Ready To Run (Kaylor)

Part 12: Nothing we say is going to save us from the fallout

A/N: Okay so I decided to jump back and forth between Karlie's and Taylor's POV in this part because I think it will really get you guys into it! And I wanted to let you know that I LOVE YOU GUYS FOR READING THIS FANFIC, I HAVE LIKE 1.3K READS AND I CAN'T BELIEVE IT. Anyways, I'll be posting tomorrow for sure, so stay tuned guys!

Thank you for the support!

thatgoodgirl-faith :)

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Karlie

            I ran from the cab into my apartment foyer, drenched from the rain. Why the fuck did it have to rain tonight, of all nights. I thought to myself. My mind was still flaring after the fight that Taylor and I had about an hour earlier, and the last thing I wanted to do was have to change out of soaking wet clothes. I walked into the elevator, thankful that it was empty. I was mad. So mad—but the tears still fell from my eyes anyways. Why did it have to be so difficult? I didn’t want to hide my relationship with Taylor, and I thought things were getting pretty serious between the two of us, but Taylor’s confession today made things pretty clear. Unfortunately, being in love with someone isn’t enough to make it work I guess. The elevator dinged signaling that I had reached my floor. Thankfully, there was no one in the hallway and I was able to duck into my apartment without anyone noticing me. Once I closed the door to my apartment, the tears I cried in the elevator seemed like a small leak compared to the waterfall that occurred next. I walked over to my fridge in the kitchen and pulled out a bottle of wine, popped the cork, and drank. I sunk down to the floor, leaning my head against the maple kitchen cupboard. I shut my eyes tightly; I needed to forget her. Just for tonight, at least. Drinking until I passed out seemed a lot easier than crawling into bed without Taylor, and coming back from London yesterday made me recognize that.

            My phone had been ringing off the hook since I walked out of Taylor’s front door but I didn’t need to check it to see who it was. I knew it was her. Of course it was her. I had to push my hands into the floor in order to restrain myself from grabbing my phone. Half of me wanted to pick up the phone and agree to keep us a secret, just so I could be back with her; but the other, realistic half of me knew that what I had asked from her was fair. She had even agreed to it willingly. It just made sense. We loved each other, and I was serious about her, so why did Taylor have to bring the rest of the world into this? Sure, in the worst-case scenario, the paparazzi wouldn’t leave us alone for a few months, but something bigger and more scandalous would come along and everyone would set us aside. I know she had been looking at the negative side of things, but there was always the positive side too; Her fans would be happy that she was finally happy, the media would praise us for coming out as a couple, and she might even write an amazing record that told the story of our relationship. Okay, maybe it wouldn’t go that far, but that would be the best-case scenario.

It wasn’t fair. Why did she get to dictate the future of our relationship? My phone buzzed again. Why did she go back on what she said? My phone flashed a ‘1 New Voicemail’ Notification. Why didn’t she love me as much as I loved her? My phone buzzed once more. Why couldn’t she love me enough to take us seriously? My phone once again flashed a ‘1 New Voicemail’ message, and I threw it across the kitchen in frustration. It hit the oven and bounced to the side. I noticed the screen turn black as it hit the floor. I let out a small chuckle. Finally some peace and quiet. I thought. Then, wanting to forget the way that the night had unfolded, I raised the bottle of wine to my lips and took a sip.