Broken then Mended-part 21

When I woke up my head was resting on Ian’s shoulder, his head was leaned on mine, and I was covered with a blanket. I thought about moving, but I was actually comfortable, and he smelled really nice. I kept my head there and looked at the large TV screen on the wall. It had the flight information on it.
It said:
Time in Departure City: 4:23am
Time in Arrival City: 7:23am
Arrival Time at Destination: 9:12am
Arrival Time at Departure: 6:12am
Flight Time remaining: 1hr11min

I yawned, nodded to myself, and fell back asleep. This time when I woke up I was still on Ian’s shoulder and covered with a blanket, but he was awake and eating a banana. I sat up as straight as I could to stretch my back. I twisted around in my seat both ways, and when I heard my back pop I sat normally. I looked at him guiltily, “I’m sorry about that. If I made you uncomfor-” he put his hand over my mouth and took another bite of his banana. When he was done swallowing and sure I would be quiet, he took his hand away.
“You need to stop apologizing for stuff. Its okay.” He took another bite then held the half of a banana out to me. With a half full mouth he said, “You want some?”
I laughed and shook my head. “No, thanks. I’m fine.”
He nodded and pointed to the space in front of me. “Good, cause you got your own.” I looked at the table in front of me and there was a banana, a chocolate muffin with chocolate chunks, a piece of toast, and a bowl of strawberry slices. “That’s a lot of stuff for one person.”
He shrugged. “Well, I didn’t know what you wanted.”
“What do you mean?”
“I need to buy you breakfast, remember? Now eat, we’re landing in twenty minutes.”
I nodded and started on the muffin. When that was gone, I ate the toast with pieces of strawberry on it. I was full, so I handed him my banana. “Here, I’m full and you seem to like them.”
“They’re my favorite fruit,” he said as he took the banana, peeled it, and started eating.
I laughed a little and pulled the blanket closer to me. I always got cold on airplanes. For the next twenty minutes I thought about where I would stay. I know about some hostiles in down-town Manhattan – no, hostiles scare me; I didn’t like the last one I was at. What about a cheap hotel? Well, no hotels in New York City are cheap. So a motel then? But it has to be nice-ish; I stayed in one in Vegas with cockroaches and blood on the walls – I swear it was the mafia room that they used to film horror movies in. It was nasty. The Basshunter rave is in a few days, so I have a free night there. I can take the subway all around the city, sleep on the train, then window shop all day. And at night I can go to the various Denny’s locations. I’ll order something small, take a nap while waiting for my order, eat, and repeat throughout the night. That should work for the first five or six days – then I need to find a hotel or someplace to stay. I sighed and shook my head. I mumbled, “I didn’t think this through very much.”
“Didn’t think what through?”
I looked over at Ian. “Where I’m staying… I forgot that little detail. I’ll just spend the nights on subways or something.”
He shook his head. “No, of course not. You’re my friend, you can stay with me. I have a three bedroom and two-bathroom apartment.”
I looked down. “No, no I couldn’t intrude like that. It’s not my place to stay…”
His hand pulled my face up to meet his. “Nonsense. You will stay with me in my apartment – end of story. You’re not intruding. Besides, it’s a big apartment and I get lonely.”
With a sigh I replied, “Fine, I’ll stay with you. But only if I can go to the rave.”
He raised an eyebrow. “Rave? Aren’t drugs and alcohol associated with those?”
“Yes, yes they are. Don’t worry, I don’t do drugs. It’s gross.”
He nodded. “Uh-huh, and I’m assuming you don’t drink, either? Because it’s gross?”
I blushed a little. “Well… I’m still going over that part.”
He smiled a little and shook his head. “You aren’t even legal.”
I shrugged. “So? It’s illegal to go over the speed limit, too. Everyone in America does it, though.”
“Not the same thing.”
“Maybe, maybe not, now will you please let go of my face?”
He dropped his hand and laughed. “We’ll see about drinking. We’ll discuss the rules at my place later.”
I nodded and buckled my seatbelt, getting ready for landing. I hate this part. I took a deep breath, closed my eyes, and tried to ignore the feeling in my stomach as we landed – although I knew the feeling had nothing to do with landing and everything to do with Ian.

It’s been two hours since we landed. So that would make it eleven here, and eight back home. I intended on calling Nita the second I could use my phone, but then I realized that it was six in the morning and she was probably still out like a light. Plus, between getting off the plane, getting through the massive JFK airport, waiting for the car to pick us up, and being given the brief tour of New York City, I haven’t had much time to call her. The small limo that Ian used to show me around town came to a halt before a large apartment complex. I hopped out, grabbing my bag out of the trunk, only to be stopped by a pair of strong hands. I ignored them and pulled my bag out and carried it to the sidewalk. But, despite my ignoring him, Ian took my bag from me and started walking up the flights of stairs. “I can carry my own bag, you know,” I said, following him up.
“I now you can. But it’s courteous for the man to carry the bag for the girl, and I’m the courteous kind of guy.”
We walked up another flight of metal stairs to the top floor of the complex and to the door at the very end of the hall. He set down the bags, fished the keys out of his back pocket, and unlocked the large brown door. He motioned for me to go first, so I did. When I walked in it was the most spectacular apartment I’ve ever seen. When he said it was a big apartment, that was an understatement. It was a HUGE apartment. Before I realized it, or could stop it, the horrific thought came into my mind: It’s three times bigger than the Penthouse Taylor and I spent the night in. I winced at the thought – it brought back to many memories and too much pain – but suppressed it when I heard Ian enter behind me. I assessed the details of the area. The furniture was black, and by the smell of it, leather. Hung up on the wall was a massive flat screen, and under that about a three-foot high shelf with DVD’s, the cable box, and a couple VHS tapes. The carpet was white with brown and gray speckles – the standard stuff – but looked very, very soft. I bent over, running my hand over it and pressing down. My hand sunk into the floor – the carpet really was soft. Straightening up, a whiff of something caught my attention. My head swiveled around until I saw the cookies on the stove, golden brown and the chocolate glistening, like they’d just come out of the oven. I took in the sweet smell, closing my eyes and imagining how they would taste. Footsteps, the sound of a cupboard door opening and closing, plates clanking together, more footsteps, then the sweet smell right in front of me. I opened my eyes and saw Ian eating a cookie with one hand, and the other holding out a plate of them. I took one – it was still warm. “How’d you make these? We’ve only been here a couple minutes.”
He set the plate down on the counter and replied, “My housekeeper. I called her when we got off the plane and asked for her to cook them. Taste good, don’t they?”
I bit into one – it was chewy, and melted in my mouth. “Very good.”
Smiling, he gestured for me to follow him down the hall. He pointed to the first door on his left, “This is the main bathroom.” I peeked in the door, it was white tile with mahogany accents. The first door on the right swung open, “This is the first bedroom, which I turned into a little game room.” The room was furnished with five giant beanbags, a big-screen TV, a shelf full of video games and DVDs, and a poker table.
I followed him down to a large closet, but when he opened it there was the washer and dryer. A couple more steps and he opened the second door on the left. “This is my bedroom.” Respecting his privacy, I just glanced in – big mahogany bed, mahogany dresser and nightstand, a TV and a closet. I nodded and he opened the door at the end of the hall. “And finally, the guest bedroom, which will be yours.” He stepped in and motioned for me to enter. The room before me was extravagant – a large, black four-poster bed, a large dresser, and on it a TV and a radio. There was a black desk with a couple drawers, and sitting on top of it was a stack of fancy-looking paper, a feather pen, and an ink well. On the black nightstand was a glass vase containing water and a single red rose. At the foot of the bed sat a black chest, the worn edges looking a red-ish color. I walked over to the bed and ran my hands over the black sheets – satin, definitely. The comforter was black as well, intricate designs in white thread laced through. The walls were a deep red, matching the color of the worn chest, although the floor was white. Again, the contrast of black and white – like in the Penthouse – sent a stab of pain through me. I took a deep breath and turned back to Ian.
“So, what do you think?”
I nodded and smiled. “I love it, absolutely. You have a very elegant taste for a guy.”
“For a guy?” He walked towards me with a smirk on his face. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Oh, I didn’t mean it that way. No, it’s just usually girls have better taste in fashion – whether it be clothes or furniture.”
“Why can’t a guy have good taste in furniture? Or clothes for that matter?”
I leaned against the wall, my hands behind my back. “You can, I’m just talking in generalities.”
“Well, I apply to those generalities. My housekeeper did the decorating.”
I nodded. “She did a very good job.”
“Thank you. Now, why don’t we go get some breakfast?”
“Sure. Can I get some decent clothes on first?” I looked down at my sweats, tank-top and flip-flops.
He walked out of the room, was gone for a moment, and came back with my bag. “Here you go,” he said and tossed it onto my bed.
“Thanks.” He left and I opened up my bag, laying all the clothes out on my bed. Soon enough, I realized I didn’t have any decent clothes. I rolled my eyes – all I had was mini-skirts and scanty dresses. After about ten minutes, I found something I could wear. It was still a denim mini-skirt, but it was the longest one I had, and went down to my mid-upper thigh. The shirt was a red, tight-fitting tank top that showed off my breasts. For shoes I just put on my black 2-inch wedges – they were the least sluttish shoes I had in my bag. As for makeup, I decided to leave it off, and just put my hair in a high ponytail and some sunglasses. It took a total of ten minutes for me to get ready – I seriously think that is the shortest amount of time I’d ever done it in. When I walked out of my room, Ian walked out of his. Like the first time we met, he was trying to be polite and looked away from my body, but not before I caught that look in his eyes. He led me out the door, down the stairs, and to his car. We hopped in and he began driving into the city. “So where we headed?” I asked.
Turning a corner, he replied, “It’s a small café that I like to go to. Good food and awesome service. It’s nice.” He turned a couple more corners then parallel parked in front of a little corner shop, with windows on both sides and a small ivory sign reading THE TEA ROOM in black. Like a gentlemen, Ian opened my car door, opened the restaurant door, held out my chair and pushed me in. The hostess gave us our menus and asked if we would like some drinks.
“Coffee, please, and some sugar.”
She wrote it down then turned to me. “Do you carry chamomile tea?”
“Yes, we do,” she said with a smile.
“I would like that, with some sugar as well.”
She wrote that down and replied, “Alright, I’ll be back with your drinks,” and left.
I looked at the menu for only a second before Ian took it from me. “Trust me, I know what to order. You’ll love it,” he said after I gave him a confused look.
Shrugging, I reached for my cell phone in my pocket. I was going to call Nita, because it was about time, but there was no need, for she was calling me.
I answered in a tentative voice, “Hello?”
Instead of the screaming I expected, there was just her normal voice, although with a tinge of anger and hurt, but well controlled, “I know you’re in New York, I know you’re with Ian, and I know you had good reason to leave.”
“How’d you know I was in New York?”
“Caleb told me.”
“Caleb? The prisons aren’t even open yet.”
“Well, just like you, I have my ways around visiting hours.” Her voice was smug.
I could only imagine what she said to get in before visiting hours started. “Do I want to know?”
“No, probably not.”
“Then I’m not asking. How’d you know I was with Ian?”
“Darren told me.”
“Oh; and why are you not screaming at me?”
“Because I knew I wouldn’t get explanations from you that way.”
“Explanations of what?”
“Why you left.”
“I thought you said I had good reason?”
“Yes, but I want details.”
“On?”
“Why now!! When my wedding is so close and we start shooting in two weeks?”
“It’s only two?? I thought I had a month?!”
“Dude, big picture, I’M GETTING MARRIED!!!”
“Yeah, I know, and I’ll be back. I have my schedule all worked out.”
“When will you be back? You’re Dad will want some answers.”
“What do you mean?”
“He doesn’t know you’re gone yet.”
“How? He works today; he had to have seen the note.”
“I woke up before him, read it, and threw it away. He would flip out and we both know that.”
I did know that, my dad would have a heart attack. “So when will you tell him?”
“When he gets home from work.”
“What did you tell him this morning?”
“You were locking yourself in your room, going over what happened.”
“Okay, nice excuse.”
“So when will you be home?”
“May 15th.”
“Okay, good. Maybe I can convince Adam to hold shooting your part.”
“Yeah, you do that. I love you, but I gotta go.”
“Why?”
“My breakfast just arrived.”
“Okay, be careful and don’t do anything stupid.”
“Look who you’re talking to? Do you really think I’d do something stupid?”
“Yes I do.”
“Well that’s insulting.”
“Then prove me wrong.”
“I’ll try. Tell Kellan I love him, and Contrail and Darren, too.”
“Sure will.”
“And dust the piano!”
“Of course.”
“Kay, bye.”
“Bye.”
I hung up, put my phone in my pocket, and looked at the plate before me. There was a piece of toast in the shape of a circle, with small pieces of butter forming a smiley face, and the two over-easy eggs and three strips of bacon forming another smiley face.
“Aww, how cute!”
“It even tastes good,” Ian said, digging in.
I took a sip of the steaming chamomile tea, added like four tablespoons of sugar, tasted it again, and approved. Setting the cup aside, I picked up my fork and poked a hole in one of the eggs, squished out the yolk, and dipped my bacon in it. The look coming from Ian indicated that I was crazy. Without speaking, I took one of his pieces of bacon, dipped it in his egg yolk, and held it in front of his mouth. He kept his mouth closed, so I said, “Eat it now or it will drip down my hand.”
He didn’t open his mouth.
“I will wipe my hand on you’re nice black leather jacket.”
Immediately his mouth opened, closed around the bacon, and he chewed and swallowed. It took a minute, but he took another piece, dipped it in the yolk, and ate it. When he finished his food, he said, “Was it really necessary to threaten my jacket.”
“It was, I mean you were missing out on great food.”
He nodded and I took my last bite, drank the last bit of my tea, and wiped off my mouth with the napkin. While his plate was completely clean, mine still had half the food on it. “Did you not like it?”
“No, I loved it, I’m just full.”
Ian called for the waitress and asked for the check and a to-go box.
I asked, “So what’s on the agenda for today?”
After a minute of thinking and looking around the restaurant, he decided. “Do you have a swimsuit?”
I nodded, blushing a little, because the only swimsuit I had was the skanky little cheetah bikini I’d first met him in. “Yeah, why?”
He grinned and said, “Beach.”
I shrugged, “Why not?”
The waitress came back with the check and the box. “You can pay up front any time you like.”
Standing up and handing her thirty dollars, Ian put my food in the box and said, “Here you go, keep the change.”
She nodded, “Thank you,” and walked away.
I stood up and we walked out, nodding to our waitress, and then hurried to the car. The ride back to the apartment was pretty quiet, as was when we got there. “I’ll be out in a minute,” was all I said as I went to my room, setting my sunglasses on the counter. Shutting the door, I thought about where I packed my swimsuit in my suitcase, but when I looked at my bed I saw there was no need to go through my suitcase, because I had everything strewn across the bed. Quickly I found both pieces and changed. I rummaged through my clothes, coming across a large T-shirt that I took from Darren’s house one time. After throwing that on over the swimsuit, I slipped back into the flip flops I’d worn on the plane and looked in the mirror on the wall. The shirt was white and went to my mid-high thigh, so when I bent over it exposed my butt. I nodded and walked out just as Ian came out of his room. He was wearing black swim trunks and a white T-shirt.
“You ready?” he asked.
“Let’s go,” I replied.
I grabbed my sunglasses off the counter and followed Ian out to his car. On the short ride to the beach we just made small talk. Like how crowded the beach would be, if people would recognize us, hoping they wouldn’t. We were almost there when I asked, “Ian, do you have a football?”
“Yeah, in the trunk. Why?”
“Because I love playing football on the beach.”
“There are only two of us.”
I shrugged, “So? We can still pass it, tackle, run – that kind of stuff.”
“Okay – look for a good spot.” We pulled into the beach parking and drove around, looking for good parking and a good spot on the sand. I found one, absolutely no people, all sand and no rocks, and the waves were nice and soft.
“Over there,” and I pointed to the spot.
He nodded, “Nice pick, now just for parking…”
He drove for another minute then found a little road in the sand, went about thirty feet, and parked right in front of the spot.
We got out of the car and as I ran to the beach, slipping out of my flip flops and throwing off my shirt, Ian grabbed the football. I immediately ran into the water, wanting to feel it on my skin. Closing my eyes, I crouched down and let the waves break over my knees, sea foam spraying my face. I was so caught up in the moment I didn’t hear Ian approach behind me. What I did notice, though, was being lifted up and hastily carried further into the ocean. Opening my eyes, I saw it was Ian, and I started screaming and kicking – I SO did not want to get soaked right now. Unfortunately, he threw me into the ocean and I entered with a loud splash. Okay, even if I didn’t want to be soaked, the water felt really nice against me – I liked being consumed by it. I waited for a moment, feeling the water pulling on my hair, and swam the small distance back to the surface. Ian was standing on the beach, taking off his shirt. The first thing I saw were his abs, which were, well, hot. Six pack, pecks, and nicely tanned. I ran back up to him and tackled him into the damp sand. He held me tight even though we were rolling around on the beach. His touch felt nice – it wasn’t warm, it was hot. It made me feel alive and excited. We laughed and stopped rolling; he was on top. Resting all his weight on his hands which were placed on either side of my head, he looked like he was in the middle of a push-up. I looked in his eyes, and he looked in mine, slightly grinning. I don’t know why, but a jolt of excitement shot through me, and with that, I raised my head a bit. Lowering his, we closed our eyes and our lips met. It was a sweet kiss, and lasted about ten seconds. When he pulled his head up he said hastily, “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have done that,” and started to push up and off me.
I grabbed the dog tags around his neck and pulled him back down. I whispered, “Don’t be, I’m not,” and pulled him down to my face again. This time when our lips met it wasn’t sweet – it was hot and full of lust. I kept one hand on the dog tags, and put the other on the back of his neck, pulling him as close as possible. I wanted to feel his body on mine, so I rolled us over – still kissing him – and laid on him. Along with biting my lip, requesting entrance, his hands went to my lower back. I shivered in pleasure and opened my mouth, where his tongue shot in and explored. I moaned in pleasure and his hands pushed my body ever closer to his. I needed to breathe, so I lifted my head and he lowered his, working on my neck. It took five seconds for me to signal he’d reached my sweet spot with a loud moan. I felt a hard lump growing under his swim suit, so I pushed my legs apart, straddling the lump, and leaned forward, my mouth at his ears.
“Somebody’s getting excited, I see.”
Breath shallow, he managed to say, “Yes I am.”
I sat up straight, being sure to rub a little against his b()ner. “Well then let’s continue this back at your place, after we play football, of course.” Surprisingly I sounded sexy and seductive. Without taking the alluring smile off my face, I chastised myself. Why am I acting like I want more? I do want more, but I barely know him! Yes, I’m staying with him, but… No sxXx, no sXxx, no sxXx. That’s what ruined the last relationship, it won’t ruin this one. Wait, since when were we in a relationship?? If I want to have fun I can, remember? This is a no-relationship – one-night-stands-acceptable – have-as-much-fun-as-you-can – trip. Rocking back on my heels and standing up, I did a little body roll, letting the sun light glisten off my wet body. Walking to where he’d left the football on the sand, I could feel his eyes on me. I picked it up and turned to him. He was standing up and making no effort to keep his eyes off my body. Smiling, I walked to him, strutting just a little. When we were face-to-face, or since he was at least half a foot taller than me, face-to-chest, I looked him in the eye. “Go long,” I whispered.
Chuckling, he replied, “Why don’t we keep a close distance?”
“Why would we do that?”
“So you don’t lose control of the ball, or have the pass fall short.”
Seductively, implying a double-meaning, I said, “I never fall short of my goal.”
“We’ll see about that,” and he began jogging down the beach. When he was about twenty yards away, I threw the ball. Still running, he caught the perfect spiral. “Nice throw!” he yelled to me.
I hollered back, “Let’s see what you can do!”
Just as I did, he threw a perfect throw right to me. Good arm, I thought for a second and said as he was running back, “Stay there!”
“Why?”
“I’m gonna punt it!!” He backed up and I held the ball in front of me – laces out – and kicked it. Obviously he knew football, because when he caught it he began running towards me. I rushed him, meeting him about half way and tackling him to the ground. Losing control, the ball bounced out of his hands. I hurriedly hopped off him and ran to where the ball was still rolling. Not three seconds after I jumped on the ball, Ian was lifting me off the ground. Laughing as he carried my fireman style to the ocean, I said, “I’m gonna call a fumble on team Somerhalder, turnover, and the ball goes to team Jenkins.”
“And I’m gonna call bullsh!te.” He took the ball I was still clutching to my chest and threw it on the beach. When we were far enough in the water, he flipped me over and dunked my head in.
Holding my breath, I counted to three and he brought me back up. “What the he11 was that for?”
“I would like to challenge that fumble.”
“How so?” I asked breathlessly. I could feel the blood rushing to my head, considering he was holding me by my waist – okay, not waist, my asse really – with my knees hooked around either of his shoulders, and my head was by his knees.
“That was player interference. You pulled it out of my hands.”
“Did not!”
He bent over and dunked me again – he wasn’t going to give up till I gave him the ball. “Call back the turnover,” he laughed.
I shook my head, “Nope. I didn’t pull it out – I tackled you and you lost control.”
He shook his head, “Did not. Anyways, I’m not letting you go until I get the ball back.” His large smile indicated he would let me go whether if he got it back or not.