A/N: A little late, but I made it extra long to make up for that (I hope) - hope you guys enjoy!

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Chapter 35

I quickly pressed 'end' on the call, staring at my phone in horror. Oh, god, what had I just done? You didn't profess your love over the phone. What the fuck was wrong with me? There were three things you didn't do over the phone: break up with someone, fire someone, and tell them you love them.

I'd broken the first rule many times before. But now – the first time I felt the urge to tell a girl I loved her – I fucked up and broke the third rule by not telling her in person.

All I wanted to do was call someone else – i.e. my mom or Blake – and see if they could make me feel better about what I'd just done – but I didn't get the chance. My flight number was called out as I was hovering over the two contacts, deciding which one of them was least likely to make fun of me. It was time to board, which meant no more phone calls.

What if Sophia called back and I missed her call? Maybe she'd send me a text. I'd be able to see and respond to that, thanks to the airplane's Wi-Fi and iMessage. Or maybe we could FaceTime. Or maybe she wouldn't want to talk to me at all because she found my voicemail embarrassing and she didn't feel the same way in the slightest. Maybe I'd have to go live in a hut on a deserted island by myself out of sheer loneliness and embarrassment after this. I think I'd be fine. I could befriend the crabs and eat coconuts and shit.

These were the only thoughts going through my head as I went through the routine. I was a pretty frequent flyer. It came with the job. I normally didn't mind it, but flying out to an audition was the last thing I wanted to do after the dumbass voicemail I'd just left the girl I loved.

As I boarded the plane and found my seat in first class, I routinely looked down at my phone, waiting for a vibration that indicated a text, email, snap, anything. But nothing came. Not when I first sat down, and not in the five hours that followed as I made my way from Los Angeles to New York. I couldn't say I wasn't disappointed.

As the plane got ready to land, a flight attendant came up to me, clearly trying to keep a straight face. I'd had a rotation of flight attendants trying to attend to my every beck and need. I was guessing this went a little farther than their usual "attending" duties. At one point, I could see them fighting off in the employee area to see who got to come and try to bring me a drink, snack, entertainment, anything next.

"Can I get you anything else before we land?" she asked, nervously twiddling her hair and smiling at me. She looked pretty young, even for a flight attendant. She couldn't have been much older than twenty.

"I'm okay, thanks," I said, looking up from my phone for once to shoot her a quick smile.

"Okay," she said, still smiling that nervous, giddy smile, with some emphatic nodding mixed in.

I watched her pretty much float back to the employee area where some of the attendants were still waiting for her latest report. Some had already dispersed to do their jobs. Although I was still flattered by women's reactions to me, I no longer felt the need to check them out and gauge their attractiveness or my willingness to take them home. That was still kind of new for me. It was odd not getting that urge anymore. I guess as far as changes went, that wasn't a bad one.

After landing, I left the airport using a back exit to avoid the crowd that had gathered following news of my trip to NYC, climbing into the back seat of a car that had been awaiting my arrival.

"Uh, the Mark, on 77th," I said to the driver, distracted by my phone. I'd turned airplane mode off to see if a call had come in while I was waiting. But it hadn't. And if it hadn't by now, it wasn't going to. I couldn't help but feel a massive wave of disappointment roll over my shoulders as my heart sank all the way down to my stomach. That's how it felt, at least.

"I thought she'd call," I said to myself in a low voice.

The driver, an older guy with graying hair, a neatly trimmed white beard, and a crisp, black uniform, looked at me through the rearview mirror. "Hmm?"

"Nothing," I said, looking up momentarily. "Just talking to myself."

Just talking to myself, or maybe a brick wall. That was pretty much what leaving her that voicemail equated to, anyway.

***

After settling into my hotel room, I gave both Blake and my mom a call to gauge their reactions and see if I was overreacting by assuming this was her way of telling me she wanted nothing to do with me. While neither of them thought it was too great a sign that she hadn't responded at all, they also pointed out something I'd thought of on my own end but hadn't considered on hers. Maybe she thought this was a conversation that was better had in person. She was right, if that was the case. I was just too impatient to wait that long.

I didn't get much sleep before my audition. The bed was luxurious and comfortable – as comfortable as my bed at home – and there were room-darkening blinds that blocked all light that may have bothered me from outside. But my mind was too active to settle down long enough to sleep.

Coffee was the only thing that got me through my audition. I thought it went pretty well, in spite of my sleep deprivation. The sleep deprivation might have helped a bit, actually, considering the role I was auditioning for was that of Ted Bundy – a kind of docu-fiction of the years leading up to his serial killing spree in the 1970s and a pieced-together timeline of where and when it was believed he committed these crimes. Bundy was well known for being an attractive guy who used his charisma to win the trust of his young, female victims before killing them. But as charismatic as he was, his deep-rooted issues came out eventually and he showed who he really was.

To put it simply, he once called himself "the most cold-hearted son of a bitch you'll ever meet." As fucked up as he was, his story and personality provided a fascinating and incredibly challenging character to portray.

It was completely different to anything I'd done up until this point. Different was exactly what I wanted and needed. I wanted to break the mold I'd made for myself. As much success as it had brought me, it had also resulted in me looking in the mirror and not liking what I saw.

Not literally, of course. I was still pretty much a Greek god.

I stopped by a café near the audition site afterwards, giving into the temptation to send Sophia another message while I devoured a Philly cheesesteak sandwich.

Just wanted to check in. Audition went well and I'm heading back tonight. I hope we can talk about my message soon.

I stared at my messages nervously, waiting for those three little conversation bubbles to pop up. It took a few minutes, but they did.

We'll talk when you get back.

I let out the breath I'd been holding in while I waited for her message to pop up. She'd said that before. Promise?

More waiting. More bubbles. More oxygen deprivation.

Promise.

Maybe this time, she meant it.

I had a few hours to kill before it was time to go to the airport. I called Frank to fill him in on the audition and how it went, but that didn't take long. In the end, I decided to head back to my hotel and pack up my things so I could take an earlier flight. Screw waiting around. I had nothing left to do here. L.A. was where I needed to be.

It was like the universe knew I was trying to be proactive and get home earlier because not long after I arrived at the airport and bought a new ticket, the weather took a bad turn. It had been sprinkling on my way to the airport – nothing major. I guess I should've paid attention to the weather because it clearly stated there was a storm coming. I just didn't realize how bad things were going to get.

"Flight 312 has been delayed due to the weather," a voice called out over the intercom. "Flight 3-1-2 – flight 3-1-2 has been delayed due to the weather. We will send out an alert and another message when the pilot is cleared to fly. Thank you and we apologize for any inconvenience."

I briefly took off my glasses to rub my eyes. Believe it or not, but the Clark Kent thing kind of worked when you paired it with non-conspicuous clothing and a hood. When my eyes adjusted to the light and my surroundings again, they met with the sparkling blue eyes of a little girl no older than six. Her jaw dropped open when she saw me.

I smiled at her and pressed my finger to my lips. "Shh."

She grinned back, nodding slowly, still looking like she'd seen a ghost – or, more accurately, a movie star.

By the time she snapped out of her daze long enough to poke her mom in the side and tell her what she'd just seen, I was gone, leaving only the impression that her daughter had an overactive imagination.

I found a secluded room to wait for my flight to be cleared with the help of an employee. I didn't feel like dealing with a crowd if anyone else looked at me too closely. Time dragged on, slowing considerably when a power outage hit the airport. We were out of power for what felt like forever – long enough for my phone to die. I had the bad habit of only charging it when it hit 1 percent. It had probably been around 30 percent charged when the power went out, taking any chance of charging my phone and staying connected with those at home with it.

I peeked through a window during a bathroom break – probably the last thing you're supposed to do during a storm – and it looked pretty bad out there. Trees swaying, heavy rain, thunder, the works. It took hours for the power to come back on – and by the time it did and the storm had settled enough to make it safe to fly, I was being ushered onto a plane back to L.A. still with 0 percent on my phone's battery.

After boarding and settling into a private area of the plane in first class, I plugged my phone in and waited for a Wi-Fi network to load – but nothing popped up.

"Hey, is there a problem with the Wi-Fi?" I asked the nearest flight attendant.

"The Wi-Fi is down right now," she said, her eyes wide as she tucked her hair behind her ear. I was guessing she knew who I was. "It'll probably be down for the rest of your flight. Our apologies."

"Alright," I said, dejectedly looking down at my phone. It looked like I'd have to wait until we landed to talk to Sophia again. Not that she would even notice that I wasn't home already.

Time passed by slowly with nothing but a built-in DVD player to entertain me. Eventually, an announcement came on over the intercom, letting us know we were close to landing. The nervous jitters I had felt before leaving Sophia that voicemail were back. She couldn't avoid me forever with both of us in town. I just hoped she wouldn't want to.

It wasn't until I was back at my place that I realized something was off. There was essentially a wall blocking the gates to my apartment. I turned away from the entrance to my house at the last minute, hoping they hadn't seen me. I didn't feel like dealing with whatever new scandal or rumor had broken while I was M.I.A.

I went around and parked a block away from the back entrance to my house that most people didn't know about or wouldn't think to monitor. Luckily for me, there was no one there. All of the riot was happening in the front.

Bubba ran to the door to greet me, barking like a madman when I entered through the back. "Hey, buddy. Did you miss me? Did you miss me? Not as much as I missed you," I said, rubbing his back as his tail wagged furiously and he did his best to throw himself in my arms.

"Who's there? Show yourself," a voice – Blake's – yelled from a nearby room. He came around the corner holding a baseball bat defensively and lowered it when he realized it was me. "Oh. Chris. Holy shit. You're not dead... cool."

"What?" I looked up in between Bubba pets.

"You haven't seen the news?" Blake asked.

I shook my head slowly. "I just got back, man. Power went out at the airport and there was no Wi-Fi or signal on the plane. What news are you talking about?"

Blake dropped the bat and shook his head. "Fuckers. Where the fuck did they get that you were dead? Probably made it up for ratings." He pulled up a page – TNZ's page, to be exact. This ought to be good.

"Christian Ryder dead at 21," I read out loud. "Where the hell did they get that from?" I skimmed through the article, realization dawning on me that they'd seen the news about the storm, my delayed flight and the fact that my flight was subsequently unaccounted for and ran with it. It'd only been unaccounted for because of the chaos of trying to get back up and running after having to shut down, but that didn't matter. It didn't take long for a rumor to gain a life of its own and run, no longer requiring any basis in reality.

"Wow. Clearing one thing up now: my flight did not get lost in the abyss. People get paid to run stories they haven't cleared? Fucking hell." I shook my head. "Aw, shit. I got to call my mom."

Blake handed me his cell phone. "Yours is probably still dead, so have at it. Might want to call Sophia while you're at it, too. She's worried."

I couldn't help the fuzzy, hopeful feeling in the pit of my stomach that formed after hearing those words. "She is?"

He nodded. "She's been calling me non-stop waiting for news. I don't think she really believes TNZ, but none of us had heard from you in a while. We were all worried."

They were all worried – Sophia included. It was nice to know your life made a difference to others – and while I knew my mom and Blake would care about my wellbeing, it was a well-received surprise that Sophia did, too.

But my mom came first. The woman gave birth to me. There was no one who cared about my wellbeing more than her. I dialed her phone number – one of the few I knew by heart – and waited for her to pick up.

She did after two rings. "Hello? Blake? Have you heard from him?"

"Mom, it's me," I said. "I'm okay. I'm home, and I'm okay. My plane didn't get lost. We just lost power and got delayed, but I'm okay."

I was caught a little off guard by the loud sobbing that erupted from the other end. "Oh, I was so worried. I was so worried," she said between sobs. "Oh, my baby. I'm going to sue whatever damn media person broke that story first. Oh, you're okay. You're okay." She took a deep breath. "You're sure you're okay?"

I laughed, trying not to tear up alongside her. What kind of monster wouldn't, hearing their own mother cry? "I'm okay, Mom. It was just a terrible misunderstanding. I'll come over soon, but... there's someone I need to check up on on the way.

"Who? Oh! You haven't called Sophia yet?"

"Well, no, I wanted to call you first. You gave birth to me, for Christ's sake."

"Yes. Yes. Birth trumps future girlfriend. But only slightly. I like that girl. I haven't met her, but I like her." She laughed, still sounding like she was crying a little. "Okay, yes, yes. You need to call her. No, no, wait – don't call her. You know where she lives, right?"

"Yes..."

"Yes. Yes. Good. Go to her. Go see her and let her know in person."

"Calling her would be faster, though," I said. "I don't want her to keep thinking I'm laying in the ocean or washed up on some shoreline alone or something."

"If you go tell her in person, her reaction will tell you everything you need to know," she said. "Unless she lives far away from you. Don't leave her hanging for too long if she does. But if you go in person, you can talk and figure this out once and for all. You both deserve some clarity."

I nodded. "Yeah. Okay. I think I'll do that. She doesn't live far away at all. I'm going to head out, but I'll come to you right after, okay?"

"Okay, sweetie. Drive safe and I'll see you back here. I expect details. All of them. I'll order pizza. Maybe Chinese. Maybe Thai if I'm feeling fancy. Okay, that's not important right now. Go, go," she said.

"See you soon," I said before hanging up.

I threw Blake's phone back at him. He barely caught it in time. Clearly, he'd lost his athlete reflexes from high school.

"Heading over to Sophia's?" he asked.

I nodded. "I'm going to grab a portable charger from my room before I head out, but yeah. If I'd remembered it before I left for New York, this wouldn't even be happening. But I have to let her know I'm okay... and I need to know how she feels once and for all."

"That's something only she can confirm," Blake said. "But if you ask me... I think she cares about you more than even she may realize. You should've heard her voice when she called asking about you. You need to let her know you're okay."

I nodded, already heading to my room to grab my portable charger. I left through the back again, managing to avoid the bunch of reporters and camera people that were still in front of my house, waiting for an update on my status. I didn't care about giving them an update. I just wanted to see her.

I barely remembered getting to her apartment. Probably not my safest driving, but I was on a mission. I bolted up the stairs, still in my "disguise." I took off my hood and took off the glasses when I arrived at her front door.

Taking a deep breath, I knocked on her door. There was nothing but silence at first, and then the sound of footsteps approaching the door. My heart sank down to my stomach from nerves.

"I'm coming," Sophia yelled from the other side before the door jerked open and there she stood. "Chris. Oh, my god."

A look of shock at first – and then a look that made me think she was about to cry. Maybe it was because my face made her cry – or maybe it was because she really did care that I was fine. Either way, I wasn't ready for more waterworks. I had a feeling I'd cry too this time.

"I guess I died back in New York or wherever my plane crashed. I think I look pretty good for a dead guy."

She laughed in relief, tears still welling up in her eyes.

"I heard about the rumors when I came home," I said. "I made sure to call my mom first and let her know I was alright. Blake was already at my place with Bubba holding down the fort. Then I came over here. I guess I could have talked to the media outside of my house so they'd know I was alive and stop circulating that shit, but all I could think about after Blake told me you'd called was how I needed to make sure you knew I was alright." I paused, debating adding this last part but deciding to hell with it and adding it anyway. "Just on the off chance that you might care."

"Of course I care," she said, without a moment of hesitation. I'd never been more relieved to hear a string of words come out of her mouth, besides the time she'd said she forgave me for hurting her in the past.

She threw her arms around my torso, nearly squeezing the life of me but I could've cared less about any physical discomfort. She was in my arms, and she was the one who initiated this. That was all that mattered. "I thought you were dead," she said.

I didn't respond to her hug right off the bat, entirely due to shock, but once the shock wore off, I held her even closer than she was when she initially latched on. Sure, everyone but my mom, Blake and Sophia thought I was dead or dying right now, but that didn't matter.

After everything we'd gone through, despite all of my faults and my "annoying face" – according to her – Sophia cared about my wellbeing. That was all I needed at that moment.

She cared.