Status: In Progress [:

The Only Exception

Tale as Old as Time

The best part of the east coast was the snow. Although at first she had been a little wary of the cold clumps of hardened water and slush, Sunday found that the more time she spent in Baltimore, the more she began to enjoy the snowy landscape. It was peaceful, and so different from the typical sun or rain in Huntington Beach.

"Tired?"

Jack's voice broke through her thoughts about the snow, and her eyelids instantly rose a bit. Sunday hadn't realized that she was indeed tired, but now that it was brought to her attention, she felt exhausted. "We worked a long time today," she mused as she continued staring out the window. This was one of the few times that she had actually been in Baltimore itself; usually, she and Alex were in one of the many surrounding suburban areas visiting his family or friends.

"Don't you think it's kind of weird that Amber pretty much followed you and Alex here?" Jack asked as he navigated through one of the narrow back roads of the city.

Sunday frowned. "She didn't follow us," she argued lightly in defense of her friend. "She has family here, just like Alex."

For some reason, Jack looked amused. "One day you're going to realize that some people just suck, Sun," he said as he slowed down in front of an impressive looking building. "This is your stop, kid."

She followed his gaze out the window of the car. "Wow," she remarked as she stared at the impressive edifice. "It's very pretty."

"When you said a quick dinner, I thought I'd be dropping you off at a Taco Bell or something," Jack chuckled. "I think you're a little underdressed."

Sunday tried to erase a spot of dried paint with her thumbnail. "Amber hasn't eaten at Taco Bell since we were juniors in high school," she countered, "She says she doesn't like triple processed food."

The car behind Jack's honked, and the guitarist smoothly rolled down his window so that he could make his skinny middle finger visible to the impatient driver following them. "Thank you, Jack," Sunday smiled, amused with his calm response. Alex probably would have leaned out the window to shout a string of profane words at the man who had honked.

"Need a ride home?" Jack called after her as Sunday jogged up the steps to the restaurant.

"No, thank you," she countered. "Alex was just catching a late lunch with this guy that he went to high school with, but he said he'd be able to pick me up on the way home."

Jack's eyebrows moved together slightly. "What's the guy's name?"

"Charlie," Sunday answered, raising her voice so that she could be heard over the blaring horn that sounded from the car being blocked by Jack's.

He glared and turned around. "I'm trying to have a conversation here, fuck face!" he snapped. Nonetheless, he began inching up slightly. "Just call or text me later, okay?"

"Sure," Sunday agreed, although she wasn't sure why Jack looked so uncomfortable. However, she slowly let go of her curiosity, and by the time Jack's car had disappeared, the only thing Sunday could think of was how hungry she was.

After a short conversation with the maître d', Sunday was led to a small table in the middle of the restaurant. It really was an impressive place filled with furnishings that would have been praised by even Sunday's finicky mother; unfortunately, the splendor of the eatery made Sunday feel a little self conscious. She hadn't even thought to change from her paint splattered jeans before meeting Amber for dinner; working on Alex's Christmas present was always the top priority in her head and overshadowed any other thing that she had to do.

Sunday's stomach sank a little more when her eyes fell on Amber. It had always been difficult for Sunday to have such a perfect best friend, because she was well aware that she, in comparison, was far inferior. Amber's blonde hair was curled into perfect coils, and she was wearing an emerald color shirt that was tucked into a black skirt. She looked lovely, as always.

"Hello," Sunday smiled as she took the seat that the maître d' pulled out for her. "Thank you," she added to the very polite man.

Amber smiled at the waiter as well and waited for him to walk away before she frowned at Sunday. "You could've changed," she commented.

"I didn't know we were going to such a nice place," replied Sunday, her tone apologetic.

"I told you we were going to Charleston," Amber scoffed.

"I didn't know," Sunday repeated.

After she rolled her made up eyes, Amber seemed to have gotten all of her angst out of her system, and she softened. "How do you like Baltimore?" she asked.

"I love it," Sunday admitted. "How's your father?"

Amber ignored Sunday's question and asked, "And how's Alex?"

A happy smile brightened up Sunday's face. "He's really great," she replied, "I think he misses home more than he lets on whenever he's away. He has the cutest little dog, Am. And his mother is such a nice lady. For Christmas, we're decorating his house so that we can stay there the next time we come back. Plus, I think he'd like having a place for himself."

Throughout Sunday's little tangent, Amber had been examining her friend. She seemed happier than she had remembered seeing her in such a long time, which was really saying a lot; while Sunday certainly had reason to be a depressed misanthrope, she was generally a happy person. Alex seemed to bump her good spirits up to a whole new level that Sunday had never before accessed. It was... well, nice, as much as Amber hated to admit it.

She grabbed her glass of wine and took a large gulp. "God, how long have we been friends, Sun?"

After she set her water glass back on the table, Sunday promptly answered, "The third day of pre-school."

There was a pause as they both thought back to their childhood meeting. "A little boy pulled your pigtails," Amber chuckled, eyes glazed over in thought.

"And you spit on him," Sunday finished with a grin. Both girls laughed.

"Everything was so easy back then," Amber noted as she scanned the menu. "I think I'm going to have the Virginia squab."

A question that had bothered Sunday for years suddenly moved to the forefront of her mind, and she had asked it before she was quite sure she wanted to know the answer. "Is it hard being friends with me?" she inquired in a soft, nervous voice.

There was a silence as Amber sincerely considered the inquiry. "It's practically habit by now," she admitted, "but I wouldn't exactly say my life would be a lot easier without you. It'd be different."

Tears warmed Sunday's eyes, and she wished that she could push her chair away from the table and hug Amber. But she wasn't sure how that would make Amber feel, so she refrained and instead began examining the menu as well. "I think I'll get the oysters," she decided.

Once their server arrived the girls repeated their orders, and Sunday cringed as she thought of the small bird that Amber had ordered. The lack of conversation that followed confused Sunday, and she desperately searched for something to fill the air with. "Alex and I are having a New Year's party in New York," she remarked.

"Really?" Amber inquired as she swished around the red liquid in her glass. "That sounds nice."

"Will you come?" Sunday continued.

"Of course," Amber said, smiling in a way that made Sunday nervous.

Dinner was uncomfortable. Sunday couldn't stop thinking about the poor bird that was staring at her from Amber's plate, and she couldn't help but wonder if maybe she had interpreted "habit" incorrectly. habits could be both good and bad; which did Amber mean when she had said that being friends with Sunday was a habit?

"That was really good," Amber remarked as the two walked outside together. "I'm glad it's so close."

"To where?" Sunday asked, confused.

Amber pulled a pair of leather gloves on and tightened the belt of her green coat. "It's sort of the reason I asked you to come to dinner," Amber admitted, "I've decided that I'm going to transfer to the University of Maryland."

Bad habit. That's what Amber had meant. In that moment, Sunday felt more alone than ever, despite the fact that numerous people had pushed past her on the sidewalk. "You're staying here," she said, the words thick in her mouth.

Amber nodded as she pulled her car keys from her purse. "Obviously, if I'll be going to school here, I'm going to have to stay here," she replied with a smile.

Amber was doing it all on purpose. She wanted to stay here to be close to Alex, she wanted to do it to hurt Sunday. It had always been her plan. They weren't friends; no, how could they be? Amber, who was so perfect, had no reason to be friends with her. "Don't show up on New Year's," Sunday ordered, using the most violent tone she had ever produced in her entire life.

As Sunday stomped away from the restaurant where she had just wasted seventy dollars on disgusting oysters, Sunday was aware that Amber was calling her name, but it meant nothing to her. They had never really been friends. Amber had just kept Sunday around to make her feel better about herself. It made Sunday think of a production of The Nutcracker that they had been in when they were seven; Sunday had gotten a better part than Amber, and the blonde had accidentally pushed Sunday when they were rollerblading.

It had never been an accident. Just like moving close to Alex wasn't an accident, nor was picking a costume that, without Mrs. Phillip's help, would have made Sunday look terrible. Visiting her father wasn't an accident either. It had always been planned.

Before Sunday realized she was crying, a car horn caught her attention. She looked up and saw Alex parked against the curb with a confused expression on his face. "Was dinner that terrible?" he asked as she slid into the car. "I mean, I heard that Charleston had some pretty out there food, but I didn't think it was anything to cry over."

Despite her best efforts, Sunday laughed. "You're right. It's nothing to cry over," she agreed, although she was referring to Amber, not the food. "Sometimes I feel like I don't deserve you," she admitted as she studied Alex's stunning profile.

"On the contrary, Miss Phillips," Alex chirped in a cheerful tone, "It is I who does not deserve you." They slowed in front of a red light, and Alex leaned over to kiss her.

"Let's agree to disagree," Sunday decided as she wiped a spot of red lipstick off of Alex's neck.

If Sunday was a typical girl, she would've instantly been upset when she realized that she was not wearing red lipstick and had been nowhere near Alex's neck. Being as she was Sunday, though, she instead laced her fingers with his and let the mishap with Amber slip from her mind. Everything was okay when she was with Alex.
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I'm so sorry x 1,000,000

Life has been super crazy. But I devoted today to writing four chapters, so don't worry, I'm going to finish this, damn it haha