Perfect

thirty five

Four hours doesn't seem like much for a flight. But let me tell you, when there is a screaming baby in front of you and an annoying toddler that decided it wanted to kick me seat the whole flight no matter what it's parents said, four hours turned to forty. I had never been more grateful to get off a plane in my life, and texted Pete that I was coming back early as soon as I got into duty free.
Pete: How come
Me: I'll explain when I get back

Again, I tried to call Kells and again, it went to voicemail. I was so scared that I was going to fall asleep and miss my gate that I stalked my way around duty free about 4 times, before buying two large iced black coffees from Starbucks and drinking them both; and then I of course had to go to the bathroom because I was going to wet myself, but hey, I was awake. Maybe too awake, I got the coffee shakes. But by the time I boarded my flight, they had worn off and I ended up having a conversation with the woman sitting next to me about her daughter, Elle, and how I should start mentally preparing myself for labour now as it was traumatising. So that got me real excited for 7 months time. Either way, having this conversation did brighten my day a bit, it's always nice when strangers strike up a conversation with you. Well, sometimes it's not nice but who cares.

As soon as I got in, I dumped my bags and went to bed. I was so tired that I thought I was going to pass out, I'd had about a hour of sleep in the last 24. In fact, I fell asleep in the same clothes I was wearing as I stepped off the plane with the remnants of whatever makeup I was wearing still on. There was no way to describe the exhaustion I was feeling, I'd never been this tired in my life. Even when Liv, Carmen and I went to Coachella and literally didn't sleep for three days, I wasn't this tired. I guess we had a music festival buzz and were so high and drunk that we didn't notice.

I woke up at around 2pm, a solid 7 hours of sleep. Kells wasn't home yet so I couldn't apologise, and I decided to text some people to see who was about. Sian was free so I headed over to her apartment and we hung out for a bit. She was tapping through the Snapchat discover stories when her face completely changed from neutral to shock.
"Oh my god,"
"What?" I asked. Sian was normally pretty chill and she rarely overreacted. She passed her phone to me. And I read the headline "I'm so sorry Chloe,"
Machine Gun Kelly seen kissing another girl in a bar in Barbados. I felt sick. Tears instantly blurred my vision, and I couldn't get that horrific sentence out of my head. I handed Sian's phone back to her, feeling detached.
"I need to go," I found myself saying, my legs seemingly moving me forward even though I was barely aware of it. They took me to my car, and I heaved myself in. Only when I was in the car did I let the hot, salty tears roll down my face. I began to sob, and tried to think about anything other than what I had just read. But I couldn't. The headline was the centre of all my thoughts, practically screaming at me. There was no denying it didn't happen, there was photographic evidence that was obviously him, the dozens of tattoos gave him away. I couldn't believe it. It felt like my whole life had been taken from me, I'd never experienced such pain and heartbreak in my life. I was besides myself, not knowing what else to do other than drive back home, confront him about the situation and potentially pack a bag and go stay with a friend. There was no way I wanted to share a bed with him, and if he did more than just a kiss I was definitely not staying the night. To me, a kiss was bearable, forgivable. But if he slept with her, I didn't know what I was going to do if he told me that happened. I just didn't know.