“Oh this is just ridiculous.” Hillary thought, looking around her apartment. It had been a week since the fight, and the place was a mess. Looking over at the clock on her small stove, Hillary sighed. It was only ten. She slowly walked over to the couch, picking up the smashed picture frame lying beside it. She let the glass fall from the frame before turning it over to look at the picture.

It was from the summer before, when she and Dave, her boyfriend of a year and a half, had gone into New York City for the day, just to explore. They had ended up at the South Street Seaport, one of Hillary’s favorite places in the world, and had taken the picture by the water on a pier, with the sun setting behind them. Hillary sighed again, slipping the picture from the broken frame, placing it face down on the coffee table. Then she went to get her cleaning supplies.

After the fight, Hillary had locked herself in her apartment for a day and a half, getting completely wasted and trashing the place, though she had somehow managed to avoid the corner where Dave had been when she threw the picture at his head. She was just grateful she had missed, and that the glass had crashed against the wall instead. It had been at this point that Dave had left in a rage. It was also when Hillary had started to cry.

But, of course, in true Hillary fashion, the crying didn’t last long. Not ten minutes passed before she was on her feet again, searching for the vodka. After that, everything was a little fuzzy, until almost two days later, when Hillary’s best friend Alicia had broken into the apartment, found her friend completely trashed, and had sobered her up.

Apparently Hillary had missed lunch with Alicia, which was what compelled her to check on Hillary. For the rest of the day, Alicia stayed with the other girl, listening to her story and helping her through her massive hangover.

Hillary regretted getting drunk completely. Being 25, she was legal, but never drank, knowing that she couldn’t hold her liquor. But, as they say, drastic times call for drastic measures.

Hillary pushed the thoughts from her mind, instead focusing on cleaning her neglected apartment.



*



*



*


In a bar across the street, a man sat alone, his eyes occasionally drifting to the door, as though he was expecting someone to sweep in. But he had been sitting there for two hours, still alone. And after more then a few beers plus a shot of whiskey, his most recent drink of choice, he was a little bit drunk and majorly desperate.

It had been a week since he had stormed out of their apartment and he had regretted doing so every single day. Sure, at the time it had seemed like a great idea – she had been throwing glass objects at his head, after all. But now he just felt stupid. Why hadn’t he gone back? He could have at least tried to talk to her!

But he hadn’t.

Because he was scared.

Dave couldn’t imagine life without Hillary. Having her mad at him was bad enough, but having her not want him… That would be unbearable.

So, he had left. He had given her space. He was still giving her space – waiting for her to contact him. And so the fact that she still hadn’t called was agonizing. What if she never called? What if she decided she was done with him?

The thought alone was enough to send him into a panic. He took another shot. His hand then went for his cell phone sitting in front of him on the bar. He automatically hit the number 1 – Hillary’s speed dial – but he didn’t hit send. He wanted to call her so bad. He needed her.

But it was evident that she didn’t want to talk to him.

I can’t do this. He thought. I need to get out of here.



*



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*


A few hours later, Hillary finally shut off the vacuum. Looking around, she let out a long sigh. She was done. Every piece of crap was back where it belonged. The dishes were washed and put away, the garbage taken out, and the floor picked up. Now she just needed to get rid of the stupid vacuum. Wrapping the hose around her arm, she walked to her hall closet. Hillary quickly shoved the vacuum in and closed the door before it had a chance to tumble out.

Walking back to the living room, Hillary suddenly decided to change course and get a snack from the kitchen. She turned the corner quickly and her elbow knocked a box off of an end table. The box hit the floor, its contents spilling everywhere.

“S***!” She exclaimed as she went to pick it all up. Crouching down, she grabbed the now empty box and immediately froze. Scattered all around her floor were pictures of her and Dave. At the beach, with their friends, on vacation… they were all of her favorite pictures from the time they had started dating, up to now.

Hillary felt her eyes start to water.

Didn’t he care about her anymore?! Didn’t he remember all of these amazing times?! He hadn’t even called dafter their fight. He hadn’t come running back, yelling how they were both being stupid. But no, he hadn’t even called.

She wondered if he was thinking of her, like she was always thinking of him.

She couldn’t do this right now. She didn’t want to think about this anymore.

Leaving the pictures in the middle of the floor, she quickly made her way to the kitchen, rifling through her refrigerator. First, she pulled out a beer, but immediately put it back. She needed something stronger. Next she went to the cupboard above the fridge and pulled a large bottle of Tequila.

Perfect.

She quickly got out a shot glass and downed it, foregoing the lime and salt. Sitting on her counter, in between the phone and her bottle, she quickly poured herself another shot, downing it just as fast as the first.

Slamming the tiny glass down on the table, Hillary let out a long, shaky breath. Her hand idly wandered to the phone on her right. Without really thinking, she punched in Dave’s number, but stopped, her thumb held above the “send” button. She didn’t press it. She couldn’t.

She wanted to talk to him so badly. She needed him – and she didn’t have the strength to deny it. It would have been a relief to simply hear his voice over the stupid crackling voicemail. But still she didn’t let her thumb drop.

He didn’t want her.

In one swift move, she dropped the phone from her right hand and swiped the entire bottle of tequila off the table with her left. Without a pause, she brought the mouth of the bottle to her lips, holding it by the throat, and took a swig.

When she was done, she lowered to bottle a bit, but not before considering taking a bit more. She stopped herself.

No. She thought, placing the bottle firmly on the table. I’m already a little drunk. I refuse to get wasted by myself again.

Making up her mind, Hillary stood, grabbing her keys from the table by the door and leaving her apartment, locking the door behind her. She didn’t care if it was a quarter after one in the morning. If she was going to get drunk, she wouldn’t be the only one.

Hillary quickly crossed the street, stopping in front of the bar that was there. She reached for the handle, but just before she grasped it, she stopped herself.

What if he’s in there?! She thought franticly. Hillary quickly spun around, her back to the pub door and ran her hands through her thick, bronze hair, pushing it from her face.

There was a great chance that he was in there. This was there favorite bar, a place they both frequented, whether it be for food and drink, or just to hang out.

What the hell do I care?!?! Hillary thought with a vengeance. So what if she saw him?! Making up her mind to just go in, Hillary spun around again to face the door, just as it swung open.

“Ouch!” She yelped, the door catching her elbow.

“Oh s***! I’m sor- Hillary?!” Her head jerked up at the voice of the man who had hit her with the door.

“Dave?!”

“What are you doing here?” Dave asked, seemingly taken aback.

She slapped him. She couldn’t help it. Maybe it was the alcohol in her system, but one minute she was standing there staring up at him, completely dumfounded, and the next, his cheek was red and her hand stung.

“What the – ” Dave started but Hillary cut him off.

“How dare you. Why didn’t you call me?! And what the hell are you doing at a bar?!?” She was furious.

“I could ask you those same questions.” Dave spat back.

“Ugh!” She yelled, caught between frustration and exasperation. She made to slap him again, hoping to let go of some of her frustration, but he caught her wrist, holding it so she couldn’t try again.

“Let. Go.” Her voice was ice cold.

“No.” He said. “What he hell Hillary?” She lifted her left hand, ready to backhand him, but just like the last time, he gripped her wrist before she could. Deciding not to take any chances, he spun her around so her back was pressed against the door. He let go of her wrists, allowing her arms to hang at her sides. He placed his hands on either side of her head, blocking her in, and stood close enough so that her slapping him effectively, was out of the question.

“Would you stop that?!” He yelled, as she tried pushing him away, but it was no use. He was a full head taller and much stronger then her. She wasn’t going anywhere.

“Ugh! Get off of me!” She wailed, and when she noticed her hands were free, she pounded on his chest.

After a few more minutes, she stopped. Neither of them moved as she watched the ground and he watched her.

“Why didn’t you call?” Hillary said, quietly this time. She sounded broken. It broke his heart, knowing it was his fault.

“I thought you wouldn’t want me to… I was waiting for you to call me…” She looked up at him.

“You are such an idiot.” She exclaimed, smacking his chest again. He couldn’t help but chuckle.

Dave snatched up her hand again, before she could drop it, and held it against his chest, just below his shoulder. He took another small step forward, so Hillary was pressed completely against the door, with no space between her and him.

“I’m sorry” He whispered it just before he bent his head and kissed her. The kiss was light, but Hillary felt the meaning behind it. She wrapped her arms around his neck, weaving her fingers into his hair. After a minute she pulled back.

“So am I” She murmured against his lips. She kissed him lightly again. After a moment she pulled back, leaning her head against the door behind her, looking up at him.

“Come home.” She said softly and it was almost a question.

“I’ve waited all week to hear you say that.” Dave smiled as he leaned down to kiss her again.