Don't Give up on Me

"Are you sure you'll be okay tonight?" Ryan asks, a look of worry on his face. I could still see the small amount of pity in his eyes, though, and it still managed to sting in reminder of what has become of everything. I was tired of people's pity. It felt like I was this weak being instead of the strong woman I wanted to be.

Yet, here it was, in my own brother's eye. "Ryan, I'm 18 years old and will be moving to New York in--" I glanced at the clock, then continued, "-- fifteen hours. I think I can handle a night here in the guesthouse alone while you go hump Maya in the club."

"Andi!" he says in shock, but I looked down at my magazine instead of his eyes.

"Well, are you gonna score or not?" I asked, turning the page.

"Andi-"

"A night to myself isn't going to be anything bad. I'm not going to try to off myself in the bathroom. Go enjoy yourself."

"I'm just worried, Andi. You're either moping around or you're out for hours and we don't have a clue where you are. Those two extremes aren't healthy, Andi!"

"Neither is drinking tequila until you black out, but you're about to go do exactly that, so..."

He sighed. "I'm done with you and your attitude, Andi. Your relationship was a grenade, destined to explode at any time. You need to let go already, Andi."

"What? You dated Alicia for three years, Ryan, and it took you one whole year for you to even get the nerve to talk to someone else. He and I were together for a year and all of the sudden two months is too long to be upset? Are you kidding me?"

"That's not what I mean, Andi, I--"

"Get out," I ordered him quietly, going back to the issue of Rolling Stone in my hands.

"I--"

"Get out," I repeated more firmly. "I'll see you when my flight leaves."

He turned on his heel without a fight, and slammed the door as he left, not bothering to lock it behind him. My pet peeve, not locking the door. Bastard.

I locked the deadbolt and went back to my place on the leather couch. It was ten p.m. and instead of partying with my friends for one last time, I was reading one of the shittier issues of Rolling Stone and channel surfing. Livin' the life, I thought to myself bitterly, a common thing for me now. I had already said my goodbyes to everyone today, and declined many times their offers to go out tonight. I just wasn't feeling in the mood for anything crazy, to be honest.

However, it was incredibly lonely sitting in the dim light of the living room. I should become accustomed to the feeling, but the thing about loneliness is that it is constantly there, lurking for your darkest moment to latch onto you and give off all of its power at full force. It never feels any less significant, because you always felt like shit regardless. But it was always when you were at your lowest that it felt the worst.

Which, another thing, irked me. Two long, grueling, confusing, painful months later and I was still at 30%. I felt broken, literally. I didn't know how to be myself anymore. I was a bitter, bitchy version of myself and I hated it. I hated that I missed him, I hated that I still loved him, I hated these feelings. Jimmy told me Zack didn't even read the damn letter and tossed it into his junk drawer instead. So why couldn't I just feel normal again? He didn't care anymore, so why should I?

I sighed out loud. I couldn't answer my questions anymore than my aspiring therapist of a brother could. I was just another teenage girl with a broken heart. Nothing significant about that; anyone with common sense could tell you that. I guess I just hoped that I wouldn't have known this feeling.

I closed the magazine and tossed it onto the coffee table before going into the kitchen to get a refill on my sweet tea. As I finished off the pitcher, a knock sounded on the door. Knowing my luck, it was probably Laura coming over to do a last minute check over all of my things.

I groaned and said, "Laura, I swear, everything's all packed and ready to--"

I stopped short when I opened the door and saw the face I'd only seen glimpses of before I put in my resignation at work. "What--What are you doing here?"

Zacky half-smiled, a nervous habit of his and only said, "Hey."

"'Hey'? That's all I get? I don't have time for this, I'm leaving tomorrow and I--"

"I know," he cut in. "We need to talk. Please?"

"I tried to talk to you multiple times, Zack! Instead, I got your fucking voicemail and silence."

"I was angry and being a dick, but that doesn't excuse what I did. I just... I made a mistake, Andi. Just let me make it right, okay?"

I looked into his green eyes and saw only sincerity. But, he was too late. "No. I'm sorry, but I can't do this. Goodbye."

I turned and shut the door without a second thought and retreated back a few steps, running a shaking hand through my hair as I tried to process what had just happened. I couldn't gain control over my racing thoughts or equally fast heart.

He knocked on the door again. "Andi," he called loud enough for me to hear. "I'm not leaving until we talk."

"What makes you think I want to talk to you?" I called back. "You've made it very clear that you didn't want to talk to me before, Zack."

"I know, Andi, and that was stupid of me to do," he says. "Just let me in, please?"

We locked eyes through the glass of the window next to the door. "Why should I?" I asked as I approached the door. He reached into his back pocket and held up a creased blue envelope. My letter.

"I read it..." he said as I opened the door. "And I know that I'm probably too late, but I can't not try to change your mind."

"Zack, I leave for New York at noon tomorrow!"

"I know!" He sighs. "I know. I just had to come see you again, before you go."

"What do you mean?"

He sighs again. "I made a mistake the day we broke up. I should have done a lot of things different but I didn't, and now I'm paying the price. I just... I just really fucking miss you, Andria."

"I miss you, too, Zack," I admitted quietly. "If I let you in, will I regret it?"

"I don't know, honestly, but I hope that you won't."

I breathed in deeply through my nostrils. Take a risk. Maybe it'll be in your favor.

I stepped aside with a sigh and watched him enter the house. He walked over to the couch in the living room and noticed the Friends rerun playing on the large t.v. and half-smiled.

"Can I get you anything?" I asked as I walked into the kitchen, mainly to stall and buy myself some time to absorb the fact that he was sitting on my goddamn couch ten feet away. Ten minutes ago, I thought he hated me. Now he was back and trying to make up? I was beyond confused.

"Got a bottle of Jack hidden in those cabinets?" he asked casually, looking over at me. I gave him a blank look; there was no way he was getting a drop of anything from my stash. "Nah, no, it's fine. Just water, please."

"Nice save, asshole," I muttered under my breath as I grabbed him a bottle of water from the fridge and tossed it to him. I regretted turning down alcohol to him then, because at the rate that my hand was shaking, I could use one shot myself.

Nevertheless, I tried to put everything aside and sat down on the opposite end of the couch, sipping my drink until it got too cold to handle. After that, we just sat in an awkward silence. There were so many things I wanted to say, to ask, to do, but I was much too frightened to do anything. After a couple of minutes, though, I got annoyed. "If you wanted to talk so damn bad, then talk, dammit."

He cracked a nervous smile in my direction. "Still so short tempered. Haven't changed a bit," he muttered, then spoke up and asked, "Did you really mean it, in your letter?"

"Not sure which part you're talking about. I wrote a lot of shit."

"The whole thing. Did you mean it, or did you write it because you saw me with Jourdan and felt that you had to say it?"

I hissed in recoil. I didn't think he'd jump to the chase just yet. I'd forgotten how straightforward he could be if he wanted to. "Are you still with her?"

"As of Monday, no," he replied.

I internally cheered. "To answer your question, sort of? I mean, I wanted to tell you everything, but you cut me off... And I was sure that your voicemail was full by that time, so that much was already decided. Then, I heard her brag to few of the other waitresses at work about how y'all were going out to some movie and how she hadn't been out with you in forever, so I thought if I mentioned moving on, then maybe I could, too, you know? I don't know.."

Now it was time to internally groan. Great job at impressing the guy you're in love with that you haven't seen in months, Andi, by rambling nonsense. I thought bitterly. Way to go, champ.

He chuckled. "She's a shitty person, you know?"

I nodded in agreement. "So am I," he adds, and I shrugged and nodded again. This made him laugh, a nice and even one that made me almost smile along with him.

Almost.

"Tell me something, Andi," he says when he composes himself. "Do you still think we should move on, or should we try again?"

"What kind of question is that?" I asked in response. "Of course I want to work something out. Problem is, I don't think we can."

"Why not?"

"You don't trust me, and I don't trust you," I sighed. "I love you, Zacky, I still do. But, who's to say that when I go to New York that you won't run back to Jourdan because I'm not there to make sure you're faithful? And I kept things from you, which makes you wary. That's why you're asking if this is what I want."

"I never cheated on you, Andi. I swear to fucking God, I haven't and wouldn't ever do that to you," he said angrily.

"We were hardly broken up for two weeks before I found out that you were sleeping with her!" I shouted back just as fiercely. "It was like I was never even there, and that hurt me so much more than you'd ever realize. I felt cheated. Not cheated on, but cheated out of the opportunity to do exactly this right now. So, excuse me for being a little sore about the whole thing."

He sighed. "I'm sorry. I really am. It was just really hard to try and forget what had happened, and for some reason, I thought she'd help. She didn't, though. She only made me miss you more, honestly."

"If you missed me so much, then why didn't you call me?" I asked quietly. "My number never changed, and I would've answered, no matter how mad I pretended to be towards you."

"I was going to," he says, "earlier. But I wanted to see you in person instead. It's just... not seeing you just about killed me."

I sighed. "Yeah, I can say just about the same for me."

We were both silent for a few moments. I studied his expression and his posture, trying to find out if he was being truthful with me. It sounded too good to be true, to be completely honest. But, I remembered that he always sounded like this when he truly meant it. From the time he had to come clean about Serena, to telling me that he loved me for the first time, to promising me that he would try to stay out of trouble for me, he told the truth. I saw the emotion in his face and intuitively knew that he was doing this because he meant it, not because he got tired of Jourdan.

But, something didn't feel right between us. I wanted him back so badly, and I could finally see that it was reciprocated. However, we had less than twelve hours left together, and it would soon lead back to the feelings I loathed the most: loneliness and missing him.

I sighed once again. I wanted to hear it from him before I decided for myself. "Zack, do you really, truly think that we will work with nearly three thousand miles separating us?"

"I don't know. But, I want to find out."

I couldn't help but smile in response. "Really?!"

He rolled his eyes. "Yes, Andi, Jesus."

"Still an asshole, I see," I commented, but with the largest smile I could muster.

We both eagerly moved to close the distance between us, but neither of us anticipated the other's speed, and we ended up bumping heads. In turn, we erupted in a series of "ow's" followed by laughter.

After the collision, he had steadied me by holding onto my waist, though I was sure he was using that as an excuse to hold me anyways. I didn't mind. I had missed him so much, so I relaxed into him and hugged him tightly.

"Why are you crying?" he asked a few moments later.

"I just really missed you."

*****************

The night was starting to shift into dawn when I awoke. I felt an arm around my waist and instantly felt a wave of regret. The uneasy, unsure feeling had returned as I realized that we couldn't make this work.

I sat up in bed and looked down at his sleeping form. I swear he looked younger when he slept. Gooseflesh had risen on his skin due to the air conditioning, but he didn't stir. His newest tattoo on his arm was still healing, and I reached out to touch the raised lines one last time. I was going to miss him, his voice, his touch, his kiss, all over again. But, it was for our own good. We loved each other, God damn it, we did. But I knew that he would grow tired of the distance long before I would, even if he and the guys started touring. I couldn't put him through hell again. Before we had dozed off, he admitted that he could relate to the same state of mind that I had felt that landed me in rehab for two months, and the guilt alone was enough to put a stop to it.

However, I was selfish, and wanted to be able to savor these last moments with him before I broke it off all over again.

And ultimately, when I finally woke him up just as dawn broke, I finally told him how I felt, how we met at the best and worst time. I felt horrible as his face went from that happy, relaxed state to hard and upset in a matter of seconds.

"I will always love you, Zack. But I don't think it'd be smart to start over when I'm about to leave for months at a time."

He stopped when he reached the door and turned back to me. "You know, if you decide to come back here in a few years for good and we're both single, come find me."

The sound of the front door closing echoed throughout the house.

With his absence demanding to be felt all over again, I did what I knew I should do. I settled into the comforter and savored the smell of smoke and cologne that lingered on the pillow and went back to sleep, in hopes that when my flight left in six hours, I would be rested enough to deal with the thoughts that I couldn't banish anymore.