I sat down at my table with the pattern and began to trace out the different sized rectangular shapes I would need while Ryan was still digging in
the boxes of clothes. I grabbed my glass cutter and began to cut along the lines I traced.
“That looks like fun. Can I try?” he asked hesitantly, but I could hear the desire in his voice. I couldn’t help but grin at him. None of my past
boyfriends ever took an interest into watching me work – Ryan was a first.
“Sure! Have a seat.” I held his hand on top of the cutter and guided his hand until he had a feel for the amount of pressure he needed to apply.
“How am I doing?” he asked, concentrated on cutting the glass.
“You’re doing great! Just cut it past the line a little further so that the creases overlap, that will make for a cleaner break.”
“Job well done, Mr. Christensen!” I complemented him when he finished. “Next step, the grinder.”
“Ooh... the grinder,” he said with a low, sexy voice. “Kind of sounds like what you did to me last night!”
“Maybe if you ask nicely I’ll do the same to you later tonight.” I gave the front of his sweatpants a little toss.
“You are my most favorite person in the whole wide world. You know that, right?”
“Here put these safety goggles on!” I giggled. “Pieces of glass will fly all over; you have to protect your eyes.”
“This is just like high school shop class,” he chuckled, slipping the less than attractive glasses on his face.
I turned the grinder on and this time he stayed behind me with his hand on top of mine, gliding each piece around the bit until it was smooth.
I was trying my best to concentrate on smoothing the sharp edges of the glass in my hand, but he was making it quite difficult with his lips so
close to my ear.
I stopped after grinding a few pieces. “You want to give it a try on your own?”
“You trust me with your power tools?”
“It’s either the grinder or foiling the edges.” I pointed. “Take your pick.”
“Man!” He patted his chest. “Man use power tool. Man get more coffee first.” He turned the machine off. “Woman want more coffee too?”
“Woman get man breakfast,” I laughed, grabbing the back of his sweats to expose his bare bottom.
I took a bite of my bagel and watched as he stood at the grinder.
“Are you having fun over there?” I asked.
He looked back at me and smiled. “Yeah, I am! This is pretty cool! I’m in the zone!”
Once all the pieces were foiled, I laid out the pattern and handed him the flux.
Have you ever soldered before?” I asked.
“Yeah, but not like that.” He nodded at my work.
“Here, like this.” I showed him what I needed him to do. I started soldering the pieces together.
“Give it a try.” I let him have my seat. Surprisingly he did a great job. Within two hours our work of art was complete.
He held the frame up towards the light. “My mom’s going to love this!”
I walked off to the bedroom to get changed, since Jason would be delivering Ryan’s bags soon and I was barely dressed. I slipped on a pair of
jeans, layered on another shirt, and headed back to the living room.
Ryan was leaning on the wall by the front windows with a cup of coffee in his hand, peering down to the street. His face was troubled again.
I stepped next to him to see what he was looking at, but he blocked me with his chest.
“Don’t,” he murmured. “No sense in both of us being upset.”
I looked him in the eyes; my expression pleading, hoping he’d explain further. His lips pursed together and he muttered one word. “Fans.”
“How many?”
“Lots.”
I took his free hand in mine. “Come on, I’ll make you some lunch.” I led him to the kitchen.
I made sandwiches and we sat quietly at the little wooden kitchen table. I knew he was completely absorbed in thinking about the crowd outside.
He wore his emotions on his sleeve and they were easy to read. He barely ate anything.
“What is it about the fans that upsets you so much?” I rubbed the top of his hand.
He looked away in disgust. He spent almost a whole minute shaking his head, breathing hard, and rubbing his hand across his forehead. Finally
he looked me in the eyes.
“They absolutely terrify me,” he whispered.
I squeezed his hand in reassurance.
“I have this horrible feeling like one of them is just going to go too far one day. Some of their behavior borders on the delusional. They scream at
me… they say that they love me.” He looked at his plate and sighed. “How can they even say that?”
I put my cup down on the table. I wanted him to finally let it out and I wasn’t going to be distracted by anything.
“So I made a stupid movie once. Big deal! Thousands of actors make movies every damn day! I’m a person, just like any other guy.” He paused
to scratch his eyebrows.
“I am followed everywhere I go. Everything I do is scrutinized to the nth degree. And then I have to deal with that?” He waved towards the front of
my apartment.
“What do they expect? Are they waiting down there for me to pick one of them out of the crowd? Now serving number 48? Do these women
actually think that if they stand on your sidewalk long enough they might get a date with me? It’s psychotic!
“I had to have my cell number changed so many times I can’t count anymore. These girls leave notes and letters on everything - my car, the front
steps to the hotel, your car… you name it. For what? Does Mindy or Cindy think that just because they wrote on a piece of paper that they’re the
perfect woman for me I’d be inclined to call them? What is wrong with all of them?
“You saw how many notes covered your car yesterday. For the sake of argument, let’s say that there were forty separate notes. That means
there are forty women out there who are deluded enough to think that their sparkle paper is going to attract me to call them!”
I saw his lip tremble as other thoughts ran through his mind.
“Forty… compounded by the thousands; you saw how they just grabbed, putting their hands on me, trying to tear my clothes. Any one of them
capable of…” he huffed.
He placed his other hand on top of mine. “And now, what I fear most, is that I’ve involved you in the insanity. Rocks being thrown through your
windows… If anything ever happened to you I’d never forgive myself.” He choked on his last words. His eyes squeezed together and he tilted his
face towards the floor, sniffing.
I stood up immediately and reached my arms around his shoulders to hold him. He wrapped his arms around my waist and pulled me to his lap.
I held his head to my chest and let him release his pain. I felt each one of his tears as they saturated my shirt.
I could only imagine how long he’d been holding it all in. How many months had he suffered in silence, hiding this misery from everyone,
including himself. Never wanting anyone to see how vulnerable they had made him.
I lightly rubbed his neck and shoulders while placing kisses on his forehead. I wanted nothing else in the world but to soothe him and take his
misery away.
“It’s okay,” I whispered. “I’m here. I will never let them hurt you.”
His fingers pressed into my skin, clutching my shirt in his hands as he finally broke down from all the stress. Tears trickled down my cheeks too
from seeing how anguished he was.
I kissed his head and pulled him in tighter. We held onto each other while our fears and insecurities got the better of us. A new bond between us
formed instantly; a connection built on emotional support and trust.
He looked up at me; his eyes were puffy and red and filled with the remains of his sadness. I gently rubbed my thumbs under his eyes to wipe
away the last of the moisture. I gave him a soft kiss.
“Taryn Mitchell,” he said, looking me in the eyes. “I love you. With all my heart.”