True L̶o̶v̶e̶ Story (15 page)

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Authors: Willow Aster

BOOK: True L̶o̶v̶e̶ Story
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I shake my head and he puts his finger on my lips.

“You are,” he whispers.

I try to get out of the car without collapsing in a heap. That man. He does things to my insides, making me the equivalent of mush.

 

The next day, I dress in the jeans Ian bought me that day in San Francisco and a new sage green blouse that Tessa says looks insane with my eyes. I hope I will be irresistible to Ian. He shows up right at 11 and I’m slightly shy as I show him our teensy place.

“I like it,” he says as soon as he walks in the door.

I laugh. “You’ve barely even seen it.”

“I can tell. It’s homey. It feels good in here.”

“Come see my room,” I grab his hand bashfully and lead him to my bedroom.

He shuts the door behind him and pulls me in. “Mmmhmm. Feels good in here, too.” He kisses my nose and then lightly touches my lips with his.

I smile against his mouth. “Have you even looked?”

He pulls back and twirls me around in a circle.

“Um. Yes? It’s lovely,” he answers and his hands close around my waist. “We have a city to go explore,” he says, playing with one of my curls. “You ready?”

We head downstairs to the car.

“You hungry?”

I nod. “I am. I haven’t eaten yet.”

“Okay, how does breakfast sound then? I know a place you’ll love…” He leans down and kisses my cheek before opening the door.

“Let’s do it.” I smile up at him.

 

We go into a diner that looks straight out of the movie
Grease
. Instead of sitting across from me, Ian slides in next to me. He stares at me and his finger runs along my cheek, down my neck and stops just short of where my blouse dips into a V.

His eyes are seductively hooded and I couldn’t look away if I tried.

“You’re an angel.”

“You’re trouble,” I laugh.

“I can’t keep my hands off you,” he says.

“I don’t want you to.”

“Is this how you talk to Asher?”

My hand had been playing with the veins in his arm and it goes completely still. “No.”

He laces his fingers in mine. “Good.” He closes his eyes for a moment. “I mean, you’re free, Sparrow. I know I don’t have any claim on you, I hope you know that. I just … I like to think we have … something here…” His voice trails off. “There’s something about you that makes me feel I could do this…” He waves his hand back and forth between us and then puts his head in his hands and goes silent for what feels like an hour.

The waitress brings our food in the meantime and neither of us make a move to touch it.

“I don’t know what I’m saying, Sparrow. I
am
trouble. You should run now. Run while you can. Before I screw you up. Asher is a nice guy.”

“Ian. I was joking. Why? Why do you do this? Every time we’re together, it feels like we…” I stop when he places his fingertips on my lips.

“Sparrow—forget I said anything, okay? Let’s … let’s just enjoy this day.”

I shake my head.

“Please?” he asks.

Against my better judgment, I agree to it and the mood lightens considerably. It’s like nothing ever happened. Just like that, Ian is his usual carefree self. I swallow the fear that this really is
it
this time and make the conscious decision to do what he said: Enjoy the day.

We fill the day with incredible memories. Clam chowder in a bread bowl. Feeding the ducks in Central Park. Staring at the Statue of Liberty across the water. Buying little trinkets in Chinatown.

And his eyes all day long, as if they’re memorizing every trace of me.

 

All too soon, it’s late. I hate to admit it, but I’m exhausted. We’ve pulled up to my apartment, and I don’t want to let him go.

“Come up?” I ask.

“I better not.”

I chew my lip nervously and he leans over and puts his forehead against mine.

“I think I love you,” he says.

I scoff at him. “Don’t say that unless you mean it.”

He shrugs. “I meant it.” His eyes look luminous, even in the dark.

And just like that, I have hope. All the warnings, fears and apprehension about Ian Sterling melt away and peace takes its place. I have no idea what he will do next, but in the rented Lincoln Town Car outside my apartment, it doesn’t matter. It will be all right.

He walks me to the door and for the first time, our departing words don’t leave me in despair.

 

I float inside and Tessa is there waiting for me. She sees the look on my face and grins from ear to ear.

“Ahhh, you look like a satisfied woman. Did you … did … you guys?” She tries to read my expression and crinkles her eyebrows together.

“Nooooo, we didn’t,” I answer. “But … it was a good day. I feel like we made progress. Finally. And he said he thinks he loves me,” I say, trying to tone down my excitement.

“What?” She yells. “Well, isn’t that—well, he’s just full of surprises, isn’t he. That’s a little … sudden.”

“I know. I basically ridiculed him when he said it, but … I don’t know. I didn’t say it back. I’m not ready for that, but—what if he really does? Love me?”

“He’d be crazy not to!” Tessa says. “This is bonk. He’s all over the place. All about you and then aloof and then back again and then in love. I can’t keep up with him. So, when do you see him again?”

I cover my face. “I don’t know. I don’t know! This really
is
crazy. All I know is he makes me feel things I’ve never felt and I don’t care—he might be all wrong for me, but I don’t care!”

“I hope he’s worth it, then,” Tessa says as she wraps me in a huge hug. “If he hurts you, I will hunt him down and cut his fingers and toes to the knuckle.”

I lean back and look at her. “
What?

“Never mind. YAY!” She smiles again and I can’t help it, I laugh until I get the hiccups.

 

The next morning, my phone wakes me up. I smile as I groggily answer it, sure that it’s Ian, calling before he leaves town. I look at the clock. 9 A.M. Whoa. He left hours ago.

“Hello?” I try a sexy voice on for size.

“Hey,” Asher says. “Been missing you. Wanna get some breakfast with me today?”

I feel a pang in my chest. I need to talk to Asher and better that I do it in person than over the phone.

“Sure, I can meet you in 40 minutes.”

 

I walk to the pastry shop that Asher and I have frequented since we became friends and he’s already there, waiting on me. His face lights up when he sees me and that guilt is more than a sharp pang this time.

He stands up and hugs me as I near his table. “Hey, gorgeous. How are you?”

“I’m really well. How about you?”

He hears the standoffish lilt in my voice and studies me. “You sure?”

“Yes. Asher, we need to talk.”

“Uh-oh. Come on, sit down. Do you want your usual?”

“Yes, please.”

When he comes back with my coffee and a croissant, I thank him and get right after it. “Asher, remember how I told you I’m interested in someone?”

“Of course, I do,” he says. “But it seems like you’ve been spending an awful lot of time with me.”

“Yes. And I’ve loved it. You’re wonderful. I’m so glad we’ve become friends.” I reach over and take his hand.

He grimaces. “Ouch. I hoped I could help you forget.”

“You’ve helped, but you haven’t helped me forget.”

“Who is this guy, Sparrow? And does he know what he has? Because I’m not willing to give you up if he doesn’t.”

“Well, the funny thing is, you know him…” I look at him and wish I didn’t have to tell him who it is.

“Who?” he demands.

“Ian Sterling.”

A sharp laugh comes out of him, making me jump. “You’ve gotta be kidding me. Ian Sterling? That’s who you’re throwing me to the wolves for?”

“Come on, Asher, don’t put it like that. I’ve told you all along that I just want to be friends.”

“Your kisses didn’t feel like friendship.”

“I’m sorry for that. Turns out I’m a bit of a kiss whore,” I say with a half-grimace smile. “I really am sorry.”

He laughs in spite of himself. “Sparrow … you’re … I can’t be mad at you! You did tell me all along the way. I should have listened. It’s like I’m the girl here.” He shakes his head, but his eyes are still smiling. “Have you really thought this through? Ian Sterling is a vagabond. Not to mention, he likes the women. Hell, I know what it’s like to have women at my disposal. I’m not sure Ian can give that up, though. I know you’re not ready to settle down yet, but when you are, I already have everything in place. I’m not sure Ian will
ever
settle down.”

“I can’t help who I fall for,” I answer.

He looks sad as he nods. “I will be here if you change your mind.”

I wonder when Asher decided he was capable of settling down. From all the things I’ve read about him, he appeared to be just as much of a player as Ian. It’s confusing.

“Asher…”

“Can we still hang out?” he asks.

“Yes!” I’m relieved, but still cautious as I take both of his hands. “Yes, please. If we can, you know … not do the kissing thing and really just be friends now?”

“I’ll try,” he promises. He removes his hand from mine and holds it out again for me to shake. Hopefully, we have finally come to an understanding.

 

I’m a little disappointed when Ian doesn’t call all day. I really thought he would. By the time night falls, I’ve talked myself into being okay about it. He’s not a phone person. Why would he start to be now? I’ll probably hear from him tomorrow. Or maybe the next day, when he’s settled somewhere.

 

 

- 11 -

 

Two months go by.

 

The wondering is agony.

 

*Where is he?

*Why hasn’t he called?

*Did he mean anything he said?

*Has he met someone?

*Why won’t he just call?

 

And then the pseudo answers.

 

*He’s out playing all over the freakin’ country.

*He must really hate the phone. Or it’s his schedule.

*He meant it; he just doesn’t know what do about it.

*He’s meeting a different
someone
every night.

*The time difference screws everything up.

Then there’s the self-ridicule.

*I was crazy to think he would ever be a permanent part of my life.

*He wouldn’t waste his time talking to
me
on the phone.

*Of course, he didn’t mean a word of it. Who do I think I am?

*There are a thousand prettier, smarter, more talented, funnier, bigger boobs, longer haired, better legs that are NEVER hairy, way sexier, more experienced girls out there.

*He will never call me.

 

And then he does! He calls. It’s late one Friday night and I’ve been up studying. And I’m so happy to hear his voice, I can’t even stay mad. At first, I’m distant, but he just keeps asking question after question. We cover school, family, New York, Tessa, Jared and more school. It’s been over an hour and he doesn’t seem ready to let me go. He’s been all over the country, just as I thought. But that doesn’t seem to be ending anytime soon, so I’m not sure why he’s calling now.

“Little Bird … are you happy?”

“Well … I don’t know. I’m okay. Are you happy?”

“I miss you,” he says softly.

“I miss you, too.”

“You should come see me. Do you have any time off soon? I’m gonna be in Texas for a while. I’ll fly you out.”

“I do have a long weekend in a couple weeks.”

“That would be great.”

He asks the exact dates and I mark it on the calendar by my desk: GO SEE IAN!!!

“You must be tired. It’s late here and even later for you. What are you doing tomorrow?”

And then another hour has passed. By now, I’m in my bed, phone clutched to my ear and we’re both talking in sleepy whispers. Neither of us wants it to end. But eventually, he can tell I’m about to fall asleep.

“Night, Sparrow Kate Fisher. Dream of me tonight. I’m already dreaming of you.”

“I will,” I say and I know that it’s true.

 

My dreams are all over the place, but Ian is in every scene.

 

The next night he calls again. And we repeat our gloriously wonderful dance of sweet talk and every day chatter. I’m so happy, I can’t even stand it. He must be past whatever was holding him up. I make the decision before I fall asleep to not over-analyze it any more. He’s calling me! We’re on the right track.

 

When he doesn’t call the next night or the next or the next, I’m still riding high from those two conversations. He’d said he was flying out to California, so I know he’s busy and now there’s an even larger time difference.

 

When he still hasn’t called the next week and the dates to “GO SEE IAN!!!” are looming over my head like a raging gorilla in heat, I begin my downward spiral.

 

The dates come and go.

 

Nothing. Not a word from him.

 

I’m angry. No, you know what? I’m
pissed
. Yeah, that’s right I said it.

Pissed, pissed, pissed, pissed, pissed. Flippin’
pissed
.

 

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