Love Unscripted

“I’m sure there is,” I muttered, pushing the magazine further away. It was the paper version of poison to me. “Every one of these writers seems

to have the need to get at least one good dig in. I don’t understand why they feel I’m not good enough.”

“Honey! Who gives a shit what they write?” Ryan stated. “I sure don’t.”

“Let me see it,” Nick asked. “I’ll tell you whether or not it’s safe to read.”

He quickly thumbed through the magazine, stopping to flash us the large interior picture of Ryan and me walking down my sidewalk, obviously

ignoring the paparazzi.

“Oh my God!” Nick looked over the top of the magazine. “It says here that you forced my brother to learn how to make stained glass picture

frames! Is this true?” He looked horrified.

Ryan laughed at his brother’s antics.

“I have to admit, that one is true.” I nodded.

“Does it say anything about her being mostly naked when she subjected me to a day of arts and crafts and power tools?” Ryan asked. All of a

sudden his interest was piqued. “Are there pictures too, ‘cause I want those!”

“No, no pictures like that,” Nick stated. He resumed reading.

“What’s this? You…” he gasped, holding his shaky fingers in front of his mouth to emphasize his fright. “You bake birthday cakes - and then you

had the audacity to make my parents eat it?” His voice changed to a high pitch to sound like he was crying and he cringed. “How could you?”

Ryan gave me a teasing shove. “Yeah Taryn! How could you?”

I hung my head down. “I’m sorry. I have no excuse for my actions,” I whispered.

“No champagne for you!” Ryan took the bottle from my hand.

“She even begged us to come to some birthday party in Rhode Island. We’re lucky I was traveling last week or else she would have subjected

Janelle and me to more of these horrors!” Nick focused back on the magazine.

Nick made me jump slightly when he gasped loudly. “Tell the limo driver to stop. We have to kick Taryn out. It says right here she’s just using my

brother for sex.”

Ryan sat up quickly. “That’s true! She forces me to…” He covered his eyes with the champagne bottle and pretended to cry, slumping back into

the seat. “All the time!” he wailed. “And she beats me too! She says ‘you get naked and get in that bed or I’ll give you something to really cry about

mister.’ I mean, I’m only human. I’m not a machine.”

“Janelle beats me all the time,” Nick cried. “I feel so used.”

“You wish!” she laughed.

“I don’t know about you Janelle, but if I have to pick up his dirty socks and underwear I want something in return!” I defended.

“I know!” she agreed. “The Christensen scent sure doesn’t smell like roses.”

“Hey, we take pride in our scent!” Ryan argued.

“If your fans only knew…” I replied. “Maybe they wouldn’t be standing so close to our doors.”

“I thought your fans were too busy kissing their Seaside pillowcases to travel all the way to Rhode Island,” Janelle teased.

“Go ahead and laugh, Janelle. I’m laughing all the way to the bank.”

“Pillowcases?” I questioned. I had no idea what she was talking about.

“And bed sheets! Now girls all around the globe can sleep with Charles at night!” Janelle laughed.

“I dry humped my Charles pillow just last night,” Nick chortled, making obscene gestures.

Ryan threw the champagne cork at him. I gathered Ryan didn’t like that last dig, because Ryan threw the cork with some force. Nick flinched

away, smiling.

“I used the real Ryan Christensen as a sex toy last night,” I whispered in Ryan’s direction, trying to keep him in a good mood.

Ryan gave me a high-five and winked at me. “Damn straight! And then I sprayed you with my personal scent to keep the other animals away!”

Our limo drove past the main entrance to the arena, but the driver didn’t stop. Maybe he didn’t know where to drop us? We ended up stopping in

the back of the arena near a few large buses. The driver opened Ryan’s door and we headed towards a private entrance. Ryan took me by the

hand; I drew in a deep breath and followed him towards the back door. Ryan Christensen would never again enter through the front doors of any

place like a regular person.

Two arena employees were waiting for us, obviously aware that we were coming. We were escorted into an elevator that took us to the upper

deck where all the private suites were located.

“Whose suite is this?” Nick asked.

“The bank I deal with has it rented for the season,” Ryan answered. “They gave up four of their tickets for us, but we won’t be alone. There are

eight other tickets for this suite. All these suites are completely booked. This is as private as I could get.” I watched as he rubbed his forehead.

“So we’re party crashing? That’s cool.” Nick belched and cracked open a beer.

The suite was fully stocked with beer and wine and there was a hot buffet of food already laid out on a long table. Ryan and Nick dove right in,

helping themselves to the assortment of food and snacks. The two brothers were already partially drunk and I was glad that Ryan was getting some

food in his stomach.

I looked out the large glass window that overlooked the arena. On the other side of the glass were twelve private seats. I knew where I was

going to be sitting during this game!

The suite door opened, causing a flash of light to reflect off of the window. I instinctively turned around to see who was entering. What a big

mistake that was.

Four young, giggling girls came through the door. They just about burst out into hysterics when they saw Ryan Christensen was truly in the suite.

My eyes quickly flashed over to Ryan; I noticed he stopped chewing the wad of food that was crammed in his mouth for a brief second while his lips

pursed together in a

Janelle subtly elbowed me and we both chuckled lightly. The girls were all decked out in short skirts and low cut tops. One even had her copy of

Seaside in hand. Ryan quickly darted away from the buffet table and positioned himself between Nick and me. No matter where we went Ryan

could not escape his fans.

The following afternoon, Ryan’s family gathered in the kitchen, readying Thanksgiving di

“Honey, where do you want me to set this?” Bill asked. He was lifting the enormous turkey out of the oven.

I turned around to see what he was referring to.

Ellen pointed to an obvious empty space on the stove, slightly irritated that she had to give him direction.

Memories of my dad asking my mom the same question flashed in my mind. My dad was helpless too. I returned my attention back to scooping

sweet potatoes into a serving bowl. Janelle was softly humming songs to herself while she set the di

“Hey, Honey... where is Sarah’s bottle?” Nick yelled from the brown recliner in the family room.

When Nick yelled, I instinctively looked over. His voice sounded so much like Ryan’s it was hard to tell the difference.

Ryan came sauntering into the kitchen wearing one of the new pairs of jeans that I got for him. For some reason that thought made me warm

inside. I noticed he was looking around the family room for something.

“Hey, Honey? Do you know where my sneakers are?” Ryan asked, momentarily distracted by the television. My head naturally turned to answer

him.

Instead of replying I broke out in laughter. I held onto the counter as my hilarious internal thoughts cracked me up. Everyone stopped what they

were doing to look at me, wondering just what the heck was wrong with me.

“There are too many honeys in this room!” I breathed out in jest, answering Ryan’s glance. That term of endearment must have been engrained

in all of them. It was also apparent that all the Christensen males were now incapable of independent thought and action.