Chapter Text
You finally go grocery shopping after work on friday, grabbing plenty of bread and fruit and mostly yogurt that doubles as both breakfast and a snack and some beans while your at it. Nothing like homemade beans.
This part of adulthood was awful, not just working but actually having to come home and do things. You better understood why your mum and dad got annoyed when they got home and you still hadn't done the dishes.
You think of texting Alex this but think better of it. You weren't quite friends. So you send a text to Sam instead.
Her succinct reply is grow up babes.
You'd last seen her an hour ago during work and she'd gone to get drinks with Matt and Vy but you'd been an adult and gone to get groceries.
And then you get home and eat toast with jam and one of the apples you got. Hardly an actual meal.
Your phone buzzes. Alex <3 flashing on the lock screen. want 2 gt drinks. Which is so unAlex you immediately call him.
"Who are you and what have you done to Alex," you joke and hope he picks up on it. Maybe he was right about calling being better after all. Not that you'd ever tell him that. He'd be unbearably smug.
"Love," he answers with a laugh, "just Zack here thinking he was being funneh. But the offer still stands if your up for it? I know works been busy." It was nice of him to give me an easy out. But staying in on a Friday night was terribly depressing.
"Where?"
You take the tube over to a more fashionable area of east london, over in Hackney. The bars themed like a seventies magazine interpretation of a living room, playing early Bowie.
Alex greets you with a kiss on your mouth, soft and lingering just enough that you feel off kilter, unable to hide the stiffness in your shoulders. Here where everyone can see.
And then your taking a seat and shaking Zack's hand. Alex ordering you a cranberry vodka. The same drink you'd been buying since you realized beer was gross. "Working on some stuff here in London," he shrugs.
"Still quite offended you didn't ask to stay at mine," Alex pouts, clearly on his way to drunk, hand resting on your tigh. You can't not be hyperaware of his touch, electric against your skin.
"I did think of you," Zack protests, "but Allison, my old roommate asked first and I said yes. Besides man you like dropped off the face of the earth. Holed up."
"I like to decompress," he states, sipping at his beer. "And this one here has me flying back."
You snort, "well you offer," you lie because you refuse to be a fake bitch. If this is all fake, then your going to be the fake version of yourself you teenage self would've been proud of. "And I'm not going to say no Al!"
Alex smiles boyishly charming, and really does anyone buy his cool guy act when he's so obviously a sweetheart. You can imagine him going out of his way to help an old lady carry her bags upstairs.
"Ahh," Zack laughs, "and he said he didn't want to bhover you," he finishes in a terrible cockney accent. Americans. "This is exactly why Miles and Matt didn't invite you on our little getaway we have coming up."
Suddenly alert, Alex goes, "what! What trip!"
Zack giggles. "Just a little boys trip. Breanna was going to go but she said it'd be too much testosterone for her to stomach alone."
"And I wasn't invited?"
"Guess you were too busy," Zack says smugly. Before turning to you, "Forgive me for texting you under false pretenses but it's Alex. Gotta get things out of him somehow."
"Really," you wonder out loud, "I've never had any trouble with that. He just rambles a bunch."
"Oi," Alex protests, looking faux betrayed at you, like a puppy when you refuse to give them more treats, "you going with them?"]
Zack nods. "I'm guessing you know about the bands?"
"I do," you reply, finishing your drink and feeling the drunk giddyness bubble up in you, Alex's hand on your tigh warm as he rubs circles into your skin. It had been brilliant of you to change into a mini skirt that had survived many a trips to the club. "Which one are you in?"
"The last shadow puppets though it's really Alex's and Miles' baby." You make a note to listen to some songs.
You turn to Alex, catching him staring at you with the dreaminess of the blissfully drunk, face flushed, "Have a favorite child?"
He shakes his head, "that's comparing apples to oranges darling."
"Least you could do," you tease him, exciting laughter out of him.
"You guys should both come though," Zack offers, "bet Breanna would come then and that would make Helders happy as fuck!"
"When's the trip," you ask, curious though by then this will be over. Maybe you and Alex can be amicable fake exes. You'd never managed to stay friends with any past lovers. But that was because a) you lived in different places and drifted apart and b) they were assholes though that was only really your last boyfriend.
"In two months. We've rented a cabin in Northern California. There's a lake. It looks sick."
You look at Alex and hope he's not too drunk to say something plausible, smiling in amusement as he taps in tune with the beat to the music playing. You would recognize Donna Summer anywhere.
"I don't know mate," Alex shrugs, looking over at you, his eyes meeting yours, trying to gauge your response, "probably can't get work off with this late of a notice?"
That wasn't true at all. And you had so many saved up vacation days apart from the mandatory ones. But it was nice that Alex had already found an excuse. "I'll have to see," you add, making sure to look adoringly at Alex, not a hard thing to do, it was much harder to keep a straight face, to keep from laughing when you felt so light and bubbly after a few drinks, his leg bumping into yours as he taps the beat playing, like you were heartbroken over the idea of not being able to go with him and his friends.
"Just let me or the boys know," Zack tells you both. "Breanna would probably love too come if she wasn't the only girl." Then orders a round and you all proceed to get comfortably drunk.
Zack telling you all about his touring misadventures and a memorable skinny dipping adventure where the band had forgotten where they'd hidden their clothes. Alex chiming in about his and Matt's adventure to procure weed "or something with a bit more of a kick," in the early days and spending one hundred dollars on bunk acid.
"Fooking wankers," he mutters.
"In college someone got some prerolled joints and a bunch of us were all psyched to go smoke it after school," you tell the boys, blushing at the memory of your dumb antics, "all nerdy kids who did not know how to roll a joint and we forgot to get a lighter."
"No fooking way love," Alex laughs in delight. "I would've rolled you the best joint."
You wrinkle your nose, "I prefer edibles if I'm being honest. Or shrooms. Did you see how microdosing blew up all of a sudden?"
Zack slaps the table, "and among moms of all people!"
"Mums be getting lit!"
You offer to go order the next round, two more beers and a cranberry vodka. Asking politely if there wasn't a strokes song that would fit into the theme.
The man behind the bar hands you the drinks and waves you off with, "drag queen works."
The song starts as you get back to the table, placing the drinks down.
"The strokes," Alex drunkenly proclaims, "what kind of witchcraft 'ave you done love?" He pulls you close against him before kissing you madly, tasting of beer and tobacco against your mouth, not a hit of pretending about it, as you stiffen in his arms in surprise before melting against his touch not even a second layer.
To your surprise, instead of feeling relief when he pulls away, singing along with Zack who also knows the words, it's a sharp yearning, the sudden prick of a needle in your finger. It's stupid. You're being stupid.
Alex would've never given you a second glance if it hadn't been for Arielle. And why would he when he went around dating girls like Arielle, models who were sweet on top of being insanely beautiful.
And now you just want to go home.
Instead you laugh it off, "I just asked nicely Al. Works wonders."
Zack snorts, "their new stuff is so underrated."
"It is," Alex cries out.
"Oh my god you are drunk!"
"And happy! I'm so happy you came love! I wasn't sure you would."
"Only for you Alex." Which is true in more ways than one. You doubt you would have agreed to all this with just anyone. No. Alex was special. Enough charisma to charm the whole world.
He leans into kiss you again, with the same hunger as before and reluctantly you pull away, still unsure about that thrum of want running through your veins and what to do about it. Now was not the time to figure that out. "Time to go home," you suggest and hope Zack goes his own way. As funny as he's been, you need a cold shower and to remind Al he's not actually dating you.
Alex nods eagerly, sliding cash on the table and waving a hastily goodbye to Zack.
He flags a cab down for you both and gives the driver your address, his arms still wrapped around your shoulders, holding you close to him. It's too much. He's just drunk. And you don't want to do anything stupid with him. Not with the lie. You'd much rather be good friends at the end of all this.
"Al," you protest, slipping out of his hold as he goes in to press another kiss to your lips, "no."
He looks like a kicked puppy, wide eyes and pouty lips, but doesn't make another move, gaze focused on you with an embarrassing amount of earnestness.
"You can't-," you start, "you can't have things both ways. And we agreed. There's lines."
With obvious reluctance he nods, "sorry love," he slurs, slumping in his seat, looking out the window of the cab.
"It's okay," you tell him, because who hasn't been drunk and made bad decisions, settling down next to him again. The heat of his body doing wonders to take the edge off.
It's just Alex.
You both come up into your flat.
"You sure it's alright," Alex slurs, wavering in the doorway looking as unsure as you feel, "I'll be fine at home."
"I'll sleep a lot better knowing your fine," you tell him, "come on rockstar," and drag him in. He's drunk. And you care about him too much to just let him go off on his own.
You both collapse into your bed, fourteen minutes past three in the morning. "I haven't been out so late in ages," you tell him. "My ex, Tom, he always said it was because I'm not fun." It had made you feel like shit but having just gotten your job, you had worked hectic hours and as the newbie you hadn't been in a position to ask for whatever schedule suited you best. And after a long day at work, going out was not something you wanted when you were home.
"You're loads of fun love," Alex whispers back, taking your hand in his, rubbing circles into the back of your hand with his thumb, "I always have a hell of a time when I'm with you. That's what matters. Not snorting a few rails of coke though that can be fun too."
"I've only ever done shrooms and that was in Amsterdam. In the tulip fields."
"Rockstar love. I've got you beat."
You roll your eyes, "what happened to not wanting to sound like a bloody twat?"
Alex laughs, sending heat down your spine. It makes you glad for the obscurity the dark lends, making you a mere outline when you feel like a burning star.
It doesn't take long for you to fall asleep once you lapse into comfortable silence.
Alex is gone by the time you wake up. A glass of water on your bedside table thoughtfully left by him.