Maybe(A Liam Hemsworth Fanfiction)

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Chapter 25
~~~~~~~~~A/N~~~~~~~~
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After doing all of my laundry, I walked back up to my apartment. My iPhone vibrated, and it said I had a text from Gary. "Call me. Now." Uh oh. I selected Gary from my contacts list and called him.

"What the hell do you think you're doing? Why was Liam at your apartment? You better have a damn good explanation for this, young lady." Ouch. Gary never cussed or raised his voice unless he was thoroughly pissed off.

"He only came over to tell me he had an audition for another movie. He was nervous about it, and I calmed him down. That's all." I lied. Well, not exactly lied, but I sorta left out the part that we kissed. Whatever. What Gary doesn't know won't kill him.

"You better explain that to Ellen DeGeneres on Thursday. I got you a spot." He said, coldly.

"Thank you so much Gary! And don't worry, I'll make things right." I promised.

"You better." He grumbled, and then hung up. Ow. Maybe he's on his man period.

I finished folding my laundry, and remaking my bed before moving on to my bathroom. So far the kitchen, living room and laundry were done. All I had to do was my bedroom and my bathroom. Filling up a bucket with water and soap, I got down on my hands and knees and started scrubbing. I finished quickly because the floor was so small, and moved onto the shower. The doorbell rang again, and I went to go get it. I flung the door open, not even thinking to check and make sure it wasn't paparazzi. It was, of course.

"Daniella Everly, can we talk to you for a couple minutes? Great, thanks." The reporter pushed through the door, and took a seat down on the couch. "How long have you wanted to become an actress?"

"None of your damn business. Now get the hell out of my apartment before I call the police!" I threatened, mop in hand.

"Oh, no. Wouldn't want to go to jail again." The reporter smirked, and I realized that I'd seen that face before. It was Kyle.

He stood up, and walked over to me. "I bet you wouldn't want me to kick your ass again, either. So I would suggest that you get the hell out of here." I gritted my teeth. Well, I have a mop. And some knives in the kitchen. That's about it. I bet he has a gun.

"Honey, you and I both know that as soon as I leave you're going to call the cops. So why don't you just give up now?" He grinned devilishly, and I took this opportunity to swing the handle of my mop straight into his groin. He bent over in pain, which gave me the perfect chance to use my knee and break his nose. Blood poured out, and I gave him one solitary kick to the left temple, and he was out like a light. Fingers trembling, I dialed 911 and told the dispatcher everything. I searched his coat, and he didn't have a gun. Thank God.

The paramedics and police officers arrived in about 5 minutes, along with a whole new wave of paparazzi. I explained to them what happened, and went back up to my room. There were blood stains on the couch. I scrubbed them out as best as I could, and then called Liam.

"Oh my God. What the hell happened? I leave you alone for two bloody hours and you almost get yourself killed?" He screamed into the phone.

"What the hell are you talking about? Number 1 I am an adult. I can handle being on my own. You are my boyfriend, not my babysitter. Number two I did not almost get myself killed. He didn't even have a gun, and I'm not hurt at all. He was unconscious in 30 seconds, flat. And finally, number three. You have absolutely no place to try and tell me what to do. Call me when you figure out how to converse like a mature adult without yelling at one of the only people that actually care about you." And with that, I hung up. I finished cleaning and crawled under the covers, crying myself to sleep.