Chapter 11

I think awkward car journeys with Alex in the passenger seat are something I could possibly live without. He'd been acting weird since he asked me to sing in Jack's basement; he couldn't look me in the eye, he'd make an effort to keep his distance from me and he barely spoke to me the whole night. And now, I was taking him home and he was just completely silent, staring gormlessly out of the window.

"I changed my mind. I don't want to go home," he suddenly spoke up, taking me by surprise both by what he said, and the fact he'd said anything at all.

"Okay, so…where?"

"Let's go to yours." There was no way I was agreeing to that…

"Alex, come on… If you want to hang out, can't we just go somewhere else? Your place, the mall, the park, the diner down the road? Anywhere but my house. I hate my house." I pleaded with him. I wanted to spend as much time away from home as possible while my parents were still out of town.

"I'm not getting out of this car unless it's to walk into your house. That's that." His stubborn attitude was something I didn't feel I could mess with. With a sigh, I took a turn at the next right, taking us closer to my home.

Walking into my house, something strikes you immediately, like you've been punched in the face. It's not the darkness of the place, not the run down carpets, not the old, withering furniture… It's the smell. The eye-watering stench of disinfectant and anti-bacterial chemicals, like a hospital ward. But then, what do you expect when myself and my mother spend half of our time cleaning up our own blood…

"So why here?" I ask as we walked up the stairs and into my room. I was itching to know why there was such a sudden change of plan.

"I just wanted to hang out, is that so bad?" he pouted, innocently.

"Yeah, but why here?"

"Because here you don't have to worry about saying something you shouldn't and it being overheard by wondering ears. Here you can be yourself. Not seen or heard by anyone. We can talk."

"If you think we're going to talk about what I think you want to talk about, then think again. You know everything. I've said all that needs to be said on the matter." He held his hands up, surrendering.

"We can talk about anything you like, Anna. I just wanna know more about you."

"Like what, though? What do you want to know?" I wasn't sure where this was heading.

"How about we each take turns to ask a question about the other? Like truth or dare without the dares!"

"Alex, we're 18, not 13…" I snorted.

"Well that way I get to find out something about you, and you get to find out something about me. Go on, you go first. Ask me anything you want to know." This was an opportunity I should take. It had only just occurred to me how little I knew of the wonder that was Alex Gaskarth, and how much he knew about me…

"Okay, fine… When's your birthday?" Okay so that was a rubbish first shot, but I wanted to ease into this. I assumed he was in no rush to go home, so I was in no rush to jump into the most personal questions.

Alex laughed at my question. "December 14th. Yours?"

"October 9th."

"Duly noted," he smirked, seemingly already plotting for the next time my birthday rolled around.

"Okay, next question," this format continued for a good half an hour, and I found out little details about the boy sat across from me on my couch. I found out he's a mummy's boy. I found out he started playing guitar when he was just 7 years old. I found out his favourite flavour of pop tart were the Oreo ones. I found out the first gig he ever attended. He seemed satisfied by the answers to his own questions too, but we were starting to run out of things to ask.

"Are you struggling to think of anything else?" he asked, amusement colouring his expression.

"No…" I lied.

"It's cool. I think we know each other well enough now," he sat back against the arm of the couch, a smirk tugging at his pink lips. The new found silence and his stare made me squirm in my seat, uncomfortable that he was fixed on me.

After a god few minutes, I couldn't take it anymore.

"Why are you staring?" I asked sheepishly, cuffing my sweater sleeve over my balled up fist and hiding my face by pulling my knees against my chest. He chuckled softly.

"Nothing. You're cute, that's all." Why was he smirking like that?

"Cute?" I continued to try and make myself seem as small as possible, but it only made his smirk grow into a stupid, irritating grin. "I'd hardly call an awkward, quivering wreck 'cute'."

"Now, see that's where you're wrong. I think you're extremely cute. Adorable. Like a Pokémon." I laughed aloud at his ridiculous statement. "Hey, you bought ice cream at the store yesterday, right?" I nodded, keeping the conversation one sided, "okay so two spoons and a chick flick to go with?" I nodded again, standing up to retrieve the ice cream and spoons.

"You pick something. DVDs are in the cabinet under the stairs," I called as I left the room, relieved to be out from under his gaze. When I returned, he had chosen '10 Things I Hate About You', and settled back onto the couch.

"Come. Sit." He patted the space next to him and I felt like I had no other choice but to sit beside him. But I made sure to leave enough space between the two of us. "How am I supposed to reach the ice cream tub with you over there? I'm not letting you hog it all!"

"Hey, I bought this remember!"

"To share with me, of course." I rolled my eyes as he wiggled his far too thick eyebrows and scooted closer to him so we could share the tub.

By the time Patrick and Kat were paintballing, I had somehow managed to find myself pressed into Alex's side with his arm wrapped casually around my shoulders. And we were out of ice cream.

Throughout the film though, I had noticed that Alex kept looking down at me, as if he needed to check I was still there, still alive, still breathing… Did he think I'd just disappear?

"I'm bored of this movie," he announced, standing up from our comfortable position. "It's obvious they end up together." Before I could even think of a way to respond he had darted out of view and up the stairs towards my room.

"Alex, hey! What are you doing?" As I ran after him I heard the familiar sound of strings being plucked and tuned in my bedroom, and I turned the corner to see Alex sat on the floor playing my guitar.

"Just wanted to play. Well, that's a lie. I actually just wanted to hear you play." He held the guitar out to me as if to say I had no choice, so I sat down next to him, my shoulder brushing lightly against his and sending a weird kind of cold chill down the length of my arm. He passed me my beloved instrument, and I started plucking a song I had taught myself recently; My Heart, by Paramore. I forgot about Alex and the nerves that just his presence were causing me and sang along, losing myself in the strings and the lyrics, feeling every single word.

And Alex just sat there, watching my hands as they effortlessly plucked and found their way along the fret board. He listened the whole time, intrigued. It felt good to have an audience, even if it was just Alex.

As the song came to a close I became aware once again that Alex was there, and he had just listened to me lose myself in music. This was becoming a regular pattern. My nerves returned as quickly as they had melted away when I played and I pulled my sweater sleeves over my balled up fists again, biting my lip and avoiding eye contact.

"Anna, I…" he seemed completely unable to form a sentence. "You're so…" he started, but couldn't finish. What, though? I needed an ending to that so bad that it confused me to no end.

But actions speak louder than words.

Before I had any idea what was happening Alex had pressed his lips to my own without any kind of warning. I had no idea what to do. Both my head and my heart were going at a million miles a minute and they were not communicating well with one another.

As Alex kissed me I couldn't help but sink further into his touch, his lips moulding into mine, moving gracefully and encouraging me to contribute. But of course, this was my first kiss. Not just with Alex, but any anyone. And I had no idea how to kiss a guy.

But Alex couldn't have been a better tutor. He lightly raised his hand to my jawline, tilting my head so I could comfortable lean into him and close the space between us, our lips coming into contact a little more harshly. His teeth lightly grazed my bottom lip, biting down ever so slightly to elicit a reaction out of me and relax me. It worked. Involuntarily, one of my hands lifted up and pressed against his chest, the other sliding up to his neck.

For my first kiss, this was nothing like I had expected. First, I had expected this to happen when I was a lot older. Never had I expected someone – especially someone like Alex – to actually want to kiss me. I just thought that after college I'd meet some guy and settle down because that's what you were supposed to do. But someone was interested in me, right here, right now. And it just so happened to be Alex freaking Gaskarth.

Second, I was always told your first kiss is awkward and weird. One of you always tries to stick your tongue down the other's throat or something, and all in all the experience just isn't a good one.

But oh, this was a good experience.

His lips moved with mine perfectly, and his tongue barely came into contact with mine at all. Even when it did, it wasn't in the disgusting way I had been expecting.

To put it simply, Alex was a fantastic kisser. And I was like putty in his guitar-calloused hands.

It took one small, simple little gesture for me to realise why I was always so nervous around him; to realise why I didn't fight him when he was so concerned about me; to realise why I wanted to spend all my time with him; to realise why he put me on edge.

I liked Alex Gaskarth.