Take My Hand

It was January 1st, 2008, and the members of Simple Plan, along with their crew and Leighton, were passed out in multiple hotel rooms. The previous night, the band had attended and performed in Times Square and watched the ball drop. And, of course, they had drank to the point of not remembering much of the night.

Leighton, being the one to drink the least, woke up first. Sure, she had been drinking, but it hadn’t been nearly enough to obscure her memories from the night before. Looking around the hotel room, she wondered how in the world Sebastien had fallen asleep on the floor with his legs propped up on the couch, or why Pierre was sprawled over the opposite end of it. His stomach was on the arm of the couch, and the rest of his body was hanging over it.

This made her wonder what the hell they were even doing in her room in the first place. Clearly, the festivities had continued after she’d fallen asleep. Shaking her head, Leighton rolled herself over from her sleeping position on David, who was snoring lightly, and carefully made her way to the bathroom, paying attention not to step on the red plastic cups and alcohol bottles that were littered across the floor.

Leighton made her way to the bathroom and locked the door. After quickly showering, she dressed herself in a pair of dark jeans, a simple black v-neck sweater, and retrieved her Ugg boots. As she was applying her mascara, she heard a yawn come from the main part of the room. She poked her head out of the bathroom to see David was stirring.

As she was finishing her make-up, she saw David enter the bathroom and approach her from behind. Leighton stood up straight and David wrapped his arms around her, resting his head on her shoulder.

“Happy New Year,” he mumbled into her ear, smiling. The scruff from his face tickled her cheek and she smiled slightly in return.

David pecked her on the lips and scratched his head. “Are you hungry?”

Leighton shrugged. “Yeah, I could eat.”

“Give me a couple minutes to get dressed and we’ll go get breakfast, yeah?”

Leighton nodded. “That’s fine.”

She left the bathroom, shutting the door behind her.

Leighton sighed, flopping on the bed and pulling out her phone.

She replied her message from Pat, Are Seb and Pierre with you? :S

Yes, they are.

Agitated, she flung her phone across the bed. Truth be told, she was… well, a mix of emotions. Leighton sat there, trying to figure herself out - was she mad? Disappointed? Heartbroken? Some mixture of the three, and then some other indescribable feelings as well.

In all honesty, Leighton - along with the rest of Simple Plan, though they hadn’t discussed it - had been sort of expecting David to have proposed the night before. If he were to do it, wouldn’t New Year’s Eve, in New York City where they had met, been the most romantic and opportune time? Six years had passed since they had began dating - Leighton didn’t see what David could possibly be waiting for, and this only told her one thing: if he hadn’t proposed yet, he clearly didn’t really want to be committed to Leighton. If this was the case, then really, what was the point of continuing their relationship?

“Ready to go?” whispered David, interrupting Leighton of her thoughts. Nodding, she placed her knitted beret on her head and put on her coat and scarf. Letting David take hold of her hand, the two quietly left the room and made their way to the busy streets of New York.

“So, is there anywhere in particular you want to eat?” asked David.

Leighton shook her head. “Not really.”

They walked in the cold January air, their breath visible in front of them.

“How about this place?” asked David, pointing to a diner approaching them on the left-hand side.

“Sure.”

David held the door open, and the two entered the diner. They were seated by the hostess and each ordered coffee to start out with.

“Are you okay?” David asked, placing his hand on top of Leighton’s.

Tugging her hand away and resting both of them on her lap, she shrugged, avoiding looking at David’s face.

“What’s wrong?”

Leighton hesitated, not knowing whether or not she should say anything. Finally deciding that things weren’t about to get better by themselves, she cleared her throat.

“David, where are we going?”

He frowned. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“David, we’ve been dating for six years. Six fucking years. Where the hell is this relationship going?”

“Leighton, what the fuck?!” asked David. “That sounds like a question that would be asked by some insane girlfriend after two months of casual dating!”

“David, just answer my fucking question!” Leighton was almost shouting now, and people in the diner were beginning to stare. “How committed to me are you, anyway?” she asked, lowering her voice.

David looked at her incredulously. “Is this supposed to be about marriage?”

“Oh, I don’t know David, how the fuck else do people show their commitment to one another?!”

“Leighton, a pair of rings shouldn’t determine how committed someone is to their partner!”

“Which brings me back to my original question! After six fucking years, David, where is this relationship going? Clearly if rings don’t prove commitment, then we’ve hit a dead end!”

“So what are you doing, breaking up with me?”

“I don’t know anymore, David.” By this point, Leighton was blinking back her tears. “I need some time to think,” Leighton said in a quivering voice. She stood up and made to leave, David grabbed her wrist.

“Don’t do this, Leighton,” whispered David.

She merely glared at him. “Let go of me,” she spat, and walked out of the diner, leaving David standing there speechless.