i know this has been a while... a while for all my stories but particularly this one... if you read this thanks for sticking around and checking for the update! please review if you can and let me know how this turned out. i plan to update this one again, since i've got the next chapter already in mind ;)
I shut the door on Adam. My back pressed up against the door. Now safely inside of my own room. I didn't trust myself not to turn around and open it- to see if he was still there. I couldn't do it. I'd just run back into his arms. That kiss did nothing for me. It didn't help. Only made it worse. It only assured what I was already starting to suspect- that Adam was right for me.
On some twisted, insane, crazy level, he was absolutely right for me. His lips… I'd never felt such a tender touch before. Even his hands, which were rough as only a teenage boy's were, felt heavenly in contrast to my skin. I sighed shakily as I retreated farther into my dark room.
Was I really going to avoid him? For now, yes. My pride just couldn't take it. But then again wasn't pride the thing that got us into this mess in the first place? Isn't pride one of the seven deadly sins? Or am I remembering wrong?
Regardless, I fell onto my bed and tried to forget about Adam for the night. I willed myself to go to sleep.
As quickly as she arrived, she was gone. I was stuck frozen there in the hallway, my arms empty but still holding the shape of her, where she was just one moment ago. Gone. Empty. It took a second for me to realize she wasn't coming back out, my arms wouldn't soon be filled by the presence of her- so slowly, achingly, I let my arms drop back down to my sides. I felt defeated. Kicked in the gut. Sick.
I think that was the word for it.
I sighed when I looked towards her door. What should I do? A part of me was reasoning for me to leave her alone. Maybe she was serious and needed her space. If I went to her yet again, persisted, maybe I'd just get her entirely sick of me altogether and ruin everything. I didn't want to be suffocating. But I needed this. I needed her to know. So that other part of me, told me not to leave. To stay there no matter what. I needed to stay outside her hotel door. Sleep in the hallway if I had to (even though the more rational side of me was telling me we had an early shoot in the morning, and not to mention security might be called).
But the side of me that wanted to stay, kept thinking about all these past movies I've seen. I know that sounds stupid and random- but in those movies where the guy upsets the girl, after the big confrontation, she's still upset with him, he has either two options. One: he can do what she wants and go away. Accept he isn't going to get his way tonight, if ever. Take a time out, be by yourself and let each other think on it. Two: persist. Even still. Because even though she told you no and said leave her alone, is that honestly really what she wants? No. maybe not. Maybe what she really wants is for you to prove yourself to her. Even though she said she didn't want you, what would really make it better is if you went against what she said, everything she told you, because you knew the two of you were worth it. Does that make sense? Maybe Meg really didn't want me to leave, I just had to find it in myself, on my own, without her telling me what to do or what she wanted, to make it better. I had to show her.
Those were the two notions that were nagging at me, all the while I still stood in the hall, now leaning against the door frame to her room. I sighed, confused and tired. I could be making a mistake either way I chose to go. Was there a middle ground somewhere? To maybe give her the space she seemingly needed, but letting her know I wasn't going anywhere at the same time?
I pushed off the wall and made a stride to leave, looking at her door one last time, as if she were watching me, as if she's pop up and tell me exactly what I needed to do. Of course that didn't happen. A chill of fear shuddered down my spine as I thought maybe she really was over it and had simply gone to bed, non caring. Well if she didn't care, I'd have to make her care.
I walked down the hall, making my way towards the elevators. I was strangely alone. It must have been late. The walk ways were silent as I made my way back to my room. The silence seemed extra heavy, making my thoughts extra loud on the inside of my head. As I walked to my room, sliding my card key into the door and entering, I felt like through my aloneness, my thoughts became a narration.
I didn't turn on any lights. My eyes adjusted soon enough. I went to my bed, the rustle of sheets crinkling under my weight a welcome sound to break the volume of my thoughts, the sound of my shoes shuffling over the carpet as I kicked at it in thought. I turned towards the phone on the nightstand… a thought beginning to come to me.
I picked up the phone. Deciding to take action as soon as I could. A small token. Hopefully not too small, hopefully sending a message that was just enough for her.
I picked up a smooth, almost leather feeling, padded folder left on the desk. Opened it up and found the number to room service. I had the phone resting on my shoulder, one hand loosely around the receiver. I briefed the menu quickly, looking over the italicized and fancy script on ivory stationary within the leather book. With a small, calming, decisive breath I dialed room service.
"Hello?" they picked up on the third ring. "Yes, hi. I know there isn't anything on your menu regarding this, but would you just so happen to have chocolate strawberries?"
"Alright. Could you, please? Thank you. And do you know if any of the shops are still open? No? Hmm… well I don't suppose you'd have some flowers, would you?"
I tried to sleep. I really did. I slept a wink maybe since closing the door on Adam and curling up in bed. But it wasn't long. I would doze off for ten minute, fifteen minute intervals but as soon as the thought of him crept into my mind, unconscious or not, I woke. Seeing his face. Smiling. He was almost always smiling when I looked back at him in my mind. Whenever he wasn't there and I tried to picture him- he was smiling. Always different variations of a smile. Sometimes small. Shy. Unsure. Confident. Happy. Exuberant. Laughing. Bright. Embarrassed. Ashamed. Modest. Humble. Haughty. Foolish. It was weird all the range of emotions I could see him in. Over the time period I had known him, having seen a little bit of each on his ever growing familiar face to me.
Then suddenly, inexplicably, I remembered the feel of his hands. My brows furrowed, I pushed it away. Confused. None of that matters anymore. I told him to leave. It's what I wanted. Maybe it would prove to be better for both of us. Then I felt like an idiot. Because we came here to do a job, as actors, and it was like nothing else mattered to me anymore but him. My personal life. The movie, the roles, were just means of being close to him. It could've been any movie. Any thing. It didn't matter anymore.
I felt my eyes burn, very well close to tears. Hot angry, regretful, sad kind of tears. Just when my eyes began to well, and my vision blurred burningly, I heard a soft knock at the door.
I froze. If it were Adam, I didn't know what I would do. For a brief second two emotions weighed on me, one begging to dominate and diminish the other. One- I could either be angry, still resentful, and wish his presence gone. Or two- I could be glad because when I told him I had wanted him to go away I really didn't mean it. My heart leapt with a happiness I didn't think was in the forecast for tonight.
My heart and my mind decided on the second option.
Trying to brush the tears out of my eyes and fix my hair, I got up out of bed, hoping I was somewhat presentable.
As soon as I got my hand on the door, I heard a voice. Not Adam's.
Room service, it said.
Immediately, I felt my heart sink, I felt embarrassed and foolish for letting myself get so giddy at the possibility it could have been, was him. Why would it be? Of course it wasn't Adam. I had rejected him earlier didn't I? and that was my fault.
I took in a shuddering breath and opened the door anyway. I had already gotten up. Might as well.
"Yes?" I asked, trying to steady my voice and push back new threatening tears.
"I have an order for you." said the doorman. He had a cart on wheels covered in an impeccably white table cloth. There was a big silver covered dish on the silver tray on the table top of the cart. I noticed there was a single flower to the side of it all, tied with a silky looking, bright pink ribbon.
Then something just occurred to me, "I'm sorry you must have the wrong room, I didn't order anything."
"No mistake." said the young man. He smiled at me, probably picking up on my dampen mood, and it was as if he knew something I didn't. Like all was about to be better.
Startled, I blinked my eyes and allowed for him to roll the cart into my room.
"I don't have any money-"
"Taken care of. Have a good night, miss." and then he ducked out of the room with a farewell tilting gesture of his head.
Utterly dumb founded, I stood there in the middle of my room, still dark except for the light on in the door way where the doorman had just left. I looked back towards the cart. It was a loud, giant, presence in the silent, dismal looking hotel room. For a moment we just stared each other down, but eventually, I took a step toward it, since it was beckoning me.
I stood in front of it, still, my hands going over the table cloth. I noticed the flower, picked it up. And for the first time I noticed it was a lovely white rose, the edges of its petals a pretty pink that nearly matched the ribbon around its stem. It made me smile.
I could see the reflection of the room in the shiny surface of the silver tray cover. I watched my hand in the reflection as it neared the tray's ornate, engraved handle at the top. I lifted the tray and was surprised by what I saw.
There was a rather large, white glass plate. Around the edges of the plate, perfectly aligned and ordered where the biggest, surely ripest looking strawberries I had ever seen. They were dipped in chocolate, perfectly covered, looking decadent. I had never had chocolate strawberries before. They looked beautiful, an endearing token of affection. Romantic.
And the display of them followed perfectly around the edge of the plate, circular. The order went in a pattern- chocolate strawberry, dollop of whip cream, chocolate strawberry, whip cream, chocolate strawberry, whip cream… all the way around the plate.
In the middle, was a folded card, sitting there with inky hand writing. I wasn't sure if I dared to pick it up.
Eventually, curiosity getting the best of me, I had to know. With a trembling hand I went for the card, daintily picking it up.
At first glance, I knew the hand writing wasn't Adam's, but the words most definitely were. To set this up he probably had to dictate what he wanted for someone else to write.
I wondered what possessed him to do this. What was wrong with him? Was he crazy?
Was I worth it?
I know you don't want me anymore, but forgive me if I'm not through with you yet. You're not easy to get over and frankly I don't want to try. Please forgive me. I'm sorry for everything but more than that I just want you.
I couldn't stop myself from smiling. I thought my face would break from it.