WHY THEY LEFT (#Wattys2015)

24. Hot and Fast and Angry

Danny
Cherry Wine by Hozier

"Bitch," I mumbled under my breath, walking away from the slammed door and into my bedroom. A small part of me wanted to go out there, listen to her shitty apology and accept it anyways just so I could hold her in my arms. But a bigger part of me wanted to get the hell out of here as soon as possible.

Grabbing a black duffel bag from my the closet, I began shoving the dirty clothes off the top of my laundry pile inside frustratedly, trying not to think about Rosalie outside. Walking into the bathroom, I slid all my toiletries off the countertops and into my bag, catching bits of my reflection as I did so. Jaw clenched so tight it twitched, angry eyes. I looked scary.

I slung my bag onto the bed, pulling my shirt sticky with sweat over my head and replacing it with an equally dirty one. Opening my bedside table drawer, I stared down at the orange bottles inside, wondering if I should take them with me. I didn't.

I was at the door, keys in hand, when I halted. Slowly, I walked towards the window and peeked through the blinds. Rosalie was still there, pacing back and forth outside of her car, hands tangled in her chocolate brown hair.

"Goddamn it," I whispered, shaking my head. Taking a deep breath, I shook it off. She deserves this, Danny. Think about what she did to you.

Just the thought of her shrugging me off made my blood boil, and I was outside in an instant. As soon as the door opened, her eyes darted up to mine, filled with hope and longing. I returned her gaze with a blank expression, looking away as I walked towards my car.

"Danny, w-what's going on?" She asked, the quiver in her voice substantially evident, no matter how hard she was trying to hide it. I gritted my teeth as I resisted to urge to speak. She doesn't deserve it, she doesn't deserve it. I repeated the phrase in my mind over and over again, trying my hardest to believe it. But I didn't.

Before I could think too much about it, I dropped my bag beside my car and walked over to her. The hopeful look in her eyes turned to fear as I approached, but softening my expression was not happening.

When I reached her, I immediately grabbed her by the wrist and jerked her against me. Closing my eyes, I breathed her in before looking deeply into those Bambi eyes. "I'm leaving, Rosalie," I said sternly.

Her breathing was uneven, her chest rising and falling at increased speed against mine. "W-where?" She choked out, struggling to form coherent sentences.

Sometimes I think about going back someday. To get away from this place; from my past, even my present. Spend my days fixing up the shack and my nights walking the shore. "Florida," I responded. "My grandad has a place down there."

I saw her wince as I spoke, and as I soon as loosened my grip on her wrist, she backed away from me. "Why are you doing this to me. I said I was sorry, I came here to-"

"Save it, Rosalie," I interrupted, my voice harder than before; rougher. "Don't ask me to feel sorry for you after what you've done to me." With that, I turned on my heel and walked towards my car.

"Wait!" She yelled, walking after me. But I didn't stop. "Wait, Danny," she said, grabbing my wrist. I turned around to face her, already beginning to feel my blood pressure rise.

She was breathing heavily, and I struggled to keep my eyes away from her heaving chest. "What," I asked, no give in my tone.

"Can I just, can we just," she stuttered, reaching up and tentatively wrapping her arms around my neck. I clenched my jaw, as she stood on her tiptoes, bright pink lips just millimeters from mine.

"No," I said sternly.

"What?" She asked, tilting her head back to look at me.

"I said no," I replied, lightly shoving her off me. Her expression was shocked as I watched the heat rise to her cheeks. And finally, a tear run down her face.

Not falling for it. With a deep breath, I turned away from her and got into the driver's seat of my car, tossing the duffel bag into the passenger seat. Turning the key in the ignition, the engine sputtered. "Not today, not today," I mumbled under my breath, trying again. The engine faltered before starting.

Okay, I thought. Here goes nothing. Throwing my arm across the passenger seat, I backed out of my driveway, leaving Rosalie standing in my parking lot.

7 Hours Later....

"$2.18 is your change, have a nice day," the drive-thru lady spoke, handing me a brown paper bag along with my change.

It was 1AM, and I still had three hours left to drive in order to get to my grandad's place. Meaning, three more hours to think about Rosalie. I promised myself that once I got there, I wouldn't think about her. But I had the whole ride to reminisce. Otherwise known as, get over. It's easier said than done.

Pulling my burger from the brown paper bag, I unwrapped it and took a bite. I hadn't eaten since I left, so obviously grease on top of grease was the best option to curb my appetite.

I have yet to call Hank and tell him I'm taking a vacation, mainly because I don't know if I'm taking a vacation. Hell, I might want to stay there, live on the beach. I'm sure there's a job somewhere I'd be qualified for.

While the thought of living on the beach made me warm inside, I felt a twinge of something else. Guilt? Maybe. Sadness? Probably. I couldn't help but think of what I would be leaving behind. Or who.

-Matt. This chapter is dedicated to @HelloDGoodBye thanks for your vote!
Next chapter is dedicated to a random commenter! Comment for you chance!