When the waitress brings our check, I quickly pull my wallet out of my bag assuming Ian will want me to pay for my order the way Mason always did. He gives me a quizzical look as I start to pull my debit card from my wallet.
“What are you doing?”
“Paying for my food,” I say, shrugging.
“Emily, you don't have to do that.”
“Mason, made me pay all the time. It's not a big deal.”
Ian winces.
WHY? Why did I bring Mason into this?
“Well,” he says. His face is full of adoration as he looks at me. “I'm not Mason . . . and a gentleman never makes a lady pay.”
The moon is out and the stars are shining brightly as we exit the restaurant. Ian's arm is wrapped around my shoulder and I snuggle into his side as we walk along Hollywood Boulevard. Soft classical music floats through the air from the speakers attached to the lamp posts.
Ian pulls away from me. “Let's dance.”
“What?” I ask, looking around me. Across the street, a group of rowdy teens gather around a blazing bonfire. Cars drive up and down the street. “Here?”
He nods, extending his free hand for me to grab and moves his other hand to my lower back. I raise my right hand to his shoulder and then clasp my left hand with his.
“Well, aren't you just a living breathing Mr. Darcy.”
He winks at me. “You have no idea.”
We start out slowly, letting our bodies sway back and forth. Ian twirls me around in careful, elegant circles. My heart thunders in my chest as he pulls me closer to him, our bodies molding together. I close my eyes, warmth rising to my cheeks. I don't want this night to end. My heart is pining for Ian, and I never want it to stop. I bury my face in his chest, relaxing against him.
“What are you thinking?” Ian asks, murmuring in my hair as our bodies sway lightly, keeping time with the music.
I bite my lip, before softly whispering into his chest. “That I never want the stroke of midnight to come.”
He pulls away from me, staring into my eyes. “Like Cinderella?”
I nod.
“I'm worried I'll wake up tomorrow morning and realize this has been nothing more than a really good dream.”
“Emily,” Ian says, my name slowly rolling off his tongue. He spins me around, slowly dipping me back before pulling me tightly against his chest again. “This isn't a dream. I'll still be here at the stroke of midnight and the next day and every day after that because there is no one else I'd rather be with than you.“
Warmth spreads all the way from my pinkie toe to the longest strand of hair on my head. My cheeks flush and I feel like I can’t breathe. Our eyes lock. His eyes are deep blue and completely irresistible. I find myself lost in them as he leans towards me and presses his lips against mine.
This is the third time he's kissed me tonight and each time has been more magical than the last. If someone would have asked me to describe my life a week ago, I probably would have said everything was in shambles—with my mom's cancer, being stuck in Los Angeles and having a father that despises me, but now, at this moment I realize my life couldn't be any more perfect.
We stop and get ice cream; I get the peanut butter and chocolate heart attack, while Ian gets a strawberry shake. The city is quiet as we make our way towards Adam's Park. I slowly eat a spoonful of my ice cream, savoring each flavor as I do.
“Sorry. I talked your ear off earlier,” I say. “Thanks for listening.”
Ian flashes me the same smile he did earlier today when we were sitting on the ledge, looking out at the skyline. “I'm glad you did. I love hearing your voice.”
We’re just nearing the street to head back towards the dorms when I reach my arm out to stop him. “Wait. I don’t want to go back yet.”
“Okay,” Ian says, touching my hand and then lacing his fingers through mine. “I heard they're playing the latest Bond movie tonight in the park. Wanna check it out?”
“Bond?” I spin my spoon around my empty cup as we make a right turn, walking farther into the park instead of turning left towards the dorms.
He gives me an incredulous look as he leads me to the big willow tree—the one I sat under a few weeks ago when I finally emerged from hiding. “You know, 'The name's Bond. James Bond.'”
My cheeks start to flush as realization slowly crosses my face.
“Oh, I've never seen any of the movies. My dad has all of them, so I'm not really sure why I haven't seen one—oh! Wait, maybe I have. Doesn't he always go on impossible missions or something?”
Ian gasps.
He staggers backward, clutching his chest like he's just been shot through the heart with an arrow, before falling to the ground. After a few seconds pass of him lying completely still, I nudge him with my shoe.
“What movie am I talking about then?”
“That's Mission Impossible with Tom Cruise.” He says, staying on his back and looking up at the stars through the tree branches. I sit down next to him. “They're both spy movies, but are completely different. Tom Cruise's character is more of a spy, while Bond is a secret service agent.”
He rolls over on his side, propping his elbow up and resting his head in his hand. “I can't believe you've never seen James Bond before. He is such a popular charterer in England. He's like your . . .”
“Batman?”
“No. Don't get me wrong, Batman is awesome and I love The Dark Knight, but he's just not the same as Bond. He's a kick-ass detective and that's really cool, plus he has amazing gadgets, well I guess James Bond does too.” He chuckles. “ I guess there's no one good to compare him too. Anyway, your lack of James Bond is unacceptable.”
“Sorry,” I smile at him. “If only Blockbuster was still around.”
He returns my smile. “Oh, that’s not a problem. It just so happens that I have all the Bond movies and since we’re on break, we’re having a marathon.”
Ian’s room is a lot neater than when I saw it earlier this morning. His bed is made, he picked up the wads of papers that were thrown across his desk and shoved his school things back into his backpack.
He hands me a big black CD case. “Can you look for Dr. No? It should be in there somewhere. I’m going to go make some popcorn.”
I start leafing through his collection of movies. “You know it’s against Cyprus Hall rules to have a microwave in the dorm.”
He shakes his head in laughter. “You are such a nerd.”
“And?” I challenge.
He smiles. “And, I like it. Now stop hogging the bed.”
I slide over to make room for him. Ian pops the DVD into his laptop and Sean Connery’s voice fills the room. My eyes start to get heavy halfway through the second movie, From Russia with Love. I rest my head on Ian’s shoulder as the bright colors of the film swirl in my mind.
Chapter Thirty-One
A ray of sunlight glares through the window and I squint, disoriented. The neon green numbers on my alarm clock read 10:47. Did I mean to sleep in? What day is it? I roll onto my side, nearly jumping out of my skin when I notice the body lying next to me.
The realization hits me as I glance around the room; the CD binder lays open on the floor casing different James Bond movies, an almost empty bowl—full of nothing but popcorn kernels—sits at the foot of the bed and my black converses sit neatly by the door.
Last night wasn't a dream!
Heat rushes to my cheeks as I recall my evening with Ian: his concern for my mom, our dance, the first time he kissed me. Goosebumps rise on my arms and little tingles shoot down my back as I think about the way his soft, tender kisses stole my breath away, the way I got lost in his baby blue eyes. My thumping heart is so loud I'm worried it will wake him. I hold my breath and slowly turn to face him.
He's lying on his back and his lips are slightly parted. He rolls onto his side—closer to me—so close, in fact, I can feel his warm breath against my cheek. I gulp. Ariel, Aurora, Belle, Cinderella . . . he shifts again and the
sheet falls, revealing his bare chest. I watch it rise and fall, memorized by each inhale and exhale of his breath. My mind is waging World War III, yelling at me to avert my gaze, but the winning side keeps chanting he's so perfect over and over again.
My breathing quickens. The sudden urge to trace his lips and kiss his eyelids overcomes me. I force myself to turn away, pinning my arms to my side. My fists tightly clenched. Ian moans softly in his sleep and I think I might die.
Oh. My. God.
I just broke like a thousand school rules.
I burrow back into the sheets, a wide grin spreading across my face. I can not wait to tell Mads—my heart sinks in my chest . . . if only she were talking to me.
Would she be happy for me if we were still talking? Or would she freak out and tell Mason?
Not that it would matter . . . Mason made it pretty clear our relationship is over and even if he hadn't ended things the way he did, I would have. And, even though Danielle is really happy with Cooper, I can't tell her because she won't be back for a few more days and this isn't something I want to share with a Snapchat filter . . . which means I can't tell Calliope either. And, Liam and I don't really talk, so I guess I can't really tell anyone.
Does that mean this is wrong?
I stay in bed as long as possible, trying to soak in every minute of what has just happened, but my bladder wins in the end. When I come back into the room Ian is awake. He is sitting on his bed, looking out the window. He turns around and grins sheepishly at me.
Be still my beating heart!
“Hey,” he says.
“Hi.”
I stand awkwardly by the door, not really sure where I should go. Why does it always feel like I'm losing my footing around him? I walk to his desk and pull out the chair. Ian is staring at me—like really staring at me. He's looking at me as if time has stopped and we are the only people left on the earth. Warmth rises to my cheeks and I avert my gaze to the floor instead.
“I tried waking you up, but you were so out of it that you just rolled over and went back to sleep.”
“Oh.”
Last night was the most relaxing and peaceful sleep I've had since my mom's cancer resurfaced.
“By the way,” Ian continues. “You're a blanket thief.”
My blush deepens. “Sorry.”
He shrugs his shoulders. “I didn't mind.”
“Good,” I say, ducking my head. “I'm glad.”
He chuckles and my heart soars in my chest. If I don't leave this room soon I'm positive Ian will be able to hear my heart beating in my chest. It will be like that creepy Edgar Allen Poe story we read for AP English, but unlike the murder victim in that story, my heart will be beating loudly because I'm overjoyed.
“So, breakfast?” Ian asks, grabbing the empty popcorn bowl off the ground and then walks to the trash and dumps the kernels out.
I walk over to the door and grab my shoes and then start putting them on. “It's almost noon.”
He flashes me a dazzlingly smile. My heart sputters in my chest. “Okay. Lunch, then.”
“Uh, let me shower first.”
He scratches under his chin like he's contemplating life's great mysteries. “I thought something smelled a bit off.”
“How rude!” I say, pushing his arm. As my arm drops back to my side he grabs my hand and slides his fingers through mine. Butterflies dance in my stomach. It feels like I'm sitting in a car driving down a hilly road and my stomach keeps dropping.
He presses his lips against my forehead. “I doubt I'd find you repulsive, even if you rolled around in trash for a week.”
We agree to meet back in his room in one hour after we've had the chance to freshen up. I feel as light as a bird as I make my way to my dorm. It's been so long since I've felt at peace. I exit the stairwell, turn the corner and stop in my tracks.
Dread fills my being.
I feel like a deer caught in headlights; I want to turn and run, but I can't move.
“Mason?”
My heart hammers loudly in my chest. It baffles me that Mason is sitting outside my room. I see him sitting there, but my brain refuses to process that he's actually here. And, he's drinking . . . Mason never drinks. “W-what are you doing here?”
“I never should have let you get away.” He says, putting his beer can down and walking towards me. He pulls a bouquet of smashed daisies from behind his back. “These are for you.”
My voice catches in my throat. I'm flabbergasted. Part of me wants to whack him with the flowers, but this is Mason. My first love. The one who sat by my side night after night while I cried my eyes out when my mom was first diagnosed.
My heart tugs in my chest.
He's also the one who abandoned me when I needed him the most. Does he think he can just walk back into my life now and everything will go back to normal? That it will be like the past few months didn't happen? I cross my arms, refusing to take the flowers from him. He lets them fall limply to his side.
“Where have you been Mason? Did you think showing up with flowers would magically fix everything?”
“No, I—” he drops his head. He looks like a dog with its tail between its legs. Good. It relieves me to know he can feel something. He clears his throat. “When I got home and you weren't there I was so worried and then I found out what your dad did. H-how he wouldn't let you see your mom and I knew I had to come out here and see you. I had to make things right.”
I scrunch my face together.
“Why didn't you return my calls? I tried calling you for months. I—I needed you, Mason and you were nowhere to be found. You wouldn't talk to me or even acknowledge I existed and then you just show up here out of the blue and you expect me to forgive you?”
I shake my head, my hands clenched tightly at my sides. I bite my bottom lip and take a steadying breath to keep from crying. “It's too late for that, Mason.”
“Please,” he pleads, grabbing my wrist when I try to walk past him. “Give me a chance.”
I yank my hand, trying to break his grasp and his grip tightens. “You're hurting me.”
“Say you'll give me another chance.” He says, pulling me closer to him, twisting my wrist.
A small voice of reason—faint as it may be—whispers that I shouldn't test Mason right now; that I should play along. Mason might be acting all sweet and innocent, and maybe there is some truth to his words, but he's never been the type of guy to show up spur of the moment with flowers and declarations of love—he always has an agenda—even if I can't see it at the moment.
“Okay.” I slowly nod. “But we're just friends.”
My hands are shaking as I move past him and shove my key into the door. Try as I might I can't stop the impending doom from festering in my stomach as Mason follows behind me.
“We'll see about that,” he whispers in my ear and I feel like a pig who's been rolling in mud. The door clicks behind him and I jump.
I slowly exhale through my nose. “I'll go shower and then we can go out and see the sights, okay?”
Mason looks me up and down. It feels as if a thousand fire ants are crawling over my skin. “Maybe I should join you.”
A startled sound escapes my lips. “Very tempting, but I think I'm going to pass.”
I need to get out of here.
He gives me a devilish grin and then flops down on my bed. “Suit yourself.”
I give him a forced smile before gathering my toiletries and then bolt out the door. His manic laugh follows me down the hallway and into the bathroom. What am I going to do? What if Ian shows up while I'm in the shower?
Mason has always been the jealous type and, well, a little possessive—I guess it never really bothered me because I thought his over-protectiveness was cute. But something tells me what I saw in the hallway is just a sliver of what he could become.
And, that terrifies me.
As I shower, I take a deep breath and slowly devise a plan of escape. The stairwell is on the other side of the hallway
and I'd have to risk walking past my room again, but it will all be worth it if I don't have to spend another minute alone with him. I can't handle him looking me up and down again like . . . like I'm a piece of meat.
I shut off the shower and quickly dress. Once my things are gathered I slowly creep towards the bathroom door, trying not to make any sounds. Relief floods through me as I push the door open and see my bedroom door is still shut. My heartbeat quickens as I push the door open the rest of the way and make a run for it.
I'm so wrapped up in my thoughts, focusing on my plan of escape, that I don't notice Mason leaning against the wall until it's too late.
He yanks my arm, pulling me towards him. “And, just where do you think you're going?”
“Let me go, Mason!” I say, pushing my fist against his chest.
“Not until I get what I want.” He leans towards me, shooting me an ugly sneer.
“And, what's that?” I snap. “You didn't want me when we were dating, so what makes you think I'd want anything to do with you now?”
He ignores my questions. “How do you think I felt when I found out my girlfriend—”
“Ex-girlfriend,” I say. “I don't want anything to do with you.”
His hand strikes me across the face. “Don't interrupt me.”
My hand involuntary shoots up to my cheek. My eyes sting and I taste blood in my mouth. What has gotten into him? Why is he acting this way?
A door at the end of the hall creaks open and Mason yanks my wrist, hard. “Let's go somewhere more private.”
He drags me back to my room and then pushes me down on the ground. My head thunks loudly against the wooden floor and I groan. He jams the door with my desk chair and then stands guard in front of it.
“How do you think I felt when I found out my girlfriend—” I shake my head and he glares at me pointedly. “You're mine until I say I'm done with you! How do you think I felt when I found out my girlfriend has been slutting it up with all the boys at her new school?”
My phone vibrates loudly on my desk. I reach for it, but Mason snatches it before I can grab it. Then he starts scrolling through my messages. “Thanks for a magical night, Ian.” He sneers. “You're a wonderful listener.” “I don't know what I'd do without you.”
The Missing Piece Page 22