Two Weeks With Chelsea

Chapter 36

From the step at the front of the hotel Chelsea could see Trevor approach from a block away with his suitcase trailing behind him. He saw her and quickened his pace until his suitcase careened off a pawn shaped post at the edge of the sidewalk. The case skidded out of control and flipped over and forced him to stop and turn it upright. She stood motionless with head turned away so he wouldn't see her giggling. Then, he was standing right in front of her.

Trevor gazed at Chelsea for a moment. Her auburn hair flowed from beneath the white sunhat with a black ribbon accent he had seen her wearing at the beach a day earlier. It matched the white shirt and black shorts she wore. She looked beautiful. Cute. She was physically captivating but there was more than her appearance that drove his need to be with her. He needed to plead his case. He needed her.

He let his suitcase drop then wrapped his arms around Chelsea and sighed, "Thank you for waiting. I tried calling so many times but..."

Chelsea hesitated then lightly returned the embrace but did not speak. She knew he had called but didn't pick up the phone. Trevor noticed the indifference and stepped back.

"I'm sorry. I..." he started, "If you don't want to speak to me or be near me, I understand, but please give me a chance, please. Just... listen to me for five minutes and if you want me to leave you alone, I will. Please, just five minutes."

"Okay..."

"Were you heading out for breakfast?"

Chelsea nodded.

"Can I drop my stuff in your room? We can go to that place behind the theatre and grab something. Or, we can go wherever you want. If you tell me to get lost, I come back, get my stuff, and I'm gone. Well, I have your book and bikini top and the charger for your camera battery, so we'll have to get those out of my suitcase... then I'm gone."

While Chelsea waited in the lobby, Trevor dragged his suitcase into the room and wheeled it up to the bed. He noticed the message slips, wrinkled, but flattened and neatly placed on the night table. She had read them. She had crumpled them up but smoothed them out and read them. He hoped that was a good sign.

Chelsea followed Trevor back to the street but remained silent for the walk. She let him take her hand. It felt comfortable and her eyes couldn't help but sneak the occasional glance towards him. She wanted to pull her hand away. She didn't want him to think she was ready to forgive him just yet. She wasn't sure if she could, but she wanted to. She let his hand hold hers but didn't return the gesture.

With a table, two croissants and two coffees between them, Trevor gazed across and contemplated where to start. Chelsea sat quietly, her gaze moving between him and her cup of coffee. She didn't want to let him off too easily but inside she was happy he had come after her. She didn't know how he had left things with Letya; perhaps he planned to meet up with her again if things didn't go his way. Perhaps she was history, but what about the next Letya that crossed his path? She tried her best to appear to be indifferent to his presence, using the 'what ifs' to numb herself even if she was tingling inside.

"All last night I was trying to think of what to say. Even walking up from the train station, I was... rehearsing," he said as he fidgeted with a napkin. "Excuses. That's all I came up with. Excuses for being an ass. Excuses for treating you... You didn't deserve the way I treated you. And, I certainly don't deserve someone like you."

Chelsea looked to the Trevor's hands. They trembled as his fingers worked over the paper napkin. That poor napkin; a helpless victim of the events of the previous day. In the few minutes they had spent at the table his expression had changed. He had looked hopeful as they walked from the hotel but now, Trevor appeared defeated and lost.