My Heart Is The Worst Kind Of Weapon

“Baby!”

I grinned when I saw Dylan rushing towards me. Behind him, Georgina and Andy were hurrying to catch up.

Dylan reached me and wrapped his arms around me, lifting me off the ground with his hug. My hands grabbed his shoulders so I could steady myself while Dylan swung me around.

“I missed you so much.” He breathed, putting me down and pulling me close.

His lips pressed against mine and I lost track of time, savoring the feeling of his kiss. It was only when I felt a smack against my arm that I broke our embrace, turning to see Georgina.

“Give me a hug, loser.” She commanded jokingly, pulling me away from Dylan and squeezing me tight, “I'm so glad you're back home.”

“Me too.” I whispered into her shoulder, hugging her back equally as tightly.

“Welcome home.” Andy grinned at me and gave me a hug as well, “Have a good flight?”

“It was okay.” I said honestly, “But I'm starved. Airplane food never stays with me.”

“Then let's get your bags and go eat.” Dylan suggested, reaching to hold my hand as he started to lead the group of us towards the luggage pick-up conveyor belts.

As we walked to retrieve my bags, I told my Dylan and my friends all about the tour. I told them about the places we went, the sights we saw, and the things we learned. I told them about how close I was with the band, and how they were great friends to me.

I told them everything, except about Frank. When I mentioned my experiences on tour, I barely mentioned Frank. And of course I stayed far away from the topic of dating.

I felt bad, really, about not telling my three closest friends anything to do with Frank. But there was no way I could. What happened on that seven month tour would stay between Frank and I forever. No one else would know all the details of what happened.

And there was defiantly no way I was telling Dylan I had been dating and kissing another man. I wasn't out to completely ruin my life. Plus, what Dylan didn't know couldn't hurt him, right?

After we collected my bags, we all filed into Andy's mini-van. Him and Georgina sat in the front and Dylan sat beside me in the back of the car. I had my forehead pressed against the window of the car, looking out at the pink and orange sunset. I knew that right now, Frank was flying, miles above me, through that sunset.

I closed my eyes and let out a breath. Texas was five hours ahead of Hawaii, so even though it was nearing nine o'clock, I still felt like it was early afternoon. But that didn't stop me from feeling exhausted.

Now that I thought about it, I was probably more emotionally exhausted than physically. All that lying and crying and roller coaster of emotions had screwed me up inside. But hopefully I would be back to normal by the time my wedding rolled around.

Dylan squeezed my hand gently as Andy pulled up to the restaurant. I opened my eyes and smiled faintly at him, then began to get out of the car.

**

Later that night, I was back in the apartment I shared with Georgina. It was nearly one in the morning, but I wasn't that tired. I had spent most of my time back in my apartment unpacking my suitcases. I had to be quiet, because I knew Georgina was asleep.

I rolled out of bed and walked over to switch my light on. My room was fairly clean, with just one open suitcase left lying on the floor. I knelt down to begin unpacking the items in it when my knee hit something soft.

Surprised, I moved my knee and saw my purse. It was looking a little worse for wear, having toured around with me for seven months. I reached out a hand and picked it up, marveling at how heavy it was. What was in here?

I started to sort through the purse, taking out anything that was unnessecary. I was just about done throwing all the random bits of gum wrappers at the bottom of my bag away when my fingers scratched against something.

I took ahold of it with my fingers and pulled it out, revealing the mystery item to be a crumpled piece of paper.

I opened it without a second thought, but felt my breath catch in my throat when I saw what was written on it.

It was the paper Frank had given me, the one with his number and address on it. I could remember the day he gave it to me so clearly. It was right before we left for Hawaii. Right before I broke his heart.

I traced my fingers over the edges of the paper, not knowing quite how to feel. While this paper was a sad reminder of what I had done to Frank, there was also something oddly comforting about seeing his writing on that crumpled piece of paper. Maybe it was the fact that this writing would never leave. It was the last thing I had that kept me attached to Frank, even if it was in the smallest way possible.

Stop it, I scolded myself suddenly, You're getting married.

And it was true. I was getting married, and in order to do that, I needed to get rid of the last thing holding me onto Frank.

And it was because of this thought that I scrunched up that little piece of paper, and tossed it in the garbage.