And I Love Her

Chapter 2 - New Apartment

I wake up to the sound of razor blades cutting through layers of tape.

I less than hastily get up from the mattress and wipe away at the sticky sensation on my cheeks due to tears from my confessional with Keylor last night.

I feel absolutely ridiculous spilling my guts out to him, but in reality I can't really explain it all to my friends since they weren't there with me, they can't recall the nights I spent with my other friends.

I swing the white door open to the hall and find Vivian, Naomi, and Noori unpacking boxes.

"What are you guys doing?" I grunt.

"Katalina!" Noori comes running up to me.

I smile and give her a tight hug back then head over to Naomi and Vivian.

"What's this?" Naomi smiles as she opens a box that says 'do not open.'

"Do you just choose to ignore the big bold writing?" I turn to face Noori as Naomi ignores me. "How was the flight in?"

"Great," she smiled. "Except for the jet lag. I'm going to be tired in a few."

"Did Naomi and Vivian get there on time?"

"No," she laughs. "But then again, the flight landed earlier than expected."

"When does all your stuff arrive?" I question as I spot Naomi and Vivian rummaging through the box.

"Two days from now, but I'll survive." Noori explains. "We're going furniture shopping after breakfast, come with."

I can hear Naomi let out a squeal and Noori and I turn to face her.

"Can I have all of this?" She almost couldn't breathe.

I walk over to her and rip the Real jersey from her hands.

"No," I bite.

Vivian puts back a little Barcelona flag in the box before I shut it and throw it into my room.

"Do not open," I smirk back at them.

After we unpack a little, since they knew I wouldn't be able to handle the clutter in a days time, we head out to a diner for breakfast.

"Neymar," Noori just speaks out of nowhere. "You flinched."

"Congratulations," I said before taking a bite of bacon.

"Kat, it's okay," Noori says. "I've been told you're trying to ignore what you're feeling?"

"Yeah, well, not anymore," I smile over at them. "I called Keylor last night... And he helped a lot."

My mind flashes back to the hour long talk about how I messed it all up with Neymar and how I know I don't feel the same as I used to for James. How I miss everyone, but I also never want to see any of them again.

I see Vivian and Naomi frown.

"You guys are a huge help, I won't deny that, but he was there with me for most of the time. He helped immensely, I think I might give everyone else a call, see how their lives are going."

I take a bite out of my toast before Noori asks about James.

I stay silent, chewing on the food as Naomi interrupts.

"She hasn't told any of us about James."

"Oh," was all Noori could say. "Pass me the butter."

I give her a smile when she turns to me, a "thank you" for leaving the subject.

After a long day at multiple furniture stores and actually helping settle Noori into my old room in my old apartment, I head back home after picking up some take out.

I change into my pajamas and leave my cellphone on my bed before shutting the door.

My hand lingers on the door knob and I head back in.

I drag the box that Naomi opened up earlier, to the living room and place it next to the coffee table where I was going to eat my dinner.

I open up the box and bite my lip at the items.

A signed Barça jersey with each and every single one of their signatures. A James Real jersey, three Real jerseys, two away and one white with the designs that got me there. The little Barça flag Vivian picked out earlier. Framed photos of James and I, Neymar and I, Davi, Antonella and I, Oscar, David and I, Marcelo and I, the list goes on. A folder with contracts in them, which I was supposed to shred and never got to, more merchandise, the old set of keys to my apartment in Madrid, a little bear Toni bought me, a drawing Davi made for me, one from Thiago also. I grab at a gift James bought me in Colombia, then a box with my favorite ring, I haven't worn it since I left Spain, it reminds me of Neymar.

I begin to laugh at the words on the cardboard box, then at myself.

I have to accept the past two years, not try to ignore them. They were some of the best years of my life and I'm just being stubborn.

I take the framed photos and place them around my apartment. I hang up the jerseys and make a note to buy frames for them, I place the James one in my closet. I take the drawings and place them on my fridge, I take the teddy bear and place it on my bed, pin the tiny flag up by my television and, lastly, put on my ring.

It's my ring. It's in no way defined by who wore it. It was mine to begin with.

I hear a buzzing come from the other room and answer the call and greet Keylor with a full mouth.

A laugh escapes his lips.

"Kat," I can hear him smile.

"Hi," I cheer.

"You sound happy," he almost questioned.

"I am," I genuinely smile. "There was this box full of things from Spain and I realized I'm wasting my time. Spain was amazing, I'll never forget it, I miss everyone and... I wanna keep in touch with everyone."

"I hope not keeping in touch was never an option," Keylor says.

"Not with you, it wasn't."

"Listen, Kat," he starts. "I sent you something in the mail over a week ago and it says it arrived today."

"Oh crap," I almost jump. "I forgot to check my mail."

I run down the four flights of stairs and to the entryway.

I open up my little mailbox and take the numerous envelopes in my hand.

"What'd you send?" I ask Keylor as I run up the steps to my apartment.

"You'll see."

"Electric bill, ugh, phone bill, cable," I grunt. "I want to be a kid again," I make Keylor laugh.

"Is it there?"

"I'm looking at a stamp from Spain," I smile. "I thought it'd be heavier."

"Sorry to disappoint," he spoke. "I'll give you your 'new home' package soon."

I tear open the envelop and pull out the paper.

"Tickets," I speak into the phone, not question.

I read the first pair.

"JFK to MAD, round trip, March- Keylor," I bite. "What is this? Santiago Bernabéu Stadium, Real Madrid vs. FC Barcelona, March-"

I stop mid sentence and begin to shake my head profusely.

"Keylor," I almost yell. "I'm not going."

"Didn't you stop regretting Spain like five minutes ago?"

"Five minutes! Not five months!"

"You're coming, surprise the guys a bit-"

"No!" I yell. "I'm not."

"I spoke to your friends and they thought it was an excellent idea," Keylor speaks, I can hear his smug smile through the phone. "I'll see you then."

"Out of all the matches you had to pick El Clásico?" I ask, then hear the call end.