easy like sunday morning,

Alexander groaned at the sound of his phone beeping on his nightstand. He wondered what time it was. In all honesty, he didn't care. He'd sleep the whole day, if he could get away with it. But someone always needed him. Rolling over with extreme reluctance, he blindly reached for his cell, his fingers easily finding it; always in its accustomed spot. But he didn't look at it right away. He allowed himself to doze off again, content beneath the scattered blankets. Sunlight filtered in through the curtains and warmed his face, and finally he accepted the fact that it was time to face the day. 

He lazily pulled his pillow under his arm and propped himself up to scan the screen -- a smirk appearing on his face. He hadn't been sure if he'd be able to see Sophia this weekend, but he was glad to be surprised. She still wanted to go out, for their usual coffee run. He certainly could use the caffeine. And the company. Last night he'd had to go to a company get together at one of New York's finest clubs. That had all been fine and dandy, but he hated having to do business on the weekends. Of course they'd tried to sell it as a classy evening of commercial bonding, but Alec, along with every other person with a brain, knew it was only an excuse to drag more of their professional lives into their personal lives. The only thing he had in common with the parading capitalists in the club last night was wealth; he lacked their sense of stiff formality and showiness. It explained why he was so eager to get away from them every weekend. And, if his still groggy memory served him correctly, he hadn't exactly been on his best behavior last night.

Disentangling his legs from the sheets, Alec stood and stretched, making his way towards the bathroom. But passing by the kitchen, he froze. Joanna Gray, one of his coworkers, was sitting in one of the chairs, sipping coffee and looking over an old newspaper. Damn. He couldn't remember taking the young woman home last night; in fact, he didn't remember much of anything last night. He eyed her for a moment, before clearing his throat, "Um, good morning," he finally mused, running a hand through his hair. She looked up quickly enough, alarm in her eyes at being caught off guard, but alarm quickly faded into a look of annoyance. "I can't believe you," she muttered, shaking her head. Alec closed his eyes and rubbed the bridge of his nose. "You bring me here, tell me to wait -- and you never come back. I come to see what happened, and you're passed out in your bed?" Alec sighed. "Sorry . . . I was a little out of it," he answered, turning to continue on his way to the bathroom. He needed a shower. 

He nearly grumbled aloud as he heard angry footsteps following him. "That's your excuse for an apology?" she demanded, poking his back with an irritated finger. Alec spun around, eyes narrowed. So much for lazy Sunday mornings. "Why are you still here?" he asked, forcing himself to be patient. He'd never liked Joanna. He half-wondered what he'd drank last night. It had to have been something strong. For a moment, she looked embarrassed, "I don't have any money. I left my purse at the club," she murmured. Alec nodded, letting out a sigh, he strode off into his bedroom, took out some money, and offered it to her. Her gaze lingered on his bare chest, and he cleared his throat, uncomfortable all over again, "Goodbye, Miss Gray," he said, opening the door for her. She shot him one last frustrated look before leaving his apartment. 

Alec shut the door and closed his eyes, cursing himself. "Never again," he muttered, glad that at least nothing had happened. He could deal with her crashing on his couch, but if things had gone farther? Thinking instead of his morning coffee with Sophia, he hurried to the shower and rinsed off. He got ready quickly, hair still slightly wet as he pulled on a shirt and his old leather jacket, and jeans. This was how he liked to dress. Comfortable; without a tie hanging like a noose about his neck. Grabbing his phone, he texted Sophia a quick reply that'd he'd be there, and left his apartment.

*

Alec paid the cab driver and stepped out into the sun, glad that the awkward part of his morning was over. Of course, Sophia would soon hear all about it. And no doubt laugh at him. He fought off a grin as he walked inside, easily finding his friend. His best friend; she really stood out. Even dressed down, Sophia looked lovely as always. He strode towards their table and flopped down ungraciously opposite her, "Long time no see," he greeted with a smile. He had always looked forward to their Sunday mornings, it was always one of the high points of his week. He could always be himself around Sophia, not the polished businessman he had to pull off 9 to 5 for five days every week. 

He ordered a coffee from a passing waitress and reclined in his seat, glancing about the small cafe, before his eyes finally fell again on Sophia, "How was your night? Because no doubt it was better than mine."

The waitress returned shortly; they had her for a server most Sunday mornings. But, like always, her lingering looks were all for nothing. Alexander had eyes only for the beautiful young woman across from him, the woman he had the privilege of calling his best friend. He'd known her for years, but it felt like she'd always been a part of his life -- a part of him he wouldn't be able to function without. Her smile made him forget his problems, and her laugh was infectious. There wasn't anything he wouldn't do for her; she was the most important thing, since he had always been distant from his family . . . and charming as he was, wasn't keen to new people and unfamiliar faces. But that wasn't a problem, he was more than content with his relationship with Sophia.

Most people assumed that their's was a romantic relationship. But it had never been like that. They were just flirty people; they had the same sense of humor and a lot in common, but it had never gotten farther than the usual cheeky comment. Meeting Sophia for the first time though, that had been a completely different story. His first thought had simply been Wow. She was absolutely stunning, and smart, and successful; the type of woman he'd never gone after before. When he first saw her, he'd thought about marriage for the first time -- doing the whole family thing; there was just something about her that had struck a buried chord. But since they'd gotten to know each other -- too well, he sometimes thought, with a slight smirk -- he'd learned that Sophia didn't want all that. And they were just . . . friends. 

That didn't mean he felt a slight stab of jealousy every time a man swooped in to lure her away when they went out. Though he played it cool, Alexander was fiercely protective. And hell, possessive. In a quiet way. But they were always there, and Sophia went where she pleased -- though he didn't believe half of them realized what they had in the short time she was with them. She was funny, and charming, and gorgeous . . . once and a while he would find himself looking at her, starstruck. He always shook it off though, there was nothing to it. Like he thought before, they were friends -- very, very good friends -- but nothing more. He didn't intend on ever suggesting anything either; what they had was the best friendship Alec had ever had, and he wasn't going to throw it away on a gamble he wasn't convinced of winning.

But in the back of his mind, every woman he went out with, he inexplicably compared to Sophia. And they never quite matched up.

"Hello my handsome best friend."

Alexander flashed a lopsided grin, the warm humor of it touching his deep, brown eyes, "You always know what to say, sweet thing," he replied, falling into their usual flirtatious banter with ease. It was like riding a bicycle, a habit that would always be there. One he never grew bored with. 

He found himself leaning back, chuckling under his breath at her words. He absently raised his coffee to his lips and took a sip, setting it down only to run a hand through his still-damp hair. "You should have called me, we could have had a sleepover," he replied with a wink, the words flowing like he was talking about the weather. Things like that came like second nature to Alexander, and they always had. He'd been making girls blush since the eighth grade, with his wily smile and mischievous eyes. That look entered his eyes now as he slid his arms across the table and lightly thrummed his fingers over her forearms, a dark brow arched as he shot her a grin, "But if we'd had a sleepover, I think we'd still be in bed right now -- and God knows I need my morning coffee," he murmured devilishly, that playful sparkle of challenge in his gaze.

Alexander reclined back, letting out a sigh, "I almost had a shot of whiskey instead, this morning," he said, rolling his eyes toward the ceiling -- preparing himself for the bashing Sophia was bound to give him when he relayed his night to her. He looked at her for a moment, lingering, knowing she was curious, and teasing her with the silence. "I sort of got rip roaring drunk at that 'social event' last night . . . I took home a coworker, Joanna Gray . . ." he said, trailing off, enjoying making her wonder, as he knew she would. "You know what I did, though? Walked her up to my apartment, stumbled my way to the bedroom and never came back out," at this point he rubbed the bridge of his nose, eyes closed, a slight, embarrassed smirk on his face, "I didn't remember a thing. I woke up and found her reading the paper, because she didn't have money for a cab. I think this is one for the record book."

Shaking his head at himself, he folded his hands beneath his chin, waiting for Sophia to call him out on his pathetic excuse for an evening. "I have the strangest feeling that Monday might be a little awkward . . ." but even as he trailed off, the corners of his mouth tipped up in the beginnings of a bemused smile.

{ ooc } no prob, and it was good!

It wasn't always hard to tell what Sophia was thinking; she was usually just like a coffee table book, his own copy of some interesting read, open and easily read. But there were moments when Alexander couldn't help but wonder what was really going on inside that lovely head of her's. He had always been more cool and difficult to decompose, but with Sophia it was hard to hide anything; the first time he'd met her, she'd brushed past his outer walls and wrapped herself around his finger. Sometimes he wondered if what she was really attached to was his heart; it was a difficult thing to understand. Some mornings, after their sleepovers, the ones where he slept on the couch like a gentleman, offering her his enormous bed, she would emerge from his room looking sleepy and, as always, beautiful. The times she'd borrowed one of his shirts to sleep in always made his heart beat a little faster; and sometimes he wondered what he was doing. In those moments indecision, he felt the need to push her up against a wall and just kiss her -- kiss her like she deserved to be kissed -- and tell her that they were crazy, had been for years, because they both knew they were perfect for each other. 

When he'd first met her, there hadn't been any friendship to block the way down that path. He'd flirted with her openly, went after her like he'd never gone after a woman before, and the more he learned about her, the more affectionate his playful advances became. But when she'd made it clear that romance was not in the cards, he'd backed off. Not enough to lose her, because he never want to lose such a wonderful person. Their easy, flirtatious banter was still there, they way they looked and touched each other, and he supposed he was only hurting himself in the long run. That one day, when Sophia finally found a man to stay with, he would have no choice but to allow himself to be pushed out of the picture. Because every word he said to Sophia was true; all of his teasing, cheeky comments still clung to the underlying adoration he still felt for her. But he wouldn't lose her now, not after playing cool all these years.

But sometimes he wondered. Sophia never seemed to like the women he dated, and she got a certain look in her eye whenever he mentioned an upcoming date. And soon after he introduced the two women, one would almost immediately make a flight for the hills. And it was never Sophia. In those situations, he couldn't help but smile slightly -- they were so alike, and despite their situation, and the inability of anything to move past the point of friendship, it gave him a certain satisfaction that she cared so much about him. He had pulled the same trick before, and often. He enjoyed, especially, showing up at her apartment early in the morning on Sunday with breakfast (sadly, only enough for himself and Sophia) -- giving any man who'd spent the night a nasty surprise. But he could never quite brush off the jealously that rose when he and Sophia went out; the way the green envy crept over him when she was dancing on the floor with another man's hands on her waist. The worst part was when she left with them. That stinging feeling he felt when she took another man home; someone who wasn't fit, in his mind, to shine her shoes. He tried to avoid the reverse situation himself, but some nights, while Sophia was dancing away, he would drink -- and in turn take some sultry woman home to soothe the cruel punch of reality. Still, he knew how irked it made the men who looked Sophia's way, to see him standing beside her. He always watched over her, and had trouble not laughing when potential suitors gave him the evil eye; expecting Sophia to throw away their friendship. At least he'd never have to worry on that front. He could never imagine her tossing him aside, she wasn't like that. No, in a way, the two of them were a package deal. It was just the way things were.

He half wondered what would have happened if she had called him last night. He would have left Joanna Gray in half a heartbeat, as bad as that made him look, he wasn't bothered by it. But he'd been drunk enough to try some of his earlier notions, so it was probably all for the best he'd stayed away. Who knows what they might have been doing back at her apartment. Of course, he was curious, but not curious enough to risk what they had.

Alexander couldn't help but smile wickedly at her seductive look; women fell for his charms with ease, but he'd only ever employed their full use on Sophia when they first met. There were nights when she'd been drunk, and he'd had to carry her to her bed, but he'd never imagine taking advantage of that. Hell, there had been similar nights when she'd had to help him up the stairs, and dump him on his couch. They were a team. A team with a fondness for alcohol and fun . . . but it was a good team. 

"Alexander you didn't." 

He dropped his eyes in playful shame -- but it was easy to see he was embarrassed about the whole thing, "I did," he assured, meeting her gaze again with the hint of another smirk. He lightly drummed his fingers on the tabletop, smiling at the sound of her laughter, "At least she didn't slap me, I'm sure I deserved it," he chuckled, that playfully devilish gleam again aglow in his smoldering dark eyes.

"You know, she could have tied you up and had her way with you last night." 

Alexander arched a brow, a hint amusement in his voice when he spoke, "You would know," he teased, raising his mug to take another sip of his coffee -- laughing quietly at her take on the situation. "You, my dear, have a wicked imagination," he said, feigning seriousness. But the grin cracked again on his face when he leaned forward across the table, "If she did though, my career will be ruined and I'll be forced to go somewhere else . . . I think I should just stay with you. I don't think I'd look good sitting next to a cardboard box on the street," he said, "So I'll just move in with you, and we can explore that wicked mind of your's." He winked at her, the words and the actions coming easy as always; because that was their way. He half imagined how that would look when they were both old and wrinkled; because he couldn't imagine his life without Sophia -- they would be the two elderly patrons sitting in this very booth, cracking jokes and engaging in flirtatious banter.

He leaned back again, elbows resting on the table, "I'm taking you out this Saturday. I don't need a repeat of this weekend," he said, sending her a lazy smile, a quizzical look in his eye. They always had fun when they went out. They partied on Saturday, and Sunday nursed their hangovers at this very cafe.

Alexander had always been a flirt. He knew the signs, he knew when to strike -- but the fact that he did it all so effortlessly, that's what really turned women's heads. Sure, that had been the most fun during college, when his arrogance had been at it's peak, but the college years were the ones where he'd finally broken out from the wealthy sphere he'd been brought up in. Before he'd met Sophia, he'd been a different person. Still a wily, flirtatious smartass, but more polished. There was something in the air of a wealthy, important person that Alexander had lost; and he didn't miss it. He didn't miss being dragged to lawn parties at crisp white mansions where the liquor was watered down, pretending to be part of the picture-perfect family. He was actually his family's biggest disappointment. He did have a knack for business, but that was the only reason they kept him around. He had become everything they weren't; he liked to drink, he liked to go to bars, he liked flirting his way through a crowd -- he liked doing what he pleased. Now, no one even bothered to tell him no.

No was all the more encouragement to break the rules.

But there was no denying the world he'd been brought up in. Sophia had grown up in the same situation; and in that regard, they were then again proven to be very much alike. Alexander had money, he didn't need to work -- or hadn't needed to, originally. He stepped up to the plate after the crash; but even before then, he'd always been stubborn. He didn't take his parents' money, he'd put himself through college, and everything he owned was undeniably his. The only thing he had splurged on in his entire life was a boat. He'd fallen in love with the ocean as a kid, and at twenty-two, he'd purchased a large sailboat. Even now, years later, he still looked after it with the same determined devotion. He didn't share it with many people -- he saw it as his escape, but he got Sophia on that boat as much as he could. There was something about taking her out on the water; out there, no stupid, handsome fools could whisk her away. He had her all too himself; he warned himself of the line between them, he'd never deny he was a selfish human being. Because it was too true. 

His playful remarks had always rung with truth though, after all these years. He still wondered what it would be like to kiss her, to wake up beside her. It was dangerous curiosity. But if she ever changed her mind, he was always there. He had always assumed she'd known that. Well, maybe that was entirely true. The way he sometimes looked at her, though, she had to know -- right? The way he liked to lean close sometimes, their lips just inches apart, his eyes just wondering at the softness of her's. That was actually one of his favorite tricks to pull, when he felt men were getting to comfortable around her. Every once and a while, too, he'd peck her on the cheek; never enough to satisfy his curiosity, or the want he felt in his chest occasionally, but not enough to cross that blurred line that had always existed between them, either. 

He didn't know what he'd do if he ever took it too far, and lost her forever. He couldn't imagine his life without her smile, her laughter, her unpredictable mood swings. She was a bright splash of color in his life; the one person he could always count on to have a good time with. He was surrounded day in and day out by commercial stiffs and tight-lipped old men. And people, like his parents, who liked to flaunt their money in ridiculous displays. He hated it all; sometimes he just wanted to run away. Or maybe sail away. But he'd need to take Sophia with him to ever consider it. What would he do without his lovely best friend? The world at his fingertips seemed dull if she was not there beside him, laughing and pointing the way forward.

"You deserved it, you bad man you."

Alexander smiled that crooked smile of his, a daring spark in his dark eyes, "Maybe you should punish me," he mused, tapping his fingers along the tabletop. But she was leaning forwards, and like responding to gravity, he leaned on his elbows, with their faces inches apart. If it was ever hard to control himself around Sophia, it was especially difficult to maintain his composure this close to her. His eyes slipped to her lips, and not for the first time, he wondered what it would feel like to kiss her. He quickly shifted his attention back to her eyes, surprised her own gaze had slipped -- but . . . it was nothing. Alexander forced himself to lean back and took a sip of his coffee, glancing out the window at the pedestrians and cars creeping lazily by; but it was useless. His attention was inevitably returned to the young woman across from him; thinking on his friends. They all thought Sophia was hot, of course, and were convinced that they'd slept together. They were sure he had the perfect relationship going; one that involved no commitments. Because, if he wasn't sleeping with her, well what the hell was he doing? Alexander had few friends, and most of them were shallow like that, but sometimes he couldn't help but wonder. What was he doing? Actually, what were they doing? They flirted, they got along, they shared the same interests . . . there was no doubt they weren't attracted to each other. And they were extremely protective and defensive of one another. And yet they were only friends. But it was for precisely that reason that Alexander couldn't risk losing Sophia; if they ever did date, and it didn't work out, everything would be awkward and ruined . . . maybe it wouldn't, but the thought of anything but this easygoing, cheeky conversation irked him. It was ridiculously complicated. Which was why Alexander preferred not to think about it. He chose to enjoy what they had, and go with the flow.

And it wasn't like Sophia didn't chase off his potential girlfriends either. He hadn't been in a real relationship in a solid few years. The lasted, well, until the girl met Sophia. The more cowardly ones took off after meeting his firecracker of a best friend; the more assertive ones seethed with jealousy. Alexander didn't really mind, though -- he was happy with Sophia being the only woman in his life, even if it wasn't like that. Comparing every other woman to her was a bad habit, but it was certainly difficult to break. Even if he'd never actually tried to break it.

He quietly regarded her as she thought over what he had said; and he smirked. Living with Sophia would be interesting, in the very least. He would love it. But, his thoughts mirrored her's, to an extent. If they wanted to maintain what they had, something like that could never work. Even though his heart sped a little faster in his chest at the thought of her walking around half-dressed. He had to laugh at what she said, his dark eyes smoldering with that trademark look of his. He leaned back against the booth, cocking a dark brow at her, "What, you can't handle this?" he asked, motioning down the length of his body. He couldn't help but grin, feeling a sense of satisfaction.

"We could do a lot of things," he replied, ignoring the flush that suddenly appeared on their waitress's face as she strode by -- no doubt eavesdropping. And apparently enjoying his seductive tone. 

"Sounds like a date." 

Alexander smiled, pleased to know they would be spending next Saturday together. He tried to brush off the fact that she might leave him again; stranded at the bar when she took off to go home to some man's bed. He could look past it, anyway, they always had a good time. Even when he awoke to a massive headache and a hell of a hang over, he usually didn't regret the nights he spent out on the town with Sophia. "I have one condition; you don't let me go home with anyone, I don't need a repeat of last night," he laughed softly.