“Answer the phone.”

“Why?”

“Because its been ringing off the hook for the past three days. Answer it.”

“I don’t feel like it.”

“Lauren, come on…how long are you going to make him do this?”

“Until he stops.”

“Lauren, dammit would you pick up the phone!” Elliot suddenly yells and I’m so put up by his increased tone of voice that I jump slightly a few kernels of popcorn falling onto the ground. Unfortunately, I can’t respond to his wishes because my cell phone has currently stopped ringing and is now telling me that I have one missed call from Justin’s Cell.

I can add that onto the twenty other missed calls I have from that same number.

“I don’t know why you’re doing this to him. He obviously wants to talk to you about this and I’m pretty sure you want to discuss this with him as well.”

“What gives you that impression?” I’m starting to get really annoyed with Elliot right now. I’m trying to enjoy season two of Grey’s Anatomy on DVD and the ringing of my phone and Elliot giving me grief is definitely not allowing me to have some one on one time with McDreamy and Meredith.

“Maybe because I find you looking at your phone like it’s grown an extra head. And you’ve got that whole ‘lost puppy dog’ look on your face whenever the phone starts to ring. I’m not an idiot Lauren.”

“Well I’m not an idiot either,” I say stubbornly, “and an idiot would pick up the phone.”

“Sometimes Lauren, I swear to God…”

I’m about to tell him off for ruining a pivotal moment in McDreamy/Grey love, but my phone starts to ring again.

“Oh my god!” Elliot yelps and he throws up his hands in exasperation, “Either you pick up the phone or I will.”

“Fine!” I shout back as I snatch the phone off the coffee table and flip it open.

“Bueno?”

“Um…hello?”

“Quein es?”

“Is Lauren there?”

“Hay no Lauren aqui. Tiene un numero mal.” God I am having way too much fun with this and I don’t care if my Spanish is off. The only thing Justin knows is ‘where is the bathroom’ and ‘two shots of tequilia.’

“Oh…okay, thank you?” I’m trying so hard not to laugh like crazy as he tries his best to be polite about calling the wrong number.

“Y tiene una cara muy feo y estupido. Tiene un dia mal.”

“Uh…sure,” he states and I can hear the confusion in his voice. He quickly hangs up the phone and I throw the phone back on the coffee table, laughing incessantly and ignoring the chastising look that’s strewn across Elliot’s face.

“You are such a bitch,” he mutters.

“Bite me, Rodgers. He’ll stop calling.”

“For a while…” Elliot explains, “I’m sure he knows it was you. And you know for a fact that he’ll be calling you back soon. The Justin that I was able to get to know isn’t one to give up that easily when he wants something bad enough.”

“You know,” I state casually, “All I wanted to do was come home, have a glass of wine with my roommate, and watch some steamy love sessions between my two favorite fictional surgeons. Is that too much to ask for?”

“When you’re stringing along a one time serious boyfriend who might be looking for some closure, then yes…it is too much.” I immediately bristle at the word closure. Who says he’s looking for closure? The last time I actually talked to him, he was on his knees and ready to come crawling back. He couldn’t be looking for closure right now.

Could he?

“So I don’t know what you’re going to do about this situation.”

“Situation?” I ask stupidly. Come on, Elliot, I just want to ignore the current conversation and zone out in front of the television. The least he can do is give me that luxury. But no…the man has gone and opened his mouth and is starting to speak again.

“Honestly, Lauren, I may be stupid when it comes to reading your emotions where I’m concerned, but when it comes to him, you’re an open book. You still love him and you miss him. What are you going to do?”

Well that certainly came out of nowhere. And while I want to throw his blunt comments out the window and act like it didn’t happen, I can’t help but feel that slight twinge in my stomach that is telling me I need to talk about the emotions and thoughts that have been suppressed since I got back from London.

“I don’t know,” I sigh heavily as I turn off the television. Sorry Dempsy…but I guess discussing matters of the heart with your best friend is more important than watching you perform brain surgery on some twelve year old boy while looking dreamily into Meredith’s eyes. “I mean I don’t want to rush back into it, I guess. It took us so long to get together in the first place, I’m kind of afraid what will happen now that he’s starting to slow down with the touring…”

“What do you mean by that?” It appears that Elliot has taken on the therapist approach to this conversation. I half expect him to cross his legs and look at me reproachfully before asking ‘and how do you feel about that?’

“Well,” I start furtively; I can’t believe I’m about to go into this. I’m taking a turn towards vulnerable, paranoid girl world and I rarely visit this place, ever, “He’ll have a lot more free time and where will that leave us? When we were together, we were a couple for literally two months before he was off doing what he does best. But if I go back to him a second time, he’ll be finishing up his promotion and…I don’t know…” my voice is small and unsure and I reach out for my glass of wine, hoping that I don’t run out any time soon.

“So are you scared for the future?” Elliot asks me as he follows my lead and snatches his glass up from the coffee table. My phone, thankfully, remains silent and I can only hope it will let me continue this conversation uninterrupted. “Are you scared that with enough free time he’d might want to marry…”

“No!” I state firmly, “I’m not freaked out about the whole marriage or commitment thing. I’m afraid that when he does take a moment to sit back and take a breather, he’ll look at me and see something that doesn’t look like all the girls he’s dated in the past. I’m kind of freaked out that he’ll wake up and see me as just his personal assistant.”

Whew. That felt good to get off my chest. I mean at the end of the day, I guess I’m just afraid that he’ll get bored of me and what I have to offer and then I’ll be in the exact same boat I was a few months ago – broken, hurt, confused, and totally worthless. I don’t ever want to feel like that again. Ever.

“Come on Lauren,” he scoffs, “Don’t you think he’d have given up on you already if that were the case?”

I give a noncommittal sigh and sit back into the folds of the couch, crossing my arms over my front. While actually talking to Elliot about this and letting a few things come out in the open has made me feel better, I’m still at a loss at what to do. Okay, there are a few things that are totally obvious, like calling him and taking him back, or telling him to fuck off once and for all. But still…there are a dozen underlying things that go along with that.

Of course I would be able to think things through much further, but the phone decides to ring at that exact moment.

Three guesses on who it is and the first two don’t count.

Elliot gives me a knowing look and I sigh heavily as I lean forward and pick up the phone.

“Are you going to try German this time?” he asks, his eyes twinkling.

“No, you and I both know the only thing I can speak is shitty Spanish,” I retort before I flip the phone open, “Hello?”

“Lauren?” his voice stammers out in surprise. I’m sure the bastard thought I wasn’t going to answer the phone or another Spanish lady would answer.

“Hi, how are you?”

“Um, alright, you?”

“Fine,” I state matter of fact. I want to giggle at how timid his voice sounds over the phone, “Where are you right now?”

“Er, I’m at home,” he mutters and I can’t tell if his voice is trembling out of excitement or acute fear.

“I’ll be right over.”

*~*~*~*~*

I am so fucking nervous.

I can’t even begin to describe the level of nausea that has risen in my stomach. I feel like I’m about to keel over and vomit all over the floor at any moment. I’ve been pacing non stop since I got off the phone with Lauren and I think I’m going to die of cardiac arrest if she doesn’t get here soon.

Sweet shit I am so nervous.

The only reason why Lauren would be coming over here, in person, is because she’s either taking me back with open arms, or she’s telling me to fuck off for good – and I’m sure she’ll throw shit at me for good measure. I mean I can just see her barreling towards me with a bat in her hands or something and she’s yelling at me to stay the fuck away from her.

Which would kind of defeat the purpose of her coming over to my house to tell me that because she’s not staying the fuck away from me.

I’m not making any sense. I feel like my mind is a thousand miles ahead of my body. If you asked me to make a coherent thought I’d probably be a stuttering mess. And the thing that’s making me freak out even more is she’s going to be here.

Here, in the flesh. Like her actual body will be in front of me, close enough for me to touch. “Oh my God,” I mutter to myself as I continue to stumble around the downstairs of my house.

“You need to take a chill pill,” Trace announces from the top of the stairs. His sudden appearance startles me and I jump about ten feet before I try to lean nonchalantly against the wall opposite the stairs. “You are freaking the fuck out.”

“No I’m not,” I mutter as I rub my forearms. I don’t even want to look up at Trace because I know the bastard has a smug little smirk on his face. Sometimes, I hate that my best friend knows me better than I know myself.

“Just calm down. If she’s coming over here to talk to you it has to be a good thing,” Trace explains as he makes his way down the stairs, “Don’t sweat it and if all else fails, we can go out and get completely shit faced tonight.”

The guy has a point, but I’m hoping I can spend tonight with Lauren wrapped up in my arms on the couch. Don’t get me wrong, I like hanging out with Trace, but I don’t think he’d want to cuddle on the sofa – just my intuition.

“I guess,” I mumble. I’m trying to get my nerves in check, but they’re running rampant right now and I don’t think I’ll be able to keep them under control for very long. Man, I feel like I need to vomit.

“Calm the fuck down and get a grip. She isn’t going to want to come back to a guy who looks like he’s got five kilos of coke in the trunk of his car and is about to get searched by the cops.” He’s right, but I still can’t get the huge rolling wave of nausea out of my system.

The doorbell rings and I hear one of the dogs yelp in alarm. Oh wait…that wasn’t a dog, it was me. I can’t believe I yelped like a little girl at the sound of my own damn doorbell. Trace snorts back laughter and he motions for me to go answer the door. I shake my head and press my back further against the wall.

“For fuck’s sake are you kidding me?” Trace asks incredulously. I can feel the color leaving my face and my hands are all cold and clammy. This is ridiculous and yet for some reason I can’t help but think that this is how I’m supposed to feel right now. Like my life is on the verge of ending or beginning all over again based on this simple visit. “Are you going to answer the door?”

“No,” I stammer, “I can’t. Trace, I’m so freaked out right now.”

“Well fine, if you’re going to be a pussy you can just stand there and I’ll get the door. I never thought I’d see the day where Justin Timberlake was afraid of a chick.”

I want to tell him that when the chick in question holds your heart in her hands and can crush it or liberate it with a few words or a single look, you’re pretty freaked out.

 I listen to him mutter under his breath as he makes his way to the front door. The lock turns and I hear the creaking of the door as it opens. There’s an exchange of words and I want to dance around the room when her voice reaches my ears. The fact that she’s in my house again makes me want to kiss some babies or give a few hundred thousand dollars to charity. My stomach is bursting with happiness and motion sickness all at the same time. Honestly, this is fucking ridiculous.

Pushing myself away from the wall, I shove my hands in my pocket and hope to God I don’t look a complete mess. I don’t want her to see that I’m a complete and total mess without her, but then I suddenly realize that maybe me looking like a retard and so not put together will make her realize how lost I am without her.

“He’s in here…being all shy,” Trace’s voice announces as the muffled shuffle of his feet matches the strong and determined footfalls of our new house guest. Brennan and Buckley go rushing past me to greet the new stranger and I watch as she appears from the foyer, bending down to allow an ambush of puppy proportions assail her with flapping pink tongues.

She laughs loudly as she tries to give equal attention to the animals. Trace stands next to her and gives me a pointed look, as if to tell me to say something. I clear my throat and try my best to look cool and collected, but the minute she looks up from Brennan and Buckley and her eyes meet mine, I start to feel like an uncoordinated fourteen year old.

“Hey,” she states with a thin smile. She gives my dogs a few more rubs before she stands up, brushing her hands on her jeans.

“Uh,” I mutter in greeting. Trace shoots me a reproachful look and I yank a hand out of my pocket and rub it over my growing hair. She accepts my ridiculous grunt as a form of greeting and she steps into the room, looking at the stairs leading up to the second floor with what seems to be a hint of nostalgia. I think the last time we were in the house together was when she was rushing down the stairs trying to get away from me screaming at her.

I swear if she isn’t comfortable in this house anymore I’ll sell it and move somewhere else so we can start fresh. I’ll completely redo the interior of this house if she wants it to change so she cant’ be reminded of what happened here.

“How are you?” she inquires and I shuffle my feet back and forth before I look back up at her,

“I’m alright. You?”

“I’m doing well, thank you,” she responds.

“Shit, I think I left…I think I left the cake in the oven. Or some shit like that,” Trace suddenly interjects, “I’ll be back in a little bit!” I stifle a laugh as Lauren rolls her eyes at Trace’s retreating form.

“He’s real subtle that one,” Lauren says sarcastically. She’s about to open her mouth to say something, but for some reason I find myself starting to say something, too.

“Soooo,”

“Soooo,” Shit, this isn’t awkward at all. We just said the same word at the same time with the same vocal inflection. This woman needs to get out of my head and maybe I need to do the same with her. She looks away embarrassed and I find myself doing the same.

Yeah, cue the awkwardness.

“Look, Justin,” Lauren starts and I can feel all of my hope starting to fall out of my ass, “This has all been really fucking weird, you know? All the shit that’s happened to us in the past couple of months…” I start to say that I agree with her but she cuts me off, “I think it best you don’t interrupt me right now because I might lose what I’m trying to say.” I nod in understanding and she takes a deep breath before she continues.

“All the shit that’s happened, I never thought in a million years I’d have to go through all the stuff we’ve had to bear witness to. You were a complete asshole to me; you put your career before me and our relationship; you believed someone who you only knew for a few months rather than someone you’ve known for most of your adult career simply based on lack of physical evidence. You were an ass hat, a fucking jerk off for not believing me in the first place, and yet I can’t really stand here and blame you any more…”

The small shred of hope that was simmering in the depths of my stomach is beginning to bubble and I try not to look like a hopeful little kid as she continues with her little rant. I can’t get my hopes up, I can’t let her know that the basis of her decision right now will either send me over the moon or cast me into the depths of complete despair.

Shit, I sound like such a little emo shit. If I keep this up I should probably start expecting calls from Jared Leto or that crazy emaciated dude from My Chemical Romance.

“I can’t blame you anymore because you believe me now and the way I see it, that’s all that matters at this point in time.”

The hope continues to flourish inside me and I’m hoping that this could mean a possible reconciliation with a final surge in getting back together. I would do anything for her right now. If she asked me to run down Hollywood and Highland buck ass naked I’d ask her if she could give me a ride. At this point I’m so desperate to be back in her good graces and to have her want me back that I’ll do anything

And by anything I mean she could ask me to walk away from my career and I’d do it.

I can tell by her stance that she’s done talking and I manage to take a deep breath to collect my thoughts. How can I word what’s been festering inside me for weeks? All the words are jumbled together and I’m afraid that if I open my mouth it will string out into incoherent sentences and random words thrown in there.

“Look Lauren,” I begin with a huge sigh, “never, ever in a million years did I ever mean to hurt you or cause you any pain. It really is inexcusable what I did to you and what I continued to do to you after we fell apart. It wasn’t fair to you and it wasn’t fair to me, or to any of the people that we know and love. Not a day goes by where I don’t think about the things I said and did to you and I do feel like an asshole and a jerk off for not believing in you and not taking the time to realize what we had was precious. I was stupid, a jerk, I was every bad word you could string together and there are no excuses for my actions. I just wanted to let you know that I’m sorry and if there’s still something there between us, well I’m pretty sure you don’t need me to tell you twice on where I stand.”

God that felt good to get off my chest. I am praying to Jesus above that she’ll respond with a positive answer – that she’ll tell me that she’s ready to start fresh, turn to a new page. I don’t know what I’ll do if her answer is of the negative persuasion. She’s silent for a moment…well it actually seems like a long time to me and I want nothing more than to fall to heap on the floor.

The hope inside is dying…

“Look, Justin…” her voice fades away and I can feel my chest start to constrict. The room is closing in around me and everything is spinning. I can hear the answer in her intake of breath and I almost want to throw her out of the house before she can vocalize her disappointment and her request that I stay the fuck away from her.

“If we are going to try this again, I want to go slow…” she bites her lip and I want to rush forward and take her up in my arms. “So slow that we’re going backwards. I don’t want to rush into things like we did the last time. If we’re going to do this, I want to do it right. That means no moving back into your place; I’ll stay with Elliot at his apartment…” the little growl in my throat pops up before I have a chance to harness it. Lauren gives me a quizzical look and I sigh heavily.

“Is it a good idea that you stay with Elliot? I mean he’s head over heels in love with you,” I explain. I can’t help that I’m still jealous the little twerp gets to spend just about every waking moment with the love of my life. I’m sure he stands over her bed while she sleeps and has a mini shrine of her stashed underneath a loose floorboard of his bedroom.

“I know that he has feelings for me and we’ve discussed it like adults,” Lauren explains sternly, “I’m staying with Elliot. Get past the whole jealousy thing and realize that I won’t ever like Elliot like that. As I was saying,” Lauren pushes on, “we can date, we can hang out at each other’s places, but I don’t want to get into anything too crazy like moving back in or start with a real serious relationship. As much as I hate to say it, we need to learn to trust each other again and that might take time.”

I sigh heavily and look past her at the hallway where Trace disappeared. I know that there wasn’t a cake and the little troll is probably hanging behind a corner to listen to my exchange with Lauren, but I wish he would show up and break up the daunting and somewhat disappointing rapport I’m experiencing with my once-serious-but-now-not-so-serious girlfriend.

“Don’t you love me anymore?” I blurt out before I can get a hold on my words. God I feel like such a needy little bitch.

“Believe me, I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t love you,” she responds and that makes me feel a little bit better.

“Then why can’t we be the way we were?” I all but whine. I’m sorry, but all I can think of is what we had and the fact that she doesn’t want to jump right back into it is making me mad. I don’t want to have to work at it! I know what we could be if she would only stop this whole ‘I’m a hurt female so I’m going to move cautiously,’ bullshit.

“Because it was obviously too fast and you were getting ready to leave to travel the world without me…” Lauren starts but I interrupt without at second thought.

“Yeah, but I told you time and time again to come!”

“I wanted to make something of myself without you by my side twenty-four seven!” she exclaims. Jesus, can we make it through ten minutes without being at each other’s throats. What happened to the time when we would fight just to tease the other and end with a kiss or some other sort of affection? I can tell she’s waiting for me to take our argument further but I stop it before it can escalate. I want to show her that I can be adult about this whole situation.

“Fine, we’ll take it slow,” I respond. She looks surprised that I would end our disagreement and I can see just a hint of respect and what looks to be a hint of admiration in her features. “Are you doing anything tonight?” I ask her.

“No, why?”

“I figured we could see a movie or something?” I suggest hopefully. God I can only wish that she’ll take this with a grain of salt and realize that I’m trying to make a damn good effort to respect her wishes. It’s taking a lot of self control to not jump on her right now and shove my tongue down her throat.

“I’d like that,” she says with a small smile. Well, I can wait and hope for the shoving of tongue down throat for the second date.

Like Lauren said, take it slow.