I usually don't swear, but this chapter has a few explicit words (and scenes). If you're not into that sort of stuff, stop reading. And apparently (because of a choice word), TLVS is no longer searchable, so you'll have to go to my profile to read it. Yay.

Dedicated to my other WNRS buddy, raindrop.

Chapter 36: Easy, Breezy, Beautiful

I gulped, still sitting in the car (I had been for almost ten minutes), looking at Ian's house. It wasn't as intimidating before, but now I was on a mission to bring him and Emma happiness that would hopefully last for more than three weeks. You can do this, Charlotte. Just walk up there and don't beat around the bush. I was terrible at giving myself pep talks, so to make up for that, I actually did what I came here to do.

I rang the doorbell and one of the Jameson servants answered it. "Hello. Can I help you with something?" She looked friendly enough, and I didn't remember seeing her before.

"Is Ian here?"

"Yes, and you are?"

"Charlotte."

She nodded, held up her pointer finger, and shut the door. She came back shortly with no Ian. "I'm sorry, but Mr. Ian does not wish to see you."

I sighed. I figured this would happen, but I was hoping he could forget what happened on New Years. "Will you tell him this is important?"

She shook her head. "Mr. Ian gave me very strict orders."

"But this is about-"

She narrowed her eyes. "About who, Miss Charlotte?"

"Emma," I said, hoping that she was a popular person around the Jameson household. Ian couldn't possibly keep it a secret from his servants. She had to have been over here countless times.

"You know Miss Emma?" I nodded. "Is she here?" She peered over my shoulder.

"No."

"Well, I suppose I'm going to go do my chores right now. I always forget to lock the door after I greet visitors. It was nice meeting you, Miss Charlotte," she said slowly, closing the door.

Was she seriously going to let me break into their home? I wasn't complaining, and I liked her not-so-subtle way of letting me in. I waited about ten seconds before I opened the door and made my way up to Ian's room. I wondered if I should knock (in case he was doing I didn't want to see) or if I should barge in and not give him a chance to turn me away. I chose the former option because I didn't want to be more rude than I already was.

"I don't want to talk to her, Eileen," Ian shouted.

"Too bad," I said.

I heard his feet padding across the floor. He looked extremely ornery and was still in his pajamas. His hair was a mess, and he looked like death. Thankfully, though, he didn't smell bad. "What do you want, Charlotte?"

"I have to talk to you about something."

"This better be important," he grumbled.

"I talked to Emma yesterday."

"So? Don't you talk every day?"

I punched his arm. "She told me about you, Ian."

"What did she say? Oh, wait. Let me guess. 'He's an inconsiderate douchebag that only cares about satisfying his penis.' Am I right?"

"Actually, no. I said that."

"Oh."

"She's the girl in the picture, isn't she?"

He closed his eyes and sighed. "Come on in," he said.

We sat on his couch, and for a while, no one said anything. "You don't have to tell me anything, Ian. I just came over to let you know that she still cares."

There was silence for about ten minutes before I decided he wasn't going to talk. I stood up to leave, and I was almost out before he said, "I wish I could take it back."

I turned around. "What did you say?" I asked to make sure I was -hearing correctly.

"I regret it. I wish I could take it back."

I sat back down. "Why is that?" My heart was palpitating, as if I were Emma. I got unbelievably happy and I had to keep from smiling because this was one serious moment that I refused to ruin.

"Because I've gained absolutely nothing, but I've lost the person who meant the most to me. I was such an idiot back then. I didn't see what I had before it was gone, and even then I still didn't see it. I don't know why I did it."

"For bragging rights?"

He scoffed. "Look around, Charlotte. I have more money than I could possibly know what to do with. I can buy anything and show it off."

"The title."

"I could be knighted if I wanted to."

Ian knew perfectly well why he went through with this game, possibly giving up the love of his life. "So why did you do it, Ian?"

He sighed. "Because it was mine. I worked for it. And you're probably thinking 'Wow, it's so laborious having sex with a bunch of girls. Boohoo. Poor you.' But it actually was a lot of work. Maybe not at first, but later it was really difficult getting girls to give up their virginities. You probably think we, all of us, don't have a conscious. We're aware that we're practically raping girls and possible scarring them for life. I wanted to quit a while ago, but it was too late. I was already too deep into the game to just give up."

I guess it never really occurred to me that the boys were actually human and felt-like the rest of us- guilt, shame, and regret. To me, I guess they were sex machines. I knew, individually, that they were real people (Ian's insecurities and Tyler's past), but they actually felt bad emotions that weren't sadness. While they were all completely deserving and entitled to those feelings, it was something the rest of the school never really thought of. We saw them as gladiators and villains and not as lost high school boys that were still maturing. It wasn't entirely their fault. They had encouragement, which was a necessity in any sort of game or sport.

"It was never too late to leave," I said.

"You don't understand, Charlotte. You will never understand. I was too invested to just leave it behind. It was too late to get Emma back, and if I won, which I was determined to, I could say I finally accomplished something by myself."

"You wanted something to be proud of. Taking innocent girls' virginities is not going to look good on a resume."

"I never said anything about a resume. Why did you come here, Charlotte? To make me feel like shit?"

"No, Ian. I came here to tell you that you made a mistake when you let her go."

"You don't think I know that? I already told you that I regret it. If I could turn back time, I would. But I can't."

"So fix it."

"How? I doubt she'll even talk to me."

"That's all she wants to do, Ian. She misses you."

"Then why doesn't she talk to me?"

"Because she thinks you don't miss her. She thinks that you don't want anything to do with her."

"Emma..."

"Talk to her. You never know what could come out of it."

***

"Well, this is it."

I had been pressuring Tyler for weeks to see his house. It was an odd request and seemingly superficial. I wanted to see where he grew up, where the incident with his mother happened, and I wanted to connect him to a place in the map of my mind. As stupid as it sounded, a home played a vital role in a person's life. It was more than where they lived. It was where memories were made and a place to grow up and unwind. It was a safe haven, at least for me.

His home was modest. After all, it was just him and his father living there. He told me his father was barely around because he was either at work or at the bar wasting his hard-earned money. He told me that half of the time he had to pay the bills himself because his father was so irresponsible with money. He told me that even though he helped create him, he hated him. He wasn't a father to him. Tyler couldn't remember a moment where he ever was. When his mom passed away, it was as if all ties Tyler had with his father disappeared. They were just coexisting in the same house. His home was himself.

"Now let's go."

I pulled his arm. "Let's hang out here."

"I'm not so sure that's a good idea..."

He told me his father wasn't home, so I saw no reason we couldn't stay, unless he wasn't allowed to be alone in a room with a girl. "Why not?"

"There's nothing to do here."

"You could show me some of your motorcycle magazines."

He chuckled. "You and I both know that you're not interested in those."

"What else are we going to do?"

"We could go for a run."

I laughed. "Yeah, right. Or we could..."

"Could what?"

Either he had absolutely no idea what I was thinking (or wanting to do, which was to throw myself at him) or he he was really good at acting clueless. Tyler wasn't the type to "play dumb," so I figured it must that he was actually innocent right now. I never thought I'd see the day where Tyler's thoughts were purer than mine.

I pressed my lips to his and wrapped my arms around his neck. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw that he kicked the door shut with his leg before snaking his arms around my waist. If kissing was a drug, I'd be an addict (and in jail). I hadn't been doing it for very long, but it sure made me happy. If sex was anything like kissing, I understood why he did it all of the time. I felt his rough hand move south to my butt. This certainly wasn't the first time we made out, and it wasn't the first time he touched one of my "no-no spots." I was aware that things were getting a bit sexual, but I had enough faith in myself to stop if things went too far. I blamed the need to continue and explore on my raging teenage hormones.

Somehow, we made our way over to the couch. It was sort of lumpy, but I too preoccupied to pay any attention to that. Our lips never stopped touching. I kissed him like my life depended on it, and I held onto him like he was about to fall. Our bodies were parallel to each other, except, unlike lines, they touched. By then, one of the seven deadly sins had taken control of my mind. All I thought about was how much I wanted to be with him. I had never lived in the moment as much as I was right then.

Clothes began to peel off of our bodies and our kisses grew more desperate. It was like we were both drowning and the only pockets of air were from each other's lungs. We clung to each other, letting our hands wander wherever they pleased. I focused on his taut chest and his slightly stubbly face. He, on the other hand, went everywhere. His hands continued to roam north and south, east and west, in and out. There wasn't a part of my body that he didn't explore. His hands, while calloused, sent tingles wherever they touched.

And then it stopped. His hands were no longer travelling, and we were no longer touching. My skin felt his absence and did not enjoy it at all. I wanted him, and I wanted him now.

"Stop, Charlotte."

I frowned and kissed him to make him stop talking. He pushed me off of him. I felt as though I was going to cry. The rejection from him was too much for me to handle. "Don't you want me?" I asked on the brink of tears.

He stroked my cheek before pulling himself farther away from me. "Of course I want you, Char."

"Then what are we waiting for?"

He held his arms out, ready to block me in case I decided to try anything. He handed me a blanket. "Cover yourself up." Was my body not good enough for him? I knew I was a little soft and pudgy in some places, but I didn't think I was too terribly un-sexy. "You want someone special. You want to wait until you're sure that he's the one who deserves it. You want someone to make love to you, not fuck you. You want to cuddle afterwards, not be thrown away like some rag doll. You want someone who will cherish your time together. You want someone who says 'I love you' when you're doing it. You want someone who will want you forever."

During the first part of his little speech, all I was thinking was that I wanted him. Then I wrapped the blanket a little tighter around myself. I couldn't believe that I almost gave it up to someone who had done it with countless other girls. "Thank you so much, Tyler. I cannot express my gratitude."

He nodded, looking a little awkward.

"I think I should go."

"I think you should, too."

I gathered my clothes. "Is there a bathroom I could use?" I asked, embarrassed to show him my body. It was different when my mind was clouded with lust.

After that, there was only one question on my mind: If he wanted to win the game, why did he push me off of him?