Page 15 of Cat's Outta the Bag

Normally, I'd be at least a little frustrated; who isn't when driving in L.A.? But today, after Alexis's completely distressed voicemail, I am panicked. I need to get home and see her. She sounded so scared.

My blood pressure is through the roof when I finally pull into the underground parking garage of our building. I barely have the presence of mind to even lock my car before I'm jog-walking to the elevator. My focus is already on the fifth floor.

After what feels like an eternity in the elevator, I'm finally at her door. I have to force myself to take a second and breathe. She's already vulnerable, I can't go in there all fired up. It takes at least five, ok ten breaths, to finally cool down enough to feel presentable.

I can hear voices on the other side of the door, but I can't tell if it's from people or the T.V. I get my answer, though, when I knock, and the apartment goes dead silent.

A moment later, the door swings open, and I am greeted by three stunned-looking women.

"Hello, ladies. Is, uh, Alexis in there?" They just blink at me. If I wasn't so worried about my girl—my girl? I shake that thought away quickly. Now is not the time. If I wasn't so worried about Alexis, I'd laugh. Clearly, these three are a bit starstruck.

"Hi, Jason, I'm in here. If the three women, formerly known as my best friends, would let you in, you could see me." Her voice is a bit raspy, and as the three still-silent women shuffle out of the way, I see why. Her eyes are a little puffy, and her cheeks are chapped. She's been crying.

At the sight of her, I feel like I've been stabbed in my gut.

I want nothing more than to scoop her up off the couch, cradle her to my chest, and soothe her. But I don't have that right. Not yet.

So instead, I turn to the still silent women after stepping into the unit.

"Hello, ladies. It's nice to meet you. I'm Jason." I stick my hand out to the one closest to me. This seems to snap them out of their stupor, and we get through quick introductions. Once that's over, Nique, Tristan, and Allison shake off their shock and are now quizzing me full force.

Have I ever met the Hemsworth brothers? Yes.

What's my opinion on rumors that Zendaya doesn't know how to knit? Did I see that Smart Water commercial? No opinion, and yes, pretty sure everyone's seen it.

Did I feel like the Agent Smith franchise really deserved another film after killing off its only strong female lead in the last one?

They were shocked again when I told them I didn't. I had pushed to end the franchise, but because my contract included the current movie, I couldn't back out.

"So, we've got ourselves a feminist here, hunh?" Nique gives me the up-and-down as if she can't quite decide if I'm just blowing smoke.

"If by feminist, you mean I believe the absolute bare minimum would be for a multi-million-dollar franchise to not tokenize its female characters, then yeah. Although I feel like I have a few other beliefs that would be better suited to the 'feminist' label."

At this point, we're seated in the living room. At first, I sat down a respectable distance from Alexis, not exactly sure what she would want. But she quickly slid over and tucked herself under my arm, her head on my shoulder. She seems content to just sit there and listen to her friends barrage me with questions, and I can't say I mind either. This feels right.

Maybe half an hour later, Tristan does me a solid.

"It's getting kind of late; we should leave." She gives her two friends a pointed look and jerks her head toward the door.

Nique and Allison spring into action, all three practically shouting their goodbyes, sprinting toward the door. They're gone before I can even say anything back.

The second the door clicks shut, Alexis starts to shake. For a split second, I am alarmed until I hear the giggles. She's laughing.

"Are you seriously laughing right now?" I tip her chin up, so she's looking at me. I can't help but smile at the obvious delight on her face. This is a vast improvement to earlier.

"I'm sorry, I can't help it. You looked like a deer in headlights the whole time." She dissolves again into giggles, burying her face into my chest.

"Glad I could cheer you up while simultaneously feeling like I'm being interrogated by the CIA." I give her shoulders a little squeeze and hold her close. A moment later, she stills, as if realizing that she's practically in my lap, and the mood is shifting.

She sits up and scoots away, bringing her legs up onto the couch, tucking her chin against her knees, and wrapping her arms around her legs. Her expression is somber again, and I shift too so that I'm facing her directly, resisting the urge to reach out and pull her back.

"Do you want to talk about what happened today? Or would you rather watch a movie? Or sleep? I can make you some tea."

She shakes her head. Then blows out the breath she must have been holding.

"I don't even know why I'm so upset." She looks away, color leeching from her face. I hate this.

"What we're not going to do is discount your feelings. Alexis, you had your privacy violated. It's perfectly normal to be upset. Whether or not you're a celebrity, you deserve to have a private life." I want to hold her so badly, but she seems so remote now, like a tiny island in the middle of the Pacific.

---