I'll Build A Bridge Through The Fire, For You I Would Crawl From New York To California
Chapter: 9/?
Word Count: 1,504
Song: New York To California- Mat Kearney
Summary: She can see her whole life in boxes, packed up ready to be moved by a boy who she's not even sure loves her....
.......this are getting really short and really crappy.
She makes him breakfast in the morning, but refuses to bring it to him so she practically has to drag him out of bed, half dressed, and into the kitchen.
They sit next to each other instead of across with her feet resting on his chair and his fingertips brush up and down the soft skin on her inner arm. He tells her about how the feud with the lables keep heating up which probably means that something will be settled soon and they'll have to see where they're going to go from there and she sits there listening trying to figure out if she's involved in any of that. She guesses that she would be but then she thought that she was going to be with Tom forever and that didn't play out at all like she thought it was. It's better not to guess.
He lets her go when his phone buzzes on the table and he has to reach for it without putting down his fork. He looks at his phone and frowns.
"What is it?"
She sounds alarmed and he waves his hand, bending elegantly at the wrist to let her know that it's nothing. "Nothing really. Just a text from my mom asking me why I didn't tell her about the proposal."
“What?”
She sounds alarmed and he waves his hand at her, bending elegantly at the wrist to show her that it’s nothing to worry about. “It’s probably nothing. Probably just some stupid story that the media came up with. I don’t know. Maybe somebody at the tower told them what we did. That would be a good way to propose though, wouldn’t it?” He nods at her, chuckles and scrunches his nose up at his good idea. “Oh. Yup.” He shows her the screen and she pretends to look at it. “Romantic proposal at Sears Tower.” He mumbles a recap of the article which she doesn’t listen to either. “Maybe someday they’ll actually get a story right.” He says as stands and grabs both of their plates, texting with his other hand on his way to the sink.
She’s not sure what to think after their talk from last night. He choked a little too hard on his wine when she mentioned marriage. She knows it’s too soon for that. She really does but she would like to know that the idea isn’t laughable. That it’s somewhere in him; buried deep down at her gets his shit together with the music labels and she gets her shit together with her whole life; figures out what she wants to do and everything. She wants to know that marriage isn’t a word, or action that will cause him to choke.
But she decides to let it drop and let it go. What will be will be. Just go with it, see where it goes, live and let live and a hundred other stupid sayings and metaphors that are all code for her shutting the hell up and not over thinking something that could potentially be really great.
The media kind of gets bored with them and their happiness. They back off of them and then get back on them with stories about proposals, jealousy, marriages, break ups, babies, and divorces. What they say is everything and nothing. He needs it. He needs to keep his name out there, on people’s minds and in magazines. He’s the famous one. And with fame comes gossip and she’s a firm believer that if she doesn’t like it then she can leave. She didn’t really sign up for that. Not really, not anymore. He did warn her in the very beginning but its different now. She’s really in this and what goes on in the pages of magazines don’t really mean a thing to her. Although she does with the baby rumors would knock off completely. She’d like to freely eat ice cream and French fries without the worry of gaining a little weight and
then everyone thinking that she’s knocked up.
Things finally get settled with the record labels right before Christmas.
He’s so excited on the phone when he calls her. She can imagine him bouncing on the sidewalk in the falling snow, his gloved hand awkwardly holding the phone and his breath coming out in white puffs in front of his mouth.
"They want us to move to California.”
Her mind skips over the ‘us’ and goes straight to California.
“Oh. Well. Congrats.” Her voice is shaky.
“Congrats to the both of us. I’m taking you with me.” He says, full of joy and she can hear the snow crunch beneath his feet as he bounces on the sidewalk.
She can’t say no. She knew that this was a possibility when it started. His career was the point of the whole thing.
So she’s going to California. No more Sears Tower, no lakes, no snow, job, friends, anything she knows. Dreams. Just him and his goals.
It seems like a natural progression to everyone. To them they’ve been together for almost a year. But to her it’s too fast. Really only just three months. He hasn’t even said that he loves her yet. He’s said it in interviews; to reporters. ‘I love my girlfriend. She never asked for this. Fame, cameras in her face all the time but she handles it all with ease and grace.’
How is she just supposed to pick up everything she has and everything that she’s known without knowing? This would all be so much easier if she had someone that she could talk to. Her friends and surprisingly enough, her mother, all tell her that she should go. They tell her that it would be good for the relationship and sometimes you have to give up the things that make you comfortable to have a good love.
That’s not really what she wants to hear. She wants someone to think like she does. To lay down the risks and faults of it all so she doesn’t seem like such an ungrateful bitch for second guessing this opportunity.
He’s the only one she can talk to. The only one that really gets it. The only one that she really should be talking to.
She works up the courage a week before they’re supposed to leave while they’re lying in bed together. She’s wide awake, he’s fast asleep. The room is all boxed up. All their things are mixed together in cardboard, her life in Chicago is visibly slipping away for a boy that she’s not sure even loves her.
She takes a deep breath then drapes her hand across his chest. He hums a response but doesn’t open his eyes.
“Do you love me?” She whispers and for a second she thinks that maybe he didn’t hear but then his eyes fly open and her stomach drops. “Oh god, never mind, forget I said that. Oh my god.”
Somewhere in the panic he had grabbed her hand and holds it against his chest, preventing her from rolling away and forgetting this whole thing.
“Of course I love you, why would you think that I wouldn’t.” He says and she lets out a relieved breath. The sight of the filled boxes doesn’t terrify her anymore.
“You just never said it…to me. But then I guess that I never have either. I don’t know. Maybe we’re not that kind of couple. You know the kind that does that thing. We don’t have to say it.”
He squeezes her hand and moves so he’s over her, his hands lacing through hers, his knees on either side of her hips and she finally has to make eye contact with him because he’s right there.
“I love you.” He says and a small smile crosses her lips. “You should know I’m not the kind of a guy that will stick around if I’m unhappy.”
“You kind of had to be with me though, for those first few months.”
“No way. I wouldn’t have gone along with all of that if I didn’t truly like you. But I love you now. I know that.” He ducks his head down and presses his lips to hers and she breathes into his touch. “And I wouldn’t be dragging you halfway across the country with me if I didn’t love you. God, Nora.” She giggles as he reaches down to brush his fingers across her stomach, teasing her. His fingers move up her sides and back to her face, pushing some hair back, curling it back around her ear. “You love me or you still on the famous boyfriend ride?” He raises his eyebrows and she rolls her eyes and puts her hands on his shoulders and pushes.
She changes positions with him, now she’s kneeling about him, her fingers laced through his. She leans down. Her hair uncurling from behind her ear and falling into his face, tickling his cheeks and forehead.
Before she brushes her lips to his she’s whispers ‘I love you.’
Word Count: 1,504
Song: New York To California- Mat Kearney
Summary: She can see her whole life in boxes, packed up ready to be moved by a boy who she's not even sure loves her....
.......this are getting really short and really crappy.
She makes him breakfast in the morning, but refuses to bring it to him so she practically has to drag him out of bed, half dressed, and into the kitchen.
They sit next to each other instead of across with her feet resting on his chair and his fingertips brush up and down the soft skin on her inner arm. He tells her about how the feud with the lables keep heating up which probably means that something will be settled soon and they'll have to see where they're going to go from there and she sits there listening trying to figure out if she's involved in any of that. She guesses that she would be but then she thought that she was going to be with Tom forever and that didn't play out at all like she thought it was. It's better not to guess.
He lets her go when his phone buzzes on the table and he has to reach for it without putting down his fork. He looks at his phone and frowns.
"What is it?"
She sounds alarmed and he waves his hand, bending elegantly at the wrist to let her know that it's nothing. "Nothing really. Just a text from my mom asking me why I didn't tell her about the proposal."
“What?”
She sounds alarmed and he waves his hand at her, bending elegantly at the wrist to show her that it’s nothing to worry about. “It’s probably nothing. Probably just some stupid story that the media came up with. I don’t know. Maybe somebody at the tower told them what we did. That would be a good way to propose though, wouldn’t it?” He nods at her, chuckles and scrunches his nose up at his good idea. “Oh. Yup.” He shows her the screen and she pretends to look at it. “Romantic proposal at Sears Tower.” He mumbles a recap of the article which she doesn’t listen to either. “Maybe someday they’ll actually get a story right.” He says as stands and grabs both of their plates, texting with his other hand on his way to the sink.
She’s not sure what to think after their talk from last night. He choked a little too hard on his wine when she mentioned marriage. She knows it’s too soon for that. She really does but she would like to know that the idea isn’t laughable. That it’s somewhere in him; buried deep down at her gets his shit together with the music labels and she gets her shit together with her whole life; figures out what she wants to do and everything. She wants to know that marriage isn’t a word, or action that will cause him to choke.
But she decides to let it drop and let it go. What will be will be. Just go with it, see where it goes, live and let live and a hundred other stupid sayings and metaphors that are all code for her shutting the hell up and not over thinking something that could potentially be really great.
The media kind of gets bored with them and their happiness. They back off of them and then get back on them with stories about proposals, jealousy, marriages, break ups, babies, and divorces. What they say is everything and nothing. He needs it. He needs to keep his name out there, on people’s minds and in magazines. He’s the famous one. And with fame comes gossip and she’s a firm believer that if she doesn’t like it then she can leave. She didn’t really sign up for that. Not really, not anymore. He did warn her in the very beginning but its different now. She’s really in this and what goes on in the pages of magazines don’t really mean a thing to her. Although she does with the baby rumors would knock off completely. She’d like to freely eat ice cream and French fries without the worry of gaining a little weight and
then everyone thinking that she’s knocked up.
Things finally get settled with the record labels right before Christmas.
He’s so excited on the phone when he calls her. She can imagine him bouncing on the sidewalk in the falling snow, his gloved hand awkwardly holding the phone and his breath coming out in white puffs in front of his mouth.
"They want us to move to California.”
Her mind skips over the ‘us’ and goes straight to California.
“Oh. Well. Congrats.” Her voice is shaky.
“Congrats to the both of us. I’m taking you with me.” He says, full of joy and she can hear the snow crunch beneath his feet as he bounces on the sidewalk.
She can’t say no. She knew that this was a possibility when it started. His career was the point of the whole thing.
So she’s going to California. No more Sears Tower, no lakes, no snow, job, friends, anything she knows. Dreams. Just him and his goals.
It seems like a natural progression to everyone. To them they’ve been together for almost a year. But to her it’s too fast. Really only just three months. He hasn’t even said that he loves her yet. He’s said it in interviews; to reporters. ‘I love my girlfriend. She never asked for this. Fame, cameras in her face all the time but she handles it all with ease and grace.’
How is she just supposed to pick up everything she has and everything that she’s known without knowing? This would all be so much easier if she had someone that she could talk to. Her friends and surprisingly enough, her mother, all tell her that she should go. They tell her that it would be good for the relationship and sometimes you have to give up the things that make you comfortable to have a good love.
That’s not really what she wants to hear. She wants someone to think like she does. To lay down the risks and faults of it all so she doesn’t seem like such an ungrateful bitch for second guessing this opportunity.
He’s the only one she can talk to. The only one that really gets it. The only one that she really should be talking to.
She works up the courage a week before they’re supposed to leave while they’re lying in bed together. She’s wide awake, he’s fast asleep. The room is all boxed up. All their things are mixed together in cardboard, her life in Chicago is visibly slipping away for a boy that she’s not sure even loves her.
She takes a deep breath then drapes her hand across his chest. He hums a response but doesn’t open his eyes.
“Do you love me?” She whispers and for a second she thinks that maybe he didn’t hear but then his eyes fly open and her stomach drops. “Oh god, never mind, forget I said that. Oh my god.”
Somewhere in the panic he had grabbed her hand and holds it against his chest, preventing her from rolling away and forgetting this whole thing.
“Of course I love you, why would you think that I wouldn’t.” He says and she lets out a relieved breath. The sight of the filled boxes doesn’t terrify her anymore.
“You just never said it…to me. But then I guess that I never have either. I don’t know. Maybe we’re not that kind of couple. You know the kind that does that thing. We don’t have to say it.”
He squeezes her hand and moves so he’s over her, his hands lacing through hers, his knees on either side of her hips and she finally has to make eye contact with him because he’s right there.
“I love you.” He says and a small smile crosses her lips. “You should know I’m not the kind of a guy that will stick around if I’m unhappy.”
“You kind of had to be with me though, for those first few months.”
“No way. I wouldn’t have gone along with all of that if I didn’t truly like you. But I love you now. I know that.” He ducks his head down and presses his lips to hers and she breathes into his touch. “And I wouldn’t be dragging you halfway across the country with me if I didn’t love you. God, Nora.” She giggles as he reaches down to brush his fingers across her stomach, teasing her. His fingers move up her sides and back to her face, pushing some hair back, curling it back around her ear. “You love me or you still on the famous boyfriend ride?” He raises his eyebrows and she rolls her eyes and puts her hands on his shoulders and pushes.
She changes positions with him, now she’s kneeling about him, her fingers laced through his. She leans down. Her hair uncurling from behind her ear and falling into his face, tickling his cheeks and forehead.
Before she brushes her lips to his she’s whispers ‘I love you.’