Disclaimer: I do not own Paige, Jay, or Chad. Alex, on the other hand . . . Wow, yum, and hot damn. Um, where was I going with this again? Oh, yes: you-know-what does not belong to you-know-who.
Chapter Two
While Paige has been fending off Jay, Alex has spent the time since the boy's dismissal doing all she can to remove the inebriated Chad from the living room. "Damn it!" she shrieks. "Get up!"
In a fit of fury, the brunette swings her leg back, preparing to inflict bodily harm on her mother's (in)significant other. Just as her foot is about to make contact with Chad's ribs, sanity prevails. In the off-chance that she succeeds in rousing him, Alex may find her face on the receiving end of a closed-fisted punch. Briefly, she contemplates dragging him into the bedroom, but decides that it is worth neither the effort nor the energy. Backing away from the inert figure, the brunette takes several deep breaths in an attempt to regain her composure.
"Knock, knock!" Paige calls, simultaneously announcing her arrival and rapping on the door with her knuckles.
Alex runs her fingers through her tousled locks, hoping to revitalize her jet-black mane into some semblance of a hairstyle. "Who's there?" she croons.
Paige adores this side of her girlfriend - the playful, endearing facet of her personality to which only she is exposed. Suppressing a giggle, the effervescent blonde answers coyly, "Alex."
"Paige, I hate to tell you this, but, um, I think you have yourself confused with someone else: me. Next time we make out, we should probably come up for air once in a while. We wanna make sure your brain is getting enough oxygen."
"I am not oxygen-deprived, hun. And you're the one who started this little greeting game, not me, so why don't you just play along, okay?" It is an instruction, not a suggestion.
"Yes, your majesty. Alex who?"
"Alex better open up this door if she knows what's good for her."
"So nice to see you again, Alex," the dark-haired girl teases her guest, the corners of her lips curled into a grin.
Paige steps inside, revealing an outfit that is casual yet fashionable. She wears an off-the-shoulder, apricot-colored sweater, hip-hugging denims, and a shiny new pair of black boots. Next to Alex, who is clad in a wrinkled white tank top and low-slung, navy-blue boxers, Paige is ready to flounce down the runway.
"You're still in your PJs," the fashion-conscious member of the duo observes.
"Yeah, I know. I'm sor-"
Her apology is interrupted by an obnoxious grunt. The couple turns to see the recently-roused Chad struggling to stand erect.
"Oh, look, the dead have risen. Who'd'a thunk there'd be a resurrection right here in my very own living room." Paige understands that the flippant remark is Alex's attempt at concealing the humiliation she is experiencing, and she places a consoling hand on the small of her girlfriend's back.
"Heh?" Despite impaired vision, Chad manages to ascertain that there are two figures standing several feet in front of him.
Reluctantly, Emily's daughter re-introduces the two. "Um, Chad, you remember Paige." You know, the girl who witnessed one of your many drunken outbursts and watched in horror as you nearly knocked me unconscious.
Paige bites her lip, indicating her discomfort. "Oh, yeah, the blonde chick," Chad recalls. Seconds after this recollection, however, he promptly disregards the girl's existence. As he surveys his immediate surroundings, it occurs to Chad that something – or someone - is missing. "Where'd he go?" the intoxicated male queries.
"Jay? Oh, he had to leave. He's scheduled to knock over a convenience store, and he didn't wanna be late. Jay's very anal about punctuality."
Paige can't help herself; a snicker escapes her lips. The sound helps to mollify Alex somewhat, instilling in the girl the courage to look her companion in the eye.
"Heh?" Chad reiterates. Glancing down, he is suddenly made aware of his half-naked state. "Where's my shirt? Have you seen my shirt? Aw, to hell with it. I'll just go and steal one off of somebody else's back," the vile creature guffaws, the din of a wheezing oxygen tank puncturing the air. "Anyway, hey, it's good to hear you and Jay are back together again."
Alex's chocolate-brown orbs do a three-sixty. She can conceive of no valid reason to amend Chad's error. Expunging all thoughts of the detested individuals from her mind, she chooses instead to focus on the young woman at her side. "Come on," Alex whispers. Her fingers close around the blonde's wrist, and she leads her into the bedroom, shutting and locking the door.
But when she attempts to kiss Paige, the golden-haired girl rebuffs her advances, the response reminiscent of the way in which Alex reacted when Jay had initiated physical contact. "What's wrong?" Brows knitted together in befuddlement, Alex scrutinizes her girlfriend's expression. It is indecipherable.
"What were you doing between the time school ended and now?" her companion demands, crossing her arms over the fuzzy material of her sweater.
"Sleeping . . ." Alex admits, taken aback by the accusatory inflection in Paige's voice.
"With Jay?"
"With myself! Paige, it's called a nap. I . . . You're not seriously taking the word of that beer-guzzling bum over mine?"
"Well, you're not exactly known for your honesty, Alex," Paige points out, and before the girl can reply in rebuttal, she continues, "And, FYI, Casanova also confirmed the reconciliation."
"Casanova confirmed the . . . Wait, you actually spoke to him? I had no idea the two of you were such good pals. And speaking of liars-"
"Look at yourself, Alex," Paige interjects once more. "All . . . bedraggled and disheveled. I believe that's what's known as the just-fucked look."
Alex stifles the scream of frustration that is creeping up her larynx. On the tip of her tongue dangles a string of unflattering adjectives – obstinate, ornery, delirious, ridiculously unreasonable. But she knows that bombarding Paige with those words will only exacerbate the situation. In fact, anything Alex says will likely enter in one ear and exit through the other.
Nevertheless, she doesn't surrender. "Paige," the accused tries again, keeping her voice calm and level, "Just let me explain, okay? I did not invite Jay over here. Jay invited himself. Or Chad did. Whatever. The point is - I didn't. In fact, I had no idea he was even here until I woke up and-"
But it is a lost cause. Paige remains unwavering in her conviction of Alex's disloyalty. "Well, wake up to the break-up, hun. We're through." Blinking back the tears that are perilously close to cascading down her cheeks, she adds in a barely audible murmur, "I just can't believe you would do this to me."
The recipient of the allegations finds that she is bereft of words. The absence of an immediate reply prompts Paige's departure.
Alex swallows past the nascent lump in her throat. At her feet lie scattered the detritus of her heart, like shards of broken glass.
