I promised you. | Austin Butler

Part 21

The elevator ride up to the top floor that opened straight onto my apartment door was long. So long in fact there was one point I thought we had stopped moving, and if it wasn't for the short jolt that meant it had come to a stop, I'd have pressed the emergency buzzer. As I reached for the handles of my suitcase I noticed that my hands were shaking and a quick glance in the mirror told me my eyes were threatening tears. I would live with this for the rest of my life. I know I would. But I had to be honest with myself and there was one thing so certain in my mind right now. 

I could not live without Austin Butler. 

I don't care about fame. I don't care that our relationship wouldn't be the same as it was all those years ago. Time apart had made us BOTH independent. Both capable of living a life without each other. I know in my heart we could finally make it work, like we couldn't do before. 

The sound of the wheels on my suitcase echoed around the hallway as I walked my way to the front door of my apartment and I took a brief moment to close my eyes and breathe before I pushed open the door. I had know idea how to do this. The guilt was eating me alive and if I didn't tell him now, he'd notice there was something wrong. How was I supposed to sit on the sofa and watching Sunday night television with his arms wrapped around me like we usually did, or get in bed and try and play off his hands as they would roam my body like they usually did after a weekend away. My throat felt so dry I was worried I wouldn't even be able to open my mouth. 

"Leanne" comes his voice, and I'm immediately thrown into shock as I open my eyes, Andrew stood in front of me with the door to our apartment wide open. I felt a blush on my cheeks and I tried to rub my tongue around the inside of my mouth to try and gather some moisture to even speak. "What are you doing?" he asks, stepping back into the apartment and opening the door wider so I could step inside. I bowed my head to the floor and walked past him, only stopping when I was far enough away so that he couldn't touch me. I wasn't ready to feel his hands on me just yet, even though I knew the inevitable was on the way. 

"Couldn't find my keys," I lie. "Was just about to knock." 

I finally turn to face him and plaster on a fake smile, but I notice immediately he looks distressed. 

"Are you okay?" I ask, genuine concern taking over me for a second. He rubbed his face into his hands and then pushed his hair back, looking up at the ceiling. His face was red and there was panic all over his face.

"The gym." he began. "There's been an attempted robbery. The receptionist just rang me and everyones pretty shaken. I hate to leave you when you've just got home but-"

"Jesus, Andrew. It's fine. Is everyone okay?" I say, cutting him off. I could see the stress in his face and I knew how much that place meant to him.It had been his dream for so long to be in the position career wise that he was and I wasn't about to stop him from leaving. He lets out a small smile but can tell that it's strained and forced. He steps forward now so the space between us becomes smaller, and I knew the kiss was coming. He leant forward and dipped his head quickly before his lips touched mine. It felt wrong. It felt disloyal, which was fucking ridiculous considering what I'd just spent all weekend doing. 

After a mere second, I give in and kiss him back, but when he pulls away he does it so slowly and stays so close to my face, that I'm certain he's going to go in for another. His eyes are closed and I'm about to reclose mine until I see the flicker of his eyelashes. I smile, but the second he opens his eyes fully I can see something has changed. He looks me up and down, slowly, with a quizzing look on his face, before his eyes come back to mine. I daren't move. 

"How was work?" he says now, his face only a few centimetres away from my own. So close that I couldn't ignore the change in his demeanour. The change in his pupils. The change to his temple veins. The change to his breathe. The change in the tone of his voice, deep and rusk like he was threatening not to scream.