"I don't think I can do this anymore." I breathed.
"What do you mean? I don't deserve this!" Emma retorted.
"I can't be beaten up by you anymore! You're lucky I didn't press charges the first time. I gave you a second chance Emma, and this is what I get? No. That's not right." Evan softly explained, trying to hide his frustration.
"But..." Emma sighed, "Fine. I don't need you Evan. We've been together long enough. I'm not going to be in season four anyways. You will probably never see me again!"
"Shh. Don't scream. I really don't feel like paparazzi getting all over this. I'm going to Boston to start shooting season four now. Without you. Goodbye Emma." As I ended the conversation, I rushed to the door, trying not to miss the flight.
As I shut the old, white door, I heard Emma start to wimper like a dog. She looks like one too I thought to myself. The pain kept throbbing in my left knee from when she kicked me, so it was difficult to walk. I rubbed my aching lip with my knuckle, only to see blood coming off on my hand. I was so pissed. Emma overreacts so much!
I saw my taxi a block away in the Los Angeles streets. I started jogging towards it, not wanting to be late to the airport. As I hopped in the small car, I checked my phone. So many fucking Instagram notifications! People really wanted me to post a new picture... but of what? I mean the only free time I have is right here, right now, but people don't want to see the interior of a taxi!
"Fourteen dollars please." The Latino driver said.
I handed him a twenty telling him to keep the change, and he gave me a grateful nod. Standing up, stretching, and smelling the gasoline-filled air was surprisingly refreshing. I started to board the plane. Right as I walked on the crowded aircraft, I found my seat F2 and looked out the window, finding myself falling deeper and deeper into sleep.
- - -
As I walked off the plane, I felt my backpack getting heavier. I was becoming very drowsy. But the moment I stepped out into the bitter Boston air, I perked up, and my eyes shot open. Giving a little shiver, I walked hurriedly down the streets, and started heading to my new apartment.
I've only been to boston one other time. It was only for a little while, and I never got used to the weather. There's always snow, and you are always shivering! As I noticed my feet start to feel numb, my apartment was in sight. It didn't look like much, but I was used to that.
I entered the code above the doorknob with my frozen index finger. 4173. Easy.
Opening the door, I was gitty to see what was inside. To my surprise, this apartment was really nice! Light hardwood floors, and sky blue furniture all throughout. I slowly walked across the living room, and turned my head to see my bedroom. It was a white king bed, with a blue nightstand. Across from it, was a 36" flat screen. Cozy, I blurted in my head.
- - -
After unpacking all my sweatpants, flannels, and dark sweatshirts into my dresser, I turned on the TV. I plunged in my bed only to hear a name on the news channel that was on.
"Emma Roberts," the reporter started, "Has allegedly split with her ex-boyfriend, Evan Peters, well known as a star on American Horror Story. We do not know if Emma will b-"
I slammed the power button on the remote. Im sick of news, its annoying. All bullshit.
Looking down at my watch, I noticed it was 2:00pm. I had to get in the shower and head off to get my script for the pilot episode.
Reading over my script was awesome. I love doing a sequel to season 1, and working with Taissa more. I understand lots of people want us to be together, but I love her as a sister, and I could never date my sister.
The taxi dropped me off at a local bakery that I normally got coffee at. I opened the door and closed it, with my bare hand on the glass window, only to find my hand stuck, because of the frozen dew. I was scared to rip my hand off, afraid it would bleed. Funny, that's just like my relationship with Emma and why it lasted so long. I was scared.
I finally got the courage to peel my hand off like an orange peel, then turning around and sauntering into the bakery. Thank god it's fucking warm in here I thought.
As usual, I looked around at the interior then walked up to the register.
"Medium Frappe, 2 packets," I moped.
"Ok sir, that will be $3.29"
Handing him the wrinkled, green bills and coins, I heard the jingle bells ring near the door. I love stores that make the door ring when a costomer enters.
The clerks sweaty hands handled the coffee in a rush. When he handed it to me, I found myself grinning because of the warm comfort it brought to my chilly hands. Turning around, I felt a sudden force bump into me, leading to my coffee dropping on the brown tile floor.
"Oh my fucki-"
"I'm so god damn sorry!" I belted. I scared myself because of how much my voice overpowered the feminine voice. I jolted my head up, looking at the victim. I suddenly forgot about the spilled coffee around each of our shoes, and I guess she felt the same way judging by her glistening grey eyes.
Her hair was in a bun at the top of her head, and it was a perfect blonde color, fitting her figure. Her thin face with plump lips just sent a shiver down my spine. Although she looked quite a bit younger than me, I couldn't lie. I was attracted to her.
I noticed her eyes getting wider and wider. The clouds of drowsiness quickly faded from them, and the parades of joy replaced.
Oh god. She's just another fan.
"Evan Peters. I-I am delighted to finally meet you! ...How's Emma?"
I was surprised at how calm she was. I could tell she was holding in excitement and that last line wasn't as enthusiastic, I could tell she wasn't a fan of Emma.
"We broke up. Didn't you hear it on the news?" I questioned
"Really? Oh gosh I didn't! I'm so sorry!" She sympathized.
"No is fine really," I breathed, "I knew it wouldn't work out."
"Sir and Ma'am. Moves please." An African janitor said.
I completely forget about the situation I was in. We quickly said sorry and walked over to a table, placing ourselves across from each other.