My Cliche Love Story | ✓

Chapter 12

Molly totally passes my car on the way out of school, and I stick my head out the window.

"Uh, Mols, my car's right here," I say, confused.

She nods. "I know. I had my mom drop off my car for me, so I could drive home. I've got loads of homework, it's terrible."

"Okay," I say, still confused. She's gone home with me every single day of the school year, no matter her amount of homework. Why now?

Of course, the fact that it's my birthday doesn't cross my mind at all.

She gets in her car, and I drive home, jamming out to the music on the radio. Seriously, it's like they just know me. My favorite songs are always on the radio. Maybe it's because it's my birthday, maybe it's God wishing me a happy birthday.

The song ends, and the guy working the station answers a phone call coming in. "Hello?" he says.

"Hi, it's my friend's birthday today, she's probably listening to the radio right now, could you wish her a happy birthday?" That's Molly's voice. You've got to be kidding me.

"Sure, what's her name?"

"Alex Baker," Molly answers, and I clench my hands on the steering wheel, just trying my hardest not to lose control. I can't believe this. My name's on the radio? I guess that's one thing that can be crossed off on my bucket list!

"Alright, happy birthday to Alex Baker, wherever you are," the employee of the radio station answers, and my heart flutters in response. My name was just on the radio. Who cares if I'm the only one listening, my name was just on the radio!

What a start to my birthday. I mean, it definitely took these people long enough, it's almost three thirty in the afternoon.

There's nobody home when I drive into the driveway, and even Dylan isn't home. Probably making out with Katie somewhere underneath the bleachers. I definitely wouldn't be surprised. But of course, I don't even care. It's my birthday, and I'm going to go see if there's cake. If not, I'll look up a recipe on Pinterest, or something. It can't be that hard to make a cake.

I step up onto the porch, sighing while pulling out the house key from under the welcome mat. I know, that's where everyone in the movies puts it, but Mom decides to be all cliche and crap, so whatever. The door creaks when I open it, and then I'm drowned in yells and squeals of "Happy Birthday!"

Not expecting it, and not fully processing the two words, I curse and claw for my phone, preparing to call 911. "Holy--"

"Alex, what are you doing? It's your birthday!" I whip my head up to clearly see my little brother, his eyebrows knit in confusion. I don't even see anyone else, my head's spinning with the realization that they--well, whoever they are--threw my a birthday party.

"Oh--oh," I realize, my eyes wide. "Um, thanks? Am I supposed to have a speech prepared or something, thanking you all?"

Molly emerges from the sea of at least twenty people here, in my living room. Wonder how Mom's going to feel about this when she comes home. Unless she's been told about this. In that case, I'm the only one that didn't know!

"No, silly," she replies, "it's a surprise, duh." She puts a hand on her hip, jutting it to the side.

"Well, you could have at least said something like, 'Hey, Alex, we didn't forget your birthday, we're just saving it for this afternoon,'" I stumble over my words, still trying to comprehend this. No one's ever thrown me a surprise party before, this is all new stuff.

Molly shakes her head. "Come on, there's cake."

At the mention of cake, almost everyone in the room sighs in relief, sounding as if they aren't really wanting to be here, and trample over each other to make their way to the kitchen.

Dead last, I can see the cake, blue frosting covering the circular celebration food. Jake obviously wrote the words, Happy Birthday, Alex! I can tell by the way the letters shake without confidence. Yeah, he's not exactly the best when it comes to handwriting.

It's all very cliche, the blowing out candles, and eating cake, opening presents, all the same as every other birthday, and then a knock on the door causes me to jerk my head up. Is it Mom?

Molly grins. "That's them," she says vaguely, and hops up to cross over to the door.

Who?

The front door of my house opens, and in comes Dylan and Jason. I'm surprised to see that Katie isn't here, but I'm still expecting her to just jump out of nowhere. She doesn't, it's just my neighbor and his friend.

"Hey, Alex," Jason taps my shoulder, and tosses a small box into my lap. "Open up."

I tear off the wrapping paper, and inside it, lays a picture of a five-year-old me, with ice cream dripping down my face. In my hand is the culprit, melting onto my clothes. "Where did you find this?" I ask, trying to be nonchalant. It's not working.

He shrugs. "Dylan want--" Dylan jabs him in the elbow. "Uh," he tries to pick it up again, "I wanted to do something fun. So we asked Molly and your mom for some pictures of you when you were younger. She came up with this, and many more, trust me."

I roll my eyes. "Okay, it's time to go. Leave, thanks for the present, goodbye--"

"But the party hasn't even started, Alex," Dylan smirks, and wraps an arm around my waist, at the point where I shake him off, making a show in front of everyone else.

"And you aren't going to be there for it," I reply, and I'm a little confused. Just a couple hours ago, he was being rude while sticking up for me. Now he's all good and happy? What? Talk about being on your man period.

"Oh, come on, Alex," Molly mock whines, putting her hands on her hips. "We're here to have fun, not be party poopers."

Okay, the last time I had fun, I kissed the guy standing next to me.

But there's nothing I can do about it now. So I just let them follow us down to the basement. Molly pulls out the old Wii that's been here forever, and sets up Just Dance. Wow, it's going to be that kind of party.

"Come on, it's our turn," Dylan smirks, and I roll my eyes.

"I'm gonna beat you," I reply.

Apparently we aren't the ones choosing the songs, because someone--I didn't catch who--clicks on that one song from the end of Dirty Dancing.

Dylan and I both groan. "Really?"

There is one way I can win this, though, and I hope that I've noticed it before him. There's no way he'll see it coming. Of course, if he doesn't have fast enough reflexes, I am going to surely fall on my ass.

All through the dance, I'm pretty solid, except I'd like to punch Dylan whenever he's in contact with me. As any teenager would, though, I get that icky, fluttery feeling, too. Somehow, his man period is affecting me, too.

At the end, it winds down, and then the part comes for the big moment. I turn to see Dylan smirking at me, and I launch myself at him, expecting to hit the ground, but then his strong arms are lifting me up, over everyone. His eyes meet mine, those ridiculously crystal clear blue orbs that I roll my eyes at all the time. 

There are a few "ooh's" and wolf whistles going around us, and from my awkward position in the air, I growl, "If you say anything about this, any of you, I am going to hunt you down."

They all back off.

What can I say, I have that effect on people.

But as for Dylan, he's holding me up here, his warm and strong hands on my waist, not struggling at all. 

"Put me down," I order him, and he winks at me, tipping me towards the solid ground again.

"Okay, princess," he smirks for the last time, and, furthering the evidence that he's on his man period, stalks out the house. 

12/17/2015