Behind My Sister's Back

Chapter 21: Ian

Pic of Ian >>

-- Ali's POV --

I thought I was dreaming.

                “Ali,” he breathed, and his voice was like music to my ears. My heart did a somersault. How was it possible that, after two years, he could still have such an effect on me?

                Shock froze my muscles, causing me to stay rooted to the spot. I must’ve looked like somebody hit pause on me. I didn’t even blink.

                "Ali,–" he repeated, this time with worry in his voice. It seemed to snap me out of my daze. "Are you–"

            “What are you doing here?” I almost shouted, surprise clear in my voice. “W-what... how... you... why... huh?”

            He let out a low chuckle and held out the flowers. Lilies, my favourite. He remembered?

            I shoved them away roughly, glaring. “I don’t want to see you.”

            “But –“

            I probably should have just slammed the door in his face. You should never really let an ex back into your life, unless they’re really over you – which he was not. But I couldn’t, because even I had to admit there was still something there with Ian. Nothing compared to what I felt for Dennis, but something. That something would probably never disappear.

            “Can I, uh, come in?” he asked, trying to side-step me.

            “No,” I responded coldly, blocking his way with a scowl. “You will leave, and we will not see each other again.”

            “Take the flowers,” he said, thrusting them into my hands before I could object. I staggered slightly from the force and, when I regained my balance, I threw them back in his face.

            “No,” I said again. I shook my head with a sigh. “Please can you just leave? I don’t want you here.”

            “I want you to take me back,” he said, clasping both my hands in his. His touch sent a jolt through me and a chill went down my spine. Why was I feeling like this? I should be immune to his touch. “I still love you, Ali. I never stopped.”

            Disgusted, I yanked my hands away. “You can’t just walk back into my life,” I cried, “and expect me to let you! Leave! Now!”

            “Please, give me five minutes,” he said, a sad smile on his lips. His eyes were filled with a longing and I, being an idiot and a softie, caved.

            “Okay,” I replied, “five minutes. No more.”

            He stepped in gratefully and I saw his eyes sweep the apartment. It was the same apartment him and I had lived in two years ago, the same apartment where he had told me about him and Summer. We had made major changes since he left like getting new furniture, painting the walls and just arranging things differently. It looked like a whole new place – which was my intention.

            Ian stuffed his hands in his pockets and strolled around the apartment. “Wow, this place has changed,” he said, reading my thoughts.

            “That was the whole idea,” I said in a hard voice. “Now, enough with the chitchat. Say what you want to say and get the fuck out.”

            He flinched at my tone. “I want to do whatever I can to get you back.”

            “That will never happen,” I said, sauntering over to the couch and plopping down. Ian sat next to me, sitting awfully close to me.