My Escape Chapter 16

**Ok, so I feel like I owe you guys after that pathetic chapter 15, so I typed this up. It's very long, so I hope it makes it up to you! The first part is a little boring, but crucial to the story, so please bear through it. I hope you enjoy!! Please comment!!! (Oh and picture is of Kara)**
*~*~*~*Four Years Later*~*~*~*

"I’m so glad you’re back in town!" my dad exclaimed as soon as he opened his front door. His house was different than I had remembered from that day I left four years ago. The bricks outside seemed less shabby and there was a quaint little flower garden in the front yard. The house almost seemed cheerful. Maybe getting his two kids out of the house for four years had been good for him.

Well, I actually knew that it had been good for him. And the reason had just walked into the den with a big smile on her face. "So, you must be the Kara I’ve heard so much about," a cute red-head exclaimed, pulling me into a quick and somewhat awkward embrace.

Yes it’s true. My father has a girlfriend. And even more, they live together. You’d think I’d be devastated that he betrayed my mom by being with Sara, but I wasn’t. In fact, I was so blissfully happy for them. He seemed so happy all of the time now.

"And you’d be right," I joked, after we pulled away. She was so cute that it just made me want to say "aww" by looking at the two of them. She was a petite woman who couldn’t have weighed more than me and her vibrant red hair didn’t have the slightest grey hint to it.

Her slim nose had thin red wire glasses resting on it and was covered in freckles. Her mouth, small and thin, seemed to be turned into a never ending smile and happiness radiated off of her in waves. She was my dad’s One. I just knew it.

"So how was the trip home?" my dad asked, leading us all into the kitchen where a giant plate of chocolate chip cookies was resting on the new wooden dining table.

I sat down and immediately grabbed a cookie. "Tiring. The traffic in Connecticut is ridiculous."

"What kind of car you got?" my dad asked, earning an eye roll from me. He was a maniac about cars. In fact, when I had started looking for one a year ago, he had been the first guy I called.

"’09 Honda Accord. It’s not as flashy as you wanted, but it’s perfect for me," I informed him, taking another bite of my cookie.

He smiled bashfully and then grabbed a cookie off of the plate. He asked, "So what time are you going to look at apartments?"

"I actually have an appointment in three hours. I looked up some online and found it. It seems perfect." My own apartment. It was going to be fantastic. Even though I loved my dad to the core, I knew I’d be miserable living with him. And I wanted him and Sara to have their privacy.

Greg moved to Wisconsin a few weeks ago because he had been drafted to be play for the Packers. I hadn’t heard him so excited in his whole life. In fact, he had driven to New Haven to see me at Yale just to tell me.

He shook his head, "My daughter. The overachiever."

"That’s me," I told him with a smile. But I didn’t want to just be the overachiever. I wanted something more in my life. Maybe I was just being too greedy. I was already beyond lucky. I had graduated with honors from Yale and already had a journalism job lined up in town where I’d be making well over what most people my age do.

So who was I to complain, right?

Sara pointed out, "Greg, look how tired she looks. Why don’t you go get some rest before the appointment? Your room hasn’t changed."

As if on cue, a yawn escaped my tired lips. "I’m going to do just that right now." I stood up from the table and then pushed the chair in. "Oh, and the cookies were delicious by the way."

They both smiled at me and I could have sworn my heart erupted in cheers for my dad. He seemed so happy. As I climbed the stairs to my bedroom, it was like I got a major case of déjà vu. Everything was the same upstairs. It was almost as if no one had touched in the four years I had been gone.

The house brought back so many memories. It was like I could see myself sitting at my computer desk, typing away on an article while joking around with Oliver who would be lying on my bed, tossing a football up and down in the air. I couldn’t help but smile at the memory.

That boy from four years ago was still the only guy who had ever had my heart. Sure, I had dated in college and maybe had a one-night stand or two, but nothing compared to the curly haired football player from senior year. But, I was over him.

I would always cherish what we had and how he changed me, but I wasn’t still heartbroken like I had been four years ago. It had taken me a month to even stop thinking about him on a daily basis. Pathetic, huh?

But I’m twenty-two years old now and know that nothing should affect me that much. It had just been sad and now I’m humiliated to even think about it. I must have looked so pathetic back then.

In my room, a picture of Claire and I on my dresser caught my eye. It had been from the ninth grade dance after party; the only party I had gone to before that one senior year where I met Oliver. A black and silver boa draped itself across our shoulders and a leprechaun hat sat atop Claire’s head.

I missed that girl so much it was crazy. She had gotten accepted to a fashion institute in New York City and I hadn’t seen her since the day I left for college. Sure, we talked on the phone and everything, but nothing was the same as talking to her face-to-face.

Everything was different now. People were going in their own directions and leaving to different parts of the country. But me? I was stuck back in my home town. But it wasn’t going to be that horrible. And since no one was the boss of me, I could always leave.

The alarm clock on my Blackberry phone woke me up from my deep nap two hours later. I rolled around in my sheets and then reached toward the phone. I pressed the off button for the alarm and then sighed, burying my face in the familiarity. Dorm rooms might have had their privacy, but they sure as hell didn’t have the closeness of my bedroom.

I quickly got dressed, smoothed my hair into a messy bun--travel hair, gross--, and applied a quick layer of chap stick before leaving to go to the apartment meeting.

On the drive there, I started to get really excited. I was going to look at what could be my first house. It was surreal. Even though I was four years older, I still felt like that eighteen-year-old who had just graduated. I still felt like that same person; just older.

When I pulled up the apartment complex, I noticed how truly nice it was. There wasn’t any trashy cars in the driveway to make me nervous about my neighbors, and the gardening and lawn care was neat and organized. And there was a gate with security at the entrance so that made me feel safe too.

I looked at the sheet the owner had emailed me and memorized the apartment number: 10250. I placed the paper in the glove compartment of my car, and then ran my fingers through my hair. I needed to look decent. The owner wouldn’t rent his apartment to just anyone.

When the clock flashed 1:28 P.M., I decided that it would be best if I got up there now. I grabbed my purse from under the seat and then hopped out of the car.

Inside the building, there was a sign showing that I needed to go up three stories to get to the apartment and I sighed. I didn’t know it would be on the third story. It would be impossible to move all of my furniture into it. That was a lot of stairs. My excitement deflated a little bit. The inside better of been perfect.

When I got to the top of the stairs, I looked around. Another sign with arrows said to walk to the end of the hallway and then take a right. So I did just that. And finally, I came face to face with the apartment door. I took a deep breath and then pressed the button to page the owner.

The door swung open and the person behind it…well, let’s just say I knew him. He was a tad bit more muscular and a couple of inches taller. His face was slimmer and he had slight stubble blanketing his strong jaw line. Oliver Carter was just as gorgeous as he had been four years ago--just a little bit older.

"Kara?" he inquired, and I felt my insides melt a little bit. Oh no. If he still had control over my body I would die. It had been four years! Shouldn’t I have become stronger?

I nodded; "Hey, Oliver. Is this your apartment?"

He shrugged and with a smile said, "Only if you don’t buy it off of me."

Fate was a bitch. I was starting to realize that. I had been in town not even a day and the guy who broke my heart was already staring at my face like I had mustard on the side of my chin. "Can I come in and look at it?" I asked him, gripping my purse closer to my shoulder.

It had been four years; he must have had a girlfriend or a wife or something. So I shouldn’t have felt as awkward as it did in reality. Because let’s just say, my insides were clenching in a way they never had before.

"Sure," he said, and then pulled the door open a little bit wider. He stepped away from the door so that I could get through without touching him and then walked into his kitchen.

I closed the door behind me and looked around. The apartment was really nice; insanely nice, actually. It was hard to believe that Oliver had been able to keep an apartment like that that clean. I didn’t see a speck of dirt anywhere.

"This is really nice," I told him, sounding so polite and unaccustomed with him that it made me sick. We had been through so much together. Shouldn’t we have talked unlike strangers?

"Really?" he asked, pulling two cokes out of his fridge and setting them on the bar. "We’re going to talk like we’re strangers?" he asked, putting what I had just thought into words. It was a crazy coincidence, that was all.

I sighed and then looked over at him. "Then how are we supposed to talk? We’re not friends or anything."

He rolled his eyes at me and I automatically chirped, "Glue!"

When his eyes caught mine, he had the biggest smile I had ever seen plastered on his face. He walked over to me and then wrapped his muscular arms around my small figure. College had worn me out; not leaving much time for eating. So I was quite the small fry now. "You passed," he stated, simply.

Being back in his arms felt like I always thought it would; comfortable, familiar, hot. It wasn’t at all awkward anymore now that we had actually realized that we could still act like each other. "Passed what?" I asked him, pulling away from his embrace. If I had stayed in his arms another second I wouldn’t have been responsible for my actions.

"You may not realize this, but you look so professional now, uptight. I was seeing if the Kara I knew four years ago was still in there." His eyes raked over my appearance and my face broke out into a slight blush. "Why are you so skinny now?"

"College was crazy," I told him truthfully. I had pulled countless all-nighters studying for exams and writing articles for the college paper. I had been editor there too.

"So what? You didn’t have time for food?" he probed, handing me a coke that he had just retrieved from the bar.

"Exactly," I told him, taking a big swig of the carbonated goodness.

"How was Yale exactly?" he asked and I couldn’t help but feel flattered that he had remembered. But then I thought, of course he remembered. Yale was the reason he dumped me in the first place. Or so he claimed. To that day, I still believed there had been another reason.

I thought about how to answer that question for a while and then answered, "It was amazing. Everyone there was so smart so I didn’t feel like a complete oddball like I did in high school. Everyone wanted to do well and so I didn’t feel like a moron for studying all the time."

He nodded and then I asked, "So what’d you end up doing? Still playing football?" He had never told me if he had been accepted to college, so I didn’t want to ask him where he went and feel like a jerk if he didn’t go.

He shook his head and said, "I didn’t really have time. My dad ended up getting me a job at his firm and so I started to work there. I felt it was the least I could do."

"Why?" I couldn’t help but ask. He had always hated his dad.

"My mom cheated on him with his best friend," he confided nonchalantly, taking a sip of his coke like what he had just said wasn’t a big deal.

"Oh," I muttered awkwardly, taking another sip of the coke. What was I supposed to do in a situation like that? I wasn’t his friend so it wasn’t like I could give him a sympathetic hug.

"So…." he started and then I saw him take a glance at my right hand. "Who’s the lucky guy?" I blushed when I realized I was still wearing my mom’s engagement ring. My dad had given it to me two Christmases ago and hadn’t taken it off since.

Over the years I had come not to hate my mom anymore. Wearing her ring made me feel like she had been real; that she hadn’t just been some hellish nightmare. "It’s my moms," I told him, earning a slight smile from his beautiful mouth. He was still the only guy I had ever told about my mom. He must have felt special knowing that. The night I had told him he had felt so "honored" to finally know why I was so screwed up.

"Why’d you think that anyway? It’s not on the right finger to be a wedding ring."

"Well, not many girls wear an engagement ring for no reason," he threw back defensively. It was silent for a moment until he asked lightly, "So there’s no lucky guy for you?"

"I don’t have time for relationships," I replied quickly, not wanting him to think that I was still in love with him. I wasn’t. I was grown-up, mature, and I knew what I wanted in life. Oliver was no where near what I wanted in life. He had always been a distraction and he always will be one.

"Of course. You can’t be the cliché hot girl workaholic if you had a guy," he joked wryly, getting off of his bar stool and then walking over to the dining table. He grabbed a piece of paper and then handed it to me.

"This is the contract that the front office gave me," he pointed to a line of numbers, "That’s what the monthly rent would be," and then he pointed to a series of lines, "and that’s where you list who’d be living with you."

"So if I lived by myself…?" I asked him, looking up into those chocolate brown eyes.

"Then you’d be very lonely," he told me, "I know from experience."

"Oh come on!" I scoffed, not believing my ears. "I’m sure you have a line of girls standing outside your door all the time."

He said, "I’d be lying if I said I was alone all of the time, but no one special. I haven’t found my lucky girl either."

Disappointment flooded my insides when I realized that he wasn’t the same. I don’t know why I didn’t realize it until now, but looking at his face without the taunting grin was like looking at a delicious cake with no icing. It was depressing. Had he really changed that much? "You’re different," I murmured, embarrassed because I hadn’t meant for that to reach his ears.

"In what way?" he asked me, kneeling down next to me. He had looked a tad bit awkward standing hunched over so that he could show me what was what on the contract.

I shook my head; I wasn’t going back to those days. High school was over, I needed to remind myself of that. People changed everyday. It wasn’t something that could be avoided. It was the circle of life.

"I’m serious," he said, staring into my eyes. "How’ve I changed?"

"You’re not making fun of me," I said pathetically, the words rushing out of my mouth.

He said, "People change."

"But you shouldn’t," I told him earnestly, speaking my feelings for once. If Oliver wasn’t the same, then the universe must have been out of alignment. If he wasn’t his cocky, annoying self from high school then my memories were ruined. And even the break up tainted those memories for a while, I knew I’d always cherish my time back then with him.

"You didn’t change at all," he said, fingering a strand of my hair. "You’re still that sexy brilliant overachiever who’s too good for any guy."

"That’s total bullshit," I told him, our eyes locked.

He shook his head, a familiar grin starting to appear on his face. I sighed, "If that was true, then why’d you have the guts to ask me out back then?"

"Because…if I remember correctly, I was a cocky, annoying, alcoholic football player who thought any girl would want to make out with me," he said with that mocking grin I had missed for four years. He remembered. He remembered our conversations from so long ago.

"Very true," I teased. I knew I was going to regret bringing this up, but I couldn’t help it. It was word vomit. "But see, you’re wrong. I obviously wasn’t good enough for you and that’s why you broke up with me back then."

He shook his head and said, "If you thought that then I should slap you. I broke up with you because I knew you would find someone you liked better at college. I didn’t want to wait for you to break up with me."

I looked at him for a second, contemplating if there was any way at all that could have been true. Had he seriously thought that I was too good for him? All of a sudden, the entire conversation was far too much for me to handle. I asked, "Can I look around the apartment?"

His face fell in disappointment. He had wanted me to say something about his confession, but what he didn’t know was that my head was still reeling in response. He nodded and said, "Take your time."

I stood up from my sitting position on the recliner in his den and then walked down the hallway. There were three doors off of the hallway and I decided to peer into each of them. The first one was a linen closet, the second was a smaller bedroom, and then the third I realized was Oliver’s bedroom.

His comforter was still the same as when we had been together and so was his dresser. Seeing his stuff, as stupid as and inconsequential as it was, brought back so many memories.

"Done inspecting my room?" his voice asked from behind me, causing me to jump.

"I wasn’t inspecting…just looking," I defended, turning myself to face him. We were both in the doorway and I then realized how small it really was. His chest was inches from mine and I could smell the faint smell of his cologne. "You have the same stuff from high school."

He chuckled and said, "You remember my furniture? I must have been one hell of a boyfriend."

"Of course I remember! I bet twenty bucks you remember mine. You were at my house more than you were at your own the first month we dated," I added with a smile. I was only smiling because of the memories; nothing more. It wasn’t because electricity waves were pounding through my insides or anything.

He almost blushed and said, "I do actually. The blue and green quilt and white dresser."

I giggled, "Exactly."

"So what do you think? You want the apartment? It’s a good offer," he sang, handing me the contract. I hadn’t even realized that he was holding the paper in the first place. I had been too concentrated on his face. He looked so much more mature now.

"Why are you moving out of it then?" I asked.

"It’s a good investment, or so my dad says. To tell you the truth, I really don’t know. I’ve lived here long enough. I got bored, I guess."

"You’re still a freak," I joked. "Does the smell of yogurt still bother you?" I couldn’t help but bring it back. That had been such an eventful night.

He tilted his head back and laughed. He looked at me and asked, "Remember that too? The infamous truck ride after the party where I called you a cold, heartless bitch." He shook his head, smiling, reminiscing.

"That had been the first time I cried since my mom died," I told him, punching him lightly on the shoulder.

"I said I was sorry back then and I’ll say it now. But you said some hurtful shit too," he replied, faking a hurt arm.

I bit down on my bottom lip, "I know, I know."

We stayed in his apartment for four hours, talking and reminiscing about that senior year of high school. By 5:30, I told him, "I have to go." After he nodded in response, I grabbed my purse and then made my way out of my apartment door. And yes, I said ‘my’.

Sometime in the course of time, I had agreed to take the apartment off of his hands. He had two weeks to move out and I had two weeks to pack up my stuff. I couldn’t wait to have my own place.

I was to the stairs when I felt his hand on my elbow. "I want to see you again," he said seriously, no trace of a taunting smile on his face.

"I’m going to see you in two weeks when I move in, right?" I asked him. Why did he seem so serious now? Just ten minutes ago we had been joking around and arguing like we had in high school.

He said, "Before then. Like tonight."

"Tonight?"

He nodded. "Let me take you out or I can cook you dinner or something."

"I don’t know…" I started uncomfortably. Maybe he had told me why he had broken up with me, but he had still broken my heart. Would I be able to trust him again? But then again, what would be the harm in going on one date?

"You know you can’t resist me," he teased the same way he had four years ago.

I laughed. When he want all Oliver high school on me, I couldn’t refuse. "Sure."

Seriously, what was the worst that could happen?