Cliché
Chapter Seven
*Kris POV*
Kris pulled his phone from his pocket. It had been vibrating non-stop since after the game ended. With a flick of his thumb, he pulled up his message screen.
TK: Where’d u go?
Staalsy: We saved a beer for u..
Flower: Thought you were coming?
The rest of his messages were much like those first three. He quickly cleared them from his inbox. The guys had wanted them to come out after their 3 - 1 win over Montreal, but Kris couldn’t. He didn’t help them win it; he didn’t deserve to celebrate. So he’d quietly went elsewhere. No sense in involving everyone else in his business.
His scrolling stopped as a name rolling up his screen caught his eye.
Alli: When are you coming home?
Kris’ heart clenched. Now, he wanted to text back as he stared himself down in the elevator door’s hazy reflection. But he didn’t - she’d be sleeping and he didn’t want to wake her up with a useless message.
So he deleted that message, too, and stepped off the elevator as it opened to his floor.
*Allison POV*
She’d tried staying up - she really had. But once eleven turned into twelve and twelve ticked to one, she’d given up. He wasn’t coming home tonight. And if he was, he wouldn’t want to talk to her. He’d be drunk or cranky.
Or both.
But even so, Allison had fallen asleep on the couch. She didn’t want to fall asleep in that big, empty bed by herself. It would just twist the knife harshly in her already painful wound. Besides, what was another night of troubled sleep? As long as she had a stocked supply of concealer and coffee, she’d be alright.
Allison jerked fully awake as she heard the front door unlatch. A heavy feeling of déjà vu hit her as she heard Kris tiredly stumble in. It was ridiculous how many times they’d been here before. It was even more ridiculous how many times she’d put up with it. Another girl would have left long ago. But she wouldn’t - she knew that her Kris was still there somewhere, and she wasn’t about to give up on that.
“Babe.”
“Mmm.” Allison shifted on the couch, letting her stiff muscles stretch out. “What?” She cracked an eye open; Kris was kneeling in front of her beside the couch. He didn’t smell like alcohol, she determined, but there was something different. Something unfamiliar.
“I’m home.”
Her eyes stung with sleep; she pressed her hands against them. “Okay,” she said halfway through a yawn.
He blinked, waiting for her to say something else. She didn’t.
“Good night,” he whispered, standing up.
As he turned for the hall, Allison was hit by his scent again. Stronger, this time. Something sweet and soft - flowery, almost. Feminine. Like perfume.
Perfume that wasn’t hers.
Allison bit back her accusations. She wanted so badly to call him out, to ask him about it. But she didn’t. The conflict wasn’t worth it. She didn’t need to fall asleep in a worse mood than she was already in. So she held her tongue and blinked back the tears. She was stronger than that.
But once she heard the bedroom door swing shut, she couldn’t help the tear that readily slid down her cheek.
*Kris POV
The look on Allison’s face had made him uneasy.
Kris plugged in his phone with sweaty hands. A shaky feeling had settled somewhere in the pit of his stomach, like a weight. Like he’d been caught red handed and needed to fess up. But Allison couldn’t have known. There was no way she could have.
Before he could second guess himself anymore, his phone screen lit up. Starkly bright in the darkness. He picked it up. 1 New Message. Kris tapped into his inbox.
Are you home now?
He hit reply. Yeah. He couldn’t think of anything else to type, so he hit send and set his phone back on the night stand. Slowly, he slipped out of his dress pants. As he unbuttoned his shirt, he noticed the second button from the top had fallen off. It’d been there when he’d left earlier that day. He threw the shirt into the hamper and hoped Allison wouldn’t notice.
His phone lit up again. Does she know?
Kris ran a hand through his hair. This was the last conversation he ever thought he’d find himself having. I don’t think so.
As soon as he set his phone back down, it lit up again. Good. I’ll see you soon?
Kris shook his head as he read it, re-read it, and hit reply. It was like his brain thought one thing while his fingers wrote another.
Tomorrow night, he typed. Goodnight Chelsey.
Goodnight Kris.
Kris pulled his phone from his pocket. It had been vibrating non-stop since after the game ended. With a flick of his thumb, he pulled up his message screen.
TK: Where’d u go?
Staalsy: We saved a beer for u..
Flower: Thought you were coming?
The rest of his messages were much like those first three. He quickly cleared them from his inbox. The guys had wanted them to come out after their 3 - 1 win over Montreal, but Kris couldn’t. He didn’t help them win it; he didn’t deserve to celebrate. So he’d quietly went elsewhere. No sense in involving everyone else in his business.
His scrolling stopped as a name rolling up his screen caught his eye.
Alli: When are you coming home?
Kris’ heart clenched. Now, he wanted to text back as he stared himself down in the elevator door’s hazy reflection. But he didn’t - she’d be sleeping and he didn’t want to wake her up with a useless message.
So he deleted that message, too, and stepped off the elevator as it opened to his floor.
*Allison POV*
She’d tried staying up - she really had. But once eleven turned into twelve and twelve ticked to one, she’d given up. He wasn’t coming home tonight. And if he was, he wouldn’t want to talk to her. He’d be drunk or cranky.
Or both.
But even so, Allison had fallen asleep on the couch. She didn’t want to fall asleep in that big, empty bed by herself. It would just twist the knife harshly in her already painful wound. Besides, what was another night of troubled sleep? As long as she had a stocked supply of concealer and coffee, she’d be alright.
Allison jerked fully awake as she heard the front door unlatch. A heavy feeling of déjà vu hit her as she heard Kris tiredly stumble in. It was ridiculous how many times they’d been here before. It was even more ridiculous how many times she’d put up with it. Another girl would have left long ago. But she wouldn’t - she knew that her Kris was still there somewhere, and she wasn’t about to give up on that.
“Babe.”
“Mmm.” Allison shifted on the couch, letting her stiff muscles stretch out. “What?” She cracked an eye open; Kris was kneeling in front of her beside the couch. He didn’t smell like alcohol, she determined, but there was something different. Something unfamiliar.
“I’m home.”
Her eyes stung with sleep; she pressed her hands against them. “Okay,” she said halfway through a yawn.
He blinked, waiting for her to say something else. She didn’t.
“Good night,” he whispered, standing up.
As he turned for the hall, Allison was hit by his scent again. Stronger, this time. Something sweet and soft - flowery, almost. Feminine. Like perfume.
Perfume that wasn’t hers.
Allison bit back her accusations. She wanted so badly to call him out, to ask him about it. But she didn’t. The conflict wasn’t worth it. She didn’t need to fall asleep in a worse mood than she was already in. So she held her tongue and blinked back the tears. She was stronger than that.
But once she heard the bedroom door swing shut, she couldn’t help the tear that readily slid down her cheek.
*Kris POV
The look on Allison’s face had made him uneasy.
Kris plugged in his phone with sweaty hands. A shaky feeling had settled somewhere in the pit of his stomach, like a weight. Like he’d been caught red handed and needed to fess up. But Allison couldn’t have known. There was no way she could have.
Before he could second guess himself anymore, his phone screen lit up. Starkly bright in the darkness. He picked it up. 1 New Message. Kris tapped into his inbox.
Are you home now?
He hit reply. Yeah. He couldn’t think of anything else to type, so he hit send and set his phone back on the night stand. Slowly, he slipped out of his dress pants. As he unbuttoned his shirt, he noticed the second button from the top had fallen off. It’d been there when he’d left earlier that day. He threw the shirt into the hamper and hoped Allison wouldn’t notice.
His phone lit up again. Does she know?
Kris ran a hand through his hair. This was the last conversation he ever thought he’d find himself having. I don’t think so.
As soon as he set his phone back down, it lit up again. Good. I’ll see you soon?
Kris shook his head as he read it, re-read it, and hit reply. It was like his brain thought one thing while his fingers wrote another.
Tomorrow night, he typed. Goodnight Chelsey.
Goodnight Kris.