15. Ian
15
IAN
Of all the people I expect to be making news, Sarah isn't one of them.
Is she successful?
Hell yeah.
But I know for a fact she's not the type of person to publicize a good deed she's done. She wouldn't want anyone to know.
And how is it that she has a father all of a sudden?
I thought he was dead?
Well, I assumed he was dead because not once has she ever spoken about him. But to find out he's not just alive but dying and Sarah is offering to help him?
I don't know what to make of that. Grabbing my phone, I dial her number as my head roams with thoughts.
Was that why she came crying to my door the other day?
Oh boy, I have so many questions. Which is why I am grateful when she answers my call.
“You're in New Jersey, and you didn't tell me.” Those are the first words that leave my mouth.
Stupid! Stupid!! Stupid!!!
Accusation, Ian, really? You speak as though she has any reason to be accountable to you .
Sarah seems to share the same sentiments as my subconscious, and her next words express that.
“I wasn't aware that I'm obligated to share my movements with you.”
Her words are scathing, but her tone is soft. Joking even. I decide to take the out she's offering.
“Only when you're in my city. How am I supposed to protect you from the vultures if I don't even know you need me?”
“Hmmm. Next time, I guess you'll be the first person I call.”
Next time, just come to my place directly . I bite my tongue from voicing that thought and clear my throat instead.
“So your dad?”
“Ugh. It's a long story.”
“You can make it short.”
“I could, but I'm just not sure it's something I want to do right now.”
More than anyone, I understand what it's like to not want to talk about what you're going through just yet, so I let it go and switch gears instead.
“How long are you in the city for?” I ask her.
“I don't know. A week or two. Depends on how things go.”
I nod, already thinking of how I can squeeze myself into that little time. I didn't even expect that I'd get to speak with her again or even see her, not so soon. Not with how I left Glazer Ville. I know she wanted me to stay.
But I couldn't do that to her. She already has her life figured out. Mine is a sinking ship. Why drag her down with me?
I probably shouldn't have called her or even be thinking of spending time with her right now.
This isn't right, is it?
Pick a side, Ian. It's either you want her, or you don't.
But that's the thing, isn't it?
I do want Sarah. I've always wanted her, especially at a time when she was very much off-limits to me. I don't do off-limits. But she was, but I wanted her regardless, and that drove me mad.
Wanting her is not the problem. Having her is.
“Ian?”
“Yeah?”
“I said, can you let me call you back? I have my aunt on the other line.”
“Yeah, sure. Take your time.”
I end the call before she can respond.
Tossing the phone on the sofa, I plan to spend the rest of the day tormenting myself with thoughts of her and digging up whatever I can find on her father, which turns out to be a huge load of nothing.
Apart from the fact that he had his son Peter a year after Sarah, which technically meant he was cheating on her mom, there's nothing sketchy about him. He also has another daughter who appears to look like Sarah. I snooped around her profile on Facebook and found nothing interesting.
I'm about to dig further into this Peter guy when my phone starts to ring again. It's Sarah.
Thirty minutes.
Yes, I was counting.
I didn't expect her to call back, but you won't hear me complaining that she did.
“Sarah?”
“Ian, do you know the Blueberry Hotel?”
What is it with the universe messing with me? If she's staying there, then she's only ten minutes away from me. I can make it five if she needs me urgently.
“Yes, do you need me to come?” I ask, already on my feet and roaming through the house for decent clothes to put on.
“Yes, if it's not much of a bother to you,” she says softly.
She's trying to not be demanding, though I wish she would be. Maybe if she demands from me enough, I'll be smart enough to treat her just exactly as she deserves to be treated one day.
“It's not.”
“Oh, good. I don't really like the food here, and I'm very hungry so?—”
“I'm on it.” I cut her off.
She laughs at my words. “You haven't even let me say what I want to eat.”
“Hmmm. Stromboli with disco fries, Italian sub sandwich and crumb cake, chicken parmigiana with sausage and saltwater Taffy, which is it?” I list her favorite meal combinations I’ve noticed over the years.
“Okay, so you think you know me so well, huh?”
“I don't think, I know.”
“Oh!” She laughs. “And what if I've changed, Mr. Ian I know Sarah so well ?”
It's my turn to laugh now, and I do my best to suppress it.
Damn it. There's some sort of warm sensation going on in my chest.
“Well, have you?” I ask her with bated breath.
She doesn't speak for a while, but when she does, I don't miss the smile that's still in her voice. “I'll take stromboli and disco fries with crumb cake.”
“Just so you know, I mentioned stromboli and disco fries first for a reason.”
And now I'm boasting, I know.
“Get here in thirty minutes,” she says in response.
“I'll make it twenty. See you soon.”
“Yeah. Thanks. Please try to be careful with the paparazzi. I heard they've been outside the hotel all day.”
I will be. I don't think anyone would pay attention to a middle-aged man going into a hotel though, and I tell her that.
She sighs, and I almost think she's ended the call until she speaks just when I'm about to check.
“One day Ian, maybe you'll see yourself the way I see you.”
She ends the call, leaving a weird nagging feeling in my belly as I step out of my apartment to go get her food.
As she said, the front of the hotel is bustling with several media outlet representatives looking to get a shot of her. If I didn't see it myself, I wouldn't believe it. And with the number of people outside, you'd think Sarah is one big-shot celebrity.
Or maybe she is and my brain still hasn't caught up with the memo yet.
Damn it, Ian. Get out of your head.
She opens the door on the first knock, literally dragging me in and then closing the door immediately behind me.
I try not to comment on the ridiculousness of the whole situation, but it's hard not to so I decide to joke about it instead.
“Things continue at this rate, and you're going to need a bodyguard,” I say as I sit on the sofa in the room and place the food down. I immediately get started on taking the food out. I took the liberty of getting something for myself, too.
“You can have the job,” she says, coming to sit beside me.
I laugh. “Funny.”
“I wasn't joking.”
I turn so I can read her expression, and she looks pretty serious.
“Okay, you realize that I was joking, right?”
“Well, I wasn't.”
“Hmmm. Why?”
“Why not? I mean, you wouldn't sell me out or anything, right? And I know you'll keep me safe, so better you than anyone else.”
Now that the food is out, the smell fills the room. She dramatically sniffs the air.
“Amazing,” she says.
“Compelling,” I say in response to her offer.
Knowing what I mean, she shrugs, giving me a look that says she's serious.
“Well, as flattering as your offer is, I'm afraid I'll have to pass, but…” I raise a finger when she starts to interrupt me. “But I can drive you around until it all blows over.”
“And how much would I have to pay for that?”
“Just be a good boss?”
“You got it.”
We both laugh, and our eyes meet.
Breaking the stare, I start with my food, motioning at hers as I start to eat.
As much as I like the banter between us, I don't want to get too lost in the moment. When all this is over, we both still have our lives and realities to get back to.
She starts to eat. Neither of us speaks, and luckily, the silence isn't an awkward one.
“Do you miss Glazer Ville?” she asks out of the blue, making me pause.
Do I miss Glazer Ville?
I can't say yes, but I can't entirely say no, either.
The town was peaceful to some extent, and nobody knew who I was there or treated me as less of a human.
I particularly love my aunt's estate. If I were to ever decide to give up on firefighting, I may want to move there if the offer is still available for me to access.
But I don't even know if Richard will ever give me back my job. After what just happened last night, there's no telling if he'll ever forgive me.
And let's not forget that I am extremely low on cash. I don't even want to go into the details of how I've been coping these past weeks. It's been hell.
A laugh unknowingly escapes me, and it's not until it stops that I realize what I just did.
“What's funny?” Sarah asks, a hurt look on her face.
I shake my head. “It's not… It's not about what you asked. Just remembered something.”
“What is it?”
Her interest in her food is now gone as she places it down and faces me with an eager smile.
Well, if she's asking, I might as well tell her.
“What if I tell you that I am a billionaire but yet I'm broke as hell?”
Her lips purse as she tries to fight a smile. I wave her off.
“Nah, it's fine. You can laugh. I'm laughing at myself, too.”
There's some sauce at the tip of her finger and she smears it on her lips.
“That’s hilarious. What are you talking…” She trails off when my thumb touches her lower lip to clean the sauce. I take my thumb back to my mouth like an idiot and lick it.
When I raise my head, her eyes are on fire with lust.
Shit.
“Sarah,” I breathe out, wanting to clear the air.
That was an innocent act.
Before I can proceed though, she stands up, confusing me for a minute as I think she's perhaps going to walk away. Instead, she takes the remnants of my food away from my grip, pushes the table away, and then she climbs on my lap. She closes her lips over mine, her body pressed to mine.
Okay.
Am I supposed to kiss her back or not?
I have to admit I'm a little bit confused here, but I want to kiss her back so much, especially with how she is pressing on my now hard dick.
“Ian,” she whispers softly against my lips.
That's all the encouragement I need to take the lead.