My Cliche Love Story | ✓

Chapter 19

It's Saturday now, the day after confessing to Dylan. The soft part of me, the part that's new to town, is telling me that I loved the kisses, I love him, and I should run to him, let him lift me up. 

And then there's the old me, the part that'll never really leave. Which I'm totally okay with, as it keeps me on my toes. It's saying that I'm stupid for thinking it'll work out, that after just one spontaneous kiss, he'll be wrapped around my finger. That something will go wrong, as it usually does in the stories you read about.

Of course, this isn't every story you've ever read. I figured that much out when Katie Adams' condition had come to light.

Which reminds me: she's still in the picture, she's still a problem.

Oh well, I guess I'll just have to focus on keeping Dylan off my tail for the weekend.

"Hey, beautiful, how's it going?" And there he is. Climbing through my window, looking like a Greek God somehow, and steps up to me, about to wrap me up in a kiss.

My old self decides to stick through. "Just peachy, now that you've taken it upon yourself to trespass on personal property," I step out of his reach before he can grab me.

He looks confused. "Hey, what's wrong--"

"You know, I should probably go and find Molly, she's probably wondering where I am, so..." I trail off as I back towards the door, but Dylan's bad boy side is playing through, so he's doing the whole 'seductive walk forward' thing. 

Ew, my sarcastic self remarks.

It's kinda hot, my softer side confesses.

I'm so conflicted.

"Great, I'll come with," Dylan says, and shoves his hands in his pockets.

"You're much more attractive when you're not trying to play the attached boyfriend," I grumble, and can't stop myself before the word comes out of my mouth.

This'll be the cause of my death someday, the whole 'saying too much thing'. It's definitely not a talent I want to keep, that's for sure.

"Boyfriend?" His eyes are sparkling with something other than teasing. It almost looks like...embarrassment. A slight blush crawls up his cheeks, and he ducks his head.

"Okay, you go wander back into your own room, and I'm gonna go," I jab a thumb over my shoulder in the direction of my bedroom door.

He puts his hands up in surrender and ducks out of my room, and I make sure he's in his room, and my window is shut and locked before I leave to go call Molly.

"Hey, what's up?" is her response to me calling her.

"We're going for a run, Molly," I tell her, and before she can protest, I add, "We can walk downtown later, and check out the male species."

Her answer is immediate. "I'll be right there."

I laugh. She loves any chance she can get to look for someone she'd call "boyfriend material." She did have one boyfriend, but that was back in the seventh grade, so that doesn't really count.

When she meets me on the edge of downtown Nashville, she gives me a hug. "Sooo," she drags on the word, "how are you?"

"Fantastic." I start to jog, and she catches up to me easily. She may not like to run, but her legs are pretty much as powerful as mine. She's a dancer, and it shows.

"What's happening with you and Dylan?" There's no hint of teasing in her tone, but the question still sets my teeth on edge.

"Nothing." I pedal my legs faster, and surge into a populated sidewalk, just enough people lounging around to slow me down.

"Stop with the one word answers, Alex, I know something's up," she insists when she catches up again.

"Yeah? And who told you that?" I turn to her, honestly hoping for a non-ridiculous answer.

"Jason," she says, and blushes. 

"Jason?" I reply incredulously. "What's going on with you two? Forget about me, this is where the juicy stuff is," I tease her.

"We're just friends," she tries to cover up, but I shake my head, dissatisfied.

"Would you believe me if I told you that Dylan and I are 'just friends'?"

"Well, no."

"Exactly. So I don't believe you. There's definitely something there."

"We only kissed once, okay?" Molly's voice is desperate for me to understand that, really, there's nothing going on.

I roll my eyes. "Okay, only once, but guess what: Dylan and I kissed three times. Beat that." I've never been so competitive with such facts, but like I said, new Alex, new personality.

Molly and I just laugh, and then she gets real quiet. "So, are you guys a thing now?"

"Not exactly," I tell her honestly. 

"Why not? I mean, it seems like he likes you a lot."

"Come on, Molls, you know it's not that simple," I reason with my best friend. "Something's bound to go wrong sooner or later."

"That's why you take a chance, Alex," she says, and grabs my wrist, pulling me to the side of an abandoned alley. "It's like what you see in the movies. Sure, things go awry sometimes, but that's what love is all about, isn't it?"

"It's funny that you say that," I mumble.

"What?"

"Nothing. Besides, there's Katie to worry about."

"Katie? We can get rid of her, right? She's crazy." Molly states it like a common fact.

"That's what I thought, too," I agree with my mouth in a grim line. "Turns out, she came from the mental institution."

My friend's eyes are wide. "Whoa, really?"

"Yeah. She's wandering the streets of Nashville while she should be locked up in a crazy house."

"Hey, there's someone coming," Molly looks to our right, and I jerk my head, just waiting for it to be Katie or something, have it be the pivotal moment in our story.

But the brown hair and swaggered walk are hard to displace.

"Dylan, you stalker!" I complain as he comes into full view.

He smirks. "Did you miss me?"

"Of course not, what are you thinking?" I smack him on the arm playfully.

"I'm thinking that we could go to a movie," he replies without missing a beat.

"What?" 

"Yeah, it could officially put us among all of those cliche couples that go to movies and kiss in the back row," he whispers softly in my ear.

"As if," I huff, crossing my arms.

"Oh, just go with him, Alex, it'll do you some good," Molly cuts into the conversation. 

Dylan's smirk hasn't left his lips. "Listen to your friend, too, that'll also do you some good," he teases.

And as he drags me out of the alley in my spandex shorts and a t-shirt, I can hear Molly calling to me, "Let go of the past, and look to the future, my friend. Let go of the past."

I'm starting to think that Molly should be a therapist. My personal therapist.

01/04/2016