Love Unscripted
Page 117
- Background:
- Text Font:
- Text Size:
- Line Height:
- Line Break Height:
- Frame:
“Who was the girl that sold the story to the tabloid?” Kelly asked.
“That was the girl I was seeing from the theatre back home. You met her once when we shot the scenes in Acadia, remember? She came to Maine that one time. Who knows, maybe the bitch sisters got to her too? Ah, it doesn’t matter. She was more concerned about hooking up with my agent and getting me to make calls for her than she was about our relationship.” He shrugged the thought from his mind.
“I’m going to have to deal with this,” Ryan muttered. He chewed his lip – pondering again.
“Ryan, just let it go,” I advised. “Anything you do is going to make things worse. Just do your movies, play your part. A few years from now this will all be behind you.”
“Yeah, you’re right.” He gave me a brief smile and squeezed my hand.
I was glad he agreed. Suzanne seemed to have more than enough reasons to despise me.
Chapter 16 - Fused
Ryan held my hand as he drove us home; our arms rested on the center console.
“I really like driving this car,” he commented. “It handles great.”
“You look like you enjoy driving this car. And I’m enjoying getting driven around for once. I’m so used to driving that I never get to really look at the scenery.”
“We need to get the windows tinted darker though. That way the photographers can’t get too many daytime driving shots of you,” he grumbled.
I never gave any consideration to thoughts like that, although I never had to worry about having my picture taken either. Still, I loved hearing him say ‘we.’
He adjusted his grip on the steering wheel. “I never get to drive. I’m always jumping in the back seat of cars instead.”
“Or hurled into the back seat of cars,” I added.
He looked over at me quickly. “Hurled?”
“I saw you on television once. You were getting carried through a crowd by a few big security guys. It looked like they just tossed you into the car.”“
When was that?” he asked.
“When you were in L.A. a couple of weeks ago. I panicked when I saw how they man-handled you.”
I felt his hand squeeze mine tighter. “Your car was completely surrounded by screaming fans; they were pounding on your windows. I worried for a moment that they were going to break through the glass. That was the night when you first called me, wasn’t it?”
“Yes.” He raised my hand to his lips. “And that was the night you calmed me down. I remember crawling under the blankets to talk to you.”
“I remember wishing that you weren’t on the other side of the country,” I whispered.
“Guess we both got our wish.” He grinned.
He turned onto Mulberry Street; we were only a block away and I had my cell phone in hand, ready to call the police. Parked across the street from the pub were some SUVs, a van, and a few cars. There were a few photographers on the sidewalk, but not a large crowd like I had feared.
Ryan looked up and down the street. “Ready to make a run for it?”
I was relieved to see my parking spot free of love notes and trash. “Make sure you pay Jason well,” I requested quietly.
Ryan kept me on the inside of his arm, close to the buildings instead of the street. We sprint-walked down the sidewalk. It didn’t take long for the paparazzi to wake up and start clicking.
A few photographers jumped out of the vans, clicking their cameras fiercely. I just focused on the lines on the sidewalk and the distance from my feet to the door.
For one second I let my eyes glance up further to check for danger; that’s when I noticed the curly-haired, gap-toothed girl running towards us.
She had things in her hands, no doubt a picture or two for him to sign.
I thought it peculiar; all girls travel in packs. You would rarely see a girl without a fellow girlfriend tagging along… just like Suzanne and Francesca. But this girl seemed to be alone.
People were yelling “Ryan, Ryan” and even a few times yelled “Ms. Mitchell” or “Taryn” to get me to look, but I copied Ryan’s stance and kept my focus on getting to the door. Some of the photographers were trying to be nice, asking us if we enjoyed our evening. Ryan didn’t answer. He tucked his chin down to his chest and I felt his grip on my waist get tighter. I had my key ready in my right hand.
The curly-haired girl reached us before we got to my door. She almost lunged at Ryan, and I gasped at her forward behavior. He instinctively raised his right arm to block her and he turned his body in my direction. I could feel his panic level matching mine.
“That was the girl I was seeing from the theatre back home. You met her once when we shot the scenes in Acadia, remember? She came to Maine that one time. Who knows, maybe the bitch sisters got to her too? Ah, it doesn’t matter. She was more concerned about hooking up with my agent and getting me to make calls for her than she was about our relationship.” He shrugged the thought from his mind.
“I’m going to have to deal with this,” Ryan muttered. He chewed his lip – pondering again.
“Ryan, just let it go,” I advised. “Anything you do is going to make things worse. Just do your movies, play your part. A few years from now this will all be behind you.”
“Yeah, you’re right.” He gave me a brief smile and squeezed my hand.
I was glad he agreed. Suzanne seemed to have more than enough reasons to despise me.
Chapter 16 - Fused
Ryan held my hand as he drove us home; our arms rested on the center console.
“I really like driving this car,” he commented. “It handles great.”
“You look like you enjoy driving this car. And I’m enjoying getting driven around for once. I’m so used to driving that I never get to really look at the scenery.”
“We need to get the windows tinted darker though. That way the photographers can’t get too many daytime driving shots of you,” he grumbled.
I never gave any consideration to thoughts like that, although I never had to worry about having my picture taken either. Still, I loved hearing him say ‘we.’
He adjusted his grip on the steering wheel. “I never get to drive. I’m always jumping in the back seat of cars instead.”
“Or hurled into the back seat of cars,” I added.
He looked over at me quickly. “Hurled?”
“I saw you on television once. You were getting carried through a crowd by a few big security guys. It looked like they just tossed you into the car.”“
When was that?” he asked.
“When you were in L.A. a couple of weeks ago. I panicked when I saw how they man-handled you.”
I felt his hand squeeze mine tighter. “Your car was completely surrounded by screaming fans; they were pounding on your windows. I worried for a moment that they were going to break through the glass. That was the night when you first called me, wasn’t it?”
“Yes.” He raised my hand to his lips. “And that was the night you calmed me down. I remember crawling under the blankets to talk to you.”
“I remember wishing that you weren’t on the other side of the country,” I whispered.
“Guess we both got our wish.” He grinned.
He turned onto Mulberry Street; we were only a block away and I had my cell phone in hand, ready to call the police. Parked across the street from the pub were some SUVs, a van, and a few cars. There were a few photographers on the sidewalk, but not a large crowd like I had feared.
Ryan looked up and down the street. “Ready to make a run for it?”
I was relieved to see my parking spot free of love notes and trash. “Make sure you pay Jason well,” I requested quietly.
Ryan kept me on the inside of his arm, close to the buildings instead of the street. We sprint-walked down the sidewalk. It didn’t take long for the paparazzi to wake up and start clicking.
A few photographers jumped out of the vans, clicking their cameras fiercely. I just focused on the lines on the sidewalk and the distance from my feet to the door.
For one second I let my eyes glance up further to check for danger; that’s when I noticed the curly-haired, gap-toothed girl running towards us.
She had things in her hands, no doubt a picture or two for him to sign.
I thought it peculiar; all girls travel in packs. You would rarely see a girl without a fellow girlfriend tagging along… just like Suzanne and Francesca. But this girl seemed to be alone.
People were yelling “Ryan, Ryan” and even a few times yelled “Ms. Mitchell” or “Taryn” to get me to look, but I copied Ryan’s stance and kept my focus on getting to the door. Some of the photographers were trying to be nice, asking us if we enjoyed our evening. Ryan didn’t answer. He tucked his chin down to his chest and I felt his grip on my waist get tighter. I had my key ready in my right hand.
The curly-haired girl reached us before we got to my door. She almost lunged at Ryan, and I gasped at her forward behavior. He instinctively raised his right arm to block her and he turned his body in my direction. I could feel his panic level matching mine.
