Love Unscripted

  “Yes, please,” he graciously replied.

  The ship’s engines hummed to life and I could see the crew pulling in the ropes that secured us to the docks. I walked over to the window to get a closer look as we departed the slip. The moon was almost full; fluffy clouds dotted the night sky, occasionally obscuring the moon from view. We would have a perfect night to be out on the ocean.

  Ryan stood behind me; his hands rested on my waist as he softly kissed my bare shoulder.

  “So, what do you think?” he whispered in my ear.

  “Very impressive for a first date!” I said enthusiastically.

  “It’s not our first date. If I recall correctly, you took me out on a boat for our first date,” Ryan uttered. “Do you have any idea of how much I wanted to kiss you when we were out on the lake?”

  “I was thinking about kissing you when we were on the deck, actually,” I quietly confessed.

  “I almost kissed you then too,” he admitted.

  “Why didn’t you?” I wondered, looking up into his eyes.

  “I hesitated and you ran off.” Ryan sighed, appearing regretful.

  In a matter of moments, we were out on the open sea. The moon shone in the sky like a beacon illuminating our way.

  “I really like your dress,” he murmured. His hand swept my hair to the side so he could softly kiss my neck. I felt his tongue, his teeth, brush and graze on my skin. My desire for him could no longer be contained.

  I turned in his arms; our eyes met and our lips found each other. His strong hands pressed me closer to his chest. He kissed me passionately. My fingers tangled in the back of his hair as the intensity of our kissing consumed me.

  Slowly I slid my hands down the front of his shirt, across his waist, until my fingers found the back pockets of his pants. A soft moan escaped his mouth as I tensed my hands in his pockets; his warm hands held my face to his.

  His kiss became soft and slower. I could spend an eternity kissing this man. Ryan pulled me into a warm embrace before releasing my lips from his. He had a smug grin on his face.

  Our moment was interrupted when the steward came back in the room. “Excuse me, sir. Dinner will be ready in about fifteen minutes. Shall I bring you a bottle of champagne or would you prefer wine?”

  “Do you want champagne or wine before dinner?” Ryan asked.

  “You choose,” I replied. I wanted him to make the decision.

  “We’ll have the champagne,” he answered.

  Ryan and I toured the yacht before dinner; we wandered down the stairs to take in the sights of the lower deck. Dark, rich woods and designer wallpaper covered the hallways that led to the staterooms. We took turns peeking into the different rooms; each room was decorated in different patterns and colors.

  My eyes mischievously glanced at the door to the master suite, hoping to encourage him to steal away with me for a moment. He laughed at me before stating, “tempting, so very tempting, but our dinner will get cold!”

  Our fabulous dinner was served in courses, and I was quite full after the prime rib. Everything was delicious; it felt like we ate for two hours. Dessert would have to wait.

  After our plates were cleared, an older man wearing a tuxedo joined us in the salon. He sat at the baby grand piano that graced the portside and proceeded to play.

  Ryan stood up and held out his hand. “Dance with me,” he whispered.

  He took me in his arms and placed my hand in his as he slowly turned us on the floor. His hand gently caressed the small of my back; he rested our entwined hands on his chest.

  I whispered in his ear, “Thank you for the best date of my life.”

  He didn’t comment. He just raised his eyebrows a bit and smiled at me.

  I closed my eyes as our cheeks touched and rested together. Our bodies swayed to the music. And every so often, his lips would reach mine.

  It was almost midnight when the ship approached the docks. As we disembarked the yacht, I noticed that the marina looked totally different. Anthony was waiting to escort us safely to our limousine.

  When we drove out of the marina I noted that the name on the sign was different; this was not the same marina where I boarded the yacht, and we were headed northeast. Ryan gathered my hand in his as we sat in silence.

  “Shell game?” I murmured.

  Ryan just smiled and raised my hand to his lips.

  I placed our hands on my lap and he started to draw random patterns on the inside of my thigh with his fingertips. I was smoldering in my own skin.

  The limo pulled into the empty parking lot and I could see my car waiting with Richard standing guard. When we were at a complete stop, the driver and Anthony exited. I had anticipated my door to open a moment later, but it didn’t. I glanced back at Ryan; he looked absolutely adorable sitting there smiling at me.

  “I hope you had a good time tonight.” He smirked confidently.

  My hand was already gripping the door handle to let myself out. I was confused - was this the good night, goodbye time?

  “What?” he asked, obviously noting my expression.

  “I didn’t realize that this was the end of our evening,” I muttered, adding a hint of playful disappointment to my tone. “I thought…” I looked away. “I guess I thought wrong.”

  “I don’t want it to be the end of our evening, but I don’t want to assume either,” he spoke softly.

  “I thought I was the one assuming!” I gently smiled. “Let’s go.” I motioned. “Drive us home.”

  As we exited the car, Ryan stopped to remove his bags from the trunk of the sedan. He gave me an impish grin as he shrugged. He was like the little boy caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

  I felt a little self-conscious myself, considering there were three witnesses to our indiscretion. Ryan didn’t seem to care. He relieved Richard of my car keys without a second thought and opened the passenger door for me.

  “Pull down the alley,” I instructed. “Then you can hop out.”

  “Son-of-a…” Ryan growled. The headlights of my car illuminated the alley, shining light on the photographers hovering around my back door. He quickly threw my car into reverse and backed out into the street. He drove down the street in front of my pub; paparazzi were staked out there as well.

  He sped past them, barely pausing at the stop sign.

  My eyes were focused on the anger on his face. “Ryan, just pull over,” I whispered.

  He drove another few blocks and pulled into the parking lot of the local grocery store. He lightly pounded his fists into my steering wheel.

  “Ryan, I’m ready for this, if you’re ready to be seen with me.”

  He looked over at me; some of the anger left his expression. “Cat’s gonna be out of the bag!”

  “They already suspect. They’re back there waiting at my doors. I’ve been followed and photographed all week.”

  “I know,” he whispered. “I’ve seen the pictures. You’re all over the tabloid sites.”

  “They took my picture when I left tonight too,” I said regrettably.

  I looked down at my hands. Thoughts of him not wanting to be officially seen with me crossed my mind. After all, I was a commoner, a “nobody” in his world of fame. My insecurities started to surface when he didn’t speak.

  “It’s okay. Just drive to your hotel. I’ll drive myself home.” Disappointment coated my words. My perfect date was quickly turning sour, even though deep down inside I understood. “Then you’ll be safe.”

  “I’m not worried about that. I’m worried about you. Your life is going to turn chaotic, just like mine. The paparazzi are relentless! I feel like I’m throwing you to the lions.”

  “You’re not throwing me, Ryan. I go willingly... if you truly want me by your side. But still, I understand why.”

  He took my hand in his, gently tugging my arm to get me to look at him again.

  “They are going to hound you.”

  “So what?” I countered. “They’ve already started.” r />
  “That doesn’t bother you?” His eyes scrunched together, assessing.

  “They are annoying, but really, if something like that bothered me, I wouldn’t be sitting in this car with you right now. The question is – does that bother you?” I uttered, barely above a whisper.

  “Yeah, it does. But not for the reason you might be thinking!” he retorted. “I’m afraid to take away your freedom.”

  He made it sound like he was sentencing me to solitary confinement. I just didn’t see it that way.

  I shook my head to disagree. “I thought you might be ashamed to be seen with me,” I whispered.

  “Ashamed?” He looked at me like I was being absurd. “Is that what you think? That I’ll be ashamed if our relationship becomes public?”

  I silently nodded my head.

  He slapped the gear shifter into drive and squealed the tires as he turned the car around.

  Ryan parked in my spot in the lot. Photographers descended on us before we even got out of the car.

  “Wait, let me get my bags first and then I'll get your door,” he instructed.

  We were followed all the way down the street as we hurried to the front door of my pub. The lights from the camera flashes in the dark were blinding and disorienting. It was like staring into strobe lights. I made the mistake of looking up at one of them when we crossed the street. Their intrusive questions never stopped either.

  While I fumbled to get my key in the lock, one of the groupies asked Ryan for his autograph, to which he nicely obliged. I was surprised that several men wanted Ryan’s autograph too. They were prepared with glossy prints of him in hand. I recalled Ryan referring to them as “autographers” once.

  I couldn’t get the door opened fast enough. Ryan and I hurried through the door and he shut it with force to lock the insanity out. I started to panic slightly when I couldn’t see the keypad properly to turn the alarm off. I had to blink repeatedly until I finally punched the code in. Then I set the alarm again to be sure to keep the insanity out.

  “I’m seeing spots.” It was hard to navigate through the darkness.

  He chuckled lightly. “Me too. No matter how many times… one of them still gets me in the eyes.”

  Ryan helped me with my coat, which he tossed onto the living room chair.

  “I’m sorry for the way I reacted,” he said, looking at me with apologetic eyes. “You need to realize that I only want to protect you.”

  “I know. I want to protect you too,” I whispered.

  I slid my hands into the space between his shirt and jacket, skimming my fingers up over his shoulders. I didn’t care that we were just hounded by photographers; I wanted to feel his skin on mine.

  I combed my fingers into his hair; our kissing was intense and passionate.

  The fingers of both his hands caressed in the space between my shoulders. I could hear the metal teeth separate as he slowly unzipped my dress.

  He raked his fingers across my back, peeling the dress from my body. I felt the satin when it landed around my ankles.

  His eyes took in the sight of me as I stepped out of my dress. I presumed he liked the look of the matching silken lace ensemble I was wearing underneath my dress - that paired with my high heels. His head swayed and his breath was rough before his open mouth locked onto mine.

  I unbuttoned his shirt while he kicked his shoes off and opened his belt. My fingers slid over his bare chest, pulling his tucked shirt out of his pants. He shuddered ever so slightly under my touch.

  In one quick movement he leaned down, catching my waist with his shoulder. His arm wrapped around my legs to hold me in place. I giggled as he quickly carried me down the dark hallway to my bedroom.

  We spent most of the day lounging in bed. In between the marathon sex sessions and a nap, we managed to shower. We even had breakfast in bed.

  “So how do you deal with it?” I asked. I pulled the sheet up over my shoulder.

  “Deal with what?” He looked over at me.

  “Everything. The demanding schedule, the obsessed fans, the photographers, and still manage to make movies.”

  He laughed quietly. “I honestly don’t know. Sometimes it feels like I’m having an out of body experience.”

  “Come on! Tell me!” I rested my hand on his bare chest.

  He rolled his eyes a bit. “You have a schedule to follow, right? Every day you get up and you either go to work or you have other things you need to accomplish.”

  “Yeah, but I don’t have people screaming at me.”

  “That’s not true,” he insisted. “I’ve seen people bark orders at you many times. I want sixty mixed drinks and forty pitchers of beer.”

  “It’s not the same,” I disagreed with his comparison.

  “How is it so different? You run a business, and with that comes dedication and responsibility. You have to be in front of people, some of which you don’t like, or don’t know. But yet you smile and play your part. They expect something from you, and you have to deliver. If you truly think about it, we all are acting in one way or another,” he remarked.

  I nodded; he had a point.

  “Take for instance my brother. He has to travel a lot for his job. He’s gone at least one week out of every month for a career that he doesn’t like very much. He has to get on a plane and leave his wife, Janelle, and their baby girl, Sarah, all the time. But yet he acts out his part; he puts a smile on his face and he goes to work every day. That’s what he does for a living.

  “Acting is something that I really like doing. It’s kind of easy for me to slip into another character and it’s fun to explore what it’s like to be someone else. And it’s far from boring, that’s for sure! If I had to sit behind a desk everyday, I think I would kill myself! But for some people, sitting behind a desk is a dream job. To each his own, you know?”

  “But what about the pressure?” I questioned.

  “What about it? Every job has its pressure. My pressure is just magnified because it’s publicized. All the directors out there want to make quality films that earn millions of dollars at the box offices. That’s what they get measured by. I get measured by my acting abilities and my public draw. The bigger those numbers are, the bigger my paycheck is! If you don’t have an atmosphere downstairs that pulls in customers, your sales are down and you don’t make money.”

  “I know all about metrics. Economics/Business degree, remember?” I replied. “I guess I’m just worried that the pressure might be too much for you one of these days.”

  He thought about my comment for a moment. “Do you remember how you felt after you sang on stage in front of all those people?”

  “Yes.”

  “And how did you feel?”

  “Petrified that I made an ass out of myself.”

  He smiled at me. “Okay, and when you played the same song in front of people last weekend, some of which you barely knew, how did you feel then?”

  “It was easier. I wasn’t worried at all.”

  “And why was that?”

  “Because I knew I could do it, for one.”

  “You had confidence. I guess it’s the same for me. The more I get to act, the more confidence I have in my abilities.”

  “Yeah, but you could have all the confidence in the world and still cave to the pressure,” I stressed.

  “Yeah, I know. And I feel it some days. You know that. But I also have a million reasons to deal with it – millions.” He smiled.

  “So it all comes down to money?” I muttered.

  “Well we all have to earn a living somehow! My mom is the one who told me to join the drama club and my dad is the one who told me to get a job. I’m blaming them!”

  His comment made me laugh.

  “You know how many years most people have to work to earn what I make in six months? One movie… millions.”

  “Yeah, but there’s a difference between being comfortable and being greedy. Are you hoping to be one of those mega-rich mega-stars one day? You kn
ow - the ones who only have one name now? Brad? Tom?”

  A tinge of fright struck me when I wondered if he would end up ditching me down the road so he could be the other half of a mega-couple. I had a comfortable amount in the bank, but I was far from mega.

  “I’m looking to ride this as long as I can. Who knows, maybe one day I won’t want to do this anymore. There are other ways for me to be artistic. Sometimes I look at my brother and envy him for what he has - a normal life and a family. That’s one of the many reasons why I’m here with you now. You’re my peace in all this insanity.”

  “Oh, I see. I’m just a piece for you,” I accused jokingly.

  “That’s not what I meant and you know it!” He tickled me.

  “So what is it about acting that you love so much?” I wondered.

  He rested his head on his hand and looked at me seriously. “You want to know why I like being an actor? It’s actually a lot of fun. Okay, imagine this… next time you pour a beer, I want you to look like you’re furious. Hold that look on your face – make sure you look at that camera - then walk five feet to your mark and hand the customer his beer. Wait until he takes a drink and then say your lines. It’s that complicated.”

  “What are my lines?” I asked.

  “Oh, you really want to pretend? Okay.” He sat up on his elbow. “Your lines are ‘I thought about killing you for a long time, Joe. Today I finally get my wish.’ ”

  “What’s my motivation?” I questioned, trying to get in the mindset.

  “Joe killed your partner… I don’t know! Think about something that pisses you off.”

  I sat up and wrapped the sheet around my body. It was hard to pretend and be naked at the same time.

  “Hey, what are you doing?” Ryan asked while trying to tug the sheet out of my hands. “I like that view!”

  I playfully slapped his hand away. “I have to focus!”

  “The script says that this is a nude scene,” he insisted, pulling the sheet off of me. “Just ignore the cameras,” he teased.

  I rolled my eyes. Fighting him was a lost cause.

  I thought about confronting the idiot who smashed my window with a rock - how I’d like to smash a rock through their window. I looked at Ryan and proceeded to glare at him.