Well that's what you get for leaving me drunk lovenotes to wake up to.

In true Gaskarth fashion he replied, Who said I was drunk? :)

I pressed my lips together to keep from laughing, and continued to scratch Dexter as I typed. Uh you did genius.

Oh. Shit. I really was drunk last night.

If you don't have a side that's part B-movie villain, you won't understand how difficult it was for me not to cackle with Evil amusement. Yes, Evil. But since I couldn't wake up my friend, I limited myself to an Evil smirk. Oh, sweetie... you really shouldn't have told me you don't remember.

It took a few minutes for Alex to respond, so I went back to reading emails and Twitter and so forth. Well we all say stupid shit we don't mean when were drunk.

I snorted. Alex was obviously trying to cover his tracks, and just like Rian he thought I knew something about what he did that he didn't. But instead of letting him stew in ignorance, like Rian was about karaoke, I'd just... embellish.

So you don't miss me and wish I was still on tour and want to do obscene things to me? You're such a tease Alexander.

...Fuck did I say that?

I wished I could've seen the look on his face, because any expression with that reaction must've been hilarious. You mighta done. I could be lying ;)

Bored— or hungry, I don't know, I don't speak Dog—Dexter got up, puttered down to the end of the bed, and stared over the edge, wagging his tail as he prepared to jump. I watched in amusement as he inched closer and eventually leapt to the floor. I didn't hear him whine in pain or anything, so I figured he was fine, but all the noise made Abby stir.

In the meantime, Alex had sent back, Don't tell Zack. I like being alive.

I chuckled as Abby rubbed her eyes. Haha okay gaskarth. Pinkie swear! "Snerg merp," she declared. "Sleeeeeeep..." Abby then rolled over and I set my phone on my stomach to wait. "...Fuuuuuuuuuuck..."

"Good morning," I replied, keeping my voice low. "Shall I get you some water or will moving the bed explode your noggin?"

Seeing that his other mommy was awake, Dexter put his paws up on the side of the bed and, sniffing around a bit, began licking her face. "Uck. Water. And puppy repellant."

"Coming right up!" I ninja'd my way off the bed, leaving my phone. "C'mere, you butt." Dexter chased after me down the hall to the kitchen, where he was quite happy to beg for breakfast. Once I poured out his kibble, I got Abby a tall glass of water and some Advil.

"Make the buzzing stop!" Abby whined when I returned. I nudged the door shut and set her hangover medicine on the dresser before picking up my phone. I'm serious, Eris. Please. I frowned down at my phone. I felt that, having left the room, I had missed a bit of the conversation. "Why are you making that face? You don't get hungover."

"Gaskarth," I murmured, looking at the screen for a moment before laying the phone on the desk.

"Oh. Well, that explains it." Abby was sitting up now, hair all frizzy and messed up, drinking her water. I decided it might be a good idea to not wander around in last night's clubbing clothes and got dressed. "Can we be normal normal today?" she asked a few minutes later. "I don't think my head or liver can take any more weird normal."

I grinned, glad that my strange reference to reality had not only been remembered, but caught on. "Absolutely. Shall I make breakfast?"

"Lovely! I'll help." She swayed forward and then thought better of it. "...When I can move without the room spinning."

We spent most of the day watching movies, playing video games, and walking Dexter—well, I should say that Abby spent the day doing all that. I was constantly in conversation with Tiffany and some of Abby’s other friends trying to plan out her bachelorette party. It took all day because none of us could think of what to do besides get drunk and have a cake shaped like a dick; there are at least a dozen places in SF that sell those.

But I also kept getting sidetracked by Jimmie and Dave, who were coincidentally trying to plan Josh’s stag at the same time, and neither of them had any amazing plans either. It wasn’t until Abby decided she wanted to watch Bolt that the idea of going to Disneyland formulated. I mean, Abby loved Disneyland—because she’s seven years old—and we could always just get drunk and hang out in LA as well. Of course, the guys thought this was brilliant and freaking stole my idea! But that was okay. The more, the merrier! Or at least the more, the louder and drunker.

Aside from booking a hotel, emailing everyone who’d be invited with details, and buying plane tickets for a week before the wedding—to give us all time to recover—I had this little niggling thought at the back of my mind that made me keep checking my phone. There was something… weird about my conversation with Alex, and whatever it was made me unsure of how to answer him.

Eventually, sometime after dinner, I handed my phone to Abby and ask what she made of it. She frowned as she scrolled down, eyes skimming across the screen. “This is from this morning?” she asked, scrolling back up.

I nodded. “I’m not sure what to make of it. First I thought we were just kidding around, but now I’m not so sure.”

“…Well,” she said after three or four more reads. “For one, it’s Alex. For two…” Abby stared at me, ignoring the movie that was playing. “It’s fucking Alex.” I rolled my eyes. That was always our answer for why Alex did things. “But.” I leaned against the arm of the couch, not having expected more. “The boy has been known to tell the truth at the most inopportune times. So, there's that.”

I pondered this a moment. “So… either he thinks he genuinely said that and doesn’t want me to tell Zack… or he’s fucking with me.” I paused. Saying it out loud helped me think with perspective. “Which means he would have a reason to think he said that.”

Abby nodded, grabbing a handful of popcorn from the bowl between us. “You think he was telling the truth?”

“…Maybe.” Which was a useless, annoying answer. I hated not knowing things! “But why the hell would he get all seriousface on me?"

"Because he's a boy,” she said like it should’ve been obvious, “And boys were put on this earth to annoy the ever-loving shit out of girls."

I slumped back against the couch. “True,” I admitted. “Of course, I couldn’t just do something logical like ask him, could I?”

“Well, no, because…” Abby paused and then shrugged. “Again, it’s Alex.”

“Yeah. Fuckin’ Alex.”

I ended up not texting him back, mainly because Abby left for Michigan the next day and I started work at the venue, where the kitchen was surprisingly less sketchy than I’d expected it to be. Then tour ended a few days later and our boys scattered themselves across the country. Alex seemed to forget we’d even talked, so I tried not to think about it.

As the date of the stag weekend grew closer, I realized that I still hadn’t picked up my dress from the bridal store. Way to go, me. But I just kept forgetting to swing by the shop on my way from work.

During my break one evening I was walking back from the drugstore down the block—I couldn’t stand to spend my breaks inside—and my phone rang. “Ello ello,” I greeted without looking at the ID.

“Always mocking my heritage,” Alex scoffed on the other end.

“You know you love me, bitch.” I laughed. “What’s up, Mister I-have-great-timing?”

“Bored. Everyone’s out and I haven’t talked to you in forever.” Suddenly I remembered why that was true and almost tripped over my own awkwardness. “What’re you doing?”

I shoved my free hand into my pocket. “Walking back to work. There’s a show tonight and I forgot earplugs.”

“Cool.” There was a pause before Alex coughed. “So the wedding’s soon.”

“Yep,” I agreed. “Still haven’t gotten my dress. Maybe I’ll get it after we come back from LA.”

He laughed. “Lazy. Why don’t you get it tomorrow?” he suggested. “And then send me a picture.”

I scoffed as I swung into the back door of the venue. “Nice try, Alexander. You’ll see me in a dress when everyone else does and not a second sooner.”

“You’re so mean. Hey, you’re flying down the day before, right?” I hummed confirmation, trying to pull off my coat off and not drop the phone at the same time. “Okay. Great.”

“Yeah,” I said, distractedly. Something was on fire and people were running around in a frenzy. “Hey, I have to go. You have all the info on the place right?” Alex said that he did. “Good. See you in a week, love!” I hung up and rushed across the kitchen to where the extinguisher hung on the wall.

Because I had the afternoon the day before I left off, I took Alex’s advice and picked up my dress. The two women working had me try it on just to make sure they didn’t need to alter anything else—I hoped they didn’t; I’d already sent them my measurements twice—and then left me standing in front of the mirrors while they… went off and did something. I turned back and forth, looking at the dress, amused that it showed almost all of my tattoos. And I wasn’t even the most-tattooed in the wedding party.

We’d certainly make for interesting photos.

Smiling as an idea struck me, I rifled through my clothes for my phone and flipped it off as I took a picture. I laughed when I looked at it: it barely showed any of the dress. I sent it off in a text with the caption “You wanted a picture so here you go” just as the women came back and told me I could take it home. “And try not to gain or lose any weight before the wedding,” one of them advised. I raised an eyebrow at her in disbelief. “It fits you perfectly!”

Uh huh. Sure.

I stopped short in the hallway outside my apartment when I exited the stairway. “What the fuck are you doing here?” I called, striding forward.

Alex turned around and grinned at me over his sunglasses. “Hello to you too,” he said, shifting the duffel bag on his shoulder. His eyes drifted to the bag over my shoulder. “Is that what I think it is?”

“None of your business? Yes, it is.” I unlocked my door and allowed him to follow me in. I tossed my keys into the bowl, dropped my purse on the counter, and headed to my room with the dress.

As I made to pull the plastic cover off it, I heard from behind me, “So you gonna model it for me?” I whirled around; Alex was leaning in my doorway, grinning. “As much as I loved the picture, it’s nothing compared to the real thing.”

“No,” I said shortly, pushing him out of the room and closing the door behind me. He pouted, and I quickly turned down the hallway. “Wine. I need some wine.”

Several hours of conversation and friendly banter later, “some wine” had turned into me making Alex dinner and almost an entire bottle of pinot grigio. I had a good buzz going and could see that Alex did as well. Which was probably how I was able to say what I said next.

“How is it that it always ends up you and me?” Alex cocked his head at me as I sipped my drink. “Whenever any of us get together, somehow I always find myself next to you? Haven’t you ever noticed that?”

“Maybe it’s fate,” he suggested, smiling. “The world’s trying to tell us something.”

I chuckled, pulling my legs up into the papa san chair. “Yeah, and that something is that I should not be drinking any more tonight.” With that I drained my wineglass and set it on the bookshelf next to me.

Alex laughed, also polishing off his drink. “S’okay, I don’t think there’s any more.” I shook my head, chuckling. Of course we would drink an entire bottle of wine. Alex smiled at me from the couch. “How about that dress?”

“Persistent bastard, aren’t you,” I accused affectionately. He shrugged, unable to deny it and not bothering to try. I smiled, watching the dim light swirl gently. “Fine. But if it looks shit, you can’t laugh.”

I climbed out of the depths of the chair, wavering slightly on my feet. Oh man, I’m proper drunk. “Wouldn’t dream of it,” he replied as I returned to my room. I kicked the door to shut it and tugged my t-shirt over my head before tossing it onto the bed. My jeans came off less easily, however, and I crashed into my chair and the desk before I was able to get them off.

“You okay in there?” I heard Alex laugh from behind the door. Which happened to have not closed completely.

“I’m fine—Don’t come in,” I said, tugging off my socks. “I’m not dressed yet.”

“You call me a tease and then say shit like that.”

I rolled my eyes and pressed a button on my stereo. “I’m putting on music, so I can’t hear your fucking mouth.” What came through the speakers was the middle of a song I’d been listening to earlier, which was mostly crashing drums, undertoned guitar riffs, and layers of vocals. Sometimes I just get into a hardcore mood, okay?

But I couldn’t help dancing around as I slipped on and zipped up the dress. The teal fabric felt so nice as it swished around my knees. I twirled across the carpet and flung open the door.

“What are—wow.” Alex’s jaw slackened and his eyes widened, question forgotten.

I rolled my eyes and laughed as the next song started. “Shut up.” Unwittingly my hips still swayed to the rhythm of the music.

“No, really,” he insisted, eyes roving up and down. “You look fucking gorgeous.” Alex blinked twice and frowned. “What are you listening to?”

“Get Scared. Nice guys if you can get over the creepy.” I grinned and twirled back into the room, skirt and hair flying around. “’You’ve got the moves that make me sweat’,” I sang along, hips rolling and bare feet moving, “’You’ve got a voice that makes me breathless’.” I looked back at Alex, who looked kind of stunned, and grinning, pulled his hand. “Dance with me!”

“You know I don’t dance,” he said loudly over the chorus that I kept singing.

“Liar,” I laughed, letting my arms move freely over my head. “’She says my singing gets her thinking filthy’…” I sang the rest of the verse to Alex, who just stood there watching me intently, and danced around him in circles, sliding my hands over his shoulders, through his hair.

When I stopped in front of him again, I giggled at his expression. “Jesus, Alexander, loosen up. I would’ve thought you of all people would—” I never got to finish saying that he of all people would understand that I have strange fun, because he slipped a hand behind my neck and kissed me so forcefully that I stopped moving.

For a moment I melted into the warmth of wine and his lips, but then in a snap of sobriety I pulled away. We stared at each other, me in surprise and him in… something else. “Why did you do that?” I asked quietly, despite the loud music.

“I’ve wanted to for a long time,” he admitted shamelessly.

I shook my head until it spun, which probably wasn’t that long. “You can’t just go around kissing people, especially when they have boyfriends. That are your friends!”

Alex nodded. “I know, but really, can you blame me if I can’t help myself? I mean, look at you…” And he did, and suddenly I felt uncomfortable in probably the only bridesmaid’s dress that made the wearer look good. Alex traced the waistline over my hip. “You look—”

“No.” I pushed his hand away, but didn’t move. “Alex, I’m dating one of your best friends. Zack. Your bassist!”

“I know who he is,” he chuckled.

“It’s not funny!” I blurted, pitch spiking. Alex’s eyebrows rose when I put both hands on his shoulders, but I pushed him out into the hallway. “Go sleep on the couch and sober up.” I shut the door in his face and slid to the floor. What… how had I missed—How long had he wanted to do that?

The next morning, I didn’t say anything about it, though it was the only thing I could think about once I decided I hadn’t dreamt it. Alex didn’t bring it up, but his hangover kept him mostly quiet. That must’ve been the most awkward wait for a flight in the history of flying, but he wasn’t sitting in the same section, thankfully.

…Fuckin’ Alex.