Dear Rory,
I'm sorry about what I said.
I'm leaving for LA in two days.
Can we talk before then, please?
We can just drive around as usual.
I don't know how to do this if
you're upset with me.
Call me please. I'm staying at my
parents' house...
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———
Once I'm in my hotel room, I take a second to myself, breathing deeply.
"Okay, Rory, the actual fuck is wrong with you?" I mutter, tapping my hands against my cheeks.
I hold my hands at my waist, glaring at the newly made bed.
Okay...
It's just Taylor. So much shit has happened since that last day we ever spent together, but it's just Taylor. We're older now, we've been through so much. She's sorry for what happened. At least, she says she is and I know she's sincere, even if the memory still stings and leaves a bitter taste on my tongue. But we can both be mature about this. I don't have to open up to her and act like we're best friends reuniting after years of being apart.
We're just two adults, spending time together because neither one of us really has anything better to do today. I'll just go on with my plans with her.
It's going to be fine.
"Right, okay," I breathe out, shaking myself back to reality.
With a heavy sigh, I walk over to my suitcase and pull out a clean t-shirt, just a simple black and white striped V-neck. I reapply some deodorant, some sunscreen, spray on some perfume, make sure my hair's relatively tame, and change into a pair of comfortable sneakers.
I take one look at my reflection in the mirror. My cheeks are flushed, my eyes a pale green behind my round glasses. The freckles on my nose are more prominent than ever.
I let out another sigh and turn the lights off as I step back into the room and grab my bag with all my essentials in there (my journal, camera, and wallet, really.)
I chew on my bottom lip on the ride down to the lobby, my arms folded over my chest. Taylor's waiting on one of the armchairs next to the concierge's desk, holding her phone to her ear.
When she spots me, she starts walking over, smiling apologetically as she motions to her phone and mouths the word mom.
"Take your time," I murmur but she shakes her head.
"Hey, mom, we're about to head out. I'll call you later— yeah. Yeah, I'll send you pictures. Lots of them. Yes! Okay. Love you, too! Bye!"
She hangs up and slides her phone into her bag.
"Shall we?" She asks and I nod, making my way outside.
"How's your mom doing?" I ask curiously. I've always liked Andrea. She never failed to make me feel at home when we were younger.
"She's good, yeah!" Taylor exclaims with a smile. "Much better now, actually."
I look up at her for a moment, wondering what she means by much better. I don't ask but Taylor notices and her smile drops a little.
