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How would Luke handle this? He acts as if he's happy for me, as if he only wants my success, but is that as a friend or a fan? It's easy for him to encourage me to convince Ryan when he barely knows me, when he's never seen the mess I got myself into. It's easy for him to encourage me when he doesn’t have to deal with me coming home late, or getting half-naked with attractive coworkers, or showing up as a blurb on TMZ.
Ryan means well. He only wants to protect me. To take care of me. I have to make him understand how much I need this. I have to make him understand how much I need to do more than sit around this apartment all day. I need to make him understand I have to be more than Alyssa Summers, former actress and recovering bulimic. I need more than a past. I need a present. I need a future.
But you have a future with Ryan. You're going to be his wife, the mother of his children probably.
But I can't envision Ryan and me walking down the aisle, and I certainly can't envision him as a doting father. Do I even want to be a mother? I never gave it much consideration.
But Ryan has been good to me for a long time. If he thinks getting married is best, he's probably right. Besides, it's not like I'm opposed to it. It's just, before he asked, I never really considered it. I never considered boyfriends, much less husbands. I was more concerned with my career.
What was it Luke said? If I don't love Ryan, I should end it now. But I do lo
ve him and he loves me. Luke doesn't understand. Our relationship isn't sweeping or romantic. It isn't flowers or long walks on the beach or making love under the stars. It's practical. It's safe.
The scorching shower water does little to ease my mental state. I should have used cool water, freezing cold water, anything that would dampen the heat in my body. How can I want Luke so much? I don’t know anything about him. I've dated plenty of handsome, charming guys before, and none of them ever made me feel like this.
None of them ever tempted me. Not really.
So it can't be his looks or his charisma. I'm not that shallow, am I? And it can't be his intelligence, because he's no smarter than Ryan. He's confident, sure. Funny. Direct. But there has to be more to it than that.
There has to be more to it than some intense desire to feel his hands on my body and his cock inside me. I'm not that insatiable, am I? There has to be more to it than the way he smiles when I correct his grammar or the way he actually listens to what I have to say.
Or the way his eyes light up.
I shut off the water when I hear the front door open. Fuck, Ryan is early. It's not like him to get home before 8:00. Without a plan, I have little choice but to come clean. Ryan, I was offered a role. I want to take it. I have to take it. I'll throw myself off the balcony if you don't let me take it.
No, no jokes about suicide. That will only convince him I'm unstable.
I pull the towel tight around my chest. Maybe Ryan will be easier to convince if I'm naked. It certainly can't hurt.
He knocks and steps into the unlocked bathroom, the steam hitting his face. “You know, there's a sauna at the gym,” he says. He takes another step towards me, and I drop my towel. Finally, something to get these thoughts of Luke out of my head.
I move fast, pressing my lips into Ryan's, my hands already on his belt. Yes, come on. Kiss me. Touch me. Give me a release for all this energy.
But he moves my hands and pushes me away.
“What are you doing talking to Corine?” he asks. Was he looking through my phone or is he just psychic?
“I told you. She was happy for me.”
“Alyssa—”
“How do you know that?”
“You left your email up on the tablet,” he says. It's plausible, but so is Ryan looking through my phone.
“Fine,” I say, pulling my towel back around my chest. “I went on an audition. I know I should have asked first, but I didn't have time.”
“Don't lie,” he says.
“Okay, I didn't think you'd say yes. And I didn't think I'd get it. So why fight over nothing?”
He looks at me like I've betrayed him. I know, I lied, but it was a little lie, and it was for the best. “And?” he says.
“And if you read the email, you already know.”
He stares at me, waiting for a response. Finally, he says, “And you got the part.”
“You could be excited,” I say.
