That Girl

“God, Stella, I’m so sorry.” Alex told me the next day, “I was drunk as, well, more drunk than you’d believe.”

“Oh really?”

“Yeah- God- Matt and I had some drinks before the show. I was beyond buzzed-.”

“Hm, didn’t really seem like it to me.” I wasn’t buying this, I kept my focus on the dishes, scrubbing a fork clean before setting it in the silverware drying area.

“Well, I used to party a lot, and you kind of learn to hide the signs when your parents are watching your every move.” He said with a sheepish chuckle. Speaking of parents, I wonder where Mrs. G was? I usually only got about a quarter of the way through the dishes before she kicked me out and fussed about how I was the guest and shouldn’t be doing household chores. But really, what more was there to do around here?

“Honestly Alex?” I let out a sigh, turning around to face him. Against my normal nature, I refused to make eye contact with him. I knew I’d end up forgiving him if I did, “I’m not buying anything you’re saying-.”

“Let me make it up to you, Stella. Please, I feel like shit.” I made the mistake of letting my irises flicker to his as he stood to my right. He held me there with his pleading expression. I choked on my words, forcing myself to focus on the spoon I was washing before I spoke again.

God, you dumb boy, I can’t stand you.

Just let me leave, leave me alone!

“You’re giving me whiplash.”

You don’t have a clue about me.

He didn’t reply for a moment, so I continued, “I don’t even know how to act around you anymore.”

“I’m sorry.” He said again, almost mechanically. While it was of his own accord and no one had prompted him to say it, it still felt meaningless. “Just... How about I take you out?”

“Alex, we both know how badly that went over last time.” I shook my head in disagreement, furrowing my brows at a particularly stubborn ketchup stain. I recalled that it had been Zack’s plate from the guy’s dinner the night before.

“This’ll be different.”

“How?” I asked, skeptical.

“Prom.” He said.

Ketchup be damned, did he just say what I think he said? “What?”

“Prom night. You and me. The guys will be there and I’ll be on my best behavior, and-.”

“Alex.” I deadpanned, setting a freshly-rinsed plate on the rack.

“Yeah?”

“You have Lisa.”

He colored. “That’s part of the reason I was such an asshole. Lisa, uh… she broke up with me.”

“Huh?” I paused in my scrubbing, my eyes flickering to his form in a moment of hesitation. I dropped the plate the few centimeters back into the suds.

“She thought I was cheating on her.”

“With who?” My eyes flickered to his face. I tried not to look at his eyes, instead focusing on his lips- they proved to be just as enticing. It took just as much effort to look away from his lips as it did his eyes.

He cleared his throat, “That’s not important.”

“Either way, I’m going to pass.”

“Why?”

“Alex, drunk words are sober thoughts.” I murmured, pulling the plug on the drain.

He recoiled.

“Besides,” I said, with a memory flicking to my mind of sugary, dyed liquid. I smiled bitterly, focusing my attention on a rogue lock of hair that stuck up from his messy hairstyle. “I look terrible in a dress anyways.”

I dried my hand off on the towel before exiting the room.

*.*.*

“If I didn’t know better, Stella, I’d say you’re bipolar.”

“Oh?” I hummed a dark tune (I think that it was Get Busy Living or Get Busy Dying, but I was so ticked off that I didn’t really care enough to try and identify it) as I moved around the Gaskarth kitchen, stirring some boiling water as I added rice while the oven did its part and cooked the chicken we’d be dining on tonight.

“Back at dinner, there you were: all fine and dandy with Ryan and a glass of Sprite. Then, the moment that lead singer makes a petty little jibe, you flip the biggest bitch I’ve seen in my life.” he snorted, handing me the first in a line of spices for the chicken.

There was a pang of guilt followed by frustration. In that moment I’d wished that I’d told Brendon everything. From the story behind my birth to Time After Twelve’s break-up.

I shook my head.

“Alex made some comments-.”

“About something that you obviously are uncomfortable sharing with me, but shared with him.” Brendon finished.

I nearly dropped the glass jar of paprika. Since when was Brendon so observant? I cleared my throat awkwardly, dousing the chicken in the spice. “Hn.”

“Yeah, and Ryan knows too, huh?” Brendon wasn’t offended, as I probably should’ve expected, “I’m curious, but I know that you’re not meaning to leave me or Spence out.”

“Yeah,” I agreed, “Pete knows, too, but Ashlee doesn’t.”

“That’s not really a high standard, though, is it?”

“Hm?”

“You don’t really like Ashlee too much, do you?”

“I do too! I let Pete date her, don’t I?!” Slip of the tongue. Brendon pursed his lips for a brief moment.

“Stella…”

“What?” I snapped.

“Nothing.” He sighed. It obviously wasn’t nothing. He took a deep breath, “No, you know what Stella?”

“What?”

“You need to be better than that.” I glared. “It’s time you got over this and just let go of your past. You need to move on.”

“Brendon?” My voice was calm, almost eerily so.

“Yeah?”

“Get out.”

He rolled his eyes, “I’m not even going to argue with you, Stella. You’re closing yourself off and acting like a kid. The high and mighty act isn’t going to get you anywhere, especially when you only listen to yourself.”

“Get out.” As his footsteps sounded and faded with his exit, I wiped the wetness from my eye, clenching my jaw as my mind started to pick apart and analyze all that he said.

*.*.*

“Damn it.” I heard him talking to Jack in his room, his door cracked open. I saw the hint of his shoe: he was pacing. I stopped in my tracks. The water downstairs could wait.

“What, man?”

“Just, damn it.” He repeated in the same frustrated tone. I leaned against the wall, still easily able to hear them. Something about dropping eaves didn’t sit well with me, but at the same time, I was unable to force myself to return to my room. “Tour is going to be terrible.”

“You did kind of screw up big time, man.” Jack’s voice, “You should apologize.”

“I did.”

“Like, go up to her and- wait, you did?”

“Yup.” Now he just sounded regretful, and it hit me with a pang that I really should’ve accepted that apology, because Alex really did mean it.

“How’d she take it?”

“Not well, obviously.”

“Well, what did she say?”

“’Drunk words are sober thoughts.’” He recited.

“What exactly did you say to her, anyways?” Rian voiced, sounding very interested.

There was a pause. “Stella told me some stuff… that was really, uh, personal over the summer.” He paused again, “I kind of...”

“Threw it back in her face?” Zack’s baritone voice sounded.

“Yeah.” Alex said with a cough.

“Dick move, dude.” Zack said.

“Especially if she trusted you with that in the first place.” Rian pointed out.

“Yeah.” Alex sighed, “Just, there was the whole thing with Lisa thinking I was sleeping with Stella of all people-.”

“She did?!” Jack laughed loudly.

“Yeah, why?”

Jack snorted as my eyes widened. Lisa thought- oh dear God.

“That’s not exactly the most unbelievable thought, Alex.”

“Just because we live in the same house-.”

“No, no, don’t even get started on that.” Rian said, cutting his friend off. “There’s more between you two than that.”

“Rian’s right.” Jack said, “You know, I pointed out the sexual tension between you two to Stella a few months back. You know what she said?”

“Let me guess, ‘Gaskarth is gross’?” Rian said.

“Close.” Jack chuckled, “Icky. She called him icky.”

I colored at the memory as the others laughed. Alex coughed, “I’m still here, you know.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“Anyways, the sexual tension between you two is escalating with each day. It’s getting harder to watch.”

There was a pause as the guys gauged Alex’s reaction, “I have no suitable response to that.”

“See? She’s even rubbing off on you.”

“Get out of my room.”

“Oh God,” Jack snorted, “You’re such a girl- hey! No need to hit! I’m going, I’m going!”

As Jack’s statement registered in my head, I darted, my socks slipping against the wooden floorboards as I slipped through my slightly ajar door, sliding violently into my bed, my knee hitting the frame. “Ow.” I whispered, biting my tongue and squeezing my eyes shut.

These delusions the guys were having about me and Alex- God, why did they almost feel legitimate?

*.*.*

“Jeannie?” My back was on the floor, legs hitched on my bed as I crossed and uncrossed my ankles periodically.

“Yeah, Stells?”

“Do you think I’m being immature about this whole thing?”

“With Alex?”

I hummed in confirmation, lifting my hands as my interweaved fingers came back to rest under my head.

“A little bit, yeah.”

“Okay.” I said with a heavy exhale. I stared intently at the ceiling, not wanting to make eye contact with her as she swiveled around in the office chair, turning away from the email she was sending her aunt.

“That’s it? Okay?”

“Pretty much, yeah.” I said, “I should probably apologize.”

“I don’t think that’s going to work, Stella.” She said, slipping off the chair and practically army-crawling towards me, resting her chin on her hands.

“What will, then?”

“I think you should humor him.”

“How’s that?”

“Prom.”

“What about it?”

“Go with him.”

I felt a burning sensation in my abdomen and cheeks, “I can’t, Jeannie.”

“Why’s that?”

“Prom night is the center of clichés.”

“There’s got to be more to this scene than the perfection, sensation, cliché in my head.” She recited, “Come on, Stella.”

I colored at the recount of the pre-chorus of Track Four from Time After Twelve’s second and final album: Interlude.

“We’ll have so much fun together,” Jeannie said with a smile, perching herself on her elbows as she leaned her chin on her palm, “you, me, Lizzie and Kara.” She said.

I hummed noncommittally. Jeannie’s eyes flickered to me as she pulled her undershirt up, “Stella.”

“Yeah?”

“Just do it.”

“Okay.” I huffed, swinging my legs off the bed. "We'll do prom."