Your Hand In Mine

Jordan and Alexa had told me the same thing: talk to Kris.

But why was it so much harder for me to actually want to go over there and talk to him? Maybe because I still hadn't believed that he didn't fuck someone on one of their road trips. Maybe because I didn't know what would happen when I got there. Maybe because I was already thinking of the worst possible outcomes when I knocked on the door, like he was busy fucking someone else, or he absolutely hated my guts. But if that was the case, why would he have written me that note? Maybe I just didn't want to be with him anymore. Well, no, that was almost a lie, almost. But, still. Why was it so hard for me? Was I scared? Why should I be scared, though?

I had no idea, about any of it.

After telling myself for a half an hour that I was being too damn dramatic and looking for excuses and to "pick my head up and follow my heart" I sighed, searching for my car keys. I had decided that I was going to go to Kris' apartment and tell him.. well, whatever came out of my mouth. I wasn't going to practice what I was going to say and think up some big, long speech, I was just going to hope it all turned out okay.

My keys weren't in my room. They weren't on the kitchen counter, the coffee table, or the table next to my front door. If they weren't in the most common spots to toss your keys, then I was shit out of luck. I had to find my Goddamn keys before I changed my mind, though.

I raked my fingers through my hair then twisted a hair tie around it a few times, pulling it up into a pony tail. Since my keys weren't in plain sight, I guess that meant I had to search everywhere, right? So I did.

I looked in the bathroom, I opened the medicine cabinet, drawers, I checked the shower; they weren't in there. Then I moved to the family/living room. I lifted up the cushions on my couch, only to find a few Skittles, I looked to see if they were on top of my movies or the TV stand; my damn keys were still lost. I went to the kitchen next and searched through every cabinet and every drawer. I even pulled open the microwave and oven. I opened the fridge and moved stuff around, hoping to find them.

"Awesome," I mumbled as I opened the freezer. My car keys were sitting on top of a pint of Mint Chocolate Chip ice cream, frozen cold. How they got in there.. My best guess was that when I got home yesterday, I opened the freezer to find something to eat and accidently left them there. Either that, or they managed to sit on the ice cream all by themselves.

Once I found my keys, I didn't bother wasting anymore time trying to find my phone or my iPod; I walked out my front door. Then I slowly turned around and shoved the key in the hole and turned it, locking it.

Yeah, I could do this.

I spun on my heel away from my apartment door and walked the short distance to the top of the stairs. Slower than normal, I descended down the steps.

When I got outside, I took my time getting to my car, my car keys still cold. I fumbled them around in my hand, trying to find the right one to unlock my car, and that's when I noticed I was shaking, bad. You could visibly see my hands moving back in forth. Somewhat scared and shocked at the movement, I let the keys fall from my hand down to the pavement.

"Crap," I muttered, bending down to pick them up.

I found the right key and twisted it in the hole, unlocking the door, my hands still shaking, but not so violently anymore. I pulled the handle, opening the door, then I slid inside. I didn't put the key in the ignition right away. Instead, I sat there for about ten minutes first, just thinking.

What if when I showed up at his apartment, he had already moved on? That he wasn't sitting around waiting for me anymore? Would I be okay with that? No.. I didn't think so. But why? Because I was the one still stuck in the same spot with the same problem that was waiting for him to come to me, not the other way around?

I shouldn't even be going there. As far as I was concerned he was a cheating bastard that still had my heart. God, give it back already! I couldn't be in my right mind if I was actually going to drive myself over to his place after what he did, I just couldn't be.

But then Alexa said to give him his second chance. Okay, so maybe I wasn't like most people and gave out second chances, but still, after something as horrible as cheating, did he really deserve another chance? I guess so. I mean, people make mistakes, it's life. But was his 'mistake' really a mistake? It couldn't have been. He knew full well what the hell he was doing when he did it.

Did he even do it, though? I mean, all the guys and even Max had told me that he didn't cheat on me. Could I believe them, though? They're famous. Of course, they'd have beautiful, blonde, skinny, girls throwing themselves at them, willing to do whatever--exactly what I wasn't about. But that wasn't the point. Every guy wants that, every guy. They'd be a fool not to want to that. Hell, if I were a guy, I'd probably want that, too.

But Kris said that he wasn't like that, that he wasn't looking for sex. That thought made me think of his phone calls and the messages he left me. I dialed my voicemail, then punched in my password, listening to it again.

"Alo'a," he greeted in a quiet tone, his voice slightly cracking. I let out a little laugh, thinking back to when he had first heard me use the word; he was so confused. "I know..," he sighed. "I know that you probably do not want to 'ear from me, but I need to talk to you," he said. "I just want you to know that I did not cheat on you, and that I would never cheat on you. I can not even think about doing that to you, you mean too much to me. Even though you might think that I am just like every other guy, I am not. I would not lie to you about that, I would not lie to you ever. Max drew in that tally as a joke because I planned on keeping that spot blank until you were ready. And if you think I am upset or mad about you not being ready.. I am not, I promise. I am so sorry that you are 'urting. If I could make it so you would not 'ave to feel that pain, I would. Call me back, please," he said desperately. "I don't want this to be the end of us. Je t'aime, Shane."

After closing my phone and tossing it on the passenger seat, I groaned, slamming my head against the steering wheel, a long beep escaping from the horn. Despite the horrid noise and all the people I was probably pissing off, I didn't bother lifting my head up. I didn't really want to. I was perfectly fine sitting there for the rest of my life.

Figuring I should probably get it over with, I let out a sigh, jamming the key into the ignition and buckling my seatbelt. I put the car in reserve and used the rear view mirrors to help guide me out of the parking lot. I pulled out onto the street and started making my way to Kris'. I didn't think I could ever forget the way to his apartment, even if I tried. It seemed like it was programmed into my brain, forever.

I kept my eyes on the road in front of me the whole time, and ten minutes later I was in front of Kris' apartment building. I didn't get out, though. I sat there, my car turned off, just taking deep breaths then exhaling.

I was nervous and.. afraid.

After sitting in my car for another five minutes, I finally got out and started walking to the front door of the building. I passed by a few people who gave me a small smile, some sending a soft 'hello.'

I let out a shaky breath as I pushed the up arrow on wall for the elevator. As each second passed by, I became even more uneasy. When it finally 'dinged' and the doors opened, I hesitated before walking in. My hands were shaking again as I reached my index finger out and gently pressed the '5' button--Kris' floor. As soon as the elevator had moved, my stomach flipped, and I mean, really flipped.

When it finally came to a stop and the doors opened up, I just stood there, not moving. I couldn't move, it was like I was stuck there. I watched the doors close then open again. This time a lady walked in. She reached her hand out to press the button that brings you to the first floor, and I figured I had two options that point--don't move and go back down to the first floor, or take a few steps so I was out of the elevator and only a few doors away from Kris'.

I chose option number two.

I took sixteen slow steps to the door numbered 512. I let one deep breath escape my lips then raised my fist to the door and knocked twice.

I sighed. Too bad none of that happened; it was just a scenario that kept playing over and over again in my head.