Broken

Chapter 15

I quickly rounded the corner of the bar, through the door to the stairway that led to my apartment. I slammed the door shut and fell to the floor, crying.
I hated myself, but there was no turning back. They didn't deserve to have me dragging them down.
I went into the bathroom and grabbed the muscle relaxers and quickly popped two. Soon I would be sleeping and all this pain would go away.
That's when I heard a knock on the door.
"Jesus Christ," I grumbled and went and opened it.
Taylor was standing there, I tried to slam the door in his face but he stopped me and pushed it open. He forced his way inside my apartment.
"Get out, Taylor," I said. "Before I call the cops."
"You're not calling the cops," he said looking around. "And you know it."
"What the hell do you want?" I snapped slamming the door.
"I want you to talk to me," he said, sitting down on my bed. "Really talk to me. And I'm not leaving until you do."
"You have an album to work on," I reminded him.
"Then it'll just have to wait," he said, slipping his shoes off and laying back on my pillow.
"You're not serious?" I asked.
"I'm dead serious," he said. "I guess you'll just have to get used to me being here."
"This isn't funny," I scowled.
"Am I laughing?" he asked.
"Whatever," I grumbled rolling my eyes.
The muscle relaxers were kicking in and I wasn't in the mood for any of this.
I shook my head and went over to my dresser. I grabbed out a camisole tank top and started to head to the bathroom to change but stopped. If this was the game he wanted to play, well I could play too.
I slipped my jeans off then my top.
I glanced over at him and saw his face turn red, "W-what are you doing?"
"Getting ready for bed," I said, unclasping my bra and stripping it off. "Is there a problem?"
"Uh no," he swallowed hard and turned his face, which was now a deep shade of red, away. "Shouldn't you go in the bathroom to change?"
"Why?" I asked nonchalantly. "Am I making you uncomfortable?"
I slipped the camisole tank top over my head and wearing nothing but that and my boy short panties, I walked over to the refrigerator to make me a drink.
"You don't have pajama pants or something?" he asked. I glanced over at him and noticed he was trying not to stare. He had sat up and was shifting uncomfortably on the bed. I turned back to what I was doing and smirked.
"Nope," I said. "What's the point? I live alone and anyone that comes over is usually only here for one thing and that doesn't involve a lot of clothes."
I watched for the reaction I had intended to get and when he winced from my words, I instantly regretted saying them. My eyes drifted back to the drink I was making.
I stood at the counter, sipped my drink and lit a cigarette, when I felt him come up behind me. He was so close, I could feel the warmth of his body. He plucked the cigarette out of my hand and hit it.
"Since when do you smoke?" I asked, turning to face him.
He shrugged and shoved it out in the ashtray before looking down at me. I suddenly felt nervous and excited being this close to him. He brushed a strand of hair out of my face and allowed his fingers to gently trace my cheekbone, over my lips, down my neck and across my collar bone. Oh how I had missed his touch. My body was on fire and the heat intensified the more his fingers brushed my skin.
I swallowed hard before breathing out, "What are you doing?"
"Do you want me to stop?" he whispered, retracing my collarbone back to the middle and then back to my shoulder. His hand slid down my arm, just barely grazing my breast as he continued down to my hand.
My whole body was tingling as he took my hand and brought it to his lips, gently kissing my finger tips. We were still so close I could feel his excitement growing against my leg. I stared at his lips forcing myself not to bring mine to them.
"Yes," I breathed but shook my head no.
He smirked, "Either you do or you don't?"
"I-I," I stammered. I couldn't concentrate, the combination of the booze, the pills, and the eagerness of wanting him to touch me again made my brain fuzzy.
"Let's just get some sleep," he said softly.
He cupped my face in his hands and gently brushed his lips against mine, the same gentleness as our very first kiss, before releasing me. He started walking away but I stopped him. I put my hand in his hair and pulled him to me, covering his mouth in a hard kiss. He responded putting his arms around my waist and hoisting me up so my legs could wrap around his as he carried me over to the bed.
I woke up the next morning tangled in my sheets. I heard a gentle snoring next to me and I immediately wondered who I brought home last night. I glanced over and saw Taylor lying there, on his stomach, without a stitch of clothing on. The memory of the night before came flooding back to me. I almost would've thought it was a dream if he hadn't been lying there. It had been almost too perfect. I hadn't felt that alive in years. But now I was terrified. We shouldn't have done that.
I started to get up but I felt him roll over and his arms go around my waist and pull me to him.
"Don't go," he mumbled into my hair. "Just stay here with me."
"Tay," I said softly. "You should go. We made a big mistake."
"No, we didn't," he said. "I love you and you love me. The mistake was fighting it for as long as we did. The mistake was pushing our feelings aside and being apart all this time."
"No," I argued weakly, turning to face him. "It was the best thing to do."
"Was it?" he asked. "The last three years were wasted..."
"I spent most of them wasted," I joked.
He frowned, "My point exactly. I should've been there before this got too out of control."
"You couldn't have stopped it," I said. "I was using the last time we saw each other."
"I know," he said. "I saw the coke in your purse before we went back to the hotel that night. I saw the signs, I ignored them because I was hoping it was just a phase. Every time I talked to Jen, I found out it wasn't but I kept hoping."
"I found what I needed to to numb the pain," I said.
"You didn't need drugs," he said, shaking his head. "You needed me."
"No," I denied, pulling away from him and getting out of bed. "I got what I needed."
I slipped my tank top back on and went to the dresser. I pulled out a pair of pajama pants and slipped them on as well.
"What's that?" he asked, sitting up and pulling his boxers on. "A drug problem? A shitty job and a shitty apartment? Being used by any guy who wants to get lucky?"
"I used them," I argued, going over to the counter to start a pot of coffee. "Like I told you last night, none of this is any of your business."
"It is my business," he said, coming over to me. "I love you, God dammit! Don't you get that? I would do anything for you."
"That's the problem, Taylor," I said softly. "You would do anything for me and I can't let you do that. My life is too screwed up. It always was. I love you too much to let my shit ruin you."
"My life is better just for knowing you," he said. "I am better when I'm around you. When I dream, i dream of you. When I look into my future, I see you there. When people ask me why I haven't found anyone special yet, I have to force myself from saying 'I have but she doesn't want me.'"
"You know damn well that isn't true," I snapped. "I am nobody special and I never said I didn't want you. I don't deserve you and you sure as hell don't deserve me dragging you down!"
"You are special though," he said. "Even if you can't see it, you are. You're special to me. And you don't drag me down, you lift me up. You are my happy place. Being with you again; holding you, touching you, kissing you, waking up next to you; I am happier than I've been in years. No matter how many things you say to try and hurt me, no matter how many times you put yourself down, no matter how much you push me away; nothing will change how I feel about you."
"Taylor," I started but I was having a hard time coming up with the words to respond.
"I told you once I was never giving up on you," he said. "On us. And I meant that. I will never give up."
"Did you even try to find someone else?" I asked suddenly curious.
"I did," he admitted. "I dated a few girls after you, but they weren't you. They couldn't even compare. None of them shook me to my core. None of them touched my soul like that girl I met at the truck stop outside of Tulsa that fateful day."
"I'm not that same girl anymore Taylor," I choked. "And you're not that same boy."
"Maybe not," he sighed. "Maybe I've been living in the past. Maybe I've been holding on to something that doesn't even exist anymore. Maybe I should give up, but I won't. I'd rather die alone, knowing you have my heart; than be with someone who will never even be able to touch it..."
His voice trailed off and he went back over to the bed and slipped his jeans and shirt back on. He tied his hair back but the front half still fell out loose so he tucked the loose strands behind his ears.
"I can't force you to feel the same way about me," he said, looking around my apartment again before his eyes met mine. "But I know you're not happy. I know this isn't the life you wanted. I know what's in your heart. I know what I saw in your eyes last night, what I see in your eyes now.
He jotted down something on a piece of paper he found on my table, "This is the apartment we're staying at while we're in New York, and I gave you my cell phone number, too."
He put his shoes and jacket on, "If you truly believe it's over and you don't want to be with me then you can just throw this away. But if any part of you believes that we were meant to be together then you'll know where to find me."
He came over to me and put his arms around me one more time before kissing me softly. And without saying another word he walked out of my apartment.