Sweetest Obsessions - Anthology

by Anthony, Jane

  Life officially sucks.

  "You ready, Lizzy?” My mother's sweet voice calls from the kitchen, as I peer into my full-length mirror and grimace. Why did I agree to this again? Oh yeah, Alex. Kill me now. Grabbing the miles of tulle fabric draped around my hips, I hike up the bottom of the dress and trudge my way into the kitchen. My mother's eyes light up, when she sees me, while I die a little on the inside. Someone please explain to me why the prom tradition requires this kind of get up again. Why can't I just wear jeans?

  "Don't you look pretty," she remarks, twirling a finger and beckoning me to give her a runaway pivot.

  "Mom," I mutter. "Did Jill's dress really have to be fluorescent pink? And these beads are itching the ever-loving crap out of me. Not to mention, I can't breathe."

  Heavy footsteps come from behind me, and the earthy tones of my father's cologne billow into the kitchen. He sidesteps around me and pauses next to Mom, taking the shitshow sight in.

  "Your ma's right, Lizzy. You look beautiful." He says, pulling my mom against him in a side hug.

  "You're supposed to be on my side, Dad," I huff.

  "Can't always side with you against your ma, sis. That's not how things work."

  "Is it too late to be sick?"

  "Not gonna happen, little girl. You're going. End of story."

  I mutter a silent curse under my breath, and Dad glares. There are two rules in this house. Do my chores, and don't swear in front of my mother. Now, when she isn’t around, Dad and I are both regular sailors with our language, but she doesn’t need to know about that part.

  "You're not an adult yet, Elizabeth Ann, and you will not use that kind of language in this house," my mother orders. Ironic coming from the woman who I heard cursing up a storm in the laundry room, when she found Dad's newest pair of jeans stained in oil and grease from the garage, but I would never dare say that to her face. Not within throwing distance at least.

  Mom moves away from Dad and steps towards me. Her hand takes the mess of tulle from me, as she begins smoothing out my dress, and Dad just watches in silence. I guess this is quite shocking for all of us, since this is the only time I can remember ever wearing a dress that didn't require my mother hog wrestling me into it. Dresses and girly clothes just aren’t things in my fashion wheelhouse. I can count on one hand the number of times a dress has draped my body, and most of those times include Easter Sunday with grandma, but only long enough to go to church. The second we stepped in her house, I was out of that thing and into jeans. I might even hold the world record for the time it takes to slip into something a little more comfortable. I should really check on that.

  Mom smiles, clearly satisfied with her fluffing, when a hard knock comes at the door. My heart skips a beat knowing that Alex is on the other side of it, but that feeling quickly fades away, remembering that Ashley Avery, his long-time girlfriend and my class rival, is going as his date tonight. Would it be too much to ask for the good Lord to take me now, rather than dealing with her smug looks of satisfaction at being on his arm?

  Dad cocks a sly smile, before turning to the door and opening it. Alex steps inside, and it takes everything I have not to react to his presence. His tone, muscular body is snuggly tucked into a tailored suit, and the lean lines of his body are on full display. He looks as if he just walked off one of those fancy runaways in New York City. Stopping myself from drooling is going to be a major problem, if I don’t get this shit locked down. As much as I want him to be here for me, I’m just the best friend he’s forcing to tag along, because according to him, "Prom is an American institution, and I will regret not going." More like an American torture chamber for the friend-zoned dateless losers. I give it an hour of watching Ashley paw all over him, before I find a means of escape. Mark my words, it'll happen.

  Dad shakes his hand roughly, but it's when Alex's eyes finally take notice of me, that I see something new. A flash of surprise. He doesn't say anything, as my father reads him the riot act of my curfew and the rules. No drinking, no necking, and no jail time. It’s typical fatherly intimidation that would be better reserved for when and if I ever have a date of my own that doesn’t require sharing with someone else. Although, I do have to casually admit, I’m surprised that Dad didn't meet him on the porch with his shotgun, under the guise of cleaning it like that song he often sang, while working in the garage. Unlike my older brother, I don’t exactly have a line of guys beating down my door for him to use it on. Ryan, on the other hand, went to his first prom, when he was just an eighth grader with a senior. He got the looks, and I got the smarts.

  Alex's eyes never leave mine, as he steps forward, and I take quick notice of his right hand tucked behind his back. He pulls his hand forward, and a plastic, clamshell box appears in it. I blink once, and then twice not believing what I’m seeing. He pauses in front of me, presenting the box to me, and in it, lays a pretty pink Stargazer Lily corsage. My favorite flower. I smile, as I gently open the container and lift the delicate petals from it. Mom takes the box from me, as Alex takes the corsage and slips it over my wrist. All I can do is smile. If I open my mouth right now, the only thing that will spew from it is my true feelings for him, and a declaration that he will never return.

  Just remember, he's not here for you, Lizzy. Ten bucks says Mom and Dad gave him the money to get it. They probably even ordered it, too. Don't overthink this. He'll never be yours.

  "Ready to go?" His husky voice beckons me right out of my romantic inclination stupor.

  "Uh, yeah," I force out. Alex quickly spins towards the door, muttering a goodbye to my parents, as he passes.

  Mom hands me a matching purse, as I stride by.

  "Put some mace in there, sis," Dad smiles. "Just in case."

  "For God's sake, Robert. She's going to the prom not a bar. Why would she need mace?"

  My father's rebuttal falls on deaf ears, as I quickly traipse by them, as my mother's own riot act reading begins. I quietly close the back door behind me and slip away, before either of them notices, or they remember they want to take pictures. Documenting this un-momentous occasion is so not in the cards. This is not one of those trips down memory lane that I want to have, when I’m older. Alex stands idly by the passenger door of his truck, holding the door open, as I make my way down the back steps towards the driveway.

  "Shouldn't I sit in the back? I figured Ashley will want to ride shotgun."

  "She's not coming," he gruffly answers, and I stop dead. Did I hear him correctly?

  "She's not?" I question with a hint of nervousness in my voice. A slew of questions are fluttering around inside my mind, and I want to ask, but I know it's not the right time. She very well could be coming on her own. The softball team did have a tournament this morning down south, so there’s no need to get my hopes up that her not coming is a permanent eviction notice from his life and mine.

  "Your feet stuck to the sidewalk, Iz?" He asks, using the nickname he dubbed me with a few years back, after he decided that Elizabeth was too hard to yell, after I was nearly crushed by one of his friends, playing a pick-up football game in his front yard. The practical solution would have been not to throw a pass, where he knew I was sitting under the old cottonwood tree reading a book, but what do I know about the manly rules of nicknaming. From that moment on, I became Iz, and there isn’t a damn thing I can do about it.

  "I'm trying not to die over here," I fire back. "Don't happen to have any of my boots in the back of your truck, do you?" He cocks a smile and reaches back, pulling a worn pair of my Ariats from the bed of his truck.

  "Guess it's true that you can't take the country out of the girl."

  "I knew I liked you," I declare, as I peer back to make sure my mom's not looking, before quickly moving and snatching them from him. I pull the heeled weapons of mass humiliation off of my feet, and then slip on my boots, before climbing into his lifted truck, tossing the discarded heels onto the floorboard. At least, tonight won't involve a viral video of me face-planting on the da
nce floor. Alex shakes his head, as he closes the door behind me. He opens the driver's side door and climbs on up. His hands start towards the ignition, but they come to a halt, before he turns the key.

  "You look nice, Iz."

  "Thanks, I think," I cautiously declare. "You look great, too. I mean…nice."

  Way to go, Lizzy. Make things awkward, before you even get out of the driveway.

  Alex doesn't seem to notice and only smiles, as he fires up the massive supped up engine in his truck, and then pull out of our driveway. I lean forward, pressing the button for my favorite country station. Alex programmed it in the day he got his truck. "I Cross My Heart" by George Strait comes on, and I stow a sigh. Very funny, God. You're hilarious. Alex hums along to the lyrics, as I sit quietly in the passenger seat, as he drives us to our high school. Why is this so awkward? How many other times have I sat in this very seat and not felt this way? What in the holy hell is going on right now?

  After a bit, our high school comes into view. The building sits nestled in-between two fields, which helped our rivals in giving us our nickname of Children of the Corn. I'd rather be a corn kid than a river rat any day. Alex takes the drive to the back of the school and quickly finds a spot near the entrance to the gym, where our prom is being held. Hordes of other cars flank either side of us, as he kills the engine and tosses the keys on the seat. I guess the one good thing about living in rural Kentucky is that locking your doors isn't something we really have to do. Everyone knows everyone in our little town, and someone would quickly notice a stranger driving a local's car.

  "Ready to rock and roll?" He chuckles.

  "More like drink some punch and run." He shoots me one of his glares.

  "You're not leaving early, Iz. This is your Senior Prom, and you can't miss this. You'll regret it."

  "Not going to prom isn't going to be one of those regrets that will keep me up at night in my old age. Got plenty more regrets that'll do just fine."

  "Like what?" He questions, as a flush begins to creep across my cheeks. I really shouldn’t have said that out loud in front of him. Shit, just make something up. Don't blurt out that you're madly in love with him in this truck, brain. Don't you dare.

  "It’s not important. We better get in there. Don't want to miss the festivities," I say, trying to redirect the conversation, but he cocks his head, openly staring back at me.

  "Nice diversion, Iz, but that's not going to work. Tell me."

  "I'd rather not," I start. Nothing that’s about to come out of my mouth is going to do either of us any good. In fact, it would be more like a wrecking ball coming in and destroying the friendship we have, because I can't seem to shake this schoolgirl crush on him.

  "I've been your best friend, since the third grade. Why are you keeping secrets from me now?" A flare of alarm flashes in his eyes. "What's going on?"

  "Please, Alex. Let's not talk about this right now." He unbuckles his seatbelt, sliding over to the middle of the bench seat. My body prickles with his closeness, as my stomach begins to coil into a tight knot. Every inch of me screams to reach out and touch him, like I’ve dreamed about doing so many times. His woodsy cologne wafts over me, and I blink, forcing down all the feelings that I have for him, before I do something foolish. Telling him would ruin our friendship, and despite how I feel about him, I'd rather be his friend, than not have him in my life at all.

  "It's just that…" I squeak out, before three loud thuds hit his truck hood hard. The passenger side door flies open, and I nearly fall out of the truck, before the seatbelt catches me, but I also end up half hanging off the seat, staring up at my assailant.

  "Quit sucking face," Dan, one of Alex’s friend’s voice rings out above me. He peers down at my body, as confusion settles into his face. "Lizzy, is that you? Looking good.” He licks his lips at me, and Alex catches him, as he pulls me back into the truck and unbuckles my seatbelt. He shoots Dan a hardened stare at the stunt he just pulled. "Sorry, bro. Thought you were in here with Ash." The mention of her name is like a dagger straight into my heart. His closeness actually made me forget about her for a tiny, split second. She is his girlfriend, and I’m just the best friend. We are not even in the same league.

  "You going to save me a dance, Lizzy? Been waiting a long time to get my arms around that sweet, little body of yours.” Did I hit my head during the fall? Dan has got to be losing his marbles, if he wants to dance with me. Where Alex is the top dog, Dan is like the Goose to Alex's Maverick. He won’t be caught dead with me, as a dance partner. “You know what they say about prom night,” Dan winks lustfully. “End senior year with a bang.”

  “Excuse me?” I blurt out, before Alex takes over the conversation. Is he really insinuating that I’m that desperate that I would give it up to him? Dan’s living in a dream world, if he thinks that is even in the realm of possibilities. If I had to choose between him and staying celibate for the rest of my life, I can live with the latter.

  “Back off, Dan. You know the rules.”

  “Yeah, I do, but you’re leaving. Who’s going to be here to enforce them?” Is Dan openly challenging Alex over me? Am I in the twilight zone right now? It’s me we are talking about here. Plain, non-blonde and leggy, Lizzy. I’m not the kind of prize that warrants this kind of reaction from either of them.

  “The rules about what?” I ask, looking between the two of them, but neither of them speaks. What in the hell is going on? Alex is looking at Dan, like he wants to kill him, and Dan keeps on staring at me, like I’m a prime cut of meat at the butcher shop. How did putting on a damn fluffy dress make these two guys get so angry at each other? “Is someone going to tell me what’s going on?”

  "Meet you inside?" Dan asks, not knowing how to diffuse the situation.

  "Sure," I answer for Alex. "See you there." At this point, I’m just saying anything I can to get some distance between the two of them.

  He walks away from the passenger door towards the school, as my gaze returns to Alex, who is silently seething beside me. "Earth to Alex. Hello? You in there?" I tease, tapping my finger on his temple.

  "He knows to leave you alone," he growls through gritted teeth. “And he could have hurt you, by being so careless about opening the door.”

  "I'm fine, Alex. Really. No harm. No foul." He angrily huffs, clenching his teeth. "Are you for real, right now? What is with you?" Silence answers me back. "Are you mad about him asking me to dance, or that I almost fell out of the truck? Pretty sure the first part is a joke." It was a shot in the dark, but nothing about his reaction to Dan made a lick of sense. He's been around me plenty of times with Alex, and not once, has he ever acted like that.

  He finally shifts to look at me, and his azure eyes swirl in conflicting anger. His mouth is drawn into a thin line, while his fist clenches between us. "He knows better than to mess with you, Iz. Do me a favor, and don't take him up on his offer to dance, or any offer for that matter. I don’t trust Dan around you. If he comes near you, you come find me. Do you understand? If you can’t find me, duck into the ladies’ room and text me."

  “Does this have to do with your so-called rules?”

  Alex frowns, and its one so deep that I don’t think I’ve ever seen that much anger inside of him, but there’s something else. Something foreign. Do I dare detect jealousy in his eyes? Over Dan? He needs to get a life. Maybe, he should have asked me how I felt about Dan, before he issued God knows what kind of rules. Are these rules the reason why not a single guy asked me out in school, or why they gave me such a wide berth? “I thought that you wanted me to enjoy the prom night experience. A guy actually asked me to dance, and now, you're telling me to say no?" Not that I would, but I have to know what set him off. Alex mutters inaudibly under his breath.

  “A little louder please for those of us without supersonic hearing.”

  "You can dance with me."

  "Are you forgetting about your girlfriend? You know, blonde, big boobs, and kind of hates me." I'm starting to think that h
e's lost his cotton-picking mind. Ashley is awful, but her band of merry little clones, torturing me for the next few weeks of school for taking a turn on the floor with Alex, is not worth the hassle. No matter how much I'd love to be the one in his arms tonight.

  "We broke up," he bites back. I start to respond, but every single word that tries to come out of my mouth disappears. Did I hear him right, or this my mind playing more tricks on me? I don’t want to celebrate his detachment from her outwardly, but on the inside, I’m beaming. She isn’t right for him, and that’s not because I had made up my own mind that the only girl who could fit that bill was me.

  Ashley comes from money, and she’s looking for the next best thing to attach herself to keep the financial gravy train going. While Alex's band, Back Creek, had started off as a cover band, they'd really found their footing over the last few years with writing their own music. With the help of YouTube and social media, they've garnered quite a large following. Now, the possibility of Alex's band being signed by Warner Brothers, is still lingering out there, after their meetings with them, during spring break. He has a real shot at making it big in Nashville, and Ashley has made no bones about wanting to be a part of it. Alex's eyes cast away from me onto his lap. He is really hurt by this decision and in love or not, I have to support him.

  "Why?"

  "There were a few reasons," he trails off.

  "Go on," I push him.

  "I signed my contract this morning." My heart shatters inside of me, as a stray tear streaks down my cheek. A tear that I’m not able to hold back, even if I had the strength of a thousand men. Alex is leaving Kentucky and me. "I wanted to tell you earlier, but texting you didn't seem right. It had to be in person." Every word that I want to say out loud, clings inside of my throat like molasses. His dream is becoming his reality, and in turn, it’s becoming my nightmare scenario. We talked in length about what would happen, if he got his contract. He’ll still come home, when he can, and I’ll visit, as often as I can, or even join him for a few tour stops. But we both know, that once he leaves, there is no turning back. He’s property of the label, and what they say goes. "Say something, Iz."