Ryan is honest and unashamed of his life.
-She’s got broken things where her heart should be. -
We were taking off. Holy shit. We were taking off, and soon I’d be in the air- in this big hunk of metal. Terrified didn’t quite cover how I felt. I didn’t even feel the boy’s hand as it came crashing down on my thigh. I knew he was attempting to get a rise out of me, but he didn’t understand just how frightened of planes I was.
“Breathe.” He sounded annoyed.
“You breathe!” I snapped, before closing my eyes. I had to attempt to remain calm or else I was going to turn in to a basket case mid-flight.
I heard him clear his throat and my eyes snapped open as I felt his warm wet lips press down upon mine. I didn’t have enough time to react before his hands were working their way through my hair. He held me in place, and I was angry. I was so angry- and then I realized what he was doing.
Wow. We were in the air now. Panic attack averted.
He pulled away without a word.
“Thank you.” I finally muttered.
He laughed, “I kind of expected another slap.”
“Don’t tempt me.” I coughed, “I’m sorry I slapped you. I’m usually not so… rude. Planes- they just… terrify me.”
“I got that.” He replied. “I’m Ryan.”
“Well, up in the air I have been known to be quite the Romeo.”
“Do you know how old that joke gets?” I rolled my eyes, but almost laughed. He was charming in a douchebag sort of way.
“Have you ever heard it up in the air though?”
He had a point. “No…”
“Then I think I deserve a chuckle.”
I did laugh.
“So what kind of music do you have loaded on there? Anything good?” Ryan gestured to my bag which held my IPOD.
“By anything good… are you asking if I have Panic! at the disco on my IPOD?” It’s not like I didn’t recognize him.
Ryan’s grin slowly widened, “That is implied.”
“I do.” I reached in my bag and handed him my IPOD. “I’m quite the fan you’ll find.”
Ryan turned it on and started snooping. “You keep notes in here too.”
“Hey, don’t read those.” I went to take the IPOD back but Ryan held it out of my reach.
“Please Ryan.” He glanced over at me.
“Is it that big of a deal?”
“To me it is.” I admitted, seeing as how they were notes I’d written to my Dad upon hearing he’d died. They were all the things I never got the chance to tell him.
He frowned. “You really aren’t any fun, except for the kissing.”
The plane started shaking and I let out a pathetic whimper and grabbed on to Ryan. He groaned and peeled my hand off of his arm and held my hand with his own. “It’s a lot more comfortable for me.” He grumbled.
“Sorry.” I squeaked. “Um is this norm-“
“It’s just turbulence.” He informed me. “It’ll even out here soon. Do I need to kiss you again?”
I just nodded.
His lips were really warm, and really soft- and really nice. I felt myself relaxing and again his fingers worked through my hair. He didn’t pull away until the plane was level again, and we were flying smoothly through the air. “We might just join the mile high club tonight after all.”
I rolled my eyes, “I’m surprised you haven’t already joined.”
“I have.” Ryan admitted. “But I’m all for doing it again… and again, and again.”
I took my IPOD back and ignored him.
He was kind of a creep, for a hot famous guy.
“Do you want a drink?” Ryan slapped me on the shoulder to get my attention. I pulled my head phones off and glanced at the cup of orange juice he was offering me.
“Uh, sure.” I was getting a little tired, so I didn’t question the gesture like I should’ve.
The orange juice was a little bitter and I nearly spit it out. Then the aftertaste hit me and I nearly gagged. “What the hell is this? This is not normal orange juice!”
Ryan laughed, “Its orange juice with vodka. Sheesh. Alcohol virgin? How old are you?”
“I’ve had alcohol before but it’s nasty.” I replied, wrinkling my nose in distaste. “I’m twenty two.”
“I knew you were a goody goody.” Ryan remarked. “Take another drink.”
“Why?” I took a sip.
“It grows on you.” Ryan answered, “Another. That was a baby drink.”
I took another drink and found that it did kind of grow on me. I liked the initial orange taste, but I hated the bite back at the end. After that I took another drink, emptying the glass.
Ryan grinned and held his hand up, asking for two more glasses.
“I probably don’t need more.”
“We’re mid-flight. Do you seriously think I’m going to take advantage of you up here?” He had a good point.
“I wasn’t worried about you taking advantage of me.” I lied. “I just don’t want to be drunk on a plane. That doesn’t sound like a good idea.”
“It sounds like a great idea!” Ryan declared. “It’ll help your nerves.”
I was sitting but it was like I could feel the movement of the plane inside of me, shaking me- and I was a little tipsy. Why did I decide to drink with some asshole that I didn’t even know? It would be a story worth telling later on, after I got over the initial embarrassment of my actions.
“My friends think I have a drinking problem. I’m actually headed to Italy for rehab.” Ryan cleared his throat, and took another drink. “Can you believe that? Me, in rehab? But they won’t lay off unless I do it. It’s a six week course. Sounds like hell, and I don’t even speak Italian. How do I say ‘this is hell’ in Italian?”
“Questo è l'inferno.” I glanced over to see his eyes widen, but moving my head was a bad idea and now I felt sick. I did not want to get sick on an airplane, because I got drunk on an airplane. It was stupid and out of character, and everyone in my family would chalk it up to grief, but it wasn’t. I was sick of blaming grief, or of other people blaming grief. I was doing this because I wanted to, because I had never done it before- and because Ryan was a little hard to say no to.
“Huh.” Ryan repeated the phrase several times. “You’ll have to write it down for me before we go our separate ways.”
I just nodded, trying to force my nausea away.
“So, how do you know Italian?” Ryan asked, and I was surprised he was even bothering to make conversation. It seemed out of character; then again I didn’t really know the guy.
“I spent a lot of time in Italy when I was a kid.”
“But you hate planes?”
“The last time I was on a plane… I just, I never got back on after that.” I cleared my throat. “I haven’t been there in a very long time, too long.”
“Then why are you going now? It sounds like a traumatic vacation.” Ryan commented.
“I’m going for a funeral.” I let out a huge sigh at the words. I hadn’t really said them out loud until now. I hadn’t even acknowledged the fact that I was going, not to see my dad, but to bury him. It was hard to process.
Ryan didn’t say anything as a few awkward moments passed us by, and then I felt his warm lips press down upon mine. For a second I couldn’t even breathe, and all I could taste was alcohol. It was pretty terrible, but it did make me temporarily forget about my troubles.
“I- I didn’t need that.” I awkwardly commented as Ryan pulled away.
He surprised me. “I did.”
Seems he wasn’t a total asshole.
“So, you’re dating how many girls right now?” I was stunned.
“Four, well five- but the fifth one is just for fun.”
“And what are the other ones for?”
“I just mean with the fifth one all I do is sex, with the others I give in to their ridiculous needs for drama, and cuddling and blahblahblah.” He rolled his eyes.
“So you’re a full time boyfriend for four and a part time boyfriend for one?” I had to wonder if that’s how all rich people were… or if it was just Ryan, in all his fucked-up-ness.
“Exactly.” Ryan nodded, “I prefer your wording.”
“That sounds exhausting. Do they all know about each other?”
“Are you fucking crazy? Of course they don’t.” Ryan shook his head in annoyance, “You would be a terrible cheater.”
“I know.” I answered, “I feel guilty enough without really actually doing something wrong.”
“Goody-goody.” Ryan rolled his eyes.
“Yeah, well- I prefer ‘bady-bady’.” Ryan replied, with a small slur.
“Don’t you get sick of being drunk all the time, and having so many girlfriends? Wouldn’t it just be easier if you were sober, and only had one girlfriend… who you actually, I don’t know, cared about?”
“I care about them all.” Ryan tried to keep a straight face but failed, laughing loudly just seconds later. “Okay, okay- so I don’t give a shit about any of them. It’s just fun, and being drunk is fun. I don’t want to be bored. It’s just so damn boring.”
“That’s fucked up.”
Ryan gasped, “You just cussed! Bad girl!” Then he grinned, “Do it again. I liked it.”
I rolled my eyes, “Sometimes cussing is okay, like when you mean it. I meant what I said. That’s really wrong Ryan. You’re going to hurt all of those girls, and yourself. It’s really unhealthy to drink.”
“Says the girl that’s kind of drunk.” Ryan replied, “Plus for all the hurt I cause those girls they all keep crawling back. You have to admit… some bitches just love emotional torture, and I’m their guy.” He said this with a proud smile.
“You’re enabling them to be hurt.” I answered, “And it’s wrong.”
“Sweetheart, it’s only wrong because it’s not you. For them it’s right, and it’s what they want. What’s so wrong about a little consensual pain?”
“It’s not consensual when they believe things are- there really isn’t reasoning with you, is there?”
“Not really.” Ryan shrugged, “But it’s cute when you try.”
“Why are you being so honest with me, when you seem to get off on lying and hurting people?”
“I’m a little tipsy and you’re just some bitch I won’t ever see again. Why would I lie? I’m not ashamed. This is just who I am, and each girl I fuck wants to be fucked. I’m not doing anything wrong, and you can huff and puff all you want but you won’t be blowing my home down.”
“That was the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard.” I laughed a little, “And in this story you’re the big bad wolf.”
“You’d be surprised who the bad guy really is.” Ryan smirked, “What’s your pet peeve, about yourself?” He seemed genuinely interested but it was so off topic… when the topic was him. I was surprised he’d stray from himself. He seemed a little stuck up, and full of himself.
“I never put sheets on my bed. I always wash the sheets and I bring them to my bedroom but I never put them on and I hate it. I really need to put sheets on my bed before bed, but I just can’t.” I shrugged, “What’s yours?”
“That you never put sheets on your bed.” He teased. “I never fold my laundry.”
“Never?” I glanced at his clothes. They didn’t look wrinkly or anything.
“Nope.” He shot a dazzling smile my way, “I didn’t when I was younger, and now I just have some bitch do it for me.”
“One of the many girlfriends?” I asked.
“Housekeeping.” Ryan replied.
“Why do you call girls bitches?”
He didn’t have an answer for that.
Ryan was snoring loudly, and I couldn’t help but look at him. He looked innocent when he was asleep, and with his mouth closed I didn’t hate him so much.
What made him so bitter towards women, and the general population? He had so much. I always figured he’d be happy. He didn’t seem very happy though.
What did I know about happiness though?
Not a damn thing.
I jumped as we hit a bump again, and the plane shook a little. It wasn’t very bad but it wasn’t welcome. Everyone else on the plane seemed relaxed, as I struggled not to show my own panic. As I glanced back over at Ryan I found that he was awake and watching me. “You okay?” He asked, sounding quite sleepy.
“I don’t know how you can sleep up here.” I replied softly.
Ryan yawned, “Close your eyes and think of a nice comfortable bed, and a couple of hot guys. I’m sure you’ll drift to sleep quickly. If it helps you can think of having sex with me, twice.”
I rolled my eyes, “You’re not all that.”
“Oh yes, I am.” Ryan’s confidence was quickly returning, and suffocating me. I was surprised that anyone on this plane could breathe with him around. “And a bag of fucking chips.”
“Go back to sleep.” I shifted so that I was resting my head away from Ryan. He yawned loudly and then his arm fell over my shoulders and he yanked me a little closer.
“Oh look at us!” He grinned widely, “Aren’t we cute?”
“You’re nuts.” I whispered, before falling asleep.
And for the record, I wasn’t thinking of sleeping with Ryan at all.