I love you, Ian Somerhalder

Fifty Seven

It had been one week.

One week of tears, Netflix, ice cream and isolation. 

I didn't allow myself to think: to feel. I knew that if I did, I would keep hating myself more and more because I let Ian walk through the door without him knowing my side of the story. 

Allowing myself to think would be mental suicide on my part. God knows where I'd be right now if I let all of that hatred enter my mind.

I had left my phone alone for the week. I didn't dare turn it on and see the bombardment of messages. No doubt from Amy, my family and the guys back in America. Although, they probably took Ian's side seeing as none of them actually knew the full story. 

Surprisingly, I hadn't even spoken to Amy. She hadn't come to my house either, which made me slightly upset, but nothing compared to the emotional volcano bubbling up inside of me. 

*Ian's POV*

After I left Natalie's house I'd taken the first flight back home. No one really knew the full story. I briefly explained to Paul but no one understood any of it. They didn't understand the betrayal I felt. They didn't understand how hurt I was inside. 

As I was technically still on my two week break from work, I stayed in my home for at least a week. I was reading all of my messages but I never replied. I noticed that Natalie never replied on the group chat either. I didn't even think she saw the messages. I didn't understand why. 

She had used me for a stupid book, not the other way around. 

From the looks of it, Amy didn't know what was going on either. She was busy frolicking around with Joseph anyways. 

It never occurred to me that maybe I'd been wrong. I never thought about the fact that ,maybe I jumped to conclusions too quickly. But then again, who would think like that if they just discovered that their girlfriend had been simply there to get information and write a book about how they dated the great Ian Somerhalder only to screw him over and get attention. Upset wasn't really the word to describe it. Angry was more accurate. 

*Natalie's POV*

It had been so long since I'd interacted with people, so I was surprised when someone started knocking on my front door.

I tried to ignore it but again and again I heard the loud bangs, so I got up just in case they decided to kick the door in. 

When I opened it, I saw my mum stood there, with a blanket and a bag filled with who knows what.

"Oh, hi mum," I said flatly.

"Oh, deary me," she replied, "you're a complete mess."

She pulled me into a tight hug. It was one of those really comforting motherly hugs that you get when you're hurt or upset. It was exactly what I needed.

"How about I come inside and you can tell me why no one's heard from you in a whole week, huh?" she suggested.

I nodded my head, realizing that opening up to someone would probably be best.

When we were sat next to each other on the sofa,  my mum held up her bag and started emptying it. 

She produced chocolate, tissues, Doritos, wine and my favourite film: the Titanic.

"Why did you bring all of this?" I asked, amazed.

"Because, Natalie Shipman, the last time you went into isolation like this was when Liam died, so I knew something must've happened. Amy had told me about the the plans to surprise you with Ian, so I guessed it was to do with him."

"Yeah, it was." I replied. That was enough to send me into tears for the millionth time that week. 

"Awe, honey!" My mum wrapped the blanket around my shoulders and held me close to her, as if I was a child again; no amount of comfort could heal the pain I was feeling, but if anyone could come close, it was my mother.

I spent the day talking with her, telling her everything that happened. We also ate all of the food as well as some stuff I had in the cupboards and watched the Titanic, not failing to cry throughout most of it. 

Being with my mum felt good. It was a safe form of social interaction. She was my best friend, I didn't feel like I needed anything else to entertain me and she was the best comforter I'd ever met. However, she was useless when it came to advice, so I knew I'd have to reach out to Amy soon, probably when Joseph was gone.