𝙢𝙞𝙨𝙪𝙣𝙙𝙚𝙧𝙨𝙩𝙖𝙣𝙙𝙞𝙣𝙜. - 𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚢 𝚜𝚊𝚖𝚋𝚎𝚛𝚐

i believe we should talk.

I don't know if I am prepared to see him again, after so many years. We are not in high school, not even in Berkeley. I know that to see him will bring guarded feelings and will open wounds. But I want to take a risk. To take the risk that I did not take when I let Andy go for New York.

Time passes slowly when we wait sitting. My legs dangle from anxiety, with a touch of nervousness. The studio is crowded, all frantic about it, from one side to the other. The voices trying to be heard, the machines trying to record, the already cold coffees trying to give energy and I trying to not be noticed (the latter is working very well). A door opens to my side and people walk to the exit. I see a man in a jacket walking and chattering something that I do not understand. Your hair, trimmed and a little messy, waving while he is gesticulating.

Andy appears older, with some wrinkles here and there, in shape, but with the same space between the front teeth. His laughter echoes in my head, making me wake up from the trance. I get up quickly while he is back to me. But with a sudden move, he turns to chat with one of your friends. Your eyes meet with mine. Now we're both in a trance. I need to get out of here but I'm not having much response from my body. His speech ceases and we find ourselves in complete silence.

Deep inside me, I knew that coming here to see him was a mistake. I knew that the destiny separated us for a reason: so that we didn't have to go through this. I walk towards the exit with my head low, holding my purse with two hands. I hasten the pace when I feel Andy coming up to me. I push the heavy door, which leads me to the parking lot, my calves burning from trotting up to the car. "[Y/N]!" He shouts. I feel that he has not reached me.

I turn on the car and step on the accelerator, wishing to never have come here.

I have to give back in some parked cars to get to the exit. I speed up, relieved to escape the future of a shame, but I can see at a glance the body of Andy in front of my car. I try stepping on the brake, but I feel the beat of the steel against his body. Sigh when you see your body on the floor. I get out of the car and I hear his moans.

"I'm really really sorry Andy! I lean down, trying to comfort him somehow, but my hands just move on top of his body looking for a place to help.

"We always have a first time." He says, following a painful laugh.

"We have to go back to the studio, I don't know how to help you." I say, trying not to show my nervousness.

"Can you help me get up." He says analyzing his situation.

"Of course, sure, sure..." I'm not sure how many times I say "sure" going toward the heavy door where I left a few minutes ago.

A silver-haired man walks up to us with a stack of printed papers in his hand.

"What happened?" He questions angrily.

"Just a little accident, don't worry. We're getting some ice"

I guess we're going to get ice for him. The man leaves to talk to some actors behind us.

"I believe we should talk." He says, gazing me.

"I believe we should."