Winning Her Back

Chapter Thirty Two

Tatum POV

"My head hurts." Ryan complains for the 13th time in the past hour, nuzzling his head deeper into my lap.

Rolling my eyes, I mat his hair down with my hands. "That's what you get for getting filthy drunk last night." 

Last night was a real treat for everyone. Ryan was completely gone, there was no common sense left in his brain. And although he made a complete fool of himself- I shamelessly got a few videos, the aftermath was doing him no good. He had nearly just woken up at 3pm and within the hour of him being active- or inactive, rather, I've heard "Tatum, my head hurts," "Tatum, can you get me Advil," "Tatum, can you make me a cup of tea," "Tatum, I need food," and my personal favorite. "Tatum, can we cuddle."

After that last request, I sat down on the couch and left my lap available as a pillow. I wasn't sure if the fact he may fall asleep or the fact that we would be in a peaceful quietness was making me extremely excited. But after a beautiful 10 minutes of silence, Ryan had to break it with his whining. I am convinced I'm watching after a child. 

"It's not my fault, it's yours." He protests, making my mouth fall open.

"My fault? How is you being completely smashed my fault?" 

Sitting up, Ryan turns towards me with a cheesy grin. "Because you looked so fucking sexy and I couldn't touch you. I had to fuzz up my mind so I wouldn't jump you on the dance floor. Do you know what you dancing to Can't Believe It looks like to me? It looks like fucking sex, Tatum. I wouldn't have been able to control myself." 

"What are you? Some horny dog?"

"I prefer horny human." He says, leaning his head on my shoulder.

"You're unbelievable." I say, shaking my head in disbelief. I nudge his head off and receive a muttered "Ow." "Everything with you is sex." I state, walking into the kitchen to get a glass of water. 

Following close behind, Ryan takes a seat at the island. "When you have a girlfriend that looks like you, everything should be about sex." 

"Are you still drunk?" I question, leaning against the counter top, facing Ryan. 

"Drunk off of you." He says, also leaning forward. 

I groan, spinning around to spill the rest of the contents of my water into the sink and placing the glass in the dishwasher. I glance quickly at the clock to see its just about time to start getting ready. "We should get-" As I turn around, my head hits Ryan's hard chest making a deep chuckle escape his lips. 

"Hello there, darling." He laughs, stepping back a bit so I could stand up straight. 

"We should get ready." I try again, trying to push past him. 

"Uh, uh, uh. Not so fast." He says. 

"Ry, not now." I groan. 

"Come on, my dear. Let us go to bed." He says in a posh accent.

"Bed? It's 3:34." 

"It's never too early or too late to go to bed, Tatum. Haven't you learned that from being in a relationship with me for 8 minus 6 years?." Catching on to what he was implying, I get ready to run away, however his hands grip my waist and lift me over his shoulder. 

"Ryan!" I squeal as he walks us through his apartment and into the bedroom. 

Stupid sex crazed, hungover, sexy man.

---

Dear Mr. Cowell, 

I have completed my novel, "Forever Minus Six" and would love if you, or one of your editors would read it over. I have attached my file to this email. I do not expect to hear from you any time soon, as I know you are a busy man. Feel free to take your time getting to this. I am available on my cell phone if you have any further questions. Thank you, have a good weekend. 

Tatum Wistler

"Yeah, babe, it sounds fine." Ryan says, reading the email over my shoulder. "I like the title." 

"Well you said 8 minues 6 downstairs and I thought it was cute, so...." I trail off. "But are you sure it's ok, not too formal, not too informal? Should I put a smiley face or use a different font?"

"It's perfect." Ryan reassures, massaging my shoulders. I relax, closing my eyes and leaning into his touch. "I can't wait to read your book." He whispers in my ear, his breath tickling the nape of my neck. 

"You won't read it, and I'll make sure of that." 

"I already know what it's about, though." He says, his fingers retreating from my back as he spins my chair around and crouches down in front of me. 

"And that's exactly why I won't let you read it. It's embarassing, it's all my feelings about you- about us. That's embarassing." 

"I already know what you feel about me." He winks, kissing my cheek before walking into his closet. Two minutes later, his sweatpants and tshirt are replaced with jeans and a pink button down shirt. As he's buttoning up his shirt, he starts with the teasing again. "Did you write how many dogs you want and how many kids you want?" My cheeks turn red as I simply ignore his question. "What about what you want our house to look like? Do we have a welcome mat?" 

"You're unbelievable!" I cry, feeling my cheeks heat up to an impossible temperature. "I have to send this email, leave me alone." Turning back around, I nervously press send. There, Simon Cowell officially has my final draft of the book I've been working on for the past 5 years. 

"What color door are we going to have?" Groaning, I stomp out of Ryan's bedroom with my Jeffrey Campbell spiked shoes in hand. "I'm only kidding, Tate... kind of." 

"I have to go." I say as I approach the door. 

"I'm going to miss you." Ryan says, finishing with the last button on his shirt before pulling me into his arms. 

"I'll see you in the morning. Don't get too drunk because you won't have the best girlfriend in the world to nurse you the whole evening." 

"Don't worry about me. Have fun! I love you." He replies, pressing his lips to mine. 

"I love you too." I whisper, pecking his lips once more before picking up my over night back that was sitting on the floor and slinging it over my shoulder. "Bye." I grin, kissing his lips once more. 

"Bye." And with that I walk into the lobby and out the door to the Hummer limo waiting for me outside. 

Off to my best friends bachlorette party.... I wonder if there are going to be any strippers there... 

I suck at writing. bye.