The prince isn't always charming and the princess isn't always a virgin.
—Alison Bliss, Playing With Fire (Tangled in Texas, #2)

Ian drools when he sleeps. I would find it disgusting on someone else—anyone else actually—but strangely, on Ian, it's endearing to me.

I roll my eyes as he snuggles his head into my bony shoulder and instead, lightly push his head against the sofa armrest. Brave is still playing on the TV and I'm wondering if Ian is really tired or if he just finds the story of Merida extremely boring.

He snorts a little bit and I chuckle lightly so as not to wake him up. Yeah, he's definitely tired. He's been trying to make ends meet lately by working with Jameel; these days, the tattoo parlor isn't getting enough customers. Apparently, he gets more customers when it's Valentines Day or December 31st. Late summer isn't a great season for customers.

The doorbell rings and I wince. Oh yeah, Ian ordered food from some place to be delivered to us.

I glance down at him again. He looks relatively innocent and peaceful, and waking him up now won't be great. I have to wait till he starts snoring so that I can get it on video and embarrass the life out of him.

The doorbell rings again and I sigh, standing up. I didn't even know Ian had a working doorbell till now. I just find pleasure in knocking on the door till my fists hurt or his neighbor across the hall tells me to keep it down.

I pull out my wallet as I open the door and I can't help but blink at the delivery woman in front of me. She's pretty with striking blue eyes and blonde hair. She's wearing casual clothes–a pink polo shirt and a pair of jeans and she's pretty—

But her prosthetic arm is really making it hard for me to focus on her face.

I avert my gaze after a moment and look down at the large bag she's holding with her other hand. "Um. How much?"

The woman raises an eyebrow. "$450?"

She has an attitude but what am I to expect from someone who works at some kind of restaurant that charges more than four hundred bucks for food that I'll finish in less than thirty minutes?

Also, why the hell is Ian still buying expensive food when he should be saving? Thank goodness he's sleeping; he would have argued my will away to pay. Like I'm rich and he has expensive taste; I think we're compatible. ...Or will be, in another life.

I ignore her attitude as I open my wallet—because I did stare at her arm for like, a solid minute—and add a $50 dollar bill because I'm a generous tipper. "Here," I push the money into her prosthetic palm and take the bag full of food from her. "Bye."

I shut the door in her shocked face without preamble and walk back to Ian. Maybe she doesn't get tips like that. You know. Because of her attitude. "Yo, wake up. The food is here."

Ian blinks himself awake at the mention of food. "Really?"

I smile and take my seat next to him.. "Yep," I nod. "So get up and let's eat."

Ian sits up and instinctively wipes away the drool from his face. "Where is she?"

"What kind of dream where you having?" I raise an eyebrow as I bring out the coolers of food. "Wow, no wonder they're expensive. These are legit flasks and thermoses."

Ian scratches the back of his head. "What?"

"The delivery service of the restaurant I don't know," I roll my eyes. Is Ian normally this slow when he's just waking up? "And I've told you to stop ordering extremely expensive food."

"...Oh no," he suddenly guffaws and I jump slightly. "Wait. You paid her?"

"Well duh," I pause. "Or wait. Did you already say you'll pay? You have a tab there?"

"S-Scarlett," Ian stutters and clutches his stomach. Other times, I'd be smiling because being able to make him laugh automatically makes me feel like I've won something but not now. I don't get the joke. Probably because I'm the joke right now. "Oh my God, no."

"What?" I snap. Being laughed at isn't fun. How do horrible mimes do it?

"That wasn't a delivery woman," Ian gasps loudly. "That was my mom."

It takes a moment for my brain to process the word. "Wait. Mom. Like mother? Parental figure?"

Ian is still too busy laughing to answer me. "This is gold. And classic mom; she gave you an attitude and I'm pretty sure she called some ridiculous price that she thought you wouldn't be able to pay."

I'm still gobsmacked. Did I just pay Ian's mother and then slam the door in her face?!

I stand and run to the door, wrenching it open. There's no one standing there and...damn, this woman took my money! I've made a bad first impression! She's going to hate me!

Why do you care? My conscience whispers. Aren't you breaking up with him later? Isn't this a sign to show that you and Ian aren't really meant to be?

I ignore my thoughts and slam the door shut. "Why didn't you tell me that you called your mom to bring you some food?!"

"I wanted it to be a surprise," Ian rolls his eyes. "Maybe if you picked a better movie, I wouldn't have slept and I could have answered the door."

I can't believe this asshole wants to put the blame on me and Merida. So it's my fault that I decided to let him sleep because he was looking so tired and innocent? It's my fault that Merida doesn't have any sexy scenes? "You...absolute asshole!"

"It's been a while since you called me that," Ian laughs and stands. "There's really no need for the drama, my mom doesn't hate you."

"I don't think you know the full story. I paid her and slammed the door shut in her face," I pause for emphasis. "I was...rude."

Ian raises both eyebrows. "And you're just knowing this now? That's your signature attitude to every single delivery boy or girl," he shakes his head. "Look, whatever, it's all good. You didn't know she was my mom and she'll just think that you must have a really big wallet and a great heart."

"...But I only have one of those."

He scoffs and envelops me into a hug. I try not to totally sink into the embrace but it's hard. Why does he have to smell so good and familiar? Why does he have to be so warm and yet so cold at the same time?

I slowly return the embrace. "Your mom...her right arm..."

"Yeah," Ian freezes for a moment and then sighs. He completely pulls away from me, leaving me cold. "Let's eat and I'll tell you a little story."

I gulp down the urge to hug him again, and instead, walk towards the couch with him.

________

So, turns out Ian's mom is a pretty good cook.

Like really, she knows how to make a mean meatloaf and her jambalaya recipe is gold.

Ian raises an eyebrow as I wolf down the food. "Why do you have the table manners of a barbarian?"

"Shut up," I say through a mouthful of rice, meat and sweet corn. "I'm just appreciating good food."

Ian nods as he daintily puts a forkful of meatloaf into his mouth. "Well, you did pay for it."

My cheeks turn red but I say nothing. Ian smirks but he also says nothing.

We eat in silence for a little while, both of us not really paying attention to the movie—Moana—in front of us. The silence really isn't uncomfortable but I'm curious about the story Ian promised to tell me.

I clear my throat as You're Welcome by Dwayne Johnson begins to play. "So—"

"I was driving," Ian says as he swallows his meatloaf, gaze trained on the TV in front of us. "It was an eventful Friday night—two weeks to graduation—and she had just bailed me out of jail, for being caught doing some graffiti on some random jock's house."

"She was too angry to drive so she let me," he shrugs lightly. "And then we started fighting. She had to use part of my college fund to pay for bail and she was pissed off because I'd already gotten my acceptance letter from UCLA."

"UCLA?"

"University Of California," he clarifies and I try not to balk. "Anyhow, she was pissed off and with good reason. So we were shouting in the car, fighting about why I'm acting like such a 'hooligan' when everything in my life was moving along swimmingly."

He pauses for dramatic effect. "I was too busy fighting to notice the traffic light. A jeep crashed into our car and unfortunately, it was my mother's side of the car."

"Fuck," I say without really thinking. I quickly bite my tongue.

Ian nods. "She lost her arm that day. And I gave up my dream of driving and studying art at a university."

I itch at the back of my neck. "Because you felt guilty?"

"Yeah," he finally turns to look at me and cracks a small smile. "But mostly because we had to use the rest of my college fund to pay for her prosthetic arm."

I wince. "I...don't know what to say," I gulp, and pause. "But didn't you tell me that you used your college fund to pay for The Canvas?"

"I lied a bit," Ian admits and I shake my head because, of course he can lie a bit better when he's slightly drunk on hip flask alcohol, of course. "My mom owned The Canvas. It used to be an art studio. She just...gave it to me."

I nod but something feels off. If Ian lied to me about this before, then why is he suddenly telling me the truth? Why is it today of all days that he suddenly wants me to know the real him? I should be angry that he lied to me in the first place but right now, I'm just suspicious. And maybe I'm paranoid but it doesn't stop me from bracing myself. "So why are you telling me this now?"

The way his jaw clenches tells me that he knows something but his reply doesn't correlate with his facial expression. "I'm just giving you the reason why I'll never buy myself a car," he leans over and presses a quick kiss to my nose. "You're my chauffeur for life, even though you drive like a maniac."

On another day, the words would bring a smile to my face. But there's something off about Ian's countenance so instead, I nod slowly. "Of course," I lie breezily, giving him a wary look. "I'm your chauffeur."

There's an awkward silence that even Moana can't drown out. I groan. "Really, Ian, why are you telling me this?"

He averts his gaze away from mine for a moment. "You know, in my weaker moments, I have dreams to go to UCLA."

I wait for him to continue and drop my half full plate of jambalaya on the center table. I'm suddenly not very hungry. "Oh, really?"

"You're my girlfriend," he says easily like this will always be a fact. "So, you deserve to know more about me. I don't tell you much but I'm planning to change that, starting now."

My heart breaks a little bit more as I smile at his words. "Stop being a goof. Eat your lunch."

He just has to make everything harder for me, doesn't he?

_________

Reyna is calling me.

I wince visibly and Ian turns his gaze away from the TV to look at me. "What happened?"

I drop my phone to the side. "Fuck," I sigh. "Ever since we started dating, I've been ignoring Reyna."

Ian turns his body around to properly look at me. Considering the fact that his head is on a couch pillow located on my thighs, I'm hoping he can't see boogers up my nose. "Why would you ignore Reyna? I thought she was your best friend."

I don't know how to reply. The phone stops ringing and I quickly switch it off. I'll call her later—beg for forgiveness later—but the way Ian is looking at me...

I don't think I'm going to spend my night with him today.

He sits up and I let him. "You want to break up with me."

It's not a question and my heart is already breaking. I answer anyway. "Yes," I pause. "You knew."

"Yes," he replies matter of factly. "You made it obvious."

Maybe I'm not a great liar anymore. "I'm sorry."

"Why? Did I do something wrong?"

I could give him a multitude of fake reasons. I could lie to him for the sake of us remaining friends. I could be cliché about it; It's not you, it's me. I could be heartless about it; I don't think I could ever fall in love with you. I could play the pity card; I don't think I have the ability to love anything or anyone—even myself.

But as I look at his defeated back, I can't force myself to lie this time. "Because I'm a coward that would rather pick a world of fame I don't want—that I could really care less about—over the guy that I really like."

He chuckles but the sound is bitter. I brace myself because I know he's hurt and when Ian's hurt, he says things to hurt the other person because he can't be feeling hurt alone. "Explain it to me. If you knew that you would end up picking your glamorous life over me, then why did you prompt me to fight for us?"

"I didn't know then," I say to his neck because he still doesn't want to look at me and that hurts but I have to continue. "I like you Ian. I really do. But my Father...he gave me an ultimatum. If I keep seeing you, he'll disown me."

"...I see," Ian nods. "I understand that, I really do," he shrugs, "But when did he give this ultimatum? Why didn't you end things with me before I could start imagining a future with you?"

My heart hurts. I'm starting to sound like a villain. I'm also starting to feel like one. "He gave a condition."

At this, Ian turns to face me. He keeps his distance. "What kind of condition?"

I take in a deep breath. "I'm going to sound crazy," I gulp. "But just hear me out."

"I'm listening."

His blunt reply does nothing to soothe my nerves but I speak anyway. "You know how my Father immediately saw the face of a 'social pariah' in you when you guys first met?"

"Yes."

"Well, he really does believe that you'll make it as a model," I gulp as his expression changes to something stormy. "But hey, think of it this way! My Father has recruited many successful models. You'll definitely make it because um, connections and maybe you'll be able to get more money, so that you'll get to live your dream of going to UCLA, right?"

Even as the words are pouring out of my mouth, I know I'm fucking up. Yet, I can't seem to stop. "So, everything will be okay. You gain fame, money and me, and well, we get to continue our little messed up fairytale, right?"

I can't even look at him anymore. My neck feels hot due to embarrassment but I'm not sure why. I know I'm desperate but can you really blame me? I like this guy and well...at this point, I could bribe him to take Father's offer just so that we can keep seeing each other.

Ian sighs loudly and stands up. "I'm not drunk enough for this conversation."

I follow after him as he walks to the kitchen. "I'd rather you be sober when I'm talking to you about our future."

He lets out a harsh bark of laughter. "There is no future for us Scarlett. I'm not going to be a model," he turns to face me for a moment. "Unlike you, I don't give up on my dreams by taking the easy way out."

Ah, he's back to being an asshole again. Yay. "Look, this is life. I'm not telling you to give up on UCLA; I'm just telling you that you can pursue other prospects in order to get money to attain that dream," I sigh as he cracks open a can of beer. "It's not like your tattoo parlor brings in much."

He continues drinking without taking a breath. I'm almost scared; it's like he wants to suffocate himself.

Finally, he stops drinking and crushes the can in his palm. He covers his mouth as he burps. "You're starting to sound like Abril."

The words are like a slap to my face. "Don't you dare—"

"But it's true," he chuckles lowly and burps again. "I'm not good enough for anyone, right? I wasn't good enough for Abril and I'm still not good enough for you."

"Don't say that," I snap. "Abril asked you out because she liked having someone she could control, for your information. I like you because I like you. I'm nothing like her."

It's almost like he can't hear me anymore. Or maybe he doesn't want to argue. "Is there something about my job that's a turnoff? Am I just that guy that girls want to experiment on and tell everyone that my walls were so easy to break?"

At this point, I don't think he's talking to me. But it hurts to see that he looks like he's on the verge of crying. "Ian..."

I take a step forward so that I can hug him but he shakes his head. "Let's just end this here."

I freeze. It's like a bottle has been smashed against my ribcage. "What?"

"You were right," he sighs softly, his shoulders hunched over like he's tired. "I'm not a prince, you're not a princess and this fucked up thing between us isn't a fairytale," he shakes his head and laughs like he's mocking himself. "Fairytale ending. What was I thinking?"

I don't know why I'm feeling so empty. I knew it was going to end this way. I've been prepping myself for this for a while now. I knew after tonight, there will be no Scarlett & Ian.

Because you were expecting him to still fight for you, my conscience whispers. You wanted him to beg you to not let go, to find another solution to this, to hold you tight and maybe to even dump his passion and dreams just so that you can continue being together.

The truth makes me feel sick. Suddenly, I can't really look at him. "I think I'll be going now."

"Okay," there is a short pause. "Drive safe."

We both know I never do but the words manage to make me feel a spark of hope for no good reason. I walk out of the kitchen and into his bedroom to get my backpack.

When I walk out, I notice him sitting on the couch, nursing another can of beer, staring at the screen of the TV showing Rapunzel.

I walk around the couch to stand in front of the TV, blocking his view. "We can still be friends, right?"

Ian eyes me for a few moments, like he's trying to memorize my face. Finally, he shakes his head and tosses me my phone. I manage to catch it before it can hit the floor.

"I'm sorry Scarlett," he sighs with a sad smile. "I don't think we can."

Extremely rushed chapter so it's in need of some major editing. On another note, I'm extremely sorry for the delay. But please understand; I'm currently fighting malaria (and stress and etc) as I type this so please point out any typos. It'll help when I edit later :) thank you.
Thank you so much for sticking with me. The next chapter is the last one and I have so many endings in my head so it'll take a while before I can pick the best one. Hopefully, it'll be one that we all like. Haha.

Any thoughts on this chapter?

Also, shameless self promo here: if you're into light hearted reads, my new story; The Cliché Climax is waiting to be read wink wink.

Love you guys, have a blessed week x.