Stories Based On Taylor Swift Songs

FEARLESS: 37. That's When

37. That's When (4/23/21)

I took a deep breath before knocking on the door. It felt like my heart was going to pop out of my chest and splatter onto the floor. After a few moments, Keith answered the door, and even though I hadn't said anything yet, the guilt was creeping in.

"What's up, babe?" He asked, crossing his arms against his chest and leaning against the door frame.

"Can I come in?" Keith moved aside and gestured to the living room. I took a seat on the couch; I had only been inside his house a handful of times, and yet it seemed so familiar. My face twisted into a frown, and he picked up on my body language right away.

"Is something wrong?" He sat next to me and took me by the hand. I had to stop myself from pulling away.

"Keith, we need to talk about something," I began, choosing my words wisely. "I've really enjoyed the last few months we spent together, but I think I need a break. Work is taking up most of my time, and I feel like I cannot commit to this relationship. I wouldn't want you feeling like I'm not giving you my all or anything."

He raised an eyebrow, and a small laugh was playing at his lips. I wondered if he thought I was joking. "Was it something I did?"

"You did nothing wrong." I squeezed his hand then let go, wiping away stray tears with the back of my sweater.

"I thought you were happy," he whispered, his voice smaller than a mouse.

I turned to look him in the eye. "I am happy. But I know I'm not doing enough in this relationship, so I think we should take a break."

He nodded solemnly, as if he was giving up the fight. This had been less painful than I imagined, and yet his smile left a stain on my heart. We had been dating for half a year, and at the beginning, our relationship was everything I had dreamed about and more. I thought Keith was my person.

Then, I received a promotion at work, which should have been a moment of celebration. Instead, I found myself working late nights and cancelling plans with friends and Keith. He never complained, but I could sense something was wrong. Or maybe I was just imagining it.

"I'll be back soon." I rose from the couch after squeezing his hand one last time. He stayed glued to the spot, and I watched him while walking to the door. Before I left, I heard him whisper, "I know."

Three months passed before Keith became a frequent denizen in my mind. He popped up here and there; if I was watching television and a familiar commercial came on, I thought about an inside joke the two of us shared. I remembered him when I drove past our favorite restaurants, or the movie theater where we had our first date.

But three months after our last meeting, something was itching in the back of my mind, as if Keith's memory wanted more attention than I was giving him. And once he made himself comfortable, I couldn't stop thinking about him. In the morning, when I woke up, I wondered what he was planning on doing that day. At night, I thought about the possibility of him being with another girl. We hadn't made any plans to continue dating after taking a break, but part of me believed he wouldn't stray; he would wait for me.

Things at work began to even out. My hours were reasonable, and I only found myself staying after hours to work on longer assignments once a week. Towards the end of May, around the three month mark, my mother even called me and asked what was going on with Keith and me. I told her we were taking a break, and it was my decision. In an embarrassed voice, my mother said, "I always liked you two together, but it's none of my business."

For some reason, my mother's approval caused everything to make sense. The three month break had done me some good; I was able to catch up on work assignments, and learned to stop canceling plans and put myself first. But now, with everything falling into place and the summer coming up, I found myself thinking about Keith more and more.

On a Friday after work, I climbed into my car and shrugged my blazer off before turning the key. It would be so easy to stop by Keith's house; I still had the directions, and it was a half hour away. The dark clouds in the sky were looming, but my heart ignored the signs and told my brain to start driving.

At the first intersection, the raindrops began to fall onto the cars and pedestrians. I turned my windshield wipers on and continued driving; a little rain was not going to stop me.

It was not just a light drizzle. Soon, my wipers were moving at three times speed, and thunder boomed in the distance. Streaks of lightning lit up the evening sky. Some cars were pulling into nearby parking lots to wait the storm out. I was only five minutes away from Keith's house.

I pulled my car into the driveway, and the headlights reflected off the windows. There was movement inside the house, and it dawned on me that Keith might not be home. Then, when I turned the car off and stepped out into the rain, I saw the front door open.

He stood on the porch under a black umbrella. His hair and beard had grown a bit longer, but it was still him. When he saw me, he smiled.

"I told you I would be back soon," I called, kicking off my shoes; they landed on the passenger seat. Before I could think about what I was doing, I was running towards the house and standing in front of the gate at the top of the driveway. Keith dropped his umbrella, and his white shirt was clinging to his body in seconds. He met me at the gate, took my face in his hands, and kissed me.

"I missed you," he said in a small voice. Our foreheads met as the rain fell around us.

"I missed you, too," I replied. "Work is back to normal, and then my mom said she missed you, and..."

"I have your mom's approval?" He chuckled, and then I was laughing and kissing him again. We only stopped when he pulled away, and with a coy smile asked, "Did you ever think of me when you were gone?"

I looked down at his hands; he was still holding mine. With a sigh, I said, "I thought about you every day, even when I didn't want to."

"I couldn't stop thinking about you," he said. Then, he kissed me again, and the three months apart suddenly meant nothing.