When I Met Her....

I Promise

*BURLESQUE MOVIE POSTER IN THE MEDIA*

I Promise

Steph's POV

I throw my briefcase over into the passenger seat as I get into my car after an afternoon full of parent conferences. I look at the seat next to me and think about Laurel. I pull my phone out and send her a text message.

Did u get home okay?

Seconds later my phone dings with a reply.

Yep.

I nod and lock my phone, turning on my car and swerving out of the nearly empty parking lot.

I unlock the front door to the house and walk to the living room where I hear the TV. Sitting on the couch Laurel is staring at the TV aimlessly, not looking like she's truly paying attention to what's on. I drop my stuff onto the love seat and walk over, sitting next to her on the couch before, kicking off my tan heels. She looks at me and gives me a watery smile, then her eyes drop down to her hands. I put my hands over hers.

"What's wrong?" I ask curiously.

"What makes you think something is wrong?" She says, trying to make her face look upbeat and happy.

Up close I realize her eyes are slightly red and puffy like she was crying recently.

"You look like you've been crying." I observe, wiping under her eyes gently and her face leans into my hand. "Laurel...I know I havent been in your life for too long but I think I know when somethings wrong with you."

I lift her chin up so she'll look me in my eyes.

"I don't know how to explain in." She whispers.

I can hear the tears at the back of her throat, threatening to arise.

"You can try. I'll try to be understanding and supportive of any and everything you want to tell me." I encourage her.

She sighs.

"How about I give you sometime to think about it. I'll go get in the shower and when I get out we can talk." I say, smiling at her assuringly.

"Okay." She nods.

I pull her into a hug and she clasp her arms around me. She pulls away tears coming to her eyes.

"Don't cry." I say touching her cheek lightly.

She nods again and I get up and go to my room heading straight to my bathroom. I slowly start to pull off my clothes, taking my phone out of my jeans pocket setting it on the counter. I pull my towels from the cabinet next to my mirror when my phone rings.

Robert, it says.

Without hesitation I hit the decline button, rolling my eyes and walking over to the shower adjusting the water knozzles to my liking. Then my phone dings with a text message.

From: Robert

Answer the phone.

Seconds later my phone rings with his name on it again. I groan clicking the accept button and bringing the phone to my ear.

"Hello." I say.

"Hey. Why didn't you answer the phone when I called the first time." He demands.

"What do you want Robert?" I plead.