Page 10 of Alexander: Alexander's Story

“Thanks, um, it’s really not so bad…” My fingers nervously fidget with the zipper of my bag. “There’s no one that bothers me, and it’s clean. All the appliances work, and there’s no bugs —” I stop when he turns his back to me, the hit of embarrassment making me feel extra hot and squirmy.

“Can I help you with your bag or anything?” He motions around the sparse space.

It looks as though I’ve already cleared out. I hadn’t. There was nothing to pack besides my duffel of clothes and my toiletry bag. I shake my head, motioning to the few items on the bed beside where I’d just fallen down the rabbit hole.

Silently, we both exit the trailer, and the man who’s leaning against the car claps his hands together once like he’s applauding with excitement at the show he’s about to receive. It makes me uncomfortable, but I say nothing.

Alexander takes my bags, placing them in the trunk while the man with the trash-stache opens my door for me. “Madam,” he says, oozing confidence and sex appeal, his persona verging on arrogance. He was the type of man who knew he was hot shit and had never heard the word no before. He was the type of man I couldn’t stand.

I don’t know how these two go together, but they don’t. They couldn’t be further on opposite ends of whatever spectrum you put them on.

Light to dark. Good to evil. Happy to sad.

Alexander’s bulky and tall, with golden blonde hair and a neatly trimmed beard, brooding yet kind. Then there’sthatguy, a smidge shorter, muscular, but not bulky, with dark hair cut tight to his scalp and the thickest porn stache I’ve ever seen, sitting over a mouth that doesn’t know how to frown.

Sliding onto the black leather seat, I’m greeted by an older man behind the wheel who turns to look back at me with a jovial, “Hiya, miss.”Oh.And then Porn Stache is motioning for me to scoot to the middle, and Alexander is coming in on my other side.

Sandwiched and snug, Alexander says, “We’re ready, Dave.”

Dave responds quickly with, “Yes, sir,” and at that, we pull away from my tiny trailer.

We all sit in silence, bouncing in our seats as the car bounds over the potholed dirt road. When we hit a particularly rough spot, and I bounce, sending my skull dangerously close to the ceiling, a large hand plants itself down onto my thigh, holding me in place. The firm grip sends heat pulsing where it never has before.

Well, fuck.That’snot part of the plan.

THREE

Alex

“You’re positive you wanna do this?”

I shoot Blanks a glare for asking the same question for the fiftieth time. He throws up both hands in surrender.

Straightening my arms, I fix my cufflinks and shudder because this is fucking happening.

I love you, Alex.

I know, Jess. And that’s the fucking problem.

The only way I’m staying away from her is with a damn good reason. Cue this insane, knee-jerk plan to find a wife in Vegas.

I thought the plan was moot last night. I would take another route to stay away from Jess. From anyone. But then her.

I wish you’d stay.And the way she looked at me like she saw me. I couldn’t follow through with Plan B. It would have to be Plan A. I’d put a ring on someone else’s finger and accept that Jess is best left alone.

In a way, I’m trading my freedom for hers. I would do it any day.

The double doors open on the other side of the chapel, revealing Emma holding a small bouquet of cheap flowers. I almost feel bad for the pitiful display, but she doesn’t seem bothered by it, judging by the kind smile on her face.

As she walks down the aisle of the sterile chapel wearing an old dress and high heels that bring her to my eye level, I look at her. I give her my attention for a brief moment. She looks pretty. Her blonde hair falls in long waves down her back, and the mini veil that the woman at the front desk hoisted on her is tucked into the crown of her head.

She’s undeniably attractive and pleasing to look at, but I feel nothing towards her. Absolutely nothing. No burning desire, no lust. I’m just looking at a stranger who was kind enough to tell me she thought I was worth something. That she wanted me to stay.

Don’t get it twisted; I’m feeling things right now, but none of it is about Emma, and none of it is good.

I love you, Alex.

I visibly wince, and Blanks looks at me, but I shake my head to let him know it’s nothing. He recedes, standing beside me, hands clasped behind his back, feet wide. He might think this is fucking crazy. And it is. But he didn’t try to stop it.