Say you'll stay - Channing Tatum

P.29

I put a strand of hair behind my ear that has managed to escape my loose ponytail, directing my gaze towards the now white fireplace. It turned out better than I expected.

I'll never understand the woman who lived here before me. She wanted to tear down and change all the things that I've loved since the day I first set my foot in here. She didn't like the old hardwood floor nor the charming fireplace; she wanted it gone. To say that I'm glad she seemed to be in a hurry to sell and therefore left it, only half a fireplace gone, would be the understatement of the day.

I lean down to place the brush beside the paintcan, taking a step back and admiring the now finished work.

After receiving a letter from a man named Richard Charles, who's apparently the owner of the building, I was informed of electricity-problems that supposedly is affecting the whole block. He wrote that he is 'sorry for the inconvenience seeing as it's going towards colder weather', which I take as the heaters don't work either. So I had a company called this morning who came and put the bricks of the fireplace back together. They stayed for roughly two hours and and then left, leaving me to re-paint it.

The whole apartment now smells strongly of paint, but I wouldn't have it any other way. It now feels as if I've actually contributed with something to this place, even if it was the smallest of acts.

I breath in, allowing the smell to fill my lungs before I close my eyes for a brief moment. The few seconds of not doing anything leaves enough time for him to seep into my thoughts again and pull me under.

I don't think he ever left, he probably just got pushed back into my mind while I was focused on dragging the coarse bristles back and forth, unnecessarily many times. But now he has me, completely and utterly forced against my will to think of nothing but him.

It hasn't even been 24 hours since we said goodbye, but it feels as an eternity has passed by. Twice. I found myself missing the warmth under the covers when I went to sleep last night and then his breath against my neck in the morning. He can't do one thing wrong it seems. He even made my crappy pancakes taste better than anything else I've ever had.

I smile at the memory of yesterday before a frown takes over.

I've never cursed myself as much as I did yesterday for deciding to go to work. I spent the whole day wishing I would have called in sick, just so I could've stayed with him a little longer. But after the situation with the paparazzi, I'm not sure he wants to be seen with me again.

He never stopped asking me if I was okay and no matter how many times I said I was, I could tell he didn't believe me.

I didn't enjoy the minutes spent before the snapping cameras and bright flashes. I was completely taken by surprise and tried to escape the surrounding by burying my body in his, hiding. I did so as he held on to me, a firm grip on my hand.

He may not have seen it, but it made all the difference. No matter how much I disliked being in the center of the chaos, it would never be a reason that'd make me change my mind about seeing him. I want nothing more.

I just hope he looks at it the same way as I do and won't distance himself from me, for the reason that he thinks I can't take it.

The sudden realization makes me worried that he has already made up his mind about me, without letting me know. I pull my phone out of my pocket with quick hands, unlocking it before scrolling through my contacts. I stop at his name and before I've thought about it, I've sent him a text.

Hi! What are you doing? -Brooke

I press send and before I've even locked the screen, the three small dots in the left corner appear, indicating he's typing.