A/N: SORRY THIS TOOK ME OVER A MONTH TO WRITE! I started my last year of college a few weeks ago so I can't promise fast updates, but I'll do my best to keep updating on a semi-regular basis, time permitting!

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Chapter 31

Unsure of what else to do to get Sophia to stop looking at me like I was the devil incarnate, I went a little overboard with my gift-giving. I knew the gifts weren't enough. I knew she deserved a real apology. But every time I tried to work up the nerve to go in there and show her how sorry I really was, my mind went empty and I ended up back in my or Blake's trailer.

So I bought her some stuff – a lot of stuff. Flowers, chocolate, jewelry, clothes, random things I saw that I thought she'd like – anything and everything. While that probably would have worked on most other girls, it didn't seem to do much of anything when it came to Sophia.

Still, I kept trying. Maybe one of those gifts would hit a nerve and make her soften up to me, at least a little. The kitten had seemed to help, at least.

"Did you like the necklace?" I asked Sophia during one of our lunch breaks a few days after our last non-filmed encounter. She was probably heading home to have lunch with Tori and the kitten. She'd been avoiding having lunch on set whenever possible since our fight.

"It was nice," she said. "But the gifts aren't necessary."

"I want to give them to you. It's nothing."

"Exactly," she said, stopping to face me. "It's nothing. The gifts are nice, but you can't buy my forgiveness, Christian. What I need is time. I just need time to get over this. It's like an old wound was ripped open, and that wound needs to heal. So give it time to heal, okay?"

And how could I argue with that? I'd be a dick if I tried. She was hurting all over again because of me. It'd be selfish to try to mend things over to make myself feel better. "Alright," I said, nodding in defeat. "I understand. I'll give you time." I tried to smile reassuringly at her, but I'm pretty sure it came out more pathetic than anything.

As much as it pained me to leave her alone, possibly leaving her to ruminate in resurfacing anger instead of softening her up to the idea of me, I did it. And as much as I hated to admit it, I needed help. But this wasn't a job for Blake this time. It was a job for my mother – yes, my eclectic but well-meaning mother.

"Oh, my baby boy, come here!" she cried when I showed up on her doorstep after work that same day.

I let her squeeze the life out of me, chuckling as she literally shook with excitement. I saw her pretty often, just not often enough for her liking. If it were up to her, I'd be living right next door, or still living with her.

When she finally pulled away, she smacked my arm. "Now, what did you do?"

I grimaced and nodded towards the inside of her house. "You, uh, you might want to sit down for this."

My mom knew I'd been a bit of an asshole in high school, but she didn't know the extent of it. She didn't know just how badly I'd treated others. She didn't know about how I'd treated the girls I'd slept with, Sophia included. She only knew what I'd been unable to hide when there were complaints from other kids and she was called in to talk to administrators. I was about to get my ass whooped.

I sat down on the couch next to her, leaving a bit of space between us in case I had to make a run for it. She wasn't going to like what came out of my mouth next.

She stared at me expectantly, and, sweating nervously, I blurted out, "Mom, I think I'm in love, but I screwed up and she hates me and I kind of hate myself right now and –" Smack. I looked at her in alarm. "What was that for?"

"You need to calm down," she said, as if that smack had been completely nonchalant and called for. "I don't think you even breathed during that whole sentence. Now breathe and tell me what happened."

I took a deep breath and nodded. By the time I'd finished retelling the story I'd had to stand through not too long before her, I was on my feet running through the house and away from her.

"I know I screwed up, mom, you don't have to chase me with that – what are you even holding? Is that a golf club? You don't even golf."

"Oh, I know," she said, slowing down and panting. My mom was the yoga and power-walking kind of mom, not exactly a cardio queen. "That guy I was seeing played golf and left his clubs here when I kicked him out."

"Why'd you kick him out?"

She waved a hand dismissively. "He was married, apparently. But we're not talking about my screw-ups. We're talking about yours. How could you do that to her? To all of those kids? God, Christian. You think you know your own kid."

I ran a hand through my hair, momentarily forgetting about the bomb she'd just dropped about her apparently married boyfriend, or ex-boyfriend, I guess, and I felt my cheeks turning red. It didn't matter how old you got. No one liked disappointing their mom. "I know. But that's not who I am anymore. At least, it's not who I'm trying to be. That's why I'm here. I need your help. I don't know how to fix this."

"I – Christian, are you crying?" Her eyes widened.

"What? No! I'm not crying."

And I wasn't. Okay, so my eyes might have welled up a little bit, partly due to her disappointment and partly due to my own, but I wasn't crying. I just, uh, had something in my eye.

She narrowed her eyes at me. "Yes, you are."

"No, I'm not, I – I have allergies," I tried, cringing at my own excuse. She was my mother. She knew I wasn't allergic to anything, for Christ's sake.

"I pushed you out of my own body, kid. I know you don't have allergies. Come on, come on, stop crying. We're gonna make you a game plan. Let's go."

I nodded, still eyeing that golf club warily, and sighed in relief when she turned around and set it down, heading back towards the couch. Now that the worst part was out of the way, maybe we'd actually get something done. Maybe my mom held the key to getting Sophia to not only forgive me, but to also see me in a new light.

I ended up staying there all night. When my mom said we were making a game plan, she meant it pretty literally. She for some reason had a giant dry-erase board, much like you'd see in use in a locker room before a game, and spent the night scribbling nonsense on it. It was supposed to be a chronological chart with all of the different strategies she'd suggested, but it barely made sense to me and I'd sat through all of her explanations.

By the time I left her house the next morning, I was feeling better about my situation and maybe even a little optimistic. Unfortunately, the first step in the plan was to give her what she'd asked for – time. As much as I wanted to talk to her, my mom agreed that when a girl says she needs time, she means it.

So I gave her time – a week, give or take. In my defense, I didn't have very much time left with her. We were almost done shooting and had two weeks left at the most. Luckily, Sophia and I had the most scenes to shoot and had to be on set the longest, but I was still hyper-aware of the time crunch I was working within.

Step 1 of the game plan: apologize. Not the pitiful excuse for an apology I'd managed the morning after she'd told me what I'd done. A real apology.

I showed up at the door of her trailer on Saturday and knocked on her door. I heard Tori yell, "I'll get it!" from behind the closed door.

Tori's eyes widened when she opened the door and saw me there. She'd stopped fawning over me by that point, so I assumed she was just surprised I'd showed up to talk to Sophia. "Can I talk to Sophia?" I asked.

"Of course," she said immediately, a little too fast, but I wasn't going to question it. "We'll just leave you two alone. Come on, Garfield."

She walked over to where Garfield appeared to be napping and picked him up. He meowed, apparently not too keen on having been disturbed from his sleep. She winked at Sophia as she walked by her with Garfield in her arms and left.

We stood in silence for a few seconds before I obnoxiously cleared my throat to get Sophia's attention.

She rolled her eyes. "Can I help you?"

I didn't say anything at first, debating whether or not I should come in and close the door or if she'd feel trapped in a box if I did that. She hesitated for a few more seconds before standing up and approaching me. I met her halfway, shutting the door behind me and hoping she wouldn't take it the wrong way.

I let out the long breath I'd been holding in. "I know what you're thinking. I know I'm supposed to give you time, but I'm going crazy and I need to get this off my chest."

"You're going to keep talking even if I tell you I need more time, so you might as well just get on with it," she said.

Yeah, pretty much. I shrugged. "I'm not good at this stuff, but here goes..."

She raised an eyebrow at that. "I can list a lot of things you aren't good at, but what exactly are you referring to this time?"

I felt my lips twitching into a smile, unable to hide my amusement. There was the Sophia I knew and loved. I mean, liked. I mean – I don't know. "My lack of apologizing skills."

She seemed taken aback. "Oh."

"Sophia... I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I know you don't want to hear it, and I know it doesn't make up for what I did to you. Nothing I say will make up for that. I screwed up, and I don't think there's anything I can do to fix things, but that doesn't mean I'm not going to try."

She didn't say anything. She just kept staring at me with those hazel eyes that always managed to leave me hypnotized.

"I was an idiot back then," I went on. "That's no justification for what I did, but it's true. I thought I was above everyone else. I can't say I'm over that now, but it was somehow worse when I was in high school. I didn't even have a good reason for being the way I was. Sure, my dad left when I was a kid, but I had a good childhood. I wasn't scarred. I was just a bad person. I let popularity get to my head and turn me into someone even my mom couldn't look in the eye some days." I shook my head. "I'm glad you weren't like me in school. You didn't treat high school like the glory years. You didn't let it ruin you. When I look back on my high school days, I feel ashamed. I feel ashamed of who I was and who I let myself become."

She still didn't say anything. She probably didn't know what to say. I know I wouldn't have known what to say in her position. I was just glad she was letting me say what I had to say.

"Sometimes I can't even believe I was capable of doing what I did," I said. "But I was. And I didn't just hurt you. I hurt so many people. I don't even remember most of their names, but I'm sure they remember mine. Not because I'm famous or anything, although I guess they might know it because of that too – but because I'm the guy who ruined their lives in high school."

She crossed her arms over her chest and shifted from foot to foot, seeming a little uncomfortable but still letting me continue.

"I know you weren't the only one, but what kills me is the thought that I did this to you. Just knowing what I did..." I let out another loud exhale. "I don't know what you're doing to me. I don't know what's happening to me. Sophia, what I did was unforgivable. I hate myself for what I did, even more than you hate me, believe me. I don't deserve you. Hell, I'd be lucky to just get your forgiveness. I don't even deserve that. I don't deserve anything. Maybe a few kicks to the groin, but that's it."

I eyed her warily as soon as I saw her eyebrows raise at that, like she was considering the idea. Although it was true I deserved that and more, I would've preferred not getting kicked in my baby-maker. "I just needed to apologize," I said. "I needed you to hear what I had to say."

She kept quiet for a little more before finally speaking. "Thank you. Honestly, I really needed to hear that, but... I don't know. I don't know if I can really believe you. I don't trust you. I'm sorry."

"I know. But I won't give up. I'll win your trust one day. I'll fix this." I had to.

"I don't know if there's anything left to fix."

Maybe not. But I was too far gone to stop trying at that point.