HDU (44 page)

HDU via Celeb-o-Matic

The parents of 24-year-old indie filmmaker Ian Marsh called authorities
on their son Thursday morning when they returned from vacation to discover him
in their Scarsdale, New York home.
 
According to reports, police arrived to a peaceful scene and searched a
cooperating Marsh, whom they found in his childhood bedroom.
 
Marsh’s parents, Elliott and Diane, both
52, admitted that there had been no disturbance aside from their son’s presence
in the house.
 
Marsh was not
carrying any illegal substances and had only his wallet on him.

“I thought they knew he was there.
 
I’ve seen him go in and out for groceries for weeks.
 
We even said ‘hi,’” commented a
neighbor who wished to remain anonymous.
 
When asked for a history of the family, and why Marsh’s parents may have
called the cops, the neighbor replied, “They’ve always been the type to govern
from afar.
 
Maybe he just wasn’t
welcome here.”

Authorities claim Marsh left his parents’ home willingly and has
already been spotted back in Manhattan.

TOP COMMENTS:

zaaren1990

LMAO. someone’s about to be even more depressed and unstable

beeler4ever

wait a second he was arrested for GOING HOME? guy’s a douche but this
is sad

mrstylerchase

hope this dude has some good friends because his parents are dicks

ckellyphi

yeah he’s a dick too tho

Knowing the women’s eyes were now on her, Amanda
tried not to give a visible reaction.

“Serves me right for checking my email during a
party.
 
Someone sent me a website that
already had our pictures up.
 
This story
was below it,” one of them explained with a tiny grimace.
 
Amanda wasn’t sure if she was rueful
because she’d been caught on a gossip site or because she knew of Amanda’s
recent history with Ian.

Amanda stretched her closed lips into a smile,
brushing it off.
 
“Sorry for what?”
she asked breezily despite the absolute churning in the pit of her stomach.

Ian had been home in Scarsdale for the past two
weeks, buying groceries, hanging out in his bedroom, treating the place like
home again.
 
She would have understood
his absence and been happy to know he’d gotten a much-needed break from the
city – were it not for the fact that he’d been so shamefully kicked out
by his own parents.
 
It made her
heart hurt.
 
What had he done to
deserve being removed from his own home by police?

“Here, sweetheart,” one of the women handed over a timely
flute of champagne before going on about Amanda’s dress.
 
Amanda fielded the questions about the
designer, the clutch, her shoes, all the while trying to subdue the now sinking
feeling in her stomach.
 
There was
something more about Ian’s story that was bothering her.

She nearly broke the stem of her glass when she
remembered.
 
Oh shit
.
 
The police
reports had said that Ian was carrying only his wallet – no cell.
 
That would explain why his phone had
gone from unanswered to dead, straight to voicemail after a few days of
calling.
 
It had drained of battery
somewhere, probably in his apartment.
 
He’d likely left it behind to avoid reminders of the city as he fled for
his hometown, hoping for sanctuary but instead finding himself searched by cops
at the request of his parents, proving himself clean though only to get kicked out.
 
He had to be utterly broken.

And he hadn’t even heard her voicemail yet.

As she smiled and nodded along with the women’s
conversation, Amanda felt her heartbeat give the occasional lurch.
 
She had just joined the list growing of
people who no longer welcomed Ian Marsh in their lives, and she suspected her
exclusion would hurt most considering its dubious timing.
 
Her skin tingled knowing that Ian was
already back in the city, possibly heading to his apartment or already in
it.
 
She hoped he would wait to
charge his phone until tomorrow and give her the time to find him, to somehow
lose the paparazzi and visit him secretly.
 
Thea would never have to know, and it would give her a
chance to explain everything in person, to better pacify the situation and say
that she could obviously still see him in private.

Of course, that all depended on whether or not he
charged his cell phone.
 
Amanda
felt an actual bead of sweat forming at her hairline as she hoped darkly that
Ian might’ve taken his phone and hurled it against a wall, smashing it in some
sort of frustration before getting to her message.

“Are you okay?”

“Of course,” Amanda answered, looking up at the
women.
 
They only stared past her
shyly, and only then did she snap from her trance to realize that none of them
had asked the question.
 
She turned
her head.

“Hello.
 
I’ve
been standing here for about a minute now,” Dylan laughed.
 
He nodded towards her new friends.
 
“These ladies can attest to that.”
 
As he politely greeted or introduced
himself to them, Amanda blinked the rest of her daze away.
 
She wiped the drop of perspiration from
her temple and felt immediately calmer.
 
Was that really all she needed to relax?
Nope, that wasn’t it
.
 
She looked down to see Dylan’s hand holding her waist from behind as he kept
chatting with the women.
 
Her body
warm, she realized her back was leaning against his chest.
 
She wasn’t sure whose subconscious
action came first – his hand on her or her back against him.
 
Whichever it was, she enjoyed the
thoroughly, though she knew they shouldn’t be so blatant.
 
The media had caught onto their flirtation
but they agreed to still keep everything as quiet as possible, which was why
they’d decided on drinks at a tucked away, almost hidden bar in the quieter
Yorkville neighborhood just a few avenues over.
 
Amanda couldn’t wait for that part of the night – for
just being alone with Dylan.
 
She
hadn’t realized how much she was anticipating it until feeling his hand on her.

“Well, we’ll just leave you two alone!”

Amanda blinked to see the women saying goodbye,
slowly backing away with knowing, tight-lipped smiles at her.

“I guess we were a little obvious.”
 
Amanda turned to face Dylan, giving them
both their first looks of each other from the front.
 
It was her first time seeing him in a tuxedo and she was
beyond charmed.
 
He looked to her
like an actual prince.

“I hadn’t even noticed,” he said as his eyes traveled
the length of her gown.
 
They
crinkled in a sheepish laugh.
 
“Sorry,
that was… I usually don’t do that so obviously.”

Amanda narrowed her eyes playfully.
 
“What, checking people out?”

“Uh,” he stalled with a short chuckle.
 
“Checking
you
out.”

She laughed as she reached to straighten his
bowtie.
 
“Be as obvious as you
want.”
 
He raised his
eyebrows.
 
She eyed his look of
surprise with a hint of mischief.
 
“Too much of a gentleman though, right?”

He watched her continue to fix his tie.
 
“Perhaps not tonight,” he answered,
prompting her to peer back up at him.
 
They shared an impish smile just before a anxious, stout man who was hastily
introduced as a co-chair of the foundation came to whisk Dylan away.

Amanda didn’t mind as she floated around the cocktail
hour, chatting with other guests – because whenever she peered up, Dylan’s
eye was on her, wherever he was in the room.
 
The multitasking she had mastered before was making its mark
again as she fielded questions from different people about June Magazine, all
the while sneaking swift glances upward at Dylan.
 
By the end of the cocktail hour, they’d created their own
silent language through their eyes, and through little twitches in their brows
or lips.
 
She knew from these
signals which guests he’d had a lovely conversation with, and which ones had
probably drunk a little bit too much champagne.

The wordless communication came in handy later during
the actual dinner, which had Amanda and Dylan seated at the same table but
directly across from each other, five seats separating either side of them.
 
While Dylan became immersed in
conversation with his jittery co-chair, Amanda listened to the tales of travel
from the renowned playwright beside her, though she kept her peripheral vision
on alert for whenever Dylan reached for his wine.
 
Somehow, that had become his appointed time to check on her,
stealing a glance above the rim of his glass while taking a drink.
 
Once she caught on, she joined him each
time with a smile in her gaze, as if they were silently drinking to each other
throughout the night.
 
By the time
the
Mont Blanc
trays came out for
dessert, they’d changed the rules of their little game, switching out sips of wine
for bites of chestnut cream and meringue.
 
Amanda had initially pouted as if to say,
Stop watching me while I eat!
But that only worked to charm Dylan.
 
By the time dessert was over, he seemed
to have reached his limit of being unable to speak to her.

“We’ve got ten minutes,” Dylan whispered with a
thrill.
 
His hand clasped tight
around Amanda’s as they sped up the spiral ramp, ducking so no one on the floor
could spot them.
 
With the hundreds
of guests focused on two violinists taking stage, Dylan and Amanda managed to
sneak away.
 
Amanda stifled her
giggles as they did their crouching speed-walk together, her free hand holding
her gown so she could quicker ascend the winding path.

The sound of the violins gradually faded as they
laughed and panted their way up, Dylan catching her whenever she tripped, which
was every time she released her gown to wipe perspiration from her brow.
 
I’m
sweating in front of Dylan Hardy
, Amanda bemoaned herself.
 
But the reward for their climb was
worth it.
 
The final ramp was six
levels above the rotunda floor, and they stood about as close as they could below
the gigantic domed skylight.

Using the walls to stand upright, they watched each
other as they caught their breath.
 
She leaned back, her chest heaving as Dylan stood before her, steadying
himself with a hand on the wall above her shoulder.
 
Amanda watched his bright stare slowly wander from her eyes,
his lids growing heavy as his gaze drifted down to her mouth.
 
She was sure she was imagining the closing
gap between them, but the next thing she knew, his forearm was flattened
against the wall, her hands were gripping his shoulders, and their lips were
locked in a kiss.
 
He let out a low
mm
sound that reverberated from his
mouth into hers, his own hands dropping down to her waist and squeezing so tight
that he nearly lifted her off the ground.
 
But when Amanda gasped with surprise, he released her quickly and
apologetically.
 
She jerked away
from him.

“I thought you weren’t going to be such a gentleman
tonight,” she whispered.
 
His
breathing ragged, he watched her as she took his hands and put them back where
they were, squeezing them so they tightened around her.

Within seconds, his fingers were on her hips, grabbing
handfuls of her dress to jerk her into him.
 
Amanda took in a sharp breath before smiling with a thrill.
 
Greed and impatience on Dylan made her
dizzy with excitement.
 
So she
teased him, backing away from his kiss, forcing him to lean in to catch
her.
 
Her giggle was a vibrating
hum against his lips, which could barely just touch hers.
 
It frustrated him to the point of
releasing his handfuls of her dress and instead grabbing her backside to pull
her closer.
 
When it was to no
avail besides further amusing her, Dylan let go of Amanda’s body, freeing his
hands to cup her jaw and part her mouth for his tongue, his midsection keeping her
pressed against the wall.

“A
hem
.”

But suddenly, of course, an interruption.

Amanda and Dylan tore away from each other to turn
and once again see his perpetually high-strung co-chair, this time pale-faced as
he stood before them.
 
Hastily,
they smoothed their hair and clothing down, muttering sheepishly while doing so.
 
When that part was over with, Dylan
pressed his fist to his mouth.
 
A
giggle escaped Amanda’s throat when she realized he was trying desperately to
suppress laughter.