I'm not really happy with this one... :/
Oh well.
Let me know what you think! :)
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CHAPTER THREE:: ALEXANDREA’S POV ::
“Let me go, you insensitive jerk!” I cried, throwing my weight back against my attacker.
His hands tightened on my arms as he pushed me out the front door and onto the porch.
“Help! Help!” I shrieked. “I’m being kidnapped!”
Some people out in their front yards stopped what they were doing to glance in my direction before going back to their mundane lives.
Wow... Way to react, people.
“Seriously!?” Gasped Alex, loosening his grip on my arms he spun me around to face him.
Ha! You thought I was actually being kidnapped, didn’t you?
“No. Not seriously. Jestingly,” I retorted.
“Drea!” He exclaimed, starting to look irritated.
I blinked. “Drea? Who’s Drea? My name’s Alex.”
Yes, misses, ma’ams, and sirs, I was then officially made over and transformed into Alex II. I would say I looked very handsome, but the real Alex hadn’t let me look at myself in the mirror yet.
“Just get in the car,” the very man I just mentioned demanded.
Saluting him, I marched to his midnight blue mustang and hoped into the passenger seat.
I would have been taking my truck, only, my parents had taken my truck from me and refused to let me drive without an another person (an adult) in the car to make sure I was paying attention Don’t look at me like that! It was just that I’d scraped my bumper a little against someone's car when I backed into them. Okay, maybe it was a lot of scrape.
I involuntarily shivered as Alex pulled out of the driveway. It was a short drive to the restaurant, but I, as nervous as I was, felt as if it was going to take hours. Of course, I had no physical tale-tell signs of my anxiety, being me the amazing actress I was and all, except that I kept chewing on the inside of my cheek. It was starting to hurt, though, so I desperately searched for something else to distract me.
Suddenly, a song hit my ears and registered in my brain.
I turned up the radio as I recognized Set Fire To The Rain by Adele, trying not to look out the windows at my surroundings so I wouldn’t know how close we were to the restaurant and freak out.
“I set fiiiiire to the raaain, watched it poourr as I touched your faaaace!” I sang along in my awesome singing voice with my perfect pitch and tune.
Oh, excuse me. Is my narcissism showing?
Alex leaned forward, pressing the button that turned the radio off.
“Hey!” I pouted. “I was listening to that.”
“Well, I don’t want to listen to you screech along to it.”
I narrowed my eyes accusingly at him. “I dyed my eyebrows for you, mister.”
“Well, I just dropped you off for my date. So have fun!”
Glancing out the window, I saw that we were indeed at Fancy Diner. The name of the restaurant was scrolled across the front of the building in big, curving, electric letters.
Heavens! “What a redundant name.”
Inside my head I was freaking out with anxiety. What if he figured out I wasn’t a guy? What if someone else realized I wasn’t a guy? What should I do if someone accused me of being a girl? How would I prove I was a “guy” if they asked me too? What about going to the bathroom? I couldn’t go to the ladies room. Would I have to use the men’s room? That’d be so gross! I didn’t want to see...that! Geez! And how could I explain my hips? I didn’t have hippy hips, but I had a bit of hip.
A tap on my shoulder nearly made me jump. I turned.
My friend’s looked said “hurry up and get out.”
Swallowing my fear, I pushed my hand into the door handle and opened the door, slowly starting to duck out. I felt my feet hit the ground in slow motion. My back had just started to straighten into a standing position when there was a sudden pain in my posterior.
I straightened like a board before turning quickly on the offender.
Alex was snickering at the wheel, though he was trying to hide it.
“Did you just slap my butt?” Smiling sweetly, I closed the door and leaned in through the window.
He just blinked at me innocently, shaking his head in denial.
Yay. I’m soooo convinced that he did not just do what I thought he did...
We stared at each other until he finally gave in.
“I couldn’t resist,” he said simply, giving me a smug smile.
“Keep. Your hands. Off. My rear. ‘Kay, sweetie?” I told my friend. “Those pretty girls may think you’re no longer playing for their team.”
That’s when Alex’s eyes popped wide open in horror. He got all flustered as two good looking blondes strode by in that exact moment, probably thinking they saw what he’d just done.
I laughed, pulling away from the window as I headed to the door with some forced swag. The two blondes gave me a smile as I walked by them.
Ruffling my “newly cropped hair” (a.k.a. wig), I pushed the door or the diner open. A cheerful ding sounded as I made my was to the hostess.
The hostess, a goth looking girl wearing all black, was way too absorbed in doing her nails to notice me.
I cleared my throat, trying to make it sound all manly.
She looked up for a second, showing me a pair of brilliant green eyes, before dropping her attention back to her nails again, and then her eyes flew back up to my face. A flirtatious smile tugged at her ebony lips.
Weird... Oh wait! I’m supposed to be a guy. Right... Act like a guy, Drea.
“How can I help you?” She asked, batting her eyelashes.
I smiled back at her.
It was really hard to make my grin resemble the Jones family’s heart-stopping one, but after I’d practiced in the mirror about a billion times, I was pretty sure I’d got it down. I was even more convinced when a blush spread across the hostess’ cheeks and she adverted her eyes.
“Reservation for Alex Jones,” I said, purposely deepening my voice.
“Of course!” She chirped as she checked the seating chart. A small frown flitted across her face. “Table for two?”
“Yup,” I said, popping the P.
The hostess smiled again, but more unsure this time.
She probably thought I was on a date with a girl. Boy, was she in for a surprise!
Get it? Boy? Ah...never mind.
I read her nameplate quickly. “Thanks, Roxanne.”
As Roxanne began to lead me back to the table, I noticed the mirrors lining one wall. I caught sight of my reflection in one.
Dang! I looked hot! I would definitely date me!
Now when I say I looked hot, I mean “hot” the way you would class Justin Bieber as hot. That cute sort of hot where the guy is so pretty you could stick him in a long wig, smack some makeup onto him, and call him a girl. Don’t get all up in my grill for pointing it out. It’s true. J Biebs is a pretty boy.
We finally got in sight of the table, and, I’m not sure, but my jaw might’ve dropped. Sitting at the table was...well, the third most gorgeous man I’ve ever seen. Maybe the fourth actually, but the first two are actors and the third is me.
Just kidding, third is Kip.
This guy even outshone my bestie. Then again, Alex is my bestie, so he doesn’t really count on my list of gorgeous guys.
I found myself exceedingly grateful right then to my cheeks that they, thankfully, did not inflame, ‘cause when those hazel eyes hit my face, man, did the butterflies hit me like a ton of fluttery bricks, and I felt very shy all of a sudden.
Roxanne’s expression was somewhere in-between confusion and relief. She smiled at me again, her teeth shockingly white behind her black lips.
“Your waitress will be with you soon,” she announced.
“‘Kay. Thanks again, Roxanne,” I waved after her before turning to see my, or Alex’s, date.
He had dark mahogany hair that fell perfectly on his forehead, beautiful - as already stated - hazel eyes, nice lips - not to full, not to...uh not full - for a guy, and, well, very dashing features over all. There was something familiar though, something I couldn’t quite put my finger on.
When he spoke, his deep, amazingly attractive voice nearly made my knees weak. “So you’re Alex?”
It wasn’t a harsh question like ‘What the heck are you doing here!?’ it was more like ‘Are you who I think you are?’
“Yup,” I said, regaining my cool. “You Cole?”
“Sure am.”
I plunked myself down across from him, careful to sit like a guy would, and waited for him to say something.
“Just get in, tell him no, and get out, Drea,” Alex had said, but for some reason...I couldn’t.
I have the uncanny habit of not doing what people tell me to do, and this case was no different.
In the awkwardness you could cut with a spoon, I looked around the diner.
That’s right. Spoon.
The mood was perfect for couples: cozy, with low, flickering lighting. All the tables were kind of old fashioned and miss matched ‘cause the owner had bought all the furnishings from a second hand shop. I thought it was a cool idea. There were hardly any people, though.
After a few moments of silence, I decided to start the conversation.
Why did it always seem up to me to start talking?
“You know Brittany and Whitney?” I asked, having the sudden urge to twirl my hair.
It’s a good thing “my” hair was too short. Twirling one’s hair is so not manly.
“Mhm,” he nodded, “Brittany and I both work at the same restaurant so we hang out sometimes.”
Whoa! Really?
“Really? I work at the same place as Whitney!”
I closed my mouth abruptly.
Did I sound to girly just then? I wasn’t sure.
Cole sat back and grinned. His grin was lopsided and very attractive. “That’s cool.”
As he sat back, I noticed a thin scar that traversed from just below the left side of his jaw, under his ear, and down over his neck to the right side of his collar bone and beyond the collar of his shirt.
That’s when the familiarity clicked into place in my brain.
Oh my flipping Joe DiMaggio! I know this guy!