The Kiss Of Death

01 | Caffé Latte

A L E X A N D R A

━━━

ICY-BLUE EYES gaze down into my own. I see myself smiling in the mirror hanging in my bathroom. I feel adrenaline burn throughout my veins. So much of it, I am scared it might flood out of my eyes, and drain down the sink I'm standing in front of, metaphorically of course.

Today, my day will either be extremely cheerful or extremely hollow. "A cheerful day," I remind myself.

In the next thirty minutes, I'll be going out on an unofficial date with the boy I have tended to love for two years. And yet it feels like a lifetime. It's all cracked up to think about. All these two years have come to pass, and today's when the waiting finally ends.

I splash cold water on my face. I comb my washed hair, but decide to leave it open, and walk away from the bathroom mirror, towards my wardrobe. I slide it open and take out a pair of blue bell-bottoms and a black, skinny, v-neck full sleeves t-shirt with white sneakers. I pull them on hastily and dash for my phone.

No new notifications, my phone responds as I hover a finger over its power button.

Just then, my room door opens, revealing my mom holding a bowl of fruits. I keep my phone down.

"Alexandra, eat something before you go to Archer's house, or you'll stuff yourself with all kinds of junk you get your hands on," mom says, holding out the bowl of fruits to me. My mom knows only– that I'm going to my best friend's house for a before-lunch movie, not otherwise.

I still cannot fathom sharing my love life with her just yet, even with how open and vulnerable she may be with me. She's always been oddly protective and insecure when it comes to the topic of boys. She'll only ever be comfortable to send me to Archer's.

So I say, "For a fact, you've got nothing new to do," as I take hold of the bowl and plant a kiss on my mom's forehead.
She rolls her eyes before walking out of the room and closing the door behind her. I bite a piece of apple.

Abruptly, Last Train Home by John Mayer plays in the room, and I quickly take hold of my phone that's been placed on my bed.
'Archer Lightwood', it spells, buzzing with my favorite song on repeat.

"Lightwood!" I say, answering the call.

"You owe me a lifetime, Alex," he replies, evidently annoyed.

"Maybe," I say, giggling, as I put my phone aside, on the speaker, and apply my eyeliner.

"Come down, I'm waiting," he says, exasperated.

"Give me just a second–"

*

"You've got me," I say, sliding in the front seat of Archer's AUDI.

"Alex! You're wearing denim bell-bottoms to a date?" Archer suppressed, amazed by my clothing choice. He's always had better dressing sense than mine, even as a guy. But I like to pretend I do not notice.

"It's not a date, at least we haven't labeled it as one. And anyway, I love this pair."

"You've got to revamp your wardrobe, or I will," Archer replies.

"I'm learning," I say, smiling a faultless grin.

We spend the next ten minutes catching up with each other's life and cracking jokes like old times when we were still in the same school.

When we finally reach Starbucks, I'm so anxious I think about walking right out of Archer's car and back to my house. I've been fantasizing about this day since I've been twelve–even though this might not be a date by name–finding that one person, and living my whole life loving him.