2016
Martin had made it all up.
The scales have fallen from my eyes and, suddenly, I've never been more certain of anything in my life. Now I knew that Ryan had never been a fan of Martin either, had never actually viewed him as a friend, I read that diary entry with a completely different mindset. I can now see Ryan wouldn't have ever said all those things about me, which really I should have realised all along.
But, combined with my own self-doubt, and finding him kissing Christine again, it had all seemed like damning evidence back then.
In effect though, due to me not just being honest with my feelings, I may as well have pushed him into Christine's arms.
I cry then. At the thought that we might have actually got together 17 years ago, had it not been for my stupid pride and Martin's vicious lies.
Things could have been so different.
I get my act together. Fix my make-up. Scrunch my hair. Swallow that pride, and go to find the guy who is - who always has been - the love of my life.
"Do you know where Ryan is?" I practically shout, barging through reception and into the bar. I get some curious looks. I probably need to chill the fuck out.
Angus grins at me. "I'm not sure," he replies. "Office, maybe? You okay? You seem a bit . . . Intense."
I nod impatiently. "I'm good, I just need to find Ryan."
"I'm right here," a calm voice says from behind me and I freeze momentarily before I turn around to face him.
He's standing in the doorway, just like he was the first time I saw him inside this hotel and, again, he's looking at me with that inscrutable expression on his face. I have no idea what he's thinking. This time his gaze doesn't slide away though; he keeps watching me steadily, bright blue eyes burning into mine.
He's so beautiful.
"Can we talk?" I ask eventually, my voice shaky, walking towards him.
"Is there anything really left to say?"
I wince at his response. That stung like a bitch, but can I really blame him?
"Ryan?" I whisper pleadingly. Just two days ago he said he'd be there to talk to me when I was ready. He couldn't take that back now, surely?
Or am I already too late?
He eyes me speculatively for a long torturous moment then nods, relenting. "Come on," he says, and I follow him across reception and into the office. He doesn't sit down, just folds his arms and leans against the wall. I eventually prop myself on the edge of the desk.
"So what do you want to talk about?" He asks.
I swallow. "Us. You. Prom."
Words aren't coming easily to me today, apparently. Just when I need them the most.
He raises his eyebrows enquiringly, face still impassive. I blurt on.
"You said the other night you wanted to forget prom and move on from it. But I think we actually do need to discuss it because I've realised I got you all wrong, and I'm so incredibly sorry about that." My eyes are brimming with tears and his are now filled with confusion.
"What are you talking about?"
So I take a deep breath and proceed to spill my guts. About how my vow to tell him how I felt that night was ruined by me not just being honest with Christine, and believing Martin's lies because I found Ryan kissing Christine after coming to confront him.
"Wow," he murmurs after I've finished my sorry tale. "What a dick."
Ouch.
He sees my reaction. "Not you, Iona. I meant Martin. Always knew he was a total arsehole." He shakes his head, hurt flickering on his face. "I'm a bit gutted you thought I would say those things about you though. You were the only girl I wanted to take to prom. I didn't like Christine in that way."
"But you kissed her. Twice." I protest.
"And that makes me a bit of a dick, because both times were because I couldn't have you," he counters evenly. "When she was dancing with me that night, she said she'd thought you and me might be a couple, but that you'd told her we were just friends. I pretty much abandoned her on the dancefloor to come and find you and that's when I heard you tell Martin you weren't bothered about me."
I remember Martin's glance over his shoulder and smirk as I'd told those lies. Ryan had been standing there. "Oh," I say softly.
"So I went back to apologise to Christine for leaving her on the dancefloor. She kissed me and, I guess at that point I just thought I might as well just let it happen. I'd been building up to ask you out all night - I'd been all set to say the words when Christine cut in, actually - but then I heard you say you didn't like me like that and realised it was all a bit pointless."
I choke a sob into my palms. "Terrible timing all around."
"I just . . . Couldnt get you out of my head though, despite everything, but when I ended the kiss you were gone. I wasn't even sure at that point if you'd witnessed it." He drags a hand down his face, wincing at the memory. "But when I saw you later, I could tell we weren't friends anymore, as far as you were concerned. I'd hoped, despite everything, we could at least keep our friendship even if my feelings were one-sided. You meant too much to me to let that go." He sighs and there's that steely look again, the one he gave me the night he reluctantly offered me the job. "But then you let it go when you ghosted me."
I remember back suddenly to what he'd said the night he was ridiculously drunk.
"I was gutted, you know. But I would have accepted it."
"We could still have been friends."
It all makes sense now.
"Honestly, I don't think I could actually have been just friends with you," I admit. "That was one of the reasons I had to just cut you off."
Ryan nods. "I actually get it. Looking back, I think I'd have struggled with it too. My feelings were just too . . . Huge." He hesitates for a moment before unfolding his arms, and pushing himself off the wall. "So you believe now that I didn't say those things about you, right?" He asks.
"Yeah. I just let all my insecurities get the best of me at the time." I shake my head at my own stupidity.
He takes a step towards me, eyes bright, one side of his mouth curving up into a half-smile. "And if you ever thought you might be a joke, well, you actually kind of were. But only because it was a running gag amongst my friends that I was crazy in love with you, and that you were the only one who couldn't see it."
And I think my heart just completely dissolved.
"Oh, and Martin was absolutely aware of that too, so I guess he decided he'd cause as much chaos as possible just because he could."
"Prick," I mumble.
"Yep." Ryan crosses the room and stops directly in front of me. My heart skips a beat as he reaches up and tucks a strand of hair behind my ear, pressing his body against me. "Iona," he says quietly but firmly, his eyes serious. "I've allowed you to just walk away from me twice now. I'm not going to let you do that again, okay?"
"Okay," I agree meekly. If he still wants me, l've absolutely no intention of going anywhere.
Then his mouth covers mine and I swallow a sigh of delight as I respond to his kiss. And this time I don't have any underlying worries or insecurities, and we've finally unearthed those truths that can put the past to rest. This kiss seems to seal that deal. I'm Ryan's and he's mine.
Finally.
Of course you can guess what happens next . . .
We get interrupted by a knock at the office door. It's Rory.
"Some guy called Martin is at the bar asking for you, Ryan," he says nervously. "I said you were busy but he was pretty insistent."
"Fucking Martin," we both say in unison, and Rory looks so confused that we both laugh.
"I'll be right there," Ryan sighs and Rory leaves. He turns back to me, smiling wryly. "Who the hell is writing this story?" He asks, rolling his eyes. "And why do they keep throwing these interruptions in?"
"Ha, maybe they're just trying to build up the anticipation," I giggle nervously.
"Well, hopefully it's working for you too." Ryan's gaze is hungry and full of promise as he takes me in. "Listen, I finish in like half an hour. How about we continue where we left off then?"
"I like the sound of that," I reply. I can't stop smiling.
"Right, I'm off to deal with that wee prick Martin," he says, dropping another quick kiss on my lips before he turns to leave the office.
I watch him go - yes, I can look at his cute little arse all I want now - then remember I haven't shaved . . . Anything. And I'm wearing my laundry day underwear. I think I probably beat some sort of sprint record racing back to my room.
I need to be prepared, just in case . . .
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