Ryan paused for a moment to take a swig of his beer. “My mom has been his office manager for forever. She pretty much runs the place. We always kid him that all he has to do is show up and tell people to say ‘ahh.’ Mom does the rest.”
A minute or two passed and I had a vision of his dad’s dental business being inundated with new patients. It made me laugh out loud.
“What’s so funny?” he asked.
“I was just picturing your dad’s waiting room being lined up with hundreds of new patients, all young and female! Oh, Dr. Christensen, I think I have a cavity. By the way can you introduce me to your son?”
“Hah! That’s funny you said that. If someone new calls to make an appointment… if you’re under forty and female forget it. You’re not getting in. My mom will hang up on you.”
“Guess it’s a good thing that I already have a dentist.” I laughed. “I thought maybe they were grading the women for you. Only the ones with minimal amounts of plaque get your phone number.”
He was laughing so hard he didn’t even realize he had another fish on his line.
I set my pole down and retrieved the net. “Look at that!” I yelled. He had a huge fish on his hook. Poor thing was thrashing its body. Ryan had the biggest smile on his face; he was in his happy place.
“That’s good eating right there!” He held the fish up.
“No, no… catch and release,” I reminded him.
We spent the entire afternoon fishing out on the lake. I learned some inside trade secrets of the movie industry and how he got hurt once doing some of his own stunts. He told me about all the stunts that he had to do for the Seaside movie and how each move was carefully choreographed.
It was really interesting to learn about green screens and how they sometimes filmed inside a huge building but once the computer graphics and sceneries were added it would appear that they were actually outside.
We lounged peacefully in the boat as we watched the hawks fly in the breeze. The setting sun changed the horizon to beautiful shades of orange and red and the wind that blew across the water had a frosty chill.
Over the course of several hours we shared our stories, our thoughts, likes and dislikes, and hopes and dreams. We made each other laugh a lot. It was all so surreal.
“That was a lot of fun,” Ryan said as he tied the boat to the dock. We walked up the path to the cabin and he took the fishing poles out of my hand.
“Thank you,” he said softly. The smile on his face was genuine. He bumped his arm into mine, giving me a little nudge.
I was really happy that he enjoyed himself and that he caught more fish than I did. He didn’t seem egotistical but regardless he was still a man, and all men have their pride.
I felt a sudden urge to hold his hand as we walked to the house; his arm was almost touching mine. This would have been a perfect moment for that sentiment, but we didn’t have that kind of relationship.
I wondered if we ever would. I could picture him all too clearly being a part of my life and me being a part of his. But the part of his life that I was imagining was this part, right now – a life of peace and togetherness – of normalcy. The kind of life that most people on the planet experienced.
In reality, Ryan’s life was anything but normal now and that was hard to imagine. His life was in constant turmoil, being hounded and chased. He had no privacy. His existence had to be shrouded in secrecy to keep intimate details from becoming public. What a trade he had to make for doing something he loved.
The entire time we were out on the lake I just wanted to ask him point blank why “acting” as a career choice was worth it to him – worth the trade. Was there something in his ego that needed that brush of attention? Did he get a thrill out of pretending to be someone else, because that’s what actors do – they get to live someone else’s life for a while. But I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t ask. They were questions that remained unanswered.
The biggest question in my mind was whether peace and insanity could survive together in harmony.
Chapter 7 - Revelations
“I’m freezing.” My teeth were chattering from being out on the lake. I turned the baseboard heaters on to warm up the cabin. “Ryan? Would you go get a couple of logs from the side of the house please? I want to start a fire.”
I grabbed the big steamer pot from under the counter, filled it with water, and set it on the stove. My stomach was making noises and it was getting close to dinnertime anyway.
Ryan carried in an armful of logs and I helped him stack them next to the fireplace.
“The starter log stuff is in that box.” I pointed to where he should look. I used some small branches to get the fire going.
“You’re a real Girl Scout,” he kidded and nudged me in the leg.
“Not really. I can’t start a fire without a lighter or a match. I’d be in big trouble if I had to survive in the woods.”
“I met that guy once,” he continued. “The survivor guy from TV. You know who I’m talking about?”
“Who? That guy who gets dropped off in the worst of places and then gets filmed while eating frogs and stuff?” I asked.
“Yeah. That guy.” He nodded. “I met him at a party once. He was one bizarre dude! He had some really wild stories.”
“You sort of look like the survivor man yourself!” I laughed lightly. “You have bits of wood stuck all over your shirt.” I picked some shards off of his sleeves while he plucked a few that were stuck to his chest. “Let’s go outside and brush you off.”
We stepped out onto the wooden deck and I immediately ran my hands over his arms to knock the dirt off. Instead of helping me Ryan just stood there, perfectly still, gazing at me while I dusted him.
I wondered for a moment if he was going to try to kiss me. We were so close; all I could think about was tasting him. He would only have to lean in a few inches. I would succumb willingly…
My hands slowed in their movements as I tried to be precise with removing the wood shards. My eyes were fixed on tracing the texture and contours of his shirt, since I couldn’t look him directly in the eyes.
I thought about what his full lips might feel like on mine, how the skin on his muscular chest might feel under my hands. For a moment I could understand why those sick fans wanted to pull his shirt off. Now I thought about pulling his shirt off too and right after that, his shoes, his belt, his jeans...
I had to banish those thoughts from my head. That line of thinking was way too dangerous.
“You should be able to get the rest,” I muttered, quickly turning on my heels to hurry back into the cabin. Don’t do this to yourself, Taryn. You can’t have him.
I washed my hands thoroughly at the sink and unpacked some of the food from the cooler.
“What are you up to?” he asked when he joined me in the kitchen. I was rinsing the two enormous lobster tails I picked up at the seafood store under the water.
Ryan peeked over my shoulder. “Mmm, lobster!” He grinned, smacking his lips together. “Need help?”
I noticed when he stood next to me, he was careful not to let our bodies touch. He kept a small, but safe distance between us. I wondered if he did that on purpose.
Ryan sat down at the dinner table, in the same chair that my father always sat in. The memory of that made me smile. I imagined my father being pleased with the man who now took his place at the table. Ryan and my father would have gotten along very well.
We had a lovely dinner together as the fire crackled behind us; the radio was playing soft music in the background. It was actually quite romantic.
A tinge of nervousness crept into my gut from being alone with him in a secluded cabin in the middle of the woods. All alone… with him, my mind repeated. Bottle of wine… fireplace… bedroom just down the hallway. I swallowed hard. Would he be expecting more? After all, I did bring him here. I pretty much set the stage for a convenient tryst.
“That was delicious, Taryn.” Ryan stretched back in his chair, pattin
g his stomach. “I’m stuffed!”
I was glad he enjoyed it, but now the flow of panic was surging in like the tide. What’s next? I had just started to smile at him when I felt queasy again. He helped me clear the table and I began washing the dishes when the wave of nausea hit.
“I don’t feel so good.” I rubbed my stomach and dashed for the bathroom.
I was gone for so long that Ryan had washed all the dishes and was kicked back on the couch by the fire.
“Are you all right?” he asked. I could hear the concern in his tone.
“No. I feel really sick.”
“My stomach isn’t feeling so hot either.”
I looked at him, surprised that his stomach was in knots too. Apparently I wasn’t the only one who was nervous.
I had just sat down on the couch when I felt like I could vomit. I ran back to the bathroom just in time to make it to the toilet as dinner came back up… several times.
Ryan was pale when I came out of the bathroom; he hurried right past me and shut the door. I trudged down the hallway to the master bedroom so I could lie down; I was really feeling lousy. I turned the television on to drown out the sounds of Ryan getting sick.
“Whatever you do, don’t go in there,” he groaned as he lay down on the bed next to me. Even though he warned me, I couldn’t wait. I darted for the bathroom again for round two of violent vomiting.
For the next several hours we took turns violating the bathroom. I hadn’t been that sick in years.
“I just threw up air,” I said as I curled back down on the bed next to him.
Ryan softly chuckled. “I threw up food I haven’t even eaten yet.”
His comment made me laugh.
“Do you think it was the lobster?” he asked, pulling the blanket up higher on his shoulder.
“I was wondering that myself,” I said, knowing now that it wasn’t just my nerves that made me ill. When I spoke, the words that came up my sore throat made me cough.
“But it was still partially frozen and I rinsed it. I was trying to think of what else I ate today. Maybe it was that breakfast sandwich? The sausage?”
“Could be. But we both got sick right away. I’m thinking tainted lobster – either that or it was the salad.”
“My ribs are killing me.” I winced as I rubbed my stomach. “But I don’t feel like I need to be sick anymore, so that’s a good thing.”
“Me neither. I’m starting to feel a little better actually.”
“I’m so sorry,” I pleaded with him. “Don’t hate me.”
“I don’t hate you,” he whispered sweetly, his fingers drifted across my forehead. He pulled the blanket up higher on my back to cover me up. “We’re never buying any seafood again from wherever you bought that lobster though, I can tell you that!”
For as lousy as I felt and how sick I just was, the fact that he just said “we” sent a wave of elation through my soul.
Ryan was curled up in a ball and I could hear him start to breathe heavier. He had fallen asleep, so I turned the television off and closed my eyes. After that marathon session of nastiness, it wouldn’t take me long to fall asleep either.
I knew I was dreaming when I couldn’t see the ground that my feet were supposedly running on. I was trying to get through one of those mazes that are made out of tall hedges that you see sometimes in movies, and every turn I took was a dead end. I’d have to turn around and run down the same path that I just came from, all the while hearing Ryan calling my name and asking me to “come here, come here.” I had to find him.
I ran down a long row of hedges and turned to the left where I thought his voice was coming from. As soon as I turned the corner, there was a mob of women, all wearing a picture of his face on their shirts, blocking my path. They started to laugh at me; some of them were cackling like witches.
Photographers stepped out of the shrubs and were taking pictures of me as I started to cry. I felt the twang of terror set in as one girl in the front row morphed into the likeness of Suzanne Strass. She grabbed me by the hair and pulled fiercely, bending me backwards.
“He’s mine, bitch!” she screamed in my face. “Not even in your dreams.”
My eyes shot open from the sensation. Part of my long hair was trapped under Ryan’s head. The sun was bright so I assumed it was sometime after eight o’clock.
A shot of pain hit my ribs when I started to crawl out of bed; my stomach muscles were sore from throwing up so many times.
I went out to the living room and grabbed my bag so I could get freshened up. I desperately needed a shower; my hair was a mess and I looked like I spent the night vomiting.
The hot water felt good, and I noticed that I was feeling much better. I brushed my teeth to rid my mouth of the nasty taste and washed my body twice to rid my pores of illness. I couldn’t get clean enough.
I put my jeans and a shirt on so I could go out to the living room again; my hairbrush was stuffed in my purse. Ryan came to the bedroom door and stopped to lean on the doorframe.
“Are you finished in there?” he asked as a big yawn broke from his lips.
As he spoke, my eyes took in the sight of him. Sometime throughout the night he took his jeans off. He was standing there in a white Tee and gray boxer briefs, and oh my, there it was, extreme morning wood.
HELLO! My brain shouted as my eyes traced the large bulge pushing out in his shorts.
He tilted his head and smirked at me when he realized that my eyes and thoughts were completely distracted. I think he actually meant for me to see that because he didn’t even attempt to move or hide it.
“Um, yeah, all yours,” I muttered, slightly embarrassed from being busted ogling his underwear. I turned and hurried out of his way, ignoring him when he chuckled.
While my brain was still tracing the outline of his morning friend, I grabbed my pack of birth control pills out of my purse and popped Monday’s pill in my mouth. Even though it was only a placebo today, I still wanted to keep up with my daily routine. I couldn’t have had sex this weekend even if I wanted to; that was probably another reason why I was feeling drained.
I had been on the pill since my first year of college, and the erotic vision that was in my mind right now was the exact reason why. Better to be safe than sorry, for I didn’t want to have children without first being married, but I certainly wasn’t going to keep my virginity intact until that happened.
“Taryn? Do you have an extra towel?” Ryan yelled from the bathroom.
“Yeah, hang on a sec.” I pulled a fresh, white towel out from one of my bags.
He was partially hidden behind the bathroom door, although I could see that his shirt was now off. I tried not to look at him at all when I handed him the bath towel. I already had one huge image of him that was repeating in my mind.
I walked back to the living room wondering how many women have gotten an up close and personal look at his package. I knew how many men I had sex with – I was still in the single digits for my total – high single digits, but nine is still under ten.
I figured with a body and a package like his, combined with endless opportunities from women throwing themselves at him, he probably took that thing out of his pants and showed it to as many women as possible. It was a frightening thought and I secretly wished my assumption was wrong.
I was putting the dishes away when he came out into the great room with nothing on except the towel wrapped around his waist. His left hand was gripping the two ends of the towel together; his other hand combed his wet hair back off his forehead.
“I need my bag,” he muttered.
Holy Shit! My brain shrieked again from the new sight of him. My eyes quickly took in the visions of his bare chest and arms, how they still glistened slightly from the water droplets that remained on his skin.
I gasped in a quick breath of air and turned away for the safer view of the kitchen sink. Clean the sink - just clean the sink. Don’t look.
I could see his reflection in the kitche
n window; he had his back turned to me as he opened the towel and re-wrapped it around his waist. He stood there for a few moments using both of his hands to comb through his wet hair.
Effin-A he is HOT! Marie was right in her assessment. I was thankful that the metal sink was strong enough to endure my grip and hold me in place as I squeezed my legs together at the knees.
It had been far too long since I saw a mostly naked man and this one was killing me with visions left and right. I think he realized that I was turned and not facing him anymore because he sort of huffed, grabbed his bag, and headed back to the bedroom.
I had the kitchen all cleaned up when he came back to the island counter that separated the kitchen from the rest of the main room. He leaned on the island with his elbows right next to where I had my purse.
Shit! When I went to get him a towel, I forgot to shove my pill pack back into my purse. Just as I turned to correct my mistake his fingers picked it up. His look of curiosity was instantly replaced with a smirk when he realized what it was.
“You weren’t supposed to see that,” I murmured. I snatched the pack from his hand and shoved it back in my purse.
“What’s the big deal?” he asked casually. “So you’re on the pill. That’s good to know.” He smirked.
This was a conversation that I didn’t want to have with him. “Are you finished in the bathroom? ‘Cause if you are I’d like to dry my hair quick.”
“Yeah.” He nodded. “Speaking of which, how are you feeling this morning?”
“I’m feeling better. My stomach muscles hurt though. I feel like I did two hundred sit-ups. And you?”
“I’m feeling pretty good actually.” He stood straight and stretched. “Must have been the lobster. Are you up to taking the boat out again?” I could tell in his voice he was hoping.
“Yeah, sure. Just let me finish getting ready.”
Ryan steered the boat back out on the lake and I was comfortable just lounging under a blanket. The bright sun warmed my face. I was feeling better, but still not one hundred percent yet. Being sick made me overly tired.