A/N; Drama! Dun dun dun...this one is kind of short, but the next chapter is essentially finished and will be up soonish, I pinky promise (=
She landed in New York, after having spent the whole flight daydreaming about him. When did she become one of those love struck girls who she despised, the ones who could only think about their boyfriends? She still had a difficult time wrapping her head around the fact that that gorgeous man was hers. She had always felt something for him, more than friends, but now...wow, she had never experienced anything like it. She had had lovers, heck, she had even been proposed to, and yet no one had ever come close to make her feel this way.
She checked her phone. The first voicemail was from Ross. It was only three words long yet made her heart flutter. I love you. The joy in his voice was contagious and she could picture him smiling in front of her.
She loved him.
She loved him.
A week past, her settling back into the routines but missing him way too much. She had been pretty busy, but finally had a day off and decided to spend it walking around, leaving her phone at home to really be able to enjoy one of the last few beautiful Fall days in a city whose winters were much to cold for her liking.
She had loved New York since she first got there. Sure, there were times when she missed home, but never to a point where she had regretted leaving. Today, for the first time since she had moved across the country, she felt lonely but soon realized that it wouldn't matter who she was with unless it was with him.
She felt empty without him.
She returned to her disturbingly quiet apartment, realizing that she had been gone for hours and that it was now well past lunch time.
She checked her phone. Odd. She had a few more voicemails than usual. She smiled as she listened to the now routine morning message from him. The three hour time difference was annoying, as she usually wanted to call him as soon as she woke up but couldn't knowing he was still sound asleep. He sounded groggy, as if he had just woken up and the first thing he had thought of was to call her.
He really was a sweetheart, that Ross Shor Lynch boy.
The second message was from John. Weird. She hadn't heard from him since their dinner a few weeks ago and she thought he had finally gotten her message. It was short, just something about him being there for her if she needed him. Ok.
The third message was Ross again and it made her heart beat fast for a completely different reason. He sounded worried, almost on the verge of...crying?. It was short, just a request for her to call him.
She called but was redirected to his voicemail. Strange.
She shrugged as she listened to the other messages, from her mom, her sister, her publicist and a few others, all with the same message. Call. She didn't think anything of it, and decided to call them back later in the afternoon. She wanted to enjoy her day off.
She tried to reach him again but was met with the same cheery voicemail greeting.
Her stomach was churning, a feeling of unease engulfing her. Maybe she should eat something. She cursed at herself as she soon realized that she hadn't bought anything when she was out earlier.
She embarked on her second adventure of the day, the autumn wind piercing through her light jacket, making her shiver, her mind nagging her. Why wasn't he calling her back? It sounded as if it had been urgent. Important.
She entered the nearby convenience store, to lazy to walk the few extra blocks to the actual grocery store. So sue her. It was her day off.
She was about to pay for her few items when her eyes landed on the magazine section. She did a double-take and almost choked. The front page of one of the gossip magazine was covered with a picture of the two of them kissing, from the looks of it during their night at the Karaoke bar.
Her initial reaction was embarrassment. They really shouldn't have made out like that in public, but it had been sooooo good. So so so so good.
But. Her mom would see that. Her dad would see that. Crap.
So that's why everyone was bugging her.
She stepped closer to the magazine rack and realized that there was an additional picture on the front cover.
This one was also of him. It was smaller, but it was unmistakably him. Him, busy making out with someone else, his hand on the woman's waist and her hands intertwined in his hair.
She didn't want to look but couldn't look away, like a bad accident that you know will hunt you in your dreams, or rather, nightmares, but still can't tear your eyes away from.
She picked up the magazine, her hands shaking and her legs pure small caption under the picture claimed the picture was from this past weekend, the flashing headline something about caught cheating, she couldn't really see it clearly as her eyes had began to water.
She left before realizing that she had left what she came for behind, a few stray tears slipping down her face, shaking her head at how unfair the universe was. She had just allowed herself to love him. Or rather, allowed herself to acknowledge that she loved him. She had most likely loved him since forever.
But this was the exact reason why she had been wary.
She had known that she was going to get hurt.
And hurt she was.
Like never before.
She somehow made it back to her apartment, engrossed in racing thoughts as her emotions were playing a lengthy round of musical chairs, running in all directions as she didn't now what to think.
She instinctively knew that she didn't know the whole story.
She wasn't sure that she wanted to know the whole story.
In case it was as bad as it looked.
And why wasn't he calling her back? Each minute that passed, his silence became more evident, almost as if he was avoiding her. She knew he was busy, but she hadn't had a problem getting a hold of him prior in the week. Usually, it was almost as if he was glued to his phone, waiting for her to call and often picking up after the first signal.
But today, nothing. It had been hours.
She cried.
A loud knock on the door ripped her awake. Guess she had cried herself to sleep.
He had booked a flight immediately after his publicist had called. For some reason he couldn't get her on the phone.
He had left, a quick call to the band informing them that he wouldn't be able to make it to the press events that they were booked for for the day. He left many questions unanswered, but he knew they would figure it out. They weren't happy, but he couldn't care less.
There was nothing that was more important to him than her. Nothing. He had no idea what he would do if he would lose her, he had waited a fucking decade to be able to call her his. And he was planning on continuing to be able to do so.
He reached her building, having spent the taxi drive from the airport alternating between yelling at the already speeding driver to go faster and calling her only to be met by her full voicemail box.
He entered her building, rushed, then the elevator. The elevator. Such great memories created there, yet, today, he could only wish for the ride to be over.
His heart went into overdrive as he knocked on her door, his hand shaking. He just needed to see her. Hold her in his arms.
He didn't know if she had heard, or worse, seen it. By now, she probably had. If nothing else, her publicist would have called her.
He had no idea what state she would be in, no cue of what to expect.
He knocked again, impatiently, praying that she was home. He sighed in relief as the door shot open, revealing the face of the person he loved most, emotions running across her face like the reels of a slot machine.
Surprise, sadness, love, despair...her head must be spinning.
To his surprise, he didn't detect as much anger as he had feared and anticipated.
She actually looked as if she was relieved to see him.
"Thank God you're OK", she whispered. "I was starting to get worried".
She was beautiful, but he immediately noticed the dried rivers of mascara that evidently had been floating down her pretty face.
Shit, that hurt him. He was hurting because she clearly was. He had hurt her. He had failed. He had made her cry. And he hadn't even done anything wrong.
"Can I come in?"
She opened her mouth, but before she could answer, a deep voice, unfamiliar to him but attached to a familiar face did so instead.
"I don't think that's such a good idea."
John.