A Daydream Away

Jack’s POV

I had hoped Alex would’ve said no to my offer to hang out, but he didn’t. I would’ve at least had another week with him if he had. Max told me that if I didn’t “tear him apart” soon, he was going to tell everyone everything he knew about me, and hurt Alex way more often and way worse than he’d currently been doing. Call me selfish, but that just couldn’t happen. Not just for my sake, but for his.
I told Max I had gotten over my stupid crush, and he seemed to have believed me, but he still didn’t want me around him. I don’t understand why he hated Alex so much.
So Saturday would probably be the last chance I’d ever get to be with him. I was dreading every second that ticked down to then.

He came over at noon and was supposed to spend the night, but I don’t know if that’s going to happen.
My thoughts were far away from the boy, and he noticed. I don’t know how many times he asked me if I was okay, and how many times I lied straight to his face. I tried to enjoy myself, but how could I possibly do that when the one person I could actually trust was going to leave, and all because of me?
“Dude, are you sure you’re alright?” Alex asked yet again. His concern filled brown eyes glanced into mine, reading the emotions he was always able to see. The fact that he cared almost brought me to tears. No one really cared about me other than my sister. I just wanted to tell him that ‘no, I’m not okay. I’m currently going insane trying to figure out how I’m going to live without you’.
But I stayed silent. I wanted him here for as long as possible.
“Yeah, I’m fine. You wanna make some brownies?” I asked, popping up and heading to my kitchen.
He silently followed me, his concerned look still etched on his face. At that moment, I would have given anything just to make him not care. I just wanted to make him stop being my friend, because it made this so much harder.
“What kind of brownies?” He asked, leaning against my kitchen counter.
“Nutella brownies” I replied, pulling out all of the stuff we needed to make them. I’d memorized the recipe years ago, and I loved making them.
He hummed appreciatively. No matter what he did or said, it was always done perfectly. Whether it was how he wrote or pinched his nose when he was frustrated or how he danced stupidly to Green Day songs in my kitchen. He was full to the brim with perfection, and it took my breath away.
I pulled out my phone and put on a playlist of all of our favorite songs… actually it was all of his favorite songs that I illegally downloaded after asking him what his favorite songs were. I’d never listened to some of them, but I loved seeing him smile and shout “I love this song” when they rotated through the playlist.
“Okay so can you crack the eggs?” I said, instructing him on what to do.
It turns out, he had no fucking clue how to bake. I had to instruct him on everything, and fix most of the stuff he did to make it right. I didn’t mind though, he was cute to look at and even cuter when he asked for help.
And then the flour fight came.
It was an epic battle in which all of my flour was lost, and Alex was declared winner. It started when he patted me on the back, and then burst out laughing. It wasn’t until I noticed that there was flour on the back of my shirt via my reflection in the fridge that I realized why he was laughing. I had a floury Alex handprint on my favorite black Foo Fighters shirt. That meant war.
So, I did the natural thing and threw a fist full of flour in his face.
We threw flour at each other for 15 whole minutes before Alex grabbed a whole new bag, ripped it open with his teeth, and dumped the whole thing on my head.
For a moment, I forgot that this would probably be one of the last memories I’d have with him, and I laughed. I genuinely laughed because damn, I loved this boy.
That’s right, I used the big L word. No, not lesbian. Love.
The stud, the player, Mr. One Night Stand, was in love.

Go fucking figure.

Notes