Love Unscripted
Page 131
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I took a shower and spent extra time fixing my hair and makeup, just in case. I took my time, fighting the urge to stay holed up in my apartment instead of going outside… out there. I could understand why Ryan hid in his hotel room.
I put on my best jeans and my black low ankle boots with the chunkier two-inch heel – just in case I needed to run – and my black leather jacket and sunglasses. I counted the money Ryan had left for me - one hundred and twenty dollars – and put it in my purse. Grocery list, purse, bank deposit, keys, cell phone… bravery? Where did I leave my guts? Don’t let them decide for you, you can do this.
I paused by the back door, fixed the alarm, took a deep breath, and stepped out into the alley. That’s when the cameras began to click. About five paparazzi followed me, asking me questions the entire way down the alley. I didn’t answer; I kept my focus on getting to my car. At one point I found that I was almost able to tune out their questions by thinking about something else.
I made sure to look like the love notes that were stuffed under my windshield wiper for Ryan didn’t bother me. I even think I smiled once. I patted them into a nice pile and placed them on the passenger seat of my car.
Did these freaking women actually think that his girlfriend would be considerate enough to pass their love notes on to him? Surely they had to know this was my car and not his!
Maybe they hoped that if we ever got into a fight that he might pick the first love note in the pile and go running to their arms? Like these notes were somehow entry tickets to the Ryan Christensen lottery and the lucky winner would be chosen randomly from the stack? What the hell was in all of their heads?
I knew exactly why he broke down yesterday; these people were loose on the streets. My mind flashed back to the old zombie movies and I pictured that Ryan and I were the only ones not turned into monsters - yet. I took a moment to program my music selection. Ah, there it is – I knew I had it, “Zombie” by The Cranberries. I smiled, turned the volume up, and put my car into reverse. Take a picture of that.
Since I had a large amount of cash on me from my profits at the bar, the bank was the first stop on my agenda. I stood in the small bank line waiting for the next available teller; my options narrowed when one of the two tellers working placed her ‘window closed’ sign on the countertop.
Just my luck I would have to do my banking with someone I went to high school with - Michele Weeks, another downside to living in a small town.
She noticed me standing in line and suddenly she was smiling at me from ear to ear. Great! This girl never said more than two words to me all through high school and now she was grinning at me like we were long-lost friends. Why would she talk to me back in those days? I wasn’t part of that crowd; I hung out with the normal kids who didn’t think they were better than everyone else.
Back then she was the head cheerleader, dating one of the three most popular guys in school, who just happened to get her pregnant right after graduation. Now she was the head teller at my bank. I laughed inside; funny how she always had the term “head” associated to her name.
“Hi Taryn!” she greeted me. “How are you?”
Like you really care.
“Good, thanks! Deposit please,” I said, sliding the rubber banded stack of cash and my deposit slip toward her.
She took my money below the counter and typed onto her computer. She was still smiling and looking me over and I knew at any moment she was going to ask her burning question.
“Taryn, please tell me. Is it true?” she whispered her plea to me. Her eyes scanned back and forth for eavesdroppers. “Are you really dating Ryan Christensen?”
Wonderful, another freaking nosey fan. A few smart-ass answers ripped through my brain like ‘no, he’s just living with me and having as much sex as one man is humanly capable of without dehydrating,’ but I kept my composure and stared at her blankly.
“Come on!” she urged. “I won’t say anything!”
“That’s good to know.” I leaned into the counter a few inches further, my eyes glanced from side to side to pique her interest, and then I dropped the bomb. “Neither will I.”
Her smile morphed into a frown in an instant, and she shifted her focus to angrily count my deposit. She slid the deposit receipt towards me.
“Have a nice day,” she droned. I could tell she didn’t really mean it.
I decided to drive out of Seaport and into the next town to do my grocery shopping. Why? I didn’t know. Something about putting distance between me and the zombies perhaps?
I drove past one of the large hardware store chains and another thought dawned on me. I turned around and parked in the large lot. I wanted to get copies of my keys made so I could give Ryan his own set. I hoped he’d get a better understanding of just how much I wanted him with me.
I put on my best jeans and my black low ankle boots with the chunkier two-inch heel – just in case I needed to run – and my black leather jacket and sunglasses. I counted the money Ryan had left for me - one hundred and twenty dollars – and put it in my purse. Grocery list, purse, bank deposit, keys, cell phone… bravery? Where did I leave my guts? Don’t let them decide for you, you can do this.
I paused by the back door, fixed the alarm, took a deep breath, and stepped out into the alley. That’s when the cameras began to click. About five paparazzi followed me, asking me questions the entire way down the alley. I didn’t answer; I kept my focus on getting to my car. At one point I found that I was almost able to tune out their questions by thinking about something else.
I made sure to look like the love notes that were stuffed under my windshield wiper for Ryan didn’t bother me. I even think I smiled once. I patted them into a nice pile and placed them on the passenger seat of my car.
Did these freaking women actually think that his girlfriend would be considerate enough to pass their love notes on to him? Surely they had to know this was my car and not his!
Maybe they hoped that if we ever got into a fight that he might pick the first love note in the pile and go running to their arms? Like these notes were somehow entry tickets to the Ryan Christensen lottery and the lucky winner would be chosen randomly from the stack? What the hell was in all of their heads?
I knew exactly why he broke down yesterday; these people were loose on the streets. My mind flashed back to the old zombie movies and I pictured that Ryan and I were the only ones not turned into monsters - yet. I took a moment to program my music selection. Ah, there it is – I knew I had it, “Zombie” by The Cranberries. I smiled, turned the volume up, and put my car into reverse. Take a picture of that.
Since I had a large amount of cash on me from my profits at the bar, the bank was the first stop on my agenda. I stood in the small bank line waiting for the next available teller; my options narrowed when one of the two tellers working placed her ‘window closed’ sign on the countertop.
Just my luck I would have to do my banking with someone I went to high school with - Michele Weeks, another downside to living in a small town.
She noticed me standing in line and suddenly she was smiling at me from ear to ear. Great! This girl never said more than two words to me all through high school and now she was grinning at me like we were long-lost friends. Why would she talk to me back in those days? I wasn’t part of that crowd; I hung out with the normal kids who didn’t think they were better than everyone else.
Back then she was the head cheerleader, dating one of the three most popular guys in school, who just happened to get her pregnant right after graduation. Now she was the head teller at my bank. I laughed inside; funny how she always had the term “head” associated to her name.
“Hi Taryn!” she greeted me. “How are you?”
Like you really care.
“Good, thanks! Deposit please,” I said, sliding the rubber banded stack of cash and my deposit slip toward her.
She took my money below the counter and typed onto her computer. She was still smiling and looking me over and I knew at any moment she was going to ask her burning question.
“Taryn, please tell me. Is it true?” she whispered her plea to me. Her eyes scanned back and forth for eavesdroppers. “Are you really dating Ryan Christensen?”
Wonderful, another freaking nosey fan. A few smart-ass answers ripped through my brain like ‘no, he’s just living with me and having as much sex as one man is humanly capable of without dehydrating,’ but I kept my composure and stared at her blankly.
“Come on!” she urged. “I won’t say anything!”
“That’s good to know.” I leaned into the counter a few inches further, my eyes glanced from side to side to pique her interest, and then I dropped the bomb. “Neither will I.”
Her smile morphed into a frown in an instant, and she shifted her focus to angrily count my deposit. She slid the deposit receipt towards me.
“Have a nice day,” she droned. I could tell she didn’t really mean it.
I decided to drive out of Seaport and into the next town to do my grocery shopping. Why? I didn’t know. Something about putting distance between me and the zombies perhaps?
I drove past one of the large hardware store chains and another thought dawned on me. I turned around and parked in the large lot. I wanted to get copies of my keys made so I could give Ryan his own set. I hoped he’d get a better understanding of just how much I wanted him with me.
