Three weeks pass, and Alex finds herself pacing the length of the counter in the Sub Station, still desperately trying to crack her knuckles even though they stopped cracking ten minutes ago, a nervous habit she's picked up from Jerry. She glances anxiously to her right at the pass-through into the kitchen, where her father is hurriedly making a giant ham, provolone and swiss hoagie the size of his thigh. Biting her lip, she looks over to her left into the subway car across the restaurant, where Theresa puts the finishing touches on the floral arrangement she's mounted on the wrought-iron headboard they've set up to serve as a fancy privacy screen. Harper, meanwhile, dressed as a waiter, sets the table in front of it for a romantic dinner-for-two. Huffing impatiently, Alex fishes her cell phone out of the pocket to check the time, then stomps the heel of her boot on the floor.
"Guys! Could we please get a move on? He's going to be here any minute!" she snaps.
"Relax, honey," Jerry calls from the kitchen, smiling as he sets down a layer of sliced tomato. "I know you're nervous, but everything's going to be just fine."
"Fine? Don't give me fine!" Alex growls. "We're curtains up in less than five minutes, and the leading lady isn't even on her mark yet because the stagehands won't get the lead out! YOU'RE BEING NEWARK, PEOPLE! I NEED BROADWAY!"
In the subway car, Theresa and Harper both stop what they're doing to exchange glances, then fix her with identical dirty looks.
"Y'know, you could help," Theresa points out. "This is your anniversary, after all."
"Ohhhh, I'm too nervous," Alex sighs, slumping against a stool as she tries to crack her knuckles again. "Besides, you know I'm deathly allergic to...y'know...whatchamacallit?"
"Work?" Jerry volunteers.
"Yeah, that's it," Alex nods, pointing at him. "Seriously, you want I should break out in hives before the biggest date of my entire life?"
"Wow," Harper grins, as she crosses the floor towards her, to fetch the bottle of sparkling cider that's chilling in a bucket on the counter. "I don't think I've seen you this worked up over somebody since Riley. You really like this boy."
Alex looks down at the toes of her boots, and shrugs noncommittally. But the truth of the matter is that she does like Mason. Likes him a lot, actually. They've only been officially dating for a month, but already she feels way, way closer to him than she ever did to either Riley or Dean. She never in a million years would have pegged her ideal boyfriend as being 'primly British, and a shade on the scrawny side', but hey, it is what it is. He's just about her perfect match in every way. (Well, except for his whole weird 'dog painting fetish' thing, but hopefully that's just a phase.)
And that's why she's decided that tonight's the night they're going to go all the way, even if Mason doesn't know it, yet.
Alex feels her stomach lurch at the thought in nervous anticipation, and smiles furtively. She's got it all planned out: Harper will be busy clearing after them, Mom and Dad will have their hands full with the dinner rush, and Max and...her other brother...will be out doing whatever the hell it is they've been doing every night after school for the past month. Nobody will even give it a second thought if Alex and Mason slip upstairs to be alone. She'll lure him out onto the terrace to watch the sunset, kiss that spot on his neck that turns him to putty in her hands—albeit hard, throbbing, engorged putty—and then, as the stars come out and the moon rises above them, it'll happen. And by the time everybody else drags their tired butts back up the loft to find them cuddled up on the couch, watching a movie as if nothing happened, Alex Russo won't be a virgin anymore.
And OK, so maybe she's only still a virgin in the most technical sense, but still, it's a big deal. Which accounts for all the pacing, and knuckle-cracking, and the mutant dire moths that have apparently taken up residence in the pit of her stomach. It's not every day that a girl gives up her cherry, after all.
(And she absolutely doesn't feel even the merest pang of regret that she's not giving it to the person who she's been saving it for all along, if only subconsciously. Because, seriously...unrealistic, much?)
"Uh, hey Alex?" Harper calls from the subway car, breaking into her reverie. "Didn't you say you wanted music for this thing? I don't see a CD player or a radio, or anything..."
"Oh, dammit, you're right!" Alex says, slapping her forehead. "I set up a playlist on my iPod, but I forgot to stea—uh, borrow—Justin's dock from his room! I'll go grab it and be right back. If Mason shows up, stall him, OK?"
"And how do you want me to do that?" Harper asks, sounding vaguely panicked.
"I don't know, Harper!" Alex says, as she runs for the stairs, taking them two at a time. "Just...ask him which dog breeds he would paint all the founding fathers as, or something. That should keep him busy for a good twenty minutes."
"What, seriously?" she hears Jerry ask from below as she spirals up into the loft. "Harper, who is this freaky kid who's dating my daughter?"
Breathing heavy and feeling dizzy by the time she reaches the third floor, Alex stumbles down the hall towards Justin's room. Alright, so maybe faking cramps all the time to get out of gym is working against her, a little. Slumping against the wall outside his door, she reaches down to retrieve her wand from her boot, then aims it haphazardly at the knob.
"Look, I'm way too beat to come up with a rhyme, right now," she wheezes, "so whatever spells Justin's put on this to keep me out, just undo 'em, you dig?"
There's a pregnant pause, during which nothing seems to happen, but then the end of her wand flares bright pink and the lock on Justin's door clicks, as though the laws of physics and probability have merely shrugged and said 'Close enough.' Sighing gratefully, Alex holsters her wand in her boot, throws open the door, and lurches into the room. Glancing around, she finds the iPod dock sitting on the nightstand next to his crisply-made bed, with his iPod charging in it. And instantly, all thoughts of Mason are forgotten as months of curiosity seize her.
What the hell is that song he's been listening to on repeat as he's worked out all this time?
Crossing the room in three strides, Alex snatches the iPod up out of the dock, and presses her thumb down on the click wheel. Its tiny screen flares to life, and she scrolls down through the menu it displays. Clicks on Playlists, then 25 Most Played. And there, finally, at the top of the list...
"Harder, Better, Faster, Stronger?" she says out loud, incredulous. "Dude, seriously? That's like the title of a bad European porn from the seventies!"
"What the hell are you doing in here?"
Alex starts so violently at the sound of Justin's voice that she drops his iPod. He scowls at her from the doorway as it bounces on the carpet.
"Jesus Christ, Justin! You scared the shit out of me!"
"Yeah, I'll bet I did," he grunts angrily. Dressed in his Monster Hunter's uniform—as he always seems to be, lately—he advances towards her, then stoops down to pick his iPod up off the floor. He turns it from side to side as he stands back upright, inspecting it for damage. "How'd you get past my security wards, Alex?"
"With surprisingly little to no effort at all, actually," she says, crossing her arms beneath her breasts. "You're slipping in your old age."
Justin glares at her for a moment, then places his iPod back on the dock, apparently satisfied that she hasn't broken it. "Hardly. Contrary to what you believe, Alex, everybody's world does not revolve around you. I've had more important things on my mind, lately."
Alex juts her chin out at him angrily, then jerks her head towards his iPod. "Like late-seventies Euro-porn soundtracks, for instance?"
Justin blinks at her, confused for a moment, then grins as he realizes what she's talking about. "Oh wait, I get it. Have you really never heard of Daft Punk?"
"Um, duh! Of course I have!" Alex scoffs, even though she hasn't the foggiest. Because she is so not admitting that he knows something she doesn't. She repeats the name to herself three times in her head, though, to make it stick, because she is so Googling that shit later.
"Uh-huh," Justin snorts, clearly not convinced. "What do you want with my iPod, anyway? I thought you hated the music I listen to. Or have your tastes actually matured beyond Hilary Duff and Hannah Montana?"
"OK, first of all, I haven't listened to Hilary Duff since I was, like, twelve," Alex says, blushing. "Second, I have never listened to that poser bitch Hannah Montana. You're thinking of Mikayla—who rocked, by the way—but who I also have not listened to since I was about 14. And third, I could care less about your stupid iPod, it's the dock I'm after. I have a date with Mason, and a very special playlist to accompany it, which I uncharacteristically spent quite a bit of time putting together!"
"Oh, wow," Justin chuckles, shaking his head at her. "Really? You made a mix tape for your widdle boyfriend? How precious."
"Oh, like you haven't made, like, a kajillion playlists for Juliet since the mummy took her?" Alex snarls. She reaches for his iPod again. "Here, Captain Emo, let's see how many..."
"That's none of your business!" Justin shouts, slapping her hand away. "Forget it. You can't have my dock."
"Why not?" Alex demands. "It's not like you're using it! It's just sitting here!"
"And it can continue to just sit here, because it's mine and I said so," Justin says, crossing his arms over his chest. And Alex so totally does not notice how much bigger and more defined his arms look now. "You need one? Get your own."
"But Mason's going to be here, like, now!" Alex whines, stomping her foot impatiently. "Look, I promise I'll actually bring it back, OK? Can't you just do me a solid here, this one time?"
"So you can have a soundtrack to your sloppy makeouts with that Greyback kid? Yeah, I don't think so. So very not interested in helping him hit a triple off my little sister, thanks."
Alex jerks back a little at this in surprise, and not just because he's correctly deduced her intent, even if he is a base shy.
"'That Greyback kid'?" she parrots at him. "What, do you have a problem with Mason, or something? Or just with the idea of seeing me happy for once?"
Justin rolls his eyes, then turns away from her, heading for his closet. "Alex, just get out, alright? I really don't have time for this, right now."
"No seriously, which is it?" Alex asks, coming up behind him as he slides open his closet door and begins rummaging inside. "I thought you'd be happy I was dating Mason. I mean, he's the one boyfriend I've had you might actually have a chance in hell of intimidating..."
His head in the closet, Justin snorts loudly. "Sure, if I came at him with a rolled-up newspaper, maybe. Hey, did you take my snorkeling gear?"
"Rolled up news—?" Alex frowns and gives her head a shake. "Snorkeling gear? Justin, what's up with the non-sequitors? You sound like Max, for crying out loud!"
Justin glances over his shoulder at her, surprised. "Wow, bonus points for your correct use of the word 'non-sequitor'. Who knew playing tonsil-hockey with an English guy would actually improve your grasp of the language? Listen, do you have my snorkeling stuff, or not?"
Before she can ask him what he needs it for, Max lurches into the room wearing it, rubber flippers slapping against the hardwood floor with each exaggerated step, his diving mask completely steamed over. He runs headlong into Justin, nose bouncing off his older brother's chest, before he stops in his tracks and holds up a harpoon gun and fishing net in either hand.
"Ready whenever you are, big guy!" he announces proudly.
Alex looks from her older brother to her younger one, and back again. "OK, I have to ask: what gives with Scuba Steve, here?"
"Max," Justin sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose and using his overly-patient voice again. "We're going to confront the mummy in his undersea minion storage cave, not guest-starring on The Deadliest Catch."
"Well duh, yeah," Max grunts. "Why else do you think I brought the net?"
"Wait, so now you're bringing Max on these little hunting expeditions of yours?" Alex asks in disbelief. "Really?"
"Yeeeeah," Justin says, as though he can't quite believe it himself, then shrugs. "The whole sea cave thing is his lead, actually. Besides, like Juliet said, I need all the backup I can get, and beggars can't be choosers."
"Uh, guys? I'm standing, like, right here," Max frowns.
Alex gives him a sideways look, but otherwise ignores him.
"You've never once begged me," she says to Justin, quietly. "Or even asked, for that matter."
"Yeah, well...you haven't exactly been around to ask, anyway," Justin says, with an odd, unfamiliar edge to his voice. "You've been so busy with Limey McBritishpants, I've barely seen you at all over the past few weeks."
Alex grimaces at this. It's true, and not just due to her judicious use of the invisibility spell, either. She hasn't snuck down to watch him work out in secret for nearly as long as she's been dating Mason. It felt too much like she was cheating on him, somehow. As guilty as she feels for having stopped, she can't help but feel that the guilt she'd feel if she kept up with it would be even worse. Besides, her Man of Steel spell seems to have held up on its own just fine, without any reinforcement, and it's not like Justin ever really needed her anyway, as he's so fond of pointing out. If she's honest with herself, she really just liked the idea of being there for him, for a change.
(Well, that's the main reason, anyway. Sure, there were other...perks...but, yeah.)
But she has someone else to be there for, now. Someone she can actually, y'know, be with. Without breaking all kinds of laws in the process. Not that she's ever felt beholden to any law in particular—or seen them as little more than vague guidelines, really—but there are some lines you just don't color outside of.
She doesn't say any of this out loud, of course. Because, duhr, how can she? Instead she plays to her strengths, and dodges the question entirely by going on the attack. For her, the best defense has always been a good offense.
"Limey McBritishpants?" Alex snorts, narrowing her eyes at him. "Wow, that was almost snarky enough for me to have come up with it. You really do have a problem with Mason, don't you?"
"Not as long as he makes you happy," Justin says, a little too quickly, as though he's rehearsed it. "That's all that really matters."
"But...?" Alex probes, jutting her chin out at him.
Justin sighs, and rolls his shoulders uncomfortably. "I just don't think you know him as well as you think you do. Or probably should."
"And what exactly is that supposed to mean?" Alex frowns.
"Just that you should be careful with him," Justin says. "I'd hate to see you make the same mistakes I've made, is all."
"Well, I don't have any plans to get him kidnapped and enslaved by a mummy, if that's what you're trying to say," Alex says angrily.
"Uh, speaking of which?" Max interjects, oblivious to the hurt that appears on Justin's face in response to Alex's jibe. "As much fun as your whole weird slap-slap-kiss thing is for me to watch, usually, it's kind of getting in the way of me finding something to shoot a harpoon at. Which I really, really want to do today, by the way. So if we could maybe wrap this up, here...?"
Justin and Alex glare at each other silently over his head, the hurt and anger each is feeling reflected in the other's eyes. Was it really just a few weeks ago that she felt they might finally understand each other? Because right now, she feels like they've never been farther apart.
"Max and I have to get going, Alex," Justin says, breaking the silence and gesturing pointedly to the door. "So if you could...?"
"Fine," she practically spits at him, then spins on her heel and heads for the door. "I'll get out of your way."
"Look, you can take the dock if you really want to," he calls after her, in a lame attempt to make it better. "We both know you're just going to come back and steal it after I'm gone, anyway."
"Bite me, jerk," she hurls over her shoulder at him as she stomps down the hallway away from him.
But then she surprises herself by hesitating at the top of the stairs, one hand on the railing, and exhales heavily.
"Be careful," she says in a tiny voice, without turning around, just loud enough for him to hear.
"You too," he says quietly, his own voice choked with emotion.
Fighting the urge to look at him, Alex merely nods once and hurries down the stairs, reaching up to wipe away a single tear as she hits the main floor of the loft and continues on down into the Sub Station. Below, she can hear Mason making awkward conversation with her father, trying to make him understand why Ben Franklin would be best represented as a border collie. Grinning to herself, she quickens her pace and practically flies down the last few steps, into his waiting arms.
Justin's wrong for once. Mason is so the one for her. Once she breaks him of this whole dog fetish thing, he'll be perfect, and they'll be together forever.