Riley Brooks appears to be leading a charmed life on the outside. On the inside, she's spiraling as a result of a toxic relationship. Once the relationship comes to a tumultuous end, she loses very nearly everything, her sanity included. As an effor...
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Ryan sat beside me every day between scenes on the set. He asked me a thousand questions. From my favorite color to my favorite condiment. His interest in me was inconceivable.
As much as I tried to resist, I couldn't help but be completely dazzled by him. The draw was magnetic.
He "courted" me for a long, long time. Four months, to be exact. He was relentless, but still polite somehow.
At one point, my mom had stepped in, worried he was becoming obsessive. She didn't want me around on set anymore, but I threw a fit. I loved watching the movies before they became movies. And I loved watching my dad.
Dad told me to "go out with him already". Our encounters seemed to make Ryan distracted. He was constantly in trouble, constantly having to be dragged from me to complete his scenes. One day, Ryan asked me out for the upteenth time and I finally relented. I was pleasantly surprised. He was nothing like I'd expected.
He was gracious. He gave money to beggars on the street and tipped generously every chance he got.
He was talented. He recited lines from old movie roles he played. A scorned ex-lover, a prince, a high school jock. And I would clap, thoroughly impressed. And he would smile. Everything I did made him smile. I wasn't used to the attention he was giving me. It was foreign and I liked it.
He played Satie's Lent et Douloureux on the restaurant piano, his fingers working the keys with effortless expertise. He played it because I told him it was my favorite. His performance earned him a standing ovation from the patrons. The room filled with applause and clinking forks against champagne flutes. Mostly because of who he was, but still, he was talented. And charming. And funny.
After about a year, I couldn't help it anymore. I let myself fall. And I fell hard.
We'd just gotten back from the opera. I was almost in a trance. Both from the exquisite singing, which embarrassingly brought me to tears, and because I'd had too much to drink.
I was 18, and had never been to a party, nor did I have consistent peers my age to hang out with. I couldn't help but take a little advantage of the freedom I had when I was with Ryan. The freedom to be myself, drink, fool around. For once, I was with someone my own age. It was rare for me. Not since Wendy. Not since third grade.
It was 11 pm and we were strolling through an empty park. It was nippy, but not intolerable. Not enough to need gloves and chapstick. The leaves on the trees had just begun to turn crinkly and brown. My favorite time of the year. The sky was a deep, starless blue. Ryan's hair was windblown and his cheeks were scarlet from drinking.
He convinced his body-guard, Drake, to remain parked far away. Hidden behind a row of Boxelder trees. With the way Ryan's hands were all over me, I was grateful for that.
