That Blue Gibson

CH 61

Dave had changed his mind at least four times, stalking up and down the hallway leading to her hotel room as he built and then lost the nerve to use the room key she had given him. He stopped midway between the elevators and her room to weigh his options. Option one was to leave, to go home and pretend like the last month had never happened, like she hadn't blown into his life like a hurricane and completely upended everything. Option two was to go in there and fix this, to try to figure out where she was coming from and where her mind was at when she acted like a fucking nutcase. He knew if he chose the first option, he would have to endure another year of torture on the second leg of the tour, all while knowing he was making everyone else around him miserable. If he chose the second option, it could backfire and he'd be just as miserable as if he didn't try or there was remote possibility that things with Liz would work out. Deciding that he owed it to everyone that was involved in the second leg of the tour, he turned towards Liz's room and pulled her room key from his pocket.

The sitting room was dark, the shades on the windows surrounding the fireplace were drawn and the only light source was coming from under her bedroom door. He felt his way towards her bedroom, not bothering to knock before quietly opening the door.

He felt his heart drop a little at the sight of her neatly made bed and spotless bedroom. The nightstands that usually held her jewelry and phone were bare, the makeup counter was back to its original duty as a desk and all her extra blankets and pillows were nowhere to be seen. The bathroom light was on and he craned his neck to see that the counter where her toothbrush and random hair ties were usually strewn about was also bare.

He checked the closet and momentarily thought he might have wandered into the wrong room, but her perfume still hung in the air. That floral smell that was eerily familiar, but frustratingly unidentifiable reminded him of the two of them locked together in that tiny room just before the Oscars party. The memory popped unbidden into his mind and he quickly shut the door to block it.

He headed back to the sitting room, wondering why she would give him a key only to leave, when he nearly tripped over a pile of blankets laying between the two couches and spilling out into the room. Letting his eyes adjust to the dark, he crouched down to Liz as she slept on the floor in front of him. An overnight bag had been tossed onto the couch, waiting for her long flight to England and he wondered if he should even wake her. She had a ten hour flight ahead of her, with Depp... maybe this was a bad idea after all.

"Andy?" she stirred a little, running the back of her hand across her eyes and looking around in the dark.

Well, no going back now. "Nope."

There was a brief silence before she moved to sit up, "Sorry, I-"

"Stop apologizing. Why aren't you in bed?" his voice wasn't cold, but it wasn't very friendly either. He sounded like a father that had caught his kid sneaking in after curfew.

She looked back at the open bedroom door and shrugged. "I couldn't sleep... in there," she said sadly. Truthfully she probably could have, but there were too many memories of him and she had to force herself to into the sitting room so she wouldn't cry. She was scared to look at him now for the same reason.

Dave searched her face for a second, then stood and offered her his hand, "Come on."

Liz let him pull her up and instantly wrapped her arms around herself. She'd been too tired to locate pajamas in her luggage and had fallen asleep in her white shirt and skimpy underwear, but now she felt incredibly exposed. Dave crossed his arms over his chest and stared down at her, watching her squirm a little under his gaze.

"Liz," his voice was low, almost angry sounding.

"Yeah?" she braced herself. Here it is. He's done. Bye Dave, it was nice. How much is tattoo removal again?