A Second Chance

chapter two

The next morning I wake up in relief as I see Michael lying next to me.

I drag my weight into the bathroom and put my hair up in a ponytail, and brush my teeth.

When I walk back into the bedroom, Michael is still asleep so I check my phone. There are two texts from Chris.

Asshole: Ana, you awake?

Asshole: Let's go get breakfast.

I ignore him, and change into a pair of shorts a tank top. I quickly put my shoes on, grab a water, and head out.

As I jog, I take in my surroundings. The sun beats down brutally on my back, and I begin to sweat. Miss Betty is walking her old, vicious Chihuahua as she does every morning. Every time I've tried to pet it, it attempts to attack me, so after a while Miss Betty and I just decided to wave at each other instead of stopping for a chat.

I jog to the park, and sit on one of the swings in an attempt to catch my breath. Because it's only 8:00 in the morning, it's empty, and very peaceful. 

After I'm finally able to breathe normally again, I jog back home.

Michael is sitting on the couch eating cereal. "Where were you last night?" I say, in between deep, heavy breaths.

"Something came up at work." He smiles, before walking into the kitchen.

I roll my eyes.

I take a quick shower, and change into an old pair of blue jeans, along with a plain white t-shirt and put my hair up in my brown ball cap. Today is definitely gonna be a lazy day.

Just when I finally sit back down on the couch, my phone goes off again.

Asshole: Ana, are you angry with me?

I respond with:

I just don't want to see you.

He replies quickly.

Asshole: Is my name in your phone still asshole?

How does he know?

Asshole: I know because I was in fact an asshole. And that was the last thing you called me before you left.

I sigh.

Asshole: Anastasia, I'll be there in 10 minutes.

What even.

I begin to text back and say "NO!!!" but I figure there's no use, considering he doesn't care and will in fact be here in ten minutes period.

I walk into the kitchen to tell Michael I'm going to get some breakfast and ask if he wants me to bring him back anything, but he's stuffing some kind of sandwich down his throat.Oh well.

Chris pulls up exactly ten minutes later, and I meet him at the door. He's wearing an old black Metallica shirt. "Hello."

It used to be my favorite.

He hands me the keys, and I drive us to IHop, where he orders his usual two waffles, with syrup and butter, a side of bacon, a side of eggs and a side of hash browns, and of course, orange juice. I get two pancakes, and some coffee.

After a semi-decent breakfast, he insists on taking me somewhere.

"Chris. I don't want to go anywhere. Please just take me home."

He rolls his eyes, while he smirks, and pulls up to the skating rink.

"I can't skate." I mumble.

"I know."

Then why the hell would you bring me here?

I jump out of the truck, and follow him into the old, white building. He pays for the shoes and everything, although I try to pay for it myself.

We tell the rude, older man our shoe size and he pretty much throws them to us. His are tied and everything by the time I even have mine on. "How are you supposed to tie these?"

He giggles, and ties them for me.

"Don't laugh at me."

"Make me stop, then." He smirks, and I just roll my eyes.

I attempt to stand up, but automatically begin to wobble. Damn you shitty balance.

I sit back down, and Chris is sitting there laughing his ass off. My face heats up, and I become a bit embarrassed. "I can't do this."

He holds out a hand, and I shake my head. "No."

"Just give me your hand."

"No."

"Ana. Stop being stubborn. Give me your hand."

"No!"

"Fine then, good luck." He seems a bit irritated, and skates off. I still sit there, not able to get up, move, or anything. I contemplate if I should take the skates off but decide not to.

He skates back over after a few minutes, and smirks at me. "Need help?"

I groan, and take his hand this time when he offers it. He helps me up, but I don't let go because I'm scared to fall.

I grab onto his arm as much as I can, and he doesn't push me away. He just smiles. "It's kinda like walking. Just pretty much like, throw your feet in front of the other."

I attempted to do like he says, but every time I tried to move I'd trip over my own feet. "There's no hope for this." I laugh.

"At least you finally touched me." He smirked, and looks down at me still continuing to grasp his firm muscles.

My face heats up, and he led me back to the seats, where I quickly take my skates off and change back into my boots. He does the same, and takes our skates back to the front. "Never again." I laugh, saying to him.

"Never again." He stares at me, a serious, but unreadable expression on his face.

We get in the truck, and he just stares forward. "Where do you want to go?"

"Home, I guess."

He looks a little disappointed, and groans before he starts the truck. "Chris."

He looks over to me, his jaws clenched. "What?"

"Why won't you leave me alone?"

"I already told you. I can't."

"Why?"

"I don't want to."

"Why?"

He pauses for a second, before looking back at me. "The same reason you really don't want me to, Anastasia."