Be My Escape

Waking up the next morning, I was so incredibly disoriented I couldn’t hardly stand it. I was in a pair of sleep shorts and a t-shirt, which I didn’t remember putting on, I was actually in my own bed, which I didn’t remember getting in, and the previous night was a complete blur in my memory.

The farthest back my memory went was crying to Josh in the hallway. I knew I didn’t have my keys or phone last night, and yet as I looked over at my alarm clock I saw my purse sitting on my bedside table. “What the hell?” I muttered to myself, scratching my head in confusion. I climbed out of bed then, suddenly unsure if I was alone in my apartment even.

I walked out into the living room, but it was empty. The whole flat was empty, actually, so I couldn’t even get any questions answered. “What the hell?” I repeated, heading into the kitchen to start brewing a kettle of water for tea.

Just as I was filling the little black kettle, I faintly heard my phone going off in my bedroom. After I set the kettle down, I hurried through the flat. I wasn’t fast enough though, and the call went to voicemail. “Dammit,” I cursed, picking the phone up to see who had called me. I checked the missed calls and saw I had several. A couple were from Josh, a handful were from Jake, and the most recent one was from Max. Not caring at all to call Jake back, I dialed Max’s number first and waited for him to answer.

“Peyton? Bloody hell, talk about worryin’ someone to death!” he exclaimed, surprising me.

“Uh, good morning to you too, Max. What crawled up your ass and died today?”

He scoffed in response. “Funny, Peyt. Do you even know what time it is? Because it is definitely not morning.”

I turned my head, letting my blue eyes scan over the bright red numbers on the clock. It read five twenty two and I let a gasp escape my lips. “Holy shit!” I exclaimed, causing Max to chuckle on the other end.

“You twit, you had no idea what time it is did you?”

I shook my head in horror at the idea that I had slept all day. “No fucking clue. But that’s not a surprise considering basically all of last night is a blur,” I mumbled, hoping Max hadn’t heard but of course he did.

“What do you mean a blur?”

“I don’t remember shit from last night, Max, except getting home and being a huge blubbery mess in front of Josh.” I sighed and rubbed my forehead in frustration at the whole ordeal.

“Why were you a mess? And why don’t you remember anything? Were you on drugs or somethin’?”

I rolled my eyes at this suggestion. “You aren’t really asking me that.”

Max chuckled again. “No, but why don’t you remember anything?”

“I don’t know, Max. It’s not important. Is Josh there though?”

“I’m in the studio doin’ some guitar parts and a few vocals with Matt and Chris, but I think Dan and Josh went out for lunch or somethin’ not too long ago, if you wanted to go see him.”

I grunted at the idea. “No thank you. I just wondered…” I trailed off, but then shook the thought away. “No, nevermind. I’ll talk to you later, Max.” Then I hung up, not wanting to listen to Max pester or question me any more.

I decided to take a quick shower to try and wake myself up then. I turned the water on as hot as it would go and climbed in. I stood there for awhile, just letting the hot water wash over me, hoping it would bring some of the previous nights happenings back to me. Luckily for me, just as I was reaching out to shut the water off, it all hit me like a ton of bricks.

I remember breaking down in the hall. I remembered Josh finding me and comforting me. I remembered him helping me get into bed and asking if I wanted him to stay. I remembered saying no, but he decided to stay for a little while anyways. It was all so vivid in my mind, as if making up for the fact that an hour before I couldn’t remember shit.

I got out of the shower then, slightly weirded out by what had happened the night before, and then I changed into a comfy pair of yoga pants, a baseball tee, and my slippers. I finished brewing the tea I had started and got myself a cup and then got comfy on the couch with my iPod, cell phone, and tea. I figured I would use the down time to call my mom since I hadn’t really had a chance to talk to her the whole time I had been in England.

“Peyton! Where have you been? How’s England? How’re the dreams? Most importantly, how’s your father?” she fired the questions at me all at once as soon as she answered, and I almost couldn’t keep them all straight.

I filled her in on everything happening, minus Jake of course. I told her about Max and the guys, and I told her about Emmy and Hanna. I even told her about Josh and our, well… whatever it was, because I honestly didn’t know if we were friends or what we were. Once she felt sufficiently filled in, she let me ask a few questions.

“Everything’s fine here. Bill and I are as boring as ever, and we miss you a ton. When are you coming home again?” she joked, a hint of sadness in her voice. My mom was my rock, and without her I wasn’t sure what I’d do.

“Soon, ma. I’ll be home soon enough. But this has been really good for me,” I reassured her, and I even believed it. Even though a lot of not so good stuff had happened in England, even more good stuff had, so it all evened out in the end.

Just as I was in the middle of telling her about the internship, there was a knock on the door. I pulled the phone away from my ear and gasped at how late it was, nearing eight thirty. “Ma, we’ve been talking for like two hours.”

She just laughed. “I miss you baby girl.”

“I miss you too.” There was another, more incessant knock, so I knew I had to go find out who it was. “But listen, I gotta go. I’ll call again soon, I promise.” We said our “I love you”’s and our goodbyes, and then hung up.

I got off the couch after shoving my feet back into my slippers and shuffled over to the front door. I checked the peep hole to make sure it wasn’t someone like Jake outside, and then when I realized it wasn’t I opened the door, only to reveal Josh. “Hey,” I greeted him awkwardly.

He gave me a small smile and a wave before shoving his hands in his jean pockets. “I have somethin’ to show you.” He didn’t give me any more of an explanation before grabbing my hand and dragging me out the door. “Got your keys?” he asked as we headed down the hall.

“Uh, yeah, but where the hell are you taking me?” I asked, completely confused by the situation at hand.

“You’ll see,” he told me, throwing a smirk over his shoulder.

I sighed in defeat as we neared the end of the hallway, and just accepted it. We walked through the door at the end of the hall and took the many flights of stairs until we were at the top of the building, probably the tenth or so floor. Josh grasped the door handle before turning to me and smiling. “Ready?”

I just shrugged, and he opened the door. I followed him out onto the roof of the building, completely engrossed by the view surrounding us. It was gorgeous. The stars above were twinkling in the sky, and the lights of all the buildings in Reading were lighting up for the night. “Whoa,” I breathed, following Josh further out, over to the ledge. “Why didn’t I know about this?” I asked him as we both just stood by the ledge, side by side.

He shrugged. “Not many people are too keen on coming up here in the night because it’s so cold, but I figure it’s too beautiful to let it go to waste.”

I just nodded in agreement as I looked around at the amazing view.

Josh and I were quiet for a few minutes, each of us taking in the view surrounding us. Suddenly though, I remembered last night, and I remembered what he had done for me, and suddenly, I was angry.

“I don’t fucking get you, Josh,” I muttered, crossing my arms in front of my chest in a huff. I shook my head in frustration as I looked down at the ground, kicking at an imaginary piece of rock.

He sighed. “Not much to get, Peyton.”

“But there is. You’re fucked up just like I am. We make a great fucking pair, or at least we should, y’know?” I was pacing around the roof now in frustration. I couldn’t tell if I was angry with Josh, or if I was getting out some pent up anger. Whatever it was, it was happening, and fast.

“I’m fucked up, eh?” he asked, an amused tone in his voice. I felt like he was pitying me, or treating me like a child that was trying to explain something but wasn’t making any sense. So I just got even angrier.

“Yeah Josh, you are. You’re hung up on Beth, who just may be one of the biggest bitches I’ve ever met. So why are you so hung up on her? Are you desperate? Or are you just stupid?” I spat. It was ironic really that I was talking about Beth like she was some terrible bitch of a person, and yet here I was, competing for biggest bitch of the year.

That really did Josh in though. He spun around to face me and pointed a finger at my chest. “Call me desperate one more time and see what happens, Peyton. I’m not fucking desperate, and I’m not hung up on her. I’m hurt, so fucking sue me!” he yelled, throwing his hands up in exasperation. “You want to know what happened?” he growled, stepping even closer to me. If I hadn’t been still raging myself, I probably would have been scared. But I had been in this exact spot with Josh before, and I wasn’t scared.

“I told her I bloody loved her, after being together almost a year, and the same night she went off and shagged the first guy she could find.” He raked his hands through his hair and shook it out, that stupid habit of his I had grown to expect.

“So she was a whore, so what? She wasn’t worth the ‘I love you’ you gave her then, so why don’t you just get over her?” My tone had softened slightly, but my words were still biting. I wanted to stop so bad, but I couldn’t.

He shook his head, and when he finally brought his eyes back up to mine, they were so dark with anger they were almost black. “You said we’re both fucked up right? What’s your excuse, huh? What makes you so fucked up? Why did you even come here, Peyton?” he hissed.

I had this sudden urge to tell him everything; I wanted to, to tell him everything about Amanda and what happened and my nightmares, but I couldn’t. So I just shook my head. I looked down at my feet, afraid to look Josh in the eye. I felt him get closer, and I even saw his feet move, but I couldn’t look up.

“It’s a little harder to take when it’s being fired at you, isn’t it?” he asked me. His tone had changed; what was once cold and bitter was now inviting.

Finally I tore my gaze away from the ground. I was almost shocked at how close Josh was to me. I could smell his cologne and the soap he used; I could see the tiny flecks of gold in his eyes, and the dark circles under his eyes from the hard work the guys and he had been putting in at the studio. Then suddenly, everything changed.

You don’t really understand what people say when they say they felt a physical pull to someone. You just can’t understand something like that unless you experience it, and I can tell you right now I was experiencing it firsthand with Josh. One second we’re screaming at each other, and the next he’s leaning in to kiss me. And I wasn’t pulling back. I didn’t feel like it was physically possible. Then our lips connected and it was like all hell broke loose.

We were frantic. That was really the only word I could think of to describe us. Almost instantly, I wrapped my arms around his neck while his went around my waist, pulling me closer to him. My hands raked through his hair, tugging it gently as I had seen him do so many times. Even though we were up on the roof and it was freezing and I wanted to keep all my clothes on, his hands tugged at the hem of my baseball tee. Our lips fit together perfectly, and then before I knew it we were opening our mouths and our tongues were getting acquainted. It was frantic and rough and slightly messy, but it was also just what we needed. Or at least I thought.

When I finally pulled away, only to reattach my lips to his neck where I nibbled gently, it all stopped as if a freight train had hit us and we woke up.

Josh untangled his limbs from my body and pushed me away gently. I was embarrassed at the small whimper that escaped from my lips, but it happened. I frowned as he looked at me, the intense rage in his eyes again. “What the bloody hell are we doing?” he exclaimed.

I tried to answer him, but he didn’t want to hear it. “God Peyton, every time I try to give you a second chance at being friends, you do something to make me think otherwise. So I’m thinking we really shouldn’t be friends after all.”

He wasn’t angry. I thought he was, but he wasn’t. He was sad. His voice was hurt and sad and a million other emotions, but none of them were anger. I guess I should have been relieved, but I wasn’t.

He turned to leave, and I tried to stop him. “Josh, hold on! You can’t just—”

“Don’t,” he said firmly. “Just, don’t Peyton.”

Before I could get him to explain or even talk to me, he turned and left, leaving me alone on the rooftop, lips swollen and eyes teary.

For the second time in the past twenty four hours, I collapsed on the ground and cried until I couldn’t anymore.

Maybe England really wasn’t doing me any good after all.