I Love Your Switchblade Attitude

Harley felt her eyes flutter open and adjust to the darkness, before she registered where she was. She blinked twice, prior to rolling on her side lazily to look at the clock two feet away from her.

The bright glare of the alarm clock hurt her eyes, and she squinted in order to see the time. The digital letters blinked slowly, and through her blurred gaze she managed to figure out it was well past five o’ clock in the morning.

Harley rolled onto her back, deciding that she still had time to fall asleep. After all, she was on vacation now, and there was no reason to wake up at seven a.m. for a class, or go for an early coffee run.

She closed her eyes, squirming against the soft sheets as she attempted to get comfortable. Even in her lethargic state, Harley knew that she would not go back to sleep.

She felt her head thudding in her chest. Her mouth was thick and dry, her forehead beaded with thin droplets of sweat.

Cursing aloud to an empty room, Harley sat up and yawned. Swinging her legs off the bed and onto the floor, Harley pressed the soles of her feet into the soft carpet, before pushing her body into an upright position off her bed.

Still feeling exhausted, Harley padded along the long hallway, taking note that the doors of the guest room and her parents’ were closed, before stumbling groggily down the steps.

She stopped short upon reaching the living room, where Rian and a shirtless Zack were snuggling on the couch, while Alex had his hand draped over Jack’s stomach on the floor. The floor was scattered with colourful beer cans, what appeared to be Zack’s socks (as he was barefoot) and a cluster of plastic shot glasses.

It took Harley a minute to realize that the boys were asleep, and she let out a relieved breath as soon a she did so. Harley then scoffed and rolled her eyes, stepping over the cans before making a beeline towards the kitchen.

The kitchen was one of the most used rooms in the house, almost always being occupied by her mother. The kitchen had warm blue walls, with wooden cabinets and soft yellow tiles covering the floor.

The one window overlooking the stainless steel stove was adorned with a faded yellow and blue gingham curtain, one that the Dawson family had owned from the early nineties. The curtains were almost always pulled back, usually revealing thin strips of light that danced along the oblong dining table opposite in the daytime.

Harley found herself instinctively reaching for the coffee pot, her small hand grasping the glass contraption tightly. She then proceeded to make a pot of coffee, something she had been doing ever since the coffee pot had appeared under their roof when Harley was sixteen.

Harley had been making coffee for so long, her actions were almost automatic. She was so lost within the coffee maker, that she didn’t even notice the other person in the room until he spoke.

“Where the fuck is the Advil?” Harley spun around, almost dropping the napkin in her hand upon seeing Alex leaning against the wall, squinting through the dim light while clutching his head.

“Uh,” Harley contemplated answering him, and figured it wouldn’t do any harm. “In the medicine cabinet in the bathroom across the hall.” He nodded, hungover and groggy, before disappearing out of the kitchen.

Harley relaxed, letting out a breath she hadn’t even realized she was holding, before pouring herself a mug of coffee. She sat down, ignoring the fact that she remained in her t-shirt and underwear from yesterday, glad that the t-shirt was big enough to cover her thighs.

Alex soon returned, much to her dismay and secret pleasure, and poured himself a cup of coffee. He pulled back the chair gingerly, before sitting down across from Harley.

At first, Harley wanted to escape. She glanced longingly at the door, and felt her fingers itch to pull her chair back and run away. Instead, she swallowed the lump the size of a small country that stayed stuck in her throat, and coughed awkwardly.

“You’re already drinking, and you just got here.” Harley frowned, “Why am I not surprised?”

“Ouch.” Alex rolled his eyes, placing a mocking hand on his heart. “That hurt. Well, at least you’re talking to me now.”

“I was always talking to you.” Harley grimaced, “The only difference is that I am not telling you to fuck off and die.”

“Lighten up,” Alex laughed, though he seemed unsure what to do. “I was joking.”

“Well, I wasn’t.” Harley deadpanned, and it was only then that Alex realized the seriousness that lingered in her eyes. His shoulders slumped as he leaned back in his chair, frowning.

“Why are you up right now, anyway?” he questioned, his eyes eying her tired state.

“My sleep pattern’s fucked up.” She mumbled, taking a large gulp of her coffee.

Alex waited to have the favour of conversation returned, but it was never granted. Instead, Harley continued to sip silently at her coffee. She remembered their late night conversations the year before, and how it had eventually gotten Alex back together with Lisa, and cringed at the memory.

“So what are your plans for today?” He prodded, picking up his mug, before changing his mind and placing it back down again.

Harley raised her eyebrows at him, taking in his appearance.

He was dressed in the same clothes as yesterday, as was she, but she had the right to assume that this meant he had gotten drunk sometime in the early hours of the morning and crashed on the floor of the Dawson’s living room.

His dyed blonde hair was sticking up, and a couple days’ worth of stubble was growing along his jaw. Lines of exhaustion lined the bottom of his eyelids, and the corners of his mouth turned downwards. Harley rolled her eyes, before letting out an aggravated sigh.

“What are you trying to do, Gaskarth?”

“What do you mean...Dawson?”

“You keep...being nice or something. We’re not—we’re not friends, Alex.” She choked out, gripping the mug as a wave of memories crashed down on her.

Did he want to be friends with her? Even after everything that had happened? Maybe he even wanted to get together. Maybe Alex had finally realized how much a prick he was...and had changed.

“I’m not trying to be.” He smirked, causing Harley’s nonchalant facade to falter.

“Good.” She mumbled, cradling the steaming mug to her chest before bringing the rim to her lips, attempting to hide the hurt on her face.

“I just want things between us to go back to normal.”

“Wha—?”

“Look Harley, you don’t have to be best friends with me. You don’t even have to be friends with me at all. But we’re going to be running in the same circles this summer, so you’re at least going to have to tolerate me.”

“You don’t deserve to be tolerated.” She scoffed, but felt her walls breaking down at how mature he seemed to be acting.

“Oh come on, Harley.” Harley felt her lips twitch upwards at the nervousness in his voice, but the smile slid off her face once his desperation turned into anger. “Don’t be a bitch.”

“Me?” Harley crowed incredulously, her eyes widening as she placed her mug down. “After all that has happened. After everything, you still think you have the right to call me a bitch?”

“Yeah.” Alex said simply, leaning back in his chair with simple arrogance.

“You’ve got to be shitting me.” Harley raised her voice, attempting to make it calm and level but failing. Alex rubbed his forehead, still feeling the effects of the hangover, before moving his gaze from the table to her face.

“It was one summer ago, Harley. You’ve got to let it go.”

“One summer ago?” She echoed, enraged. “It was one summer ago. So what? That doesn’t make what you did any worse.”

“I thought you would have forgotten about it by now.” Alex shrugged, appearing to be completely calm.

“And it wasn’t all my fault. You were as involved as I was.”

“No I wasn’t.”

“Yes.” Alex raised his eyebrows, as though he was challenging her. “You were. You just have to admit that you’re an uptight, conniving bitch in denial, and things can return to what they used to be like.”

Harley laughed out of pity and disbelief. She couldn’t believe that she had associated herself with—let alone slept with—someone who was so conceited.

“I’ll admit that...” She said, slowly nodding her head, “...if you admit that you are a sleazy, arrogant, know-it-all ass-wipe who thinks that he’s better than everyone else.”

“Harley—”

“No!” She seethed, grinding her teeth together and raising her voice. Each word she spoke, flowed out of her mouth with precision, stabbing into the air with a force of vengeance. “You are such a manipulative, unintelligent prick who does not know a fucking thing about how to treat a woman. You are manipulative, vain, controlli—”

She was cut off finally, by something odd cupping her face. She stopped, confused, and only then realized that a pair of lips had attached themselves to her own. Almost instinctively, she kissed back.

She had missed the feeling of the warm lips on hers, both familiar yet unfamiliar from the long absence. Every indecent feeling, coherent thought and angry comment melted away at his touch.

She curled her arms around Alex’s shoulders, and felt his large, muscular arms wrap around her waist.

She didn’t bother thinking about how Alex had made his way to the other side of the table so quickly, how he effortlessly had her to her feet or even how she was supposed to be mad at him.

Instead, she thought about how amazing the feelings of their lips connected felt, how toned and muscular his arms were as they pulled her body closer to his, how he smelled so amazing—something that couldn’t even be put in a cologne bottle if someone tried, it was just an overwhelming experience.

It was only when she began playfully nibbling on his lip and his hand began to snake its way into her shirt that he pulled back, his eyes wild and his mouth ajar in confusion.

His hair stuck up both from the lack of sleep and her fingers, and his eyes were both hazy with confusion and wide with realization.

“Fuck.” He muttered to himself, almost doing an actual facepalm as he looked at the table.

He visibly took three steps back, separating himself as far as he possibly could from her. She stared at him confused, wondering what she had done wrong. It was only when he was a safe distance away that Harley began to realize their mistake.

She had kissed him...she was supposed to hate him...technically he kissed her first...Thoughts continued to run through her mind, not making any sense as she tried to reason with herself.

“Alex?” She felt herself question as the overwhelming feeling of rejection crashed down on her.

“Mhmm.” He grunted, running a hang through his tangled hair and turning to look at her.

“What’s wrong?” She got up the nerve to question, hoping that maybe his response would be positive on her part.

Nothing, Harley. I just realized how much I want to be with you and how much I love you and how much we belong together.

“Well...” Alex trailed off, looking down at the table once again.

“Go on,” she urged, pursing her lips expectantly.

“I, I don’t know how...how to put t-this.” He was choking over his words now and bouncing his knee.

Something was wrong.

“What?” Harley repeated, curious, confused and scared.

“I’m still seeing Lisa.”

Harley didn’t even register what was going on until her hand came in contact with skin. Alex looked almost as surprised as she was, as the sting of the blow echoed through the air.

Harley retracted her hand, finally realizing that she had actually hit Alex, before her mouth opened up into a large ‘O’. Alex clutched his cheek, looking at her with wide eyes.

"Harley! Why the fu-?"

Before Harley could even think about what she was doing, she did the one thing she did best...she pushed her chair back and ran away.