Page 119 of Just My Type of wrong guy

“Are you sure about that?”

Alex hesitates, looks at the plate still holding half her food, then meets my gaze with a shy smile.

“Maybe, in another reality, I would’ve. With my mom. But in this one, all the credit goes to you.”

My throat tightens for a moment. This isn’t just any answer. I know what it means. And I feel happy — and grateful — to be the one who reignited those dreams in the girl with the stone heart and not-so-easy smile.

“I wish we had a week here to see everything.” I caress her hand on the table. “But since we don’t...”

“We need to make it worth it!” she interrupts, getting up with shining eyes. “What’s next on Dani’s itinerary for us?” she asks, intertwining her fingers with mine.

“We’ll find out.” I shoot her a wink, and she lights up with that giant smile I love so much.

We spend the morning hopping from one attraction to the next. Alex points at every costume, every park character, and every tiny reference to the movies we've watched together — from the classic cartoons to the ones that entered this universe after Disney bought Fox and Pixar. Each discovery earns little squeals from Alexandra, and seeing this light, joyful, and emotional side of her makes me smile more times than I’d like to admit.

Between smiles, lines, and distant fan greetings, we make sure to catch Space Mountain and the Haunted Mansion. I made sure of it. I wanted to show Alexandra the classic rides of the park.

Throughout our time there, fans wave from a distance, some snap pictures, others shout, and some just make heart shapes with their hands. And as much as I’d like to wave back or pose for pictures, I can’t. Because, while they’re trying to get my attention, my eyes are fixed on the radiant girl beside me.

I’ll never understand how, out of everything we did after drinking all kinds of alcohol, I only remember this small fragment of the night: us talking in the kitchen island, already in the clothes we woke up in the next morning, eating microwave popcorn while she happily listed the absurd things from her dream list. But with every smile or enchanted look from Alexandra, I know I’ll always be grateful to remember it.

Back then, it was funny, and I had no idea I’d help her achieve some of those dreams. But now, I squeeze her fingers in mine, happy not just to show her that even impossible dreams can come true, but to experience it with her.

The sweet smell of fresh popcorn and waffles fills the air. The trees, adorned with Christmas ornaments, hold golden and orange leaves that sway slowly in the breeze, enjoying the end of the season. Everything feels carefully thought out, as if this place were designed to accomplish one sole mission: to make you happy. And it looks like it’s working. Because she doesn’t stop smiling. And neither do I.

We reach our second last stop before lunch, the Seven Dwarfs Mine Train, and Alexandra walks in front of me, reading signs as if she’s deciphering a treasure map. It seems like nothing can pull her out of this state of euphoria. But as we sit down on the ride, she points to two girls, no older than ten, still in line, looking at us in awe with their phones in hand, and kisses my cheek, posing for their photo.

And that’s the one ache I can’t shake today, because every couple that walks past us feels like a mirror held up to what we almost are. We’re smiling, we’re laughing, we’re even holding hands… but what I want with Alexandra is something I’ll never be able to reach. And knowing that hurts more than I ever expected.

“Our next stop is the Pirates of the Caribbean restaurant!” Her excited voice reaches my ears, and I realize the ride has already stopped. “What’s up? Were you scared of that?” Alex teases, eyeing the cart of this totally non-scary, super kid-friendly roller coaster.

“Of course not, girl,” I say dismissively while helping her out of the ride. “And you, miss, better eat something real now, okay? I saw you barely ate anything at breakfast.”

I drape my arm around her shoulders, supporting her as she grumbles while I kiss her hair, remembering that if her friendship is all I have, it should also be everything I ever need.

***

“How can you have never seen The Little Mermaid?” Alexandra glares at me, outraged, as we enter our first ride of the afternoon. “I hope after today, you get some shame,” she reprimands me before we get into the shell.

I’ve never seen The Little Mermaid, so nothing about this ride should be that exciting, but Alexandra knows every scene by heart. As soon as the attraction starts, she whispers that the red-haired girl is Ariel, which is a little insulting because I already know that. The soundtrack changes, and Alex, excited, says the regent crab’s name is Sebastian, and he’s singing “Under the Sea” with the other fish. Then we pass the statue of a guy — apparently the prince — and she explains that it’s Eric, and that King Triton, Ariel’s father, destroys that statue out of anger. Finally, we face Ursula, and I know who she is too, and the scene shifts again, showing Ariel with human legs, smiling. Alexandra lets out a quiet sigh, as if that’s the best part.

“Look at her legs!” Alexandra practically yells, surprised.

“They’re very nice legs.”

“Stop checking out the doll, Anthony.” Alexandra gives me a slap.

“It was just a compliment. But we can add this to the list of animations we still need to watch.”

“Along with Beauty and the Beast and Aladdin…” she counts on her fingers with a concentrated expression as we exit the ride.

Holding her hand, we walk away from the attraction, giving way to an excited and smiling couple.

Our next stop is the Town Square Theater. No matter your age, or how many times you’ve been here: seeing Mickey is the biggest event. My heart skips a beat, and Alex grips my hand so tightly my fingers hurt — but I don’t even think about letting go.

It’s as if the children we once were, raised in completely different worlds, meet in the same place. We strike silly poses, laugh like two teenagers, and I feel my heart race with the same childish excitement you get when you experience something for the first time.

It’s strange. It’s perfect. And it’s so us.

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