Crash Into Me

Chapter Fifteen: Alli

"Did you mean what you said earlier to Mike about us?" I ask. Eli glances to look at me as he's driving along the freeway back to his place.

"You mean about us getting serious?" he smirks.

"Yes." I watch him as he turns back to pay attention to the road.

"Would that be a problem if I meant it?" He adjusts his grip on the steering wheel.

"I mean...No?...Maybe?...I don't know."

"You don't know?" he asks, furrowing his brows in worry.

"Well...It's just..." I let out a breath and allow my words to come out, "I think you're great, really, but you just got out of a two year relationship and we've only known each other for three weeks. Not to mention I'm meeting your parents tomorrow. Everything is happening so fast and I'm sort of freaking out." I look down at my hands, afraid to see his reaction.

Everything was going fine up until he agreed with Mike about us potentially getting serious. The idea of that prospect unexpectedly knocked the breath out of me in one heavy blow. I realized at that moment that I will have to eventually tell him about that night and everything that happened as a result of it. If I tell him, he will most likely hate me for what I did. And if I keep this from him, he will most definitely hate me for not telling him. The double-edge sword works its way into me with a jutting twist, leaving me breathless from the pain.

His voice turns serious, "Alli, if you don't want to meet my parents tomorrow, you don't have to. And as far as my relationship with Jannine goes, that is completely over. I don't want to have anything to do with her ever again. I can't help that I met you at the time I did and I also can't help the way I feel about you, regardless of the timeline. If you want to slow things down, just say the word." He glances back at me, a look of concern jumbled with hurt scribbled across his face.

The excruciating silence between us is muffled by the sound of passing traffic and the purr of the Mercedes' engine. After a few more moments of stifling quiet, he exits onto one of the access roads and shifts the car to a stop on the side of the road. We sit there for a few seconds, him looking straight ahead and me staring down at my white wedge heels.

Just as soon as I can't stand the deafening stillness any longer, he finally asks, "Is that what you want? To slow things down?"

"I...I don't know." I'm not ready to tell him. I don't know if I'll ever be ready to tell him. And it's not fair to keep this from him.

He sits completely still, and then says, "All right, Alli, look, I know where I am as far as my feelings towards you, but it's pretty clear that you're not. That's probably partly my fault for rushing things like I did. I just thought that we were on the same page, but it looks like I might have misinterpreted things. I think the best thing to do in this situation is to give you some space and time alone to figure out what you want." I don't want space or time alone. I want him. I want him every single second of every single minute of every single day, but my skeletons are pulling me back into the closet with them. I'm left muted in my void. Instead of telling him my true feelings, I nod my head without a word.

He sighs deeply, anxiety and pain expelling with his breath. Then, he nods his head and turns back onto the access road and then the freeway. We ride in silence as he changes his trajectory toward my apartment instead of his. My insides are ripping apart, but not saying anything seems to be the best mode of action in this situation. The truth is caught in my throat like a pebble in a straw.

He parks at the nearest spot in front of my apartment and stares mindlessly in front of him before glancing at me out of the corner of his eye. "Call me when you're ready to talk."

"Okay," I say softly, the mellow lights gradually turning on, signaling my exit from the car. I unwillingly close the door and walk to my apartment, my knees growing weaker with every step. Why can't I just tell him?! Damn it! I fumble with my keys and shakily unlock the door. As soon as I get the door opened, I hear Eli driving away.

I slump down onto the ground, tears rolling down my face and my chest clenching in pain. I yank off my wedges and throw them at my ragged brown leathery couch. Forcing myself up from the ground, I drudgingly walk to my room and flip on the light. Stopping for a second, I see the closet and remember its contents. It lulls me to its entrance. Opening the white door, I reach up for the dusty rose-painted cardboard box and walk it back with me to my bed. My struggled breaths make me shake as I open the lid, old Polaroid pictures scattered inside.

Faded pictures of Abbey and me fill the box. At the very top of the pile is the picture I treasure most. It's also the one that hurts me the most. It's the last picture we ever took together. She's wearing her long silky purple prom dress with a slit high up her thigh. Her brown hair is curled elegantly into a 1950's type hairstyle to match the "Through the Decades" theme and dark red lipstick stains her voluptuous lips. There I am, standing next to her with my silky blue dress with the same slit, hair and makeup to match hers.

We look so happy--happier than in any other picture I possess. I look at her eyes--her ocean blue eyes--unsuspecting of the turn of events that are about to befall us. She's completely unaware of the fact that she is about to breathe her last breath in a few short hours. She is about to die a terrible death and there is nothing she can do about it.

I shake uncontrollably as I place the picture down on my bed and sift through the eighteen years of memories: birthday parties, sleep-overs, double dates, last minute road trips, goofy pictures in random locations. God I miss her.

I jump at the sound of my phone buzzing from my purse. Maybe it's Eli? I get up from my bed and walk over to my the crossbody bag laying on my rustic wooden chair. I reach inside and pull out my phone to read the message on the screen. My stomach drops. It's a picture of me. More specifically, a mug shot of me. My eyes frantically search for the phone number to see if I can recognize who it is. I've never seen this number in my life. My phone buzzes again, a text message appearing underneath the picture: I have to say, this isn't your best look. I wonder what Eli will think? XOXO -- Your Secret Admirer.

My hands shake uncontrollably and I drop the phone onto the bed, covering my mouth in horror. Oh my God. Oh my God. Oh my God! My mind is racing with questions as I unsteadily pick the phone back up.

I manage to type: Who is this??

An automated message pops up onto my screen: Error. Invalid request. The number you are attempting to reach is unreachable. Please try again at a later time.

A second after I read the message, my phone buzzes uncontrollably, my mug shot appearing over and over again in text after text from the same number. I'm losing it at this point. I flip through my phone and block the number. I just want it to stop. My phone lays still in my hand, my heart pounding. I have no idea what the hell is going one. I fall back onto my bed and watch my ceiling fan go round and round in circles. That was insane. My heart rate begins to steady itself.

Then, out of nowhere, my phone vibrates again. I sit up in my bed and curl the phone into my hands. This time it's a different number that I still don't recognize. My eyes drift over the message: Nice try. Block this number, too, if you want :)

The same picture floods my phone again. I'm fucked.

Thoughts?? Any theories? Comment below. I'd love to hear your ideas :)