Page 52 of Tamed By You

“No, not yet. It’s on my bucket list.”

Mine too, but I don’t offer up that information.

My eyes travel over the length of her impressive bookcase. It’s as if it’s a window into Ali’s soul. Little pieces of her on display. A selection of Alice in Wonderland collectibles catches my eye and my hand reaches for what looks like an early edition of the book. I then notice a large teapot and a matching teacup with a painting of Alice on it next to two framed quotes that say:

“Before Alice got to Wonderland she had to fall.”And“The secret Alice, is to surround yourself with people who make your heart smile. It’s then, only then you’ll find Wonderland.”

“What's with all the Alice in Wonderland stuff? Is that because of your name?”

I turn and she's sat, legs crossed on her bed, diving into her cheesecake. “Mmmhmm,” she moans around a mouthful of cheesecake. “My dad, he was an aspiring writer, he loved the story as a kid. So, he called me Alice.”

“Where's your dad now?”

She stops chewing and stills for a moment, swallowing. “He died.”

I walk over to the bed and sit on the opposite end. “Shit, I’m sorry. When?”

“It’s fine. I was really young. I don't really remember him, but I remember his voice. He would read Alice in Wonderland to me every night I got to see him, but not the Disney kind, the original story. When he died, he left me his first edition. It was the only part of him I had, when we ran out of money my mother sold it.”

I don't miss the way her tone changed at the word mother, laced with bitterness.

“That’s really shitty. I’m sorry.”

“Yeah, well, that's life sometimes. Shitty things happen. We have to suck it up and move on, right?” She looks down picking at the cheesecake with her fork.

“Do you wanna talk about it?” I ask hesitantly. She made the rule of no deep conversations, and this is the most open she's been with me. I don't want to ruin it by pushing her.

“Nope, I'd much rather watch Ryan, thank you.” She picks up the remote and soft music plays through the TV.

“What movie is this?” I ask.

“The Notebook.”

“The Notebook? You don't strike me as a chick flick, romance kind of girl.”

“There’s a lot you don't know about me, Harry Walker,” she says eyeing me up and down.

Yeah, don't I know it, but I’d like to know more.

I kick off my tennis shoes, remove my sweatshirt, and settle in next to her.

“What are you doing?” she mumbles, her mouth full of cheesecake.

“We're watching The Notebook and eating cheesecake.”

Two hours later, we’ve devoured the cheesecake, two mugs of tea, a bag of chips and dip, and a box of Sour Patch Kids. She started to get cramps and I know from my sister, Tori, having them that a heating pad works, so I got hers and heated it. She looked shocked that I had both the knowledge of what a heating pad was and that I offered to get it for her.

Wow, the bar really is on the floor, isn't it? No wonder most women hate men.

During the movie, Ali brought out her supplies and said I was looking a little dry and if I was going to stay, I’d be getting the full girls’ night experience. I’m secure enough to not fear a little face mask and moisturizer; I grew up with a sister after all.

She slapped on a facemask, and honestly, my skin never felt better. She snapped a photo that she said she will be using against me should she need too. I'll be deleting that before I leave. Truthfully, I've never had this much fun with a girl when it didn't involve sex.

The end credits roll, and my eyes are watering, forcing me to blink back the unshed tears away as I clear my throat. We are sat side by side on her bed leaning against her pillows and headboard.

“Are you crying?” she asks.

“No,” I reply, the word a little shaky.

---