The Only Exception

After the initial panic had worn off and she had realized that Alex was going to take care of everything, Sunday became quite excited about the plans that she was about to embark on. She was thrilled with the idea of meeting Alex's family, and she was quite sure that she would love them; with the small exception of parties, she loved everything that Alex had ever introduced her to.

The only problem was that before she got to Baltimore, she had to go head to head with a terrifying thing called flying. Because she had never before been on a plane, neither Sunday nor Alex had any idea how she would react to the experience. Personally, Alex didn't mind flying much and tried to convince Sunday that it wasn't bad as they sat waiting for their flight.

She was almost convinced when she saw a little kid throwing a fit because she didn't want the plane to crash. Alex tried to tell Sunday that the statistics that the kid had thrown at her mother were ridiculous—although it was a lie because he wasn't sure if people actually were twelve times more likely to die in the air rather than a car—but nonetheless, he had to nearly shove her into her seat and buckle the seatbelt for her while she attempted not to hyperventilate.

All in all, it could have been worse. She enjoyed the half hour of turbulence that they experienced, while Alex tried to hold himself together and repeated multiple times that she was a freak for enjoying the instability. She also didn't seem to mind the long periods of time spent in their seats, though Alex learned not to let her drink so much Pepsi. While he was preoccupied with making New Years reservations on his laptop, Sunday ordered herself four drinks and subsequently became quite hyper.

The one part of the plane that Sunday couldn't stand was the fact that she was breathing recycled air. Halfway through the flight, someone sneezed twice, and Sunday discreetly breathed through her t-shirt for twenty minutes despite the fact that Alex pointed out that the material wouldn't filter out the germs.

In the last half hour, she finally seemed to be comfortable enough with the tin can that she could slouch in her seat and rest her head on Alex's shoulder as she searched for sleep. "It's almost nine-thirty," she commented as she noticed the time on Alex's phone.

He inhaled the scent of her hair—she had the most wonderful shampoo that smelled like strawberries—before he replied, "Yeah. I thought you'd fall asleep after the first hour."

"I liked being in the sky when it was dark." It was her explanation for why she had fought sleep at the beginning of their three-thirty in the morning flight.

Sunday cleared her throat and began tracing the bracelet's on Alex's left wrist. "Do... do you think your family is going to like me?" she asked in a quiet, unsure tone.

He took her fidgeting hand and laced his fingers with hers. "They're going to love you," he announced, partially for his own benefit. His mother had sounded surprised yet also pleased when he called to tell her that he was bringing Sunday along for Christmas. He hadn't spoken to his dad yet, and he was the person that was causing Alex the most worry. His high school girlfriend, Lisa, was the only girl that had even been enough to placate Mr. Gaskarth, and Sunday was not like Lisa at all.

"Thank you," Sunday said as wrapped both of her arms around one of Alex's. "I feel like you're always stepping in and saving me."

"You've never needed me to save you, Sun," retorted Alex.

"I have," she insisted in a low tone, "More than you know." She felt a sudden stinging in the tip of her nose, and she pressed her eyes shut, willing the emotions to go away. Not in front of all these people, she begged her eyes.

"Folks," the pilot announced over the intercom, "we have begun our final descent to Baltimore Washington International. The local time is nine twenty-seven AM, and the current temperature is a cool thirty-three degrees Fahrenheit. Please turn off all electronic devices and return trays to the upright position and prepare the cabin for arrival. And as always, thank you for flying with Delta Airlines today."

Sunday excitedly returned not only her tray to the appropriate position but also Alex's and that of a bearded man that was sleeping beside her. "I'm so nervous," she mumbled. "But excited too! I've never been anywhere other than California."

"I'm surprised your parents never took you on vacation," Alex said as he turned off his cell phone.

"Oh, they did," Sunday conceded, "I just always stayed home with my grandma."

Alex fixed her with a stare. "They left you at home?"

"Yeah," Sunday shrugged, "It was fun though. Grandma Ann let's me stay up later than they do."

Alex squeezed her hand a little tighter, not sure of what to say. He tried to think about how he would have felt as a kid if his parents and brother had left him at home while they went on vacations. But then again, trying to empathize with Sunday was always a little difficult as he could never be exactly sure what she was feeling.

The plane touched down on the runway, and Sunday wrenched her hand away from Alex's. "What happened?" she demanded as she began rubbing her ear.

Alex laughed at her as the plane slowed and passengers began standing up. He pulled his phone out of his pocket and turned it on, watching at several missed calls popped up on the screen. They were all numbers that he didn't recognize, but he was quite sure the area code was from Huntington Beach, which made him somewhat nervous. As Sunday stood up, Alex swiped her phone from her backpocket—he couldn't help but smirk when she blushed—and turned it on to find that the numbers belonged to her parents.

Fuck.

As soon as he handed Sunday her phone, it began buzzing obnoxiously, alerting her of an incoming call. "It's Amber," Sunday smiled before she pressed the green talk button.

Double fuck.

"Hey, Am," Sunday smiled into her phone as Alex nudged her along down the aisle of the plane. "Earlier? Oh, I think I called to see if you'd take me to the airport. Oh, don't worry now! I'm in Baltimore already. Yeah, with Alex."

There was a pause as Sunday waited for Amber to respond, and Alex held his breath. A minute later, Sunday excitedly squealed, "Really?! That's so great! Okay, I'll talk to you later." As soon as her phone was replaced in her pocket, she turned to Alex and explained, "Amber's visiting her dad and stepmom for Christmas, and she says they live like half an hour away from Baltimore."

Alex resisted the urge to groan; he'd never dated a girl after he'd had a... thing with her friend, and it was proving more difficult than he would have suspected.

But you're not actually dating Sunday, reminded the irritatingly rational part of his brain.

As the pair made their way from the plane and towards the baggage claim, Sunday's stomach began sinking slightly. She had never wanted to impress anyone as badly as Alex's parents, though she was quite aware that she had no clue how to impress people at all. She nervously inserted her lavender thumb nail into her mouth and bit down.

"Are your parents nice?" she heard her voice inquire woodenly as they exited the airport and Alex dropped their bags into the trunk of the car that he had rented.

"Sure," Alex shrugged. He slid into the driver's seat and waited until Sunday was sitting beside him to turn the car on.

As Alex steered the car out of the airport parking garage, Sunday nervously fidgeted in her seat, occasionally turning up the heat then rolling down the windows when she got too warm. She also frequently grew disinterested in the radio stations and continuously changed the channel. "You doing okay?" Alex asked when she landed on a classical station.

"Should I have worn make-up?" she asked as she looked into the mirror on the back of her seat's visor. "Or done my hair? I could have straightened it."

He laughed before he insisted, "Babe, you look fine."

She tugged on a curl, hoping to make it stay straight. "Jack and I were looking at high school pictures once, and you had pretty girlfriends," she said.

"Sun, you're the prettiest girl I know," he told her as he took her hand. "And my parents are going to love you no matter what, so don't worry about it."

Although she didn't seem convinced, she let the subject drop. Instead of discussing her worry out loud, Sunday decided to stew silently as they drove through Baltimore to Towson. She nervously chewed on her lower lip as she focused on the outside view: for a while there were townhouses following one after another and large buildings and graffiti, but eventually these views were replaced by a freeway that led to a less congested area where real houses were located, along with spectacular yards. Everything was lightly dusted in white.

When the car slowed and Alex parked on the street outside of his parents' house (the driveway was quite full), Sunday inspected the house, smiling. It was a moderately large house, though she could tell that inside it would not be as spacious as her mother's Huntington Beach dwelling. The thought of Huntington Beach made Sunday wonder what her father's new house, her new house, looked like so instead she tried to focus on absorbing Maryland.

Alex's parents' house was made of an interesting stone and looked quite large. There was a vibrant green and red wreath nestled between the green front door and a glass door. There was a chimney made of the same stone as the house, which excited Sunday, as she had always wanted a fireplace. The lights on either side of the front door were illuminated, giving it a welcoming feel.

As the Gaskarth residence was no longer a picture-less location that could have been as intimidating as that of the Adams Family, Sunday wasn't as hesitant in unbuckling her seatbelt and throwing the car door open. The eager smile on her face faded when she looked down at the snow that met her feet outside the car.

"Uh... Al?" she frowned. "Is this okay to walk in?" She wiggled her toes in her pristine chestnut colored Uggs; what if the white snow didn't come off of them? Or worse: what if the snow soaked right through them and froze her toes?

In response Alex laughed. "It's just like rain, Sun," he assured her, "Just colder and wetter."

"That sounds really unfun," she said, her nose wrinkled in distaste. Alex simply chuckled again, and Sunday heaved a sigh before concluding, "Well, at least it's pretty."

"How shallow of you, Sun," Alex chortled as he left his seat and crossed to Sunday's door, waiting for her to brave the snow.

She grinned up at him. "Why do you think I hang out with you?"

Alex's jaw dropped, although he couldn't repress the laughs that Sunday's sarcastic jeer brought to him. In all honesty, he had never expected her to be capable of such teasing. "I am hurt, Sunday Phillips," he declared. "You can go inside and tell my parents that I'll be in right after I find something to wipe my tears with."

She giggled slightly before she took Alex's hand, and a worried expression took hold of her attractive face. "You're not really going to make me go in there alone, are you?" she asked, her voice barely that of a whisper.

"Sunday, they are going to love you," he reiterated seriously. "Although my mom might start getting a little less welcoming if we don't hurry up and get in there so she can force the million things she cooked on us." He gave her hand a light tug and started up the yard, pausing when he felt Sunday's hand slip from his. He turned around and saw her staring down at the snow still.

"I don't know about this," she insisted as she nudged the snow with her boot. It stuck to the toe, as she had feared.

Alex laughed quite blatantly at her and ignoring the annoyed look she sent him in response, he crossed to the car and bent down, the snow wetting the knees of his jeans. "Come on," he said, pretending to be exasperated.

"A piggy back ride?" Sunday squealed. She climbed onto his back and rested her chin on his shoulder. "Love you, Al."

A fluttering feeling erupted in Alex's stomach, making him feel momentarily queasy as he replied, "I love you too, Sun." Butterflies? chided his head. You're growing pathetic, Gaskarth.

He crossed through the snow quickly, not wanting to punish his Nikes for very long, and took the stairs to the front stoop two at a time. He let Sunday twist the doorknob, then used his foot to kick the door open to allow them entry. "Moooom!" he called. "I'm home!"

Instantly, an older woman hurried from a room on the left of the foyer. She not quite old yet and still seemed to have the brilliancy of life shining in her brown eyes. Alex's eyes. She was on the smaller side, though still taller and fuller than Sunday, and had brown hair that was tinged with a bit of gray. A huge smile sat upon her face.

Sunday slid off Alex's back as Mrs. Gaskarth reached them. "Oh, dear, your hair is getting so long," she admonished affectionately as she pulled her son into a hug. As she was unnoticed for the moment and her worry had returned, Sunday hurriedly checked to make sure she looked okay. She made sure her skinny jeans were still tucked into her short boots, straightened her black hoodie and picked fuzzies off of her white t-shirt. Then she reminded herself to breathe both in and out and prepared herself for the moment when she would be addressed by Alex's mother.

It didn't take long for Mrs. Gaskarth to shift her attention. As soon as she released Alex, Mrs. Gaskarth's eyes fell on Sunday. "Oh, Alex honey, you were right! She's so pretty!" She reached forward and pulled Sunday into a hug as well. "Welcome to Maryland, sweetie!"

Hugs were usually not welcomed by Sunday, with the exception of Alex, and it took all of her strength to return Mrs. Gaskarth's embrace. When she was released, she took a step closed to Alex, letting his fingers coil around her own.

"Let's go to the dining room," Mrs. Gaskarth decided, still grinning, "I told your Auntie Carol that you were coming into town, Alex, and she was so excited to see you and meet Sunday, so we decided that we'd just throw a little breakfast get together!"

When they stopped in the doorway of the dining room, Alex's eyes widened in shock, and he felt Sunday freeze in horror. His family was close-knit, and he had expected some kind of get together but hadn't thought it would happen so instantly. "Mom, I thought you said it was you and Aunt Carol?" he demanded.

His mother shrugged offhandedly. "Well... I might have given her my address book," she chuckled.

"Alex!" his aunt exclaimed as she noticed him. "So good to see you, sweetheart! Is this your new girl that your mother told us all about?"

Sunday's breathing became irregular, and she was sure that if she got hives when she was nervous, she would be covered in them. While strangers usually intimidated her, she never really cared whether or not they actually liked her. She wanted these people to like her though. Alex loved them, and Sunday wanted to be able to love them too.

Through the sea of cousins and aunts and uncles and family friends, a tall blonde girl entered the room. "Alex!" she smiled. She set the bowl of food that she had been carrying down upon the table before she crossed the room and threw her arms around Alex. Sunday frowned when he dropped her hand to hug the girl back.

"You look great, Mel," Alex complimented, making Sunday's insides wiggle.

"Is this Sunday?" Melanie asked once she let go of Alex. His hand was still resting around Melanie's waist, and Sunday resisted the urge to stomp her foot on the ground.

Instead, she pasted a sickeningly sweet smile onto her face. "No, I'm the other girl that Alex is bringing home," Sunday retorted, feeling more aggressive than usual. Everyone who caught her quip laughed, including Melanie. Sunday frowned. "Nice to meet you, Mallory," she said, extending her hand. The mistake in naming had been intentional, and Sunday hoped that Melanie was able to deduce from it that Sunday was not paying her any attention.

"It's actually Melanie," the blonde girl corrected with a kind smile. "Alex has told me a lot about you."

He had told Melanie a lot about her? Sunday tensed up. That meant he talked to this Melanie girl a lot. She didn't know what to say, so she just smiled at Melanie before turning her attention to the wall paper in the dinning room. "Are you hungry, Sunday?" Mrs. Gaskarth asked as she took her arm and pulled her to the table. Alex's Aunt Carol intercepted them and brought Sunday to a place at the table, at which point Alex took his mom's arm and insisted they need to talk.

Once they were alone in the foyer again, Alex growled, "Mom! You couldn't give me a little warning here?"

"It was a surprise," his mother smiled, "I didn't want to ruin it! And everything's fine, everyone loves Sunday. She's quite amusing, dear."

"I told you she was different," Alex added in a tense whisper.

"I thought you meant from other girls you've dated," his mother responded. "Not people in general."

"I told you she was shy!"

Mrs. Gaskarth sighed. "Alex, you brought a girl across the country for Christmas," she reasoned, "Of course everyone in the family is going to want to meet her."

"So you drop every Gaskarth in the yellow pages on her!?" Alex demanded.

"Dear, it'll be fine," his mother insisted as she patted his arm and returned to the dining room.

When Alex followed her lead and took a seat next to Sunday, he became very aware that it was not fine. Sunday was trying to respond to all of the questions she was being bombarded, but Alex could tell she was a moment from either bursting into tears or lecturing the entire table on the history of star gazing.

He took her hand as people began asking her a million questions about what she wanted to eat. "We actually ate on the plane," Alex explained, "So I think I'm going to take Sunday upstairs and show her the guest room." He pushed back from the table, guilt rising as he watched Sunday nearly trip over herself as she hurried to escape the table.

He led her upstairs to the guest room, eyebrows wrinkling when he saw their bags on the floor. One of his uncles probably brought them up. "I'm so sorry about that," he said as soon as the door was shut.

Sunday dropped onto the queen sized bed and sighed. "I can't do this," she said, shaking her head as she picked at the nail polish on her thumb.

"Yes, you can," Alex insisted, sitting down next to her.

"No, I can't," she countered. "Everyone was asking me a billion questions, and let's admit it: I suck at meeting people."

"No," Alex retorted.

But Sunday went on. "And that blonde? There is no way I can compete with that," she frowned dismally.

Taken aback, Alex let go and sat up. "Sunday," he said, his own voice hard, "I'm not interested in Melanie."

She rolled onto her stomach, burying her head in her pillow. "It seemed like you were," she countered in a muffled voice.

He took a deep breath so that he wouldn't yell at her. Maybe he should've explained things to her first. Or maybe she shouldn't jump to conclusions. Maybe she should try trusting me. Maybe this was all a mistake. He tried his hardest to ignore the irritated thoughts, but his hardest wasn't doing much. "Sunday, Melanie was my brother's fiancée," he explained in a still icy tone.

Sunday froze, embarrassed. She sat up as well, though she tried to avoid Alex's eyes. "I'm sorry," she muttered, remembering that like her, Alex had lost his brother.

"I just don't get you sometimes," Alex snapped.

"Alex, if I knew, I wouldn't have--"

He cut her off. "Never mind," he said as he stood up. "You can take a nap or a shower or whatever. I'll see you later."

"What don't you get?" Sunday asked before he could slam the door. She sounded sad and apologetic, so Alex figured the least he could do was talk to her.

He turned around and kneeled down on the floor in front of her. "Sunday, what are we?" he asked.

She was silent for a few minutes as she thought about it. "We're Alex and Sunday," she finally concluded. Tears filtered into her eyes as she added, "You're my best friend." The fat drops of water leaked out of her eyes before Sunday sniffled, "And I don't want you to be mad at me."

Instantly, any anger evaporated, and Alex sat down on the bed next to her, pulling her into a hug as she struggled to stop her tears. "Sunday, baby, I'm not mad at you," he promised, hoping to assuage her tears. He grabbed the remote and turned the television on, "Why don't we just stay up here for a while? We'll watch Pocahontas."

Despite the fact that she announced that she had seen the movie a million times and that it was indeed one of her very favorites, Sunday gave the television screen her strictest attention. She pointed out her favorite parts to Alex, quoted several scenes, teared up when John Smith was captured by Pocahontas' tribe, and cried at the end of the movie when John Smith left to go back to England without Pocahontas. Alex listened to everything she said attentively, laughed when she impersonated the actors, and tried to calm her down when she cried at the end with a, "It's just a movie, Sun."

"But it's based on a true story," Sunday countered as she finished her hot chocolate and set the mug down. She slid down under the blankets, resting her head on the fluffy pillow.

Alex rewound the movie, thinking about his next words carefully. "Yeah," he conceded as he climbed under the blankets too, "but that's not how it actually ended. Didn't you ever go over this in history class?"

Sunday shook her head. "How did it end?" she asked eagerly.

"John Smith came back to be with Pocahontas as soon as he was better," Alex lied. "It was a typical happily ever after, and they were together for the rest of their lives, just as in love as they were when they met."

A smile lit up Sunday's tired face. "That's good," she said, "I think the movie should have just gone further then."

Alex didn't tell her that there was Pocahontas 2 and that the sequel portrayed the real ending, that Pocahontas ended up falling in love with another Englishman named John Rolfe. It would have broken Sunday's heart, so Alex merely replied, "Yeah, they should have," and decided that he would never let Sunday find out that there was a sequel to Pocahontas as he wrapped his arm around her a little more tightly.