Status: In Progress [:

The Only Exception

I've Been Changing

October was a wonderful month to be in Huntington Beach. The weather was still warm most of the time and the sun still shone brightly, but a small breeze was beginning to slither through the towns on the Pacific coast. Still, spending time on the beach was a pleasing way to pass the time, and Alex liked being surrounded by the warm sand, the fresh air and the sound of waves crashing on the beach.

It was a Monday afternoon, and Alex was currently walking along the beach. He had woken up around twelve and went outside to find Sunday picking up seashells and dropping them into a bowl. She didn't tell him what they were for, but Alex asked her if she wanted help. She agreed.

Now, an hour later, Alex was meandering along the shore, kicking at the sand with his bare feet in an attempt to unearth seashells. Sunday was on his back, her arms loosely wrapped around his neck to keep herself steady. She didn't put much effort into her hold, so Alex made sure to keep a good grip on her legs. It was a bit uncomfortable for him, as she was wearing a pastel blue dress and the gauzy material didn't seem to want to separate his skin from that of her thighs. It was more content to ride up and stop right before his fingers.

But the contact of his hand on her legs didn't concern Sunday, and at the moment, it wasn't Alex's biggest worry either. While she usually talked to him a lot, Sunday had been very quiet since Alex had come outside. Her chin was digging into his shoulder, and she didn't seem to want to have a conversation.

Yet he felt like he couldn't let the silence continue. "Everything okay back there?" he asked in a light and playful tone. Alex noticed that he asked Sunday if she was okay a lot. He wondered if it bothered her.

She didn't answer him, but he was quite sure that she was still conscious and had heard him. She fidgeted slightly, turning her head so that her cheek rested on his shoulder and her breath tickled his neck.

"Don't feel like talking today?" he asked.

A moment later, he felt her shake her head in response. "Okay," he relented. "That's fine."

Truth be told, Alex didn't like silence. He preferred a bustling conversation filled with sarcasm and laughter and interesting points. When he wasn't talking, he was thinking. And sometimes thinking was good, but others, thinking was dangerous. And when Alex was around Sunday, he noticed that his thoughts leaned towards things that he ordinarily didn't like thinking about.

"Seashell," he noted, scraping away the sand with his foot. He leaned down to pick it up, and then he handed it to Sunday, whose hand was open and awaiting the seashell.

"Thanks," she mumbled.

"No problem," he huffed as he struggled to pull up his pants. Sunday wrapped her legs around Alex so that he didn't have to hold on as tightly. He started to feel warmer than he had a second ago, and he hurriedly grabbed the belt loops of his jeans before he forced her legs from around him.

They started back towards Sunday's back porch so that she could deposit the shell in the bowl with the rest of them. All in all, it was quite a difficult task on Alex's part. Sunday wasn't heavy at all, but the bending and standing up and racing around the beach was proving to be a little tiresome with the sun shining above his head. Every time the little breeze reached his face, he felt like renewed life was being breathed into him.

As Sunday dropped the seashell and it clattered against the rest of the bowl's occupants, a sharp voice caught both Sunday and Alex's attention. "Sunday Alice!" Mrs. Phillips called from the kitchen. The sliding glass door was shut, but one of the windows was open, and Sunday's mother's voice was loud enough to reach the pair.

In a second, the glass door was wrenched open. "What are you doing, Sunday?" demanded her mother. "You're wearing a dress."

With a sigh, Sunday slid off Alex's back. "Fine," she snapped before she turned on her heel and walked away from the house.

Alex cast her mom a quick, "Sorry," before he took off after Sunday in a light jog.

She had dropped to her knees in the wet sand near the shoreline, and she didn't seem to mind the water that was wetting the bottom of her dress as she pushed the sand around, looking for seashells. Alex sat down a little behind her, not as eager to get his jeans wet.

"She made me go to the doctor today," Sunday said, nose wrinkled and looking unhappy.

"Is that bad?" Alex asked.

Sunday nodded. "He's not a real doctor," she countered a moment later, "Well, I suppose he is. Of some sort. He seems to think that my 'problems' are mental. He makes me talk to him and then he writes down medicine that he thinks will fix me."

Alex deduced that Sunday was talking about a psychiatrist and while he knew that they helped people, it made him angry, nearly irate, to imagine someone telling Sunday that they were going to give her medicine to "fix" her. Nothing was wrong with her, in Alex's opinion. "Sunday, you're perfect," he told her, unable to help himself.

She looked at him, a sad smile on her face. "I don't believe you," she told him bluntly, "but thank you. It's nice to hear you say things like that."

He smiled too. "So, why don't you like your psychiatrist so much?" he asked.

"The medicine bothers me, for one thing," she continued. "They're always telling my parents about the side effects, but no one thinks to tell me until I'm laying in the bathroom throwing up because I'm not supposed to take it without food. Or when it's four o'clock, and I can't sleep because I'm not allowed to take the medicine with my sleeping pills. And the secretary there bothers me. She calls it 'crazy medicine'."

When she looked at Alex, her green eyes were incredibly downcast. They looked more watery than usual, and there was no light in them. "I'm not crazy," she told him. She pressed on, her voice sounding tearful as well. "And I don't like talking to the doctor. I don't like telling him things, but if I don't, they all get so mad at me."

It killed Alex to see Sunday so upset over one doctor appointment. He wondered if every time she was told that she had to see this doctor she got this worked up. "Hey," he said, catching her attention, "why don't you go put on something dry and I'll take you somewhere fun?"

She hesitated and watched Alex cautiously as he stood up. "Where are we going?" While she trusted Alex quite completely, Sunday still had an intense fear of being around strangers, and every time she went into public, she was terrified that she would be forced to socialize with new people.

"You're not going to have to talk to anyone," Alex assured her softly, knowing that was the root of her worries. "Not even me if you don't want to."

Sunday smiled. "I like talking to you," she told Alex. She took the hand that he offered her and once on her feet, she didn't let go. Instead, she did something that shocked Alex: she pulled him into a hug.

For some time, she had shied from direct contact. Sure, she let him give her piggy back rides and took his hand when she needed help up, but unless they were half asleep or under the effects of Heineken and sugar, Sunday didn't like being touched. But her arms wrapped around his torso quite adeptly, and Alex couldn't resist the urge to encircle her in return.

It seemed like the longest hug that Alex had ever experienced, but it was also the best. Sunday was on the shorter side, and his chin rested easily on the top of her head. She gripped him quite tightly, and though Alex couldn't tell exactly why, her eyes were squeezed shut.

Sunday had closed her eyes because they were brimming with tears. To Sunday, crying was unacceptable. It was a weakness, and while she often felt like she was on the brink of tears, she always managed to rein them in. She hadn't cried in front of people since her parents had told her that Henry had died, for Sunday didn't feel comfortable enough with anyone to let them see her at her weakest. Even her parents were pushed from the room as soon as Sunday thought she was going to lose the control she fought to maintain.

And while Sunday didn't let any moisture slip from her eyes as she was enclosed by Alex's arms, a small, long repressed sob caused her back to shudder. Sunday gripped him tighter, burying her face in his t-shirt. Hugging Alex made Sunday feel at ease. The smell of his cologne and the scent of detergent that clung to his shirt and the warmth from his embrace calmed her, erased the worries that had been previously concerning her. She almost felt like if she needed to cry that Alex wouldn't be embarrassed by the tears or disappointed in her inability to keep them at bay.

She opened her eyes and gave a small sigh. "We should probably go," she said, pulling away. "I'm going to go change."

Alex nodded. "Yeah, I'm going to run to Zack's really fast. Grab keys, and then we'll go." As he walked back to Zack's, he began concocting an argument that he would use when he asked Matt if he could borrow his car. Alex wanted something fast, and something without a roof.

But before he even asked Matt for his dear car, Alex pulled out the phone book that Zack kept in the computer room. He spent ten minutes looking through the "F" section before he wrote down a few numbers and dialed, hoping for something that would help him cheer Sunday up.

By the time Alex and Sunday were ready to set out on their adventure, it was nearing one o'clock. Golden colored beams of sunlight were reflecting off of the sleek little car that was currently sitting in Sunday's driveway.

It was difficult to look away from the car because it was so picturesque, but the glare from the sun was hurting Sunday's eyes. Alex noticed that she was squinting as they approached the beautiful Aston Martin, which Matt had lent him only after a very long lecture about how treasured his Vanquish was. With a small laugh to himself, Alex lightly knocked Sunday's sunglasses off her head.

"Forgot about those," she admitted as they fell onto her nose.

"I figured," Alex said in a teasing tone. "Hop in," he added when they reached the topless car.

Sunday pulled the handle but the door didn't obediently swing open as it should have. Alex was currently engrossed in a text message that he had received, so Sunday gave the door another discreet tug, hoping that it was just stuck. The door didn't budge though, and Sunday frowned at it. "Open sesame?" she tried hopefully, thinking back to Aladin.

"Sun? What are you doing?" Alex asked as he dropped his phone into the pocket of his shorts.

"Nothing," she quickly answered. She grabbed the handle deftly and planted her feet before leaning back a considerable amount.

"Uh, you know it's locked, right babe?"

A rosy colored flush assaulted Sunday's cheeks. "That makes a lot of sense," she noted.

Laughing openly at her, Alex made his way to the other side of the car. He took her hand before he instructed, "Just put your foot on the door and jump in."

Never one to question Alex, Sunday gave him no more than an apprehensive glance before she used the door of the Vanquish and Alex's hand to propel herself into the car. She slid into her seat with a grace that Alex hadn't expected of her. "I thought you'd trip or at least stumble," he admitted as he slid into his seat as well.

Sunday smiled and leaned back. "I can't get predictable, now can I?" she smiled as Alex started down the driveway.

Alex chuckled, "Guess not," and then pushed a new album into the CD player. "You can DJ, if you want," he added to Sunday.

"Jack's Mannequin!" she squealed excitedly as she turned the volume up. Way up.

When Alex had started going, he had no idea what their destination was. And as he drove around and Sunday began randomly commenting on things that they passed, finding a destination was growing more difficult.

She pointed out a costume store, so Alex stopped. They bought fake moustaches. They passed a pet store, so Alex stopped. They bought a dog cookie for Pepe, and Alex tried one in the car. It was quite easily the most disgusting thing he had ever tasted. They drove by the most picturesque diner that Alex had ever seen, so he had swerved into the driveway. After their late meal, they started back for Huntington Beach but not before making a final stop in a book store. Sunday spent a few minutes browsing before she purchased a large book by Walt Whitman.

"Well, that was a completely pointless trip," Alex commented as he pulled the Vanquish into her driveway. Thankfully, Matt's car had survived unscathed.

Sunday stepped out of the car using the door, and she waited for Alex to get out as well so that he could walk up the front porch with her. "I had a really good time," she declared as they paused in front of her door. She hugged her book of poems a little tighter and added as an explanation, "I was with you."

Alex felt himself blush and he laughed. "You're too nice to me," he said as he pulled her in for a quick hug. While Sunday didn't wrap her arms around him like earlier, she didn't fight the hug either, and she allowed herself to melt into Alex's embrace.

Quickly and before he could ponder the action anymore, Alex planted a kiss on top of Sunday's head. "I'll see you tomorrow, Sun," he said as he let go of her.

Smiling quite broadly, Sunday walked into her house after Alex's car pulled out of the driveway. "I'm home," she called, feeling a bit dazed. She was always left with a slightly punch-drunk feeling after Alex left. It gave her time to think about just how much she liked being with him and how special it made her feel to think that maybe he liked spending time with her too.

"How was your afternoon?" Nadia asked as she walked into the foyer and interrupted Sunday's blissful thought process.

"Great," she said with a smile.

"Something came for you while you were gone," her mother added. "I put them in your bedroom."

A little bemused, Sunday kicked off her flip flops before she climbed the stairs to her room and pushed the door open. Sitting on her bedside table was an enormous bouquet of roses. Every single flower was a gleaming, sparkling silver color. She walked towards the beautiful masterpiece and gingerly plucked the card from it's midst.

All the little card said was, Smile, kid. But nonetheless, Sunday had a very good idea of who the flowers were from, and the knowledge that Alex had remembered her favorite color and had gone through the work to find a shop that airbrushed the flowers as such made an intense feeling of happiness erupt within her and spread to every inch of her body.
♠ ♠ ♠
Alex and Sunday make me happy. The intenseness starts after this part though, so if you want to see it as soon as I get back from Baltimore (Monday), I'd do some commenting (:

Also, I entered this contest and am planning on writing an Alice in Wonderland two shot for it. I'm more competitive than I thought, so if anyone wants to proof read the story for me before I post it, please let me know. I'd really appreciate it.