Chapter Twenty-Eight
Gabby's POV
I was afraid that dating Alfred would change us. That we'd start being more awkward around one another, or not do some of the things we used to do. After all, the level of closeness we'd been at before was really that of really friendly siblings.
Nevertheless, Alfred blissfully proved me wrong. Alright, so there was a bit of a change between us. But not a bad one. We still texted each other while in the same room, played video games together, gave/received guitar lessons, stole food from each other at meals, laughed over stupid inside jokes, and walked with one another to classes. The difference? We did these things not casually, but as a couple. There was a different type of atmosphere when we were around each other; a warm, bubbly one that didn't just make me feel accepted, it made me feel loved. Not to mention when he called me "babe," it was no longer a nonchalant slip of the tongue with no thought behind it. He meant to say it, for I was now his baby.
Oh, and we held hands in the halls. That was new.
I started to believe in miracles one Thursday afternoon when our History teacher passed out before she could even tell us to bring out our notebooks. The nurse had to come down and get her, and since it was so sudden, they were unable to get a substitute. So, our class was dismissed for the next 45 minutes. Alfred and I took that opportunity to go on a nice little unofficial date- we went on a ton of those, considering that's what we labeled every time we hung out.
"I wonder what knocked the old hag out?" Alfred pondered, swinging my hand in his as we made our way over to our favorite bench by the lake. I made a sort of choked gasp-giggle sound at the casualty with which Al called our teacher an old hag. …Which, honestly, she was.
"Didn't you notice how wacky the heaters have been in the school? The place's been like, 80 degrees all day. She probably couldn't handle the heat," I reasoned. Discussing the temperature made me absently draw my jacket closer to my body. What a shock it had been, going from the near-sweltering building to the cool late-November air. I felt a shiver run through my body.
Alfred was nodding in understanding of my theory. He paused before our bench, motioning to it with one arm. "After you, m'lady." I chuckled, bowing my head and smoothing out my skirt before sitting down. I could just barely feel the thin layer of frost covering the seat. Besides: when Alfred sat beside me, so close that there wasn't even an inch of elbow room between our bodies, I felt as if I was sitting by a fireplace.
It was silent for just a few seconds, minus the sound of Alfred humming under his breath. I tilted my head and looked up at him. "Hey, what song is that?" I asked.
"Sugar We're Going Down by Fall Out Boy," he told me in unison to me answering myself out loud. We put on identical grins, shouting "Jinx!"
"You know that song?" he questioned, his smile just as bright in his eyes as it was on his mouth.
Responding with a simple "yes" would have been too easy. "Am I more than you bargained for yeah. I've, been dying to tell you everything, you wanna hear,"
"'Cause that's just who I am this week," we continued together. We laughed once more, our breath making little puffs in the air. "Y'know… I really love your singing voice," he commented, his grin softening a bit. I shrugged, glancing away.
"It's gotten a lot better over the years… Chorus class really shapes your sound. I was always among the worst in my class, but hey, I don't totally suck anymore."
Alfred lightly brought his fist against my shoulder, just like good ol' buddies do. "Hey, you're better than I am," he insisted. I shook my head, turning my gaze back to his face.
"You ain't bad when you really try for it. I've heard you," I countered honestly. An expression I'd never seen Alfred wear flashed across his face. He looked amused, as always, but also kind of… humbled. "What?"
He laughed ever-so-slightly. "Well thanks. And damn, I don't know many girls that still use the word 'ain't.'" My face flushed as he pressed a gloved hand against my cheek, seductively closing his eyes half way. "Hearing you talk like that just turns me on…" My heart leaped into my throat; I nearly fell backwards onto the frosty grass. The sound of Alfred's loud, obnoxious laughter was what balanced me. "Kidding, kidding! Jesus, don't die."
I gulped, pressing a hand to my chest and feeling my heart flutter a mile a minute. I smacked his arm. "You're an ass, I swear…" Alfred winked at me, then closed his eyes and turned his blind gaze to the sky. He picked up his humming where we left off singing, only this time he positioned his arms as if he was playing an invisible guitar. However, he wasn't strumming randomly like most air guitarists do; he actually had his fingers bent over where certain frets would be located, the fingers on his opposite hand touching as if they held a pick. I mentally pictured his guitar on his lap, matching the position of his fingers with the chords he would be playing. I could hear them in my mind, too; he was actually practicing Sugar We're Going Down, minus the instrument physically present.
"Hey, what's your favorite song?" He asked out of nowhere, his fingers suddenly going slack and his eyes opening. He turned back to me, tilting his head slightly in curiosity. I closed my mouth, for I had been about to comment on his invisible playing- what I was gonna say, I honestly don't know.
It was instinct to answer immediately. "Well- …..huh. I uh, I'm not sure," I responded honestly, blinking. I'm the type of person that goes through favorite songs nearly weekly, yet come to think of it… I hadn't the slightest clue what my current favorite was. Vegas Girl by Connor Maynard? I Knew You Were Trouble by Taylor Swift? My variety of tastes was too vast.
Al lifted an eyebrow, his mouth going tight. "Well what's your favorite band?"
"Sleeping With Sirens," I told him immediately. That I had no doubt about.
"Ooh, yeah, they're pretty good. What song do you like best by them?"
I tapped my pointer finger against my chin, thinking. "A Trophy Father's Trophy Son or Roger Rabbit," I decided. Another unique emotion swept across Alfred's expression; disappointment, perhaps? But why?
"Don't you like any love songs?"
Why would that matter? Okay… "Well, yeah, I guess…" Before I could think it over and answer, Alfred was talking again. "You like to sing. What's your favorite song to sing? Favorite love song."
Making it that specific made it considerably easier to reply honestly. "I gotta say Little Things by One Direction. It's right in my range, and so sweet…"
Don't ask me why, because I couldn't tell you, but Alfred's face lit up at that. "Oh, I know that one! It's the most played on Artie's iPod, I think I've heard him sing it when he didn't know I was in the room…" He nodded in contentment. "Good."
Now, it wasn't too odd that he would ask me what my favorite song was. I mean, since we went from BFFs to girlfriend-boyfriend, we already knew a lot of things about each other- his favorite colors were red, white, and blue, his favorite food was burgers, he thought contacts were lame, his first kiss was with a guy because he had been playing Ultimate Truth or Dare… That left us with the desire to know everything about each other. But why had Alfred been so specific? Why would he care what my favorite love song was? Suspicious, suspicious…
I hadn't even noticed that my teeth had started to chatter; I guess the low temperature had finally gotten to me. Alfred took note of this and snickered fondly. "Damn, it's not even that cold out."
I shrugged my shoulders; perhaps I did tend to overreact to any weather other than perfect. "Yeah, well, I can't stand the cold. If it isn't 60 to 70 degrees, I am not a happy camper."
Alfred's smirk softened considerably, giving him the most dreamy expression possible: compassionate with a dash of cockiness. I suddenly felt a good deal warmer. "Well c'mere, then." My eyes widened behind my slightly foggy glasses as Alfred shrugged out of his favorite bomber jacket, leaving him in nothing but the dress shirt and blazer of the academy's uniform. Before I could protest, he had the jacket wrapped around my shoulders. I immediately felt its weight and immense warmth; no wonder Alfred never got fat despite his awful diet, he must've burned off 10 pounds a day just from wearing that thing!
"Hey, whoa, no, you don't have to give me this…" I insisted, trying to shoo his hand away. Instead, he held the jacket closer to me.
"Well I can't let my lady be uncomfortable, can I?" I looked up into his face, ready to counter his words, yet when our eyes met my mind- my entire body- melted. Oh, dear god, I was in love… Our noses were already pressed together, he had his arms around me, I could feel his breath on my lips… If we just closed the little gap between us…
And then the ringing sound of a timer going off chimed from my pocket, and I remembered I had set an alarm on my iPod so that we wouldn't end up late for our next class. Coughing awkwardly, Alfred slid his arm away and got to his feet, offering me his hand. Face glowing red, I kept one hand gripping the jacket and gave the other to Alfred, allowing him to pull me up. I practically floated back into the building, lost in a state of longing, confusion, and disappointment.
A little more than week had gone by, bringing us into December. This meant the purchasing of advent calendars at the campus store, plans of all sorts, decorations in the classrooms of the most festive teachers… and an abundance of snow flurries. The first Saturday of the month had been the only day thus far that didn't have snow falling from the sky, so naturally almost everyone spent the day outside to play in the 2-inch deep blanket of snow on the ground. I planned on hanging out with Alfred- make a snow man or have a snowball fight like the little kids we are at heart- but when the afternoon came by, my boyfriend was nowhere to be found. As you can imagine, I was pretty downhearted.
I was ready to go back inside- I mean, like hell was I gonna stand out there in twenty-some degree weather when I wasn't even doing anything- when I took note of the fact that a majority of the people that were outside had begun to drift toward the main courtyard. Curiosity got the best of me and I decided I might as check it out. As I got closer, I started to hear the light strumming of guitar strings. It seemed whoever was playing was getting the instrument in tune. Once I stepped out onto the stone-paved courtyard, my jaw dropped: there, standing on the bench alongside the now-frozen fountain with acoustic guitar strapped across his chest, was none other than Alfred F. Jones.
A little crowd had gathered around already, but it took a mere few seconds for him to take note of my presence. He caught my eye and grinned, giving me a quick wink and readjusting his guitar. He jerked his head in the direction behind him, motioning me over. So I crept my way to the front of the crowd.
Once he got everyone's attention and quite a few more people had gathered 'round, Alfred cleared his throat perhaps a little too dramatically. He positioned his fingers on the desired fret, set a medium-to-fast tempo by tapping his foot, and started playing. Something about the way he played it told me it was a new composition for him; it was something he had practiced a ton in a short period of time. It seemed original, yet at the same time sounded very familiar. I'd heard those chords before, somewhere… Maybe not at that speed, or even that exact beat, but they were certainly something I knew…
When Alfred opened his mouth and started to sing, everything clicked into place.
"Your hand fits in mine like it's made just for me. But bear this in mind it was, meant to be."
Little Things. He was singing a peppier, customized version of Little Things: my favorite love song. I was hypnotized.
"I know you've never loved, the crinkles by your eyes when you smile. You've never loved, your stomach or your thighs."
I had been right: Alfred's usual singing voice was kinda whiny and spontaneous, but when he really put his heart into it, he sounded like any famous pop singer. There was no way I could keep the smile off my face.
"I won't let these little things, slip, out, of my mouth. But if it's true, it's you, it's you, they add up to. I'm in love with you… And all these little things."
Ever since I had first heard this song, it just made me squeal and sigh and, well, fangirl. It was so sweet, I was surprised I didn't get diabetes from listening to it. And the message it conveyed…
"I know you never loved, the sound of your voice on tape. You never want, to know how much you weigh. You still have to squeeze into your jeans, but, you're perfect to me."
It was precious: the type of love every girl, especially hopelessly insecure ones like me, yearned for someone to feel toward them. I had always dreamed of some guy one day thinking those things about me… Perhaps Alfred didn't really mean it.
"You'll never love yourself half as much as I love you."
But he was singing it.
"You'll never treat yourself right darling, but I want you to."
To me, judging by the fact that he was ignoring everyone in the crowd but me.
"If I let you know I'm here, for you."
In fact, at this point I had completely forgotten that other people were here. Alfred's smile, his voice, his eyes, his gaze… had that effect on me.
"Maybe you'll love yourself like I, love you."
I felt a tear trickle down from my eye, freezing on my cheek. Alfred wasn't merely repeating lyrics he'd somehow memorized; he was conveying them with full, pure emotion, toward me. I don't even know when he had stepped down from his bench, let alone walked over so that there was less than a foot between us. I could feel tens, no, hundreds, of eyes staring at us, but the feeling soon evaporated into the back of my attention.
"I won't let these little things, slip, out, of my mouth. But if it's true, it's you, it's you, they add up to. I'm in love with you… And all your little things." With one final dramatic strum to his guitar, Alfred's already wide smile deepened even further. He raised his eyebrows, silently asking, "What did you think?"
Any words I had for him jumbled up in my head and caught in my throat. That was so beautiful, so thoughtful, so….. I felt a few more tears join the first one on my cheeks, and I covered my mouth with both hands to muffle the silent sob of utter joy I let out. Alfred slid his hand off the neck of his guitar to catch one of the freezing tears, and I took that opportunity to remove my hands from my face and grab Alfred's instead. His glasses slid down his nose and he stared at me in mild surprise. A whirlwind of emotions was spiraling around in my head; I couldn't hold back: I lunged forward (with my upper body, so I didn't bang into his guitar) and pressed my lips against his, channeling every ounce of passion I was currently feeling into the kiss. Alfred's hand that wasn't on my cheek snaked around my waist, and he tilted his head so as to properly return my kiss. I didn't even hear the "Awwww"s that erupted around us.
"I love you, Al…. Thank you… Oh, god, I just, love you," I murmured the moment we pulled away for air, our foreheads still pressed together and eyes still closed. I could feel his smile.
"I love you too, babe… Duh." I opened my eyes a bit, chuckling softly, and dove in for another kiss. The crowd around us dispersed as we kissed over and over, equally as heated every time, our hands repositioning themselves from face to hair to neck to chest to back to waist to at one point, heh, butt. Soon enough, I had helped Alfred pull his guitar strap over his head, set the instrument safely off to the side, and he had pulled me into his lap on the ground, continuing our fiery make out session on the ground in the snow. The frigid temperature did nothing to prevent me from feeling tingly and warm on every inch of my body. Especially my lips.
