A/N: It's been such a long time since I've updated this but better late then never, right? Besides, can you blame me for not being in a Palex-mood after the crap the writers fed us this season? In reality, if it wasn't for the fact that I also have a Spashley-version of this, I would've probably just given up on this all together. Bit I figure this fic (at its readers of course) deserves to be continued and get a worthy ending eventually. So, I'll try to update this more frequently from now on. Also, there's a big chance this will be my last Palex-fic so enjoy it ;) Have a nice read!
"You're still reading this?"
After days and days of begging, Alex finally gave in and brought me to her place. Well her room would me more exact, since she dragged me into it the moment I stepped in her apartment. She didn't tell me, but I know that she made sure that the place was vacated first and that they're would be no one at her home. That doesn't mean that she let me roam in it freely. It was clear by her very nervous demeanor throughout the whole ride down here that she did not want me here. Of course, I know better than to take this personally and feel insulted. The reasons why she was so reluctant to invite me in to her place, were already known the very first time I had knocked on her door. She didn't have to put it in exact words for me to understand.
"Still?" She asks me with a raised eyebrow and comes to sit on the bed next to me.
The Alchemist is still proudly displayed on her night stand and it makes me wonder if it ever leaves her vicinity in this room.
"Yeah, I saw it here the last time I came here." I explain to her and she looks at me with a frown and I realize how I might be coming over. "Not that I was nosing around or anything, it's just it was on your bed and I-"
"Paige, it's okay." She interrupts me with a laugh. " And I'm not still reading it. I'm just reading it again."
"That good, huh?" I smile slyly.
"Well, considering I read it about 25 times I'd say so. It's just a personal favorite of mine, that's all. It uh … It helps me escape reality sometimes, you know." She says bashfully all the while ducking her head.
"What's it about?" I ask her with a genuine interest. There has to be something special about this book, if she has read it just a third of the amount of time she mentioned. Not to add, that I'm curious to know why it makes her escape reality as she puts it. A reality that is so much harsher than it should be for anyone and of which I can understand she would want to break out off as much as possible.
She looks up at me and flashes me a wide smile, before cocking her head. She takes the book from the night stand and gently places it in my lap.
"Why won't you read it and find out for yourself." She tells me with a wink. She finally seems at ease with me being there and starts acting more and more like the candid girl I've come to learn these last couple of weeks.
"Oh, no it's your favorite. You need it. I can't take this with me." I urgently say as I try to hand her the book back.
"Relax, just read it and bring it back afterwards. I can miss it for a while." She assures me as she pushes the book back into my hands.
"But, I read really slow. Like second grade slow, you'll probably get it back by next year." I joke, not wanting her to give such important piece of her life. I could never take it away from her if this helps her get through the terrible nights she might spend down here.
"Don't worry about it," She tells me as she points to the corner of her room, "I have enough reading-material for the next two years. I should be okay." She sighs in mock- exaggeration.
"You sure?" I ask her hesitantly.
"Positive."
We knowingly smile at each other for a few moments before we both shift our gazes and nervously look the other way. I take this chance to take in her room for the second time around. This time more freely and without the fear of being caught. The first thing I noticed when I was here the first time was the blankness and darkness of the room. What I didn't notice was just how neat it was. There are no clothes haphazardly thrown around the room, the bed is perfectly made and all her books –besides the one I had in my hands- are all nicely ordered in the shelves. It's a big contrast with my room, that usually is a complete mess throughout the whole week. The only time that it looks half-decent is Sunday when I usually am bored enough to clean it. I want to be surprised that Alex out of all people, seems to be so organized -even in her bedroom- but fact is that I've come across far more astonishing revelations about her since New Year's eve. Every single day just seems to be another opportunity for me to unfold another part of this intriguing piece of mystery. I used to regard her as the absolute prototype for the badass from the wrong side of the tracks, but all she's been giving me has been bolt from the blue. If there's actually one person amongst us that suffers from the cliché's surrounding a certain 'type' of person, it would surely be me.
"Do you play?" I suddenly ask.
"Huh?"
"The guitar," I clarify as I point to the object of my attention. I actually completely forgot about it and only remember it now that it's straight in front of me.
"Oh, no." She says quietly. "Well, barely anyway."
"Make up your mind." I chuckle as I lightly bump my shoulder with hers.
"Well, I know how to play a few songs but I don't really play play. Just the basics." She tells me as she nervously fiddles with her fingers. " My dad taught me a few cords. It was his' actually."
I'm taken away at first because it usually takes a lot more prodding from my side for her to tell me anything personal, certainly when it was in direct relation to her family. But I quickly recover myself and place my hand on hers, lightly urging her to stop the fiddling and look me into the eye. She takes the hint, follows my silent plea and I'm met with an anxious smile
"Tell me about him." I whisper, hoping that she won't back down and trust me enough to share this private information with me. I know that I've slightly caught her of guard by the sudden questioning glance she throws me but the squeeze she hands me tells me that she doesn't mind it.
"Well, he's ... uh … he was- " She pauses to regain her composure to continue, "He was really great." She finally tells me. Simply, easily and well-composed. I think for her, that's all it comes down to in the end. Her father is … was great. It sums it up perfectly and I would've been content with that statement alone but she doesn't know that and she decides to continue anyway.
"He used two work two shifts a day to keep a roof on our heads, so I didn't see him a whole lot." She says in a low voice. "But, you know, he was there for me when I needed him and that was enough for me, I guess."
I take her hand that's tangled in mine and place it in my lap, stroking the inside of her palm. She looks at me and flashes me a genuine smile and I can't help but mirror her gesture. "He usually wasn't there to tuck me in at night, but I'd always hear him coming in my room to check up on me and Esteban when he got home. I always pretended that I was fast asleep, because I didn't want him to get mad at me." She continues in a barely there voice.
"The days he could check up on me, he'd always take that guitar and sing me and Esteban a lullaby." She smiles bashfully while the guitar in front of us.
"That must've been really nice." I respond in a hushed tone.
"It was. Those are my favorite memories of him. He was kinda a hot shot at High School, you know. Lead singer of a garage band and all. He used to tell me that mom was a sucker for his raw voice and leather jacket and swooned every time he started singing." She laughed quietly. "He tended to exaggerate a lot to stroke his ego a bit."
"You miss him a lot, don't you?" I ask her softly, without even thinking.
"I do." She whispers and slowly leans down until her back's fully on the bed. I lower myself too, until I'm hovering over her laying body. Her eyes are closed and the only sounds she's making come from her even breathing. I take this chance to unabashedly take in her beautiful features and I can't seem to understand how a person could hurt such a fragile, sweet and genuine young girl like her. It's so unfair that there are people out there that don't ever have to worry about a single thing in their life and take whatever they have for granted, when Alex has been hurt in so many ways in her young life. How she's still getting hurt every single day and how nobody seems to care. How nobody seems to stand still for just a moment and wonder what might be going through the complex mind of that lonely girl in the back of the classroom. I lift my hand and carefully cup her cheek and she doesn't even flinch. As if she has been anticipating this whole move all along, as if she trusts me with her eyes closed –figuratively and literally speaking. I move my hand and gently start brushing my thumb over her eyebrows, down the bridge off her nose and eventually her soft and luscious lips. I let it linger there when I hear her sigh contently in to the air, not once opening her eyes.
"You are so beautiful." I hear myself whisper hoarsely. Suddenly her eyes are open and the emotion that is passing through them has never been this intense. She softly kisses the thumb that's still placed on her lips, before she takes the hand and threads her own fingers with it. I feel my eyes shifting from her orbs to her lips in an endless tango of which I have no control of. Those lips are now moving and I'm positive that if it wasn't for the absolute silence in our surroundings that I would never heard her whispered words.
"Kiss me."
My heart is ready to jump out of my chest when I slowly lower myself to meet her moist lips. No matter how many times I kiss her, I will never get used to this feeling. I will never get used to the emotions that explode within me when our lips touch. But her saying those words out loud, making me kiss her and not the other way around, showing me that she needs me just as much as I need her take the previously experienced sensations to a whole new level. I by the way one hand of hers snakes into my long locks and tightly holds my head in place and the other continuously squeezes mine, I know she feels just the same way. We start kissing each other lazily and on a very languid pace, telling one and another that we have all the time in the world. That this thing that we have, this connection that we share is something that will not end any time soon. We're telling each other that whatever will happen, the bond between us will never die. It doesn't last long before we're completely lost in each other and every single rational thought is vanishing in the frenzy we're creating. Gasps and moans are being emitted and tongues are finding their twins in the heat of the moment. And as delicate hands nervously start roaming warm skin, the noises of front doors opening and drunken screams become inexistent to our ears. As we come closer and closer to our little piece of heaven, we neglect the piece of hell that is about to burst on the other side of this door.