(3) Not the Same: An All Time Low Fanfiction Romance

Chapter 55: I'm Sorry

        My conversation with Craig didn't last longer than a moment, because he was rushing off the phone. I tried to keep him there, asking if he could talk for one minute. But, he couldn't seem to do that, saying he had to get ready to go back to class in a few days. I barely muttered goodbye before he disconnected the phone call.

        I tried to distract myself with the crappy television that only got thirty stations, attempting to find something to occupy my mind, even if it was only for a little while. After three hours of watching reruns that I'd never cared for, I realized I was going to drown in my thoughts regardless of what I was doing.

        I found myseld turning on the shower, fingers touching the scorching water briefly before sliding past the curtain and closing it behind me. I was hoping to wash all of my emotions down the drain, to rinse away the sound of Craig's voice from my mind, the venom in it when he was speaking to me. Craig talking to me that way was enough to break my heart, but it still felt like nothing compared to the silence I got from Zack. The complete and utter silence was enough to tear me apart.

        The shower was even smaller than my apartment shower, barely giving me enough room to turn around completely. I sighed, using some of the shampoo they provided that was on the shelf.  I worked it through my hair, eyes closed while thinking about how I could get this messed up.        

        It was never like I'd lost someone in my life. I had nothing to be afraid of or feel the real need to run away from. My parent's loved each other and they were happily married. I don't know why I continued to run when things got hard for me. I didn't even try to work through them; I just ook off when I didn't want to deal with it. It wasn't like my parents raised me that way, or it was even necessary in parallel to my personality. There had to be a glitch in my brain, something wrong with my entire being. None of my actions made sense. Why was I suc a coward?

        I cut the water when it became cold, snaking one of the towels around my waist that hung from a pole next to the curtain. i didn't want to keep it around me for long. It didn't feel sanitary.

        I wandered back into my room, gripping the towel at my chest while fumbling to my open suitcase, finding clothes to put on. I wasn't even sure why I showered or wouldn't put my other clothes back on. I guess I was just looking for some kind of distractio.

        I slipped on my undergarments, letting my towel drop next to me, unable to keep the itchy fabric against my skin. I fiddled with the mess of clothes in front of me, picking out a pair of shorts and another tank top. I slid them on my body, not even bothering t go into the bathroom again. No one was here; it was just me, alone.

        I didn't like thinking about being alone, or how in my mind, I felt like I might be forever by myself. It's as if when I might think for just a second that someone else might be there for me for the rest of my life, things change so quickly. I could always guarantee Craig being there before, if not as the love of my life, but a best friend to always lean on. That thought vanished form my mind, there was no way he would ever forgive me for what I did, and I wouldn't forgive me either.

        I thought that after this summer that Zack might be there for me in a way I wanted him to be. I wanted him every day, no matter what. I didn't care if we were two feet apart, or ten thousand miles away and in completely different time zones. I still don't know what was wrong with me in high school, or why I thought I should have ever given up what I had with him. It only made everything worse. It made me hurt. It made him hurt.  I ruined everything six years ago. Why would I think that years later that everything could be magically picked up the same way it was when we left off?

        He was better than that, I wasn't worth it, and it was probably a big mistake in his eyes. I don't think it ever would be in mine, I couldn't make myself even consider that it was, let alone start to believe it.

        I fingered the fabric of his black shirt in my hands, noticing it on the top of the pile. I should return it. I should drop it off at his apartment when he was out, or give it to Stella to give him. I didn't want to, I wanted to keep it.

        I slid the sleeves over my hands, pulling it over my head and tugging the bottom down to my waist. It hung loosely from my arms, stomach and neck where he had muscles that I remembered vividly. I never washed it, and it still smelled like his apartment. I lifted the neckline to my nose, taking a small sniff of it with a shaky breath. I leaned my back against the side of the bed, sitting on the floor with my arms crossed tightly over my stomach.

        It seemed so stupid for me to be so upset about something like this. In high school I only dated Zack for a little more than six months, and I had been with him two months this summer. Sure, I had the biggest crush on him when we were growing up, but that doesn't mean anything. I shouldn't be this upset about it. It shouldn't burn and ache as much as it does right now. I shouldn't have problems breathing in and out and my eyes shouldn't be watering. It shouldn't mean this much to me.

        There was a soft knock on my door, drawing my attention from where I sat. I sniffled, running my fingers through my hair, and then pushed myself off of the ground to stand again. It had to be Stella; she said she was coming, probably to talk me out of this.       

        I took the smal stride to the door, pulling it open slowly. I rubbed my eyes, squeezin them shut when I expected her arms to wrap around my waist, teling me I couldn't do this anymore. I was surprised not to hear anything, or feel her small frame on mine. I peeked through my lashes, breath caught in my throat.

        Zack looked flustered, cheeks tinted a soft pink. His dirty blonde, curly hair sat casually on his head, but his hazel eyes were boring into mine, his fingers twisting in the fabric of something white in his hands.

        "There are seven places in Santa Barnara called The Sunrise Motel," he said, voice on edge. I couldn't find the words to say anything, heart beating erratically in my chest. I opened my mouth to speak, to say something, but nothing came out. "This was the seventh one."

        My throat was dry. His gaze never leaving my eyes was so serious, almost deadly. I wasn't sure what he was going to say, if this was good or bad, if he was telling me off or taking me back. He was just so hard to read.

        "I'm sorry," I croaked out, finally finding my voice. My body ached, knowing how close he was to me again. It's been two weeks since I've seen him; it physically hurt to think about it.

        "I drove over two hundred miles today," he said matter-of-factly. I nodded in response, still trying to read his reaction. You owe me, big time."

        "Owe you?" I asked, voice squeaking. Did he really want me to pay him for coming here?

        "Yeah, its going to cost you," he paused for a moment, smile twitching onto his mouth. "But I guess coming home with me seems like a fair trade."

        I let out a breath, heart fluttering against my chest. My palms began to sweat against the door knob, chest heaving with uncertain breaths. His lips turned up, barring his white teeth at me. My knees felt weak, face flushng red. I never thought I'd feel so relieved in my life. He wanted me back.

        "That seems reasonable," I whispered softly, looking down at my feet. I noticed his Nike shoes move closer to me, standing inches away. I lifted my head and before I could speak his lips met mine. I let out a sigh against his mouth, arms snaking around his neck to tug him closer. I missed his scent so much this past few weeks it almost drove me crazy.

        He pulled away moments later, fingers finding my cheeks. "If you run away again, I swear to fucking God," he breathed on my skin. I nodded, pressing my lips to his before he broke away again. "We're going to figure shit out and talk to each other. No more stupid secrets."

        "I promise," I said quietly, lips touching his briefly once again. I wanted to be as close to him as possible. I couldn't live without the way he tasted, how wam he was.

        "And when you move in with me, we're going to forget these last two weeks, got it?"

        "Move in with you?" I grinned, tears pricking the corners of my eyes. He nodded, kissing me softly. My heart swelled in my chest, head dizzy and body shaking. I wasn't sure why he wanted me back, or even if it was what I deserved. I was thanking God that he did, though. "I love you, I'm sorry."

        "Me too," he murmured against my mouth, body pushing mine backwards, finally letting the motel door shut behind us.