Sequel: If Only Until Morning

Pictures on Silence

Chapter 55

After Ryan found some pants and after I rid myself of extraneous clothing (jacket and shoes, people!), we settled down on the couch to watch "V For Vendetta". Of course, I won't mention how long it took to actually return to the couch and get in a position where we both were comfortable and could see the television. Primarily because of all the spontaneous delicious make-outs interspersed between events.

Legs hanging over one side of the couch, I rested my head on Ryan's chest, half-listening to the movie and half-being-distracted by his heartbeat. Ryan, leaning against the other arm of the couch, had both arms around my middle, playing distractingly with my shirt. Every so often we'd quote a line or seven and laugh at what big movie-dorks we were.

Would my swooning over his ability to quote V's entire introductory speech cause projectile vomiting or only mild indigestion?

As the woman who tended the roses started talking, Ryan reached over to the table, turned up the volume, and in returning his hand to my stomach, touched the exact spot I'd hit my ribs. I hissed a breath in through my teeth and quickly suppressed it. Not quickly enough, sadly.

"What's the matter? Are you okay?" he asked concerned, sitting up a little to look at me. I nodded, smiling pleasantly, and turned back to the movie. After a second it clicked off and I was faced with a serious-looking Ryan Ross. "You're lying. Sit up."

I did so acrimoniously, saying, "I'm not lying. It's nothing. Don't worry about it." He picked up the edge of the shirt and I slapped away his hand.

We glared at each other silently for a good minute before he asked quietly, "Where did you get that bruise on your cheek?"

I said nothing, brows furrowing slightly in frustration. I thought I'd put on enough makeup on the plane to disguise it. Licking my lips, I thought fast. "You know I bruise like a rotten peach," I excused emotionlessly.

Ryan broke eye contact and glanced down at my side. Looking back up, he ordered, "Take off your shirt."

"That's a little forward, don't you think?" I commented dryly, crossing my arms. Covering for myglee astonishment was probably a good approximation. "And I always thought you were such a nice boy."

"Angie."

The sternness of his voice took me aback. Blinking rapidly, I obediently slid the maroon polo over my head and turned it right side out as Ryan's eyes widened.

No, I don't have that much of an effect on a guy.

"Jesus Christ, Ange," he exclaimed in a half-whisper, staring at my side. I glanced around my arm as he knelt next to me on the floor and winced. Shit, that still looked bad. At least it wasn't all black and red anymore. Nope, just an attractive purplish-green and yellow.

Completely ignoring the fact that I was sitting next to him in only a bra and jeans, Ryan asked, tracing the marks across my back with a feather-touch, "How the hell did you get that?" He caught my eye, brown eyes hard. "And tell the whole truth."

I sat back and avoided his gaze uncomfortably. Folding and refolding my shirt in my lap, I slowly recapped the incident in question, as well as why Anthony disliked me in the first place as explanation. By the time I finished, Ryan looked ready to jump on a plane and go beat the crap out of Anthony himself.

When he moved, I reacted and pinned him against the side of couch. "I'm fine, you hear me?" I dictated firmly, looking him right in my eye. "There's nothing you can do about it, and there's no use being angry. Charlie and Sean already beat him to a pulp and instilled the fear of massacre in him."

Ryan took a deep breath, let it out, and nodded. I narrowed my eyes distrustfully, but he smiled and I had to smile back. Damn you, Ross, and your adorable smile.

"So." Two arms snaked around my bare back. Ryan glanced down and twitched his eyebrows at me. I winced sheepishly and lowered my eyes slowly. Oh, look. A nice straight cleavage shot. Not embarrassing at all.

"No," I protested, trying to worm my way out of his grasp, or at least get my shirt back on.

Let it be said that Ryan's pretty strong for being such a stick. He tightened his arms enough that I couldn't continue sliding through them. And you know what that meant? That meant my boobs got stuck as my knees reached the floor, and since Ryan was still holding me tightly against him, I might as well have been wearing a super-push-up bra.

I'm sure that smirk wasn't just because he was winning.

"If you don't let go of me right now," I threatened, "This is a sight you'll never see again."

Ryan tilted his head to one side and his smirk grew. "Or I could keep you here forever."

"You have the metabolism of a ferret. You have to eat sometime." He opened his mouth and, minding working faster than his, I cut him off. "And I mean food."

Luckily that got him laughing hard enough to loosen his grip and let me escape. He stuck his lower lip out at me when my head emerged from the collar of my shirt. I rolled my eyes and loosed an embarrassingly girly noise when he swung me around and threw me onto the couch again.

I smiled wryly at him from so close. "Since when are you the dominant type?" I mused aloud.

He grinned and kissed me hard. Heat bubbled up from the pit of my stomach to my head. "I guess you never really paid attention on tour," he replied, still smiling, when he pulled away an inch.

We both jumped when the phone rang. Grumbling, Ryan rolled off me and crossed to the telephone. I stretched out on the couch again and watched him with a small smile. However, after a moment of thinking, I frowned.

"What?" he asked when he came back and stood over me.

"You never told me what happened to Emilie," I sneered as the name oozed from my mouth. "You did break up with her, didn't you? Because you know," I extended my arm to point in his face, "I won't stand for being the other woman."

Ryan snapped his teeth at my finger and grinned. "Of course I did. I broke it off with her before the show you came to."

"Before or after you kissed me?"

"After," he admitted, kissing my fingers and making me relinquish his seat on the couch. "But do you really think I would try to juggle two girls at once? I'm not a masochist."

As Ryan turned the movie back on, I lay with my head on his leg, thinking. I really should ask, I acknowledged, watching our laced fingers. But then again, how stupid would that make me sound? Eh, screw it.

"Ryan, what do you call this?" I asked pensively. He cocked his head at me curiously, and I waved my free hand between us. "This, right here. What is this?" Pausing for a moment, he frowned in consideration. "I mean, because we technically haven't gone out yet..."

"Rhiannon Callaghan, would you do me the honour of accompanying me on a date this evening?" he requested with a charming smile.

I laughed slightly and played with our interlocked fingers. "Your silly, endearing way with words." I glanced back up at him and smiled. "It would be my pleasure." I sat up and kissed him on the cheek. "Except that I left all my clothes at Brendon's house."

Ryan rolled his eyes. "Better head over there then," he said dryly. "We've only got three hours to get ready." He slapped his hands over his cheeks. "Oh, what am I going to wear!"

I laughed and stuck my tongue out at him. "You figure that out, pretty boy," I said. "I'm going to call Bren." I jumped to my feet, went to the phone, and dialed the number. As it rang, I saw Ryan strip off his shirt as he crossed to the stairs and smiled secretly. "There has been a distinct lack of clothing today," I muttered amusedly.

"Say what now?" Brendon asked, confused.