Fix You.

[18]

For the next few days, I don't go see Dallas. I go to my classes and work and come straight home. I barely talk to anyone.

One Friday night, I am laying on the carpet of my apartment with my legs up on the couch, reading Hemingway. I have The Beatles playing on my record player,  smoking a cigarette, ash try beside me.

My record skips and I let out a heavy sigh.

"Piece of shit..." I mumble as I lay down my book and cigarette.

I walk over to it and fix it, like I have many times before. I'm about to go lay back down when I catch sight of the phone.

I should call him... no I shouldn't... yeah I should... fuck it.

I pick up the phone and dial the oh-too-familiar number. He picks up on the 4th ring.

"Hello?"

"Steve? It's Heather."

"Oh, hey."

"Yeah um... would you mind if I came over?"

"Uh.. sure. If you want. You can come through the front door, the asshole isn't home."

"Okay. Be there in a few."

"Okay." He hangs up.

I don't know what I'm doing, but I'm tired of being alone.

• • • • •

I pulled up into Steve's small driveway and shut off the car, sighing heavily.

"What am I doing?" I ask myself.

I hop out of my car and let myself in the house. There is always a key underneath the mat.

"Steve?" I call. I set down my purse and keys on the beat up couch.

"In here!" he yells from what sounds like his bedroom.

I walk back to him laying in bed, the same  way he was the last time I was here.

"Hey." I lean against the doorway, unsure whether to walk in or not.

"Hi." he looks down. "Look, I'm sorry about what happened."

"No, no, no, no, don't apologize. It's okay. I just want to put it in the past, alright?" I tell him.

"Alright." He smiles at me, and I walk over and hug him, while kissing his cheek.

"Okay, so I have to tell you something." I say, pulling away and sitting next to him on the bed.

"Yeah, you can tell me anything."

"It's about Dally."

• • • • •

"So, I try to fucking help him and he tells me to get out! What the fuck?!" I scream. I am crying. Steve puts his arm around my shoulder, and I lean into him.

"Hey, Dal is like that. He tries to be all tough, and doesn't want anyone to help him because that would make him feel weak." He says. I stop crying and sit up to face him. I look into his green eyes, his slicked back hair. I notice a grease spot on his cheek from work. I reach up to smudge it away.

My hand lingers at his face, and I see the look of shock on his face as I slowly lean in to him. I brush my lips against his, moving my hand to the back of his neck. He kisses back, but I can feel his uncertainty behind it.

He starts really getting into it, and he begins to push me back on the bed. Something snaps in my head.

I pull away and look at him. I shake my head and stand up, and run my hand through my long hair.

"I'm sorry." he says in a low voice.

"No, I kissed you..." I reply.

"Still..."

"Look, I'm just confused, okay? I really need to just clear my head."

"Yeah.. okay."

"I hate to leave again. I love you Steve."

"Love you more."

I sigh. "Yeah, sorry about that." I smile and leave the room, shutting the door behind me. I pick you my purse off of the couch, and head out to my car.