Ricky Ullman In Love Chapter 13
DISCLAIMER: Guess what! This story has absolutely nothing to do with reality. This is a completely fictional story. The words that make the story that follows is not intended to imply anything about Ricky Ullman's or Max Thieriot's true sexuality in any way shape or form. I do not personally know either celebrity or know of any details of their personal lives. This story is completely fictional. Oh yes and if it is illegal to read such material as a factor of age, law, or ordinance....discontinue reading. I know this site deals with sex in graphic details. I know that sex is an important part of a love story...in a bold attempt to not leave it out I will portray each sexual act as an act of love rather than as a bathroom encounter.
Please send all feedback to degobln@yahoo.com.
***I've finished the outline for this story and I Regret to say, the end is near! Stay tuned for the concluding chapters of this story.
Sorry it took so long to update, I've been preoccupied with flight simulation....won't happen again ;)
"I've had the taste for a good cheese burger for a long time," I remarked to Max after swallowing my first bit.
"I know the feeling," Max shot back with his trademark, calm sarcasm.
I smiled at him, watching him eat a handful of tiny little french fries. He did not see me looking at him, but I'm sure he felt it.
"What?" Max asked not even looking up at me.
"Nothing really, I'm just looking," I replied.
"Mm hmm," Max hummed looking at me while still chewing his food.
"I hate to say this, but I'm wondering if this storm is ever going to come," I said.
"Probably not, no one really knows who I am anyway," Max added his two cents to the thought.
The storm we spoke of was what members of the media might poke their heads out, to make a huge deal out of nothing.
"Don't be so sure, how do you know it's not already here?" I asked him.
"Why what are you talking about?" He answered my question with a question while carefully looking over my shoulder to the street outside the window.
"Not out their," I corrected him, "behind you, the man and the woman, attractive, both blond, wearing blue jeans, he's got a white t-shirt, and her's is creme." I quickly described our spectators.
Slowly, carefully, and in a true nonchalant form, Max turned around to see the "couple" I Spoke about. His long neck stretched as he sat a moment in observation of my suspicions.
"Let's say you're right," he said turning back at me, "what do we do?"
"Well here's my master plan are you ready?" I asked him.
He did not answer but just looked into me and slightly nodded his head.
"Okay pay close attention, because this may seem simple but is quite complicated," I explained to him the procedure.
Again he just nodded his head.
"Okay, first we finish eating as we normally do. Then I am going to go and pay the bill and come back to the table and leave a tip. Then after that I may or may not sit down, depending on whether or not you're going to be ready for what's next. Then after that, we are going to get up as if we're not being followed, walk out of the restaurant, walk to my car, get in, start it, then drive off," I explained our plan of escape.
"Um...Ricky," Max said seeming to be in the slightest of thoughts.
"Huh," I responded.
At first he formed an o shape with his mouth before asking, "What is so different about this plan then if we were just to get up and leave like we normally would do?"
"Nothing I guess, just thought it would help to over complicate leaving," I answered him.
He just laughed and looked at me and with this I felt his feet intertwine with mine on the floor beneath the booth's table below.
"Well at least you did not throw your self on the floor," he joked.
"Yeah, let's not make a spectacle of this situation," I suggested with a wink and dorky smile.
"Oh but your spectacle's are so cute," he complemented me tightening his grip on my feet below with his.
"Stop, you're making me blush," I pleaded through a hushed voice as my face began to turn redden.
"No way, this is how I like you," he playfully argued with me locking into my ankles and pulling on them.
"Oh you're just trying to take advantage of me," I teased Max.
"Is it that obvious," he asked before lifting the straw in his cup to his lips.
"About as obvious as the fake couple staring at us," I replied.
With these words said Max surprised me, carelessly looked over his shoulder nodded at the "couple" all the while he drank his cherry coke. The man seemed at bit lost by Max's nod and was probably not expecting him to react to his presence in such a way. The man then whispered something to the woman, to which she looked right at me. On her mark I waved at her to which she reacted by quickly turning back around.
"I think their cover might have been blown," Max said as he stared back at the man.
"Yeah I would have to say so," I agreed also staring at the man.
The bill was dropped on the table by our careless waitress, and this was our cue to get up and leave. As for the plan before, it went off without a hitch, that is to say that we left the restaurant as normal people usually leave a place. But on leaving, the unthinkable happened.
As an immediate reflex, opening the door set off a huge domino effect of camera flashes, and voices chattering in the sound of questions. Confusion set in before anything else and I did not know what was happening right off. I tried to block the attempts at having my picture taken but with this many cameras flashing any single attempt on my behalf would hurt more then help. Hurt by means of bad picture and the appearance of someone who seems to be in denial.
"Max, do you have anything to say about.....Max would you like to comment on......Max are you.....Max who was your friend in the......Max when did you know you were....Max are you.....Max.....Max," The press all asked the same questions at the same time.
All the whole time we fought through them to get to my car, I felt very afraid. Afraid for myself, mostly Max. Neither of us are terribly famous people, when we are noticed it is a non- event and nothing at all to worry about, this situation however seems to merit a security detail. I felt bad for Max, that though he acted his heart out in two major motion pictures, he received a hundred times more attention for something he did not do intentionally. I felt bad for bringing this on him. For asking him to come to Chicago, for going with him to the beach, for kissing him that day.
I felt bad for it all, and out of guilt and love (two of the strongest emotions I ever felt) I did my best to escort Max to my car, shielding him from the "anything but playful" banter. Mostly it seemed that the barrage of questions seemed geared at finding out who the guy Max was kissing is.
No questions answered, obviously, we made it to the car, with which we both went in on the driver's side, him first.
We drove off slowly at first, then I picked up the speed a bit when I realized their was not a soul in my way.
"That was INSANE!" Max spoke these words with intense feeling, looking to me then flipping down the visor to fix his hair.
"Yeah, you're telling me," I agreed with Max, fixing my own hair in the rear view mirror.
"Ricky, can you take me home?" Max asked.
I was a bit disappointed to have to take Max home so early.
"Yeah sure," I agreed to comply.
I turned down a side street to start heading for Max's house when I was soon corrected of my mistake in assuming anything.
"Oh wait, I'm sorry, I should have been more clear," Max apologized, "I meant take me to your home.
I became completely tickled for a number of reasons. For one, he was coming home with me before I would have to have him home tonight, more importantly, I thought it was so cute how he accidently referred to my residence as "home".
I began to think of the future again, and rested my hand on Max's knee. I thought about the future we might have together. To the idea of coming home and tripping over his shoes, and I can't hang my keys on the hook because his are their, and I imagine my self, walking on egg shells because through some unknown exhaustion, Max is passed out on our couch. I say the word "our" because it has a lot of meaning. Are Max and I going to spend the rest of "our" lives together?
"RICKY WATCH OUT!" Max yelled out at an excited state, breaking my day dream.
I quickly slammed on the breaks and turned to the right, the whole split-second the tires screeched and the car came to a rest in the side of a parked car. Both the air bags deployed in the matter of no time. It all happened so quick I barely had a chance to see the vagrant running away. Figuring he was not harmed, or at least well enough to run away, I turned to Max to inquire of his well being, but when looking at him, I completely panicked.
Their was red, on his hands, and dripping from his nose, on his white shirt, and staining his flawless pale skin. He was holding his head upright while his hands cradled his nose.
"Oh my god, oh my god, are you okay Max?" I asked him quickly unbuckling my seat belt, and sitting up on my knees.
"I'm fine," he answered me through a voice hindered by a plugged nose.
"Are you sure? No you're not!" I continued to panic.
"Ricky, settle down," Max demanded, being quite calm about the situation.
But I could not find the strength to be as calm as him. I simply could not do anything but melt on the inside seeing him in such distress.
"Here, move your hands, let me see," I said to him.
He obliged me and I took a good look at a nose that was obviously broken.
"Okay," I said to him, looking away.
I had to look away real quick. I could only see him this hurt for so long before I could see no more.
"Are you boy's okay?" I could hear an older woman ask from the barely gathering crowd.
I opened the door and said, "yeah were fine, thanks."
Someone must of called the cops quick, either that or one was in the area, for their was already one at my door when I opened it.
"You boy's okay?" He asked just as the woman did right before him.
"Yeah, he's got a broken nose," I informed the cop.
"How old are you son?" The older cop asked Max.
"Sixteen," he said through the same no nosed voice.
With that information in mind he called for an ambulance on the radio on his shoulder.
"I don't want to go to the hospital," Max came to a conclusion upon hearing him call in.
The officer ignored him and seemed to be listening to whomever he was talking to on his device.
"Did you hear him?" I asked the cop.
He looked at me with raised eyebrows that said "huh".
"He said he doesn't want to go to the hospital," I repeated what Max had said.
"Well, whether he wants to or not, he's a minor and doesn't have a choice," the cop informed me of being wrong.
............................................................................................................................................................
The trip to the hospital was pointless, but I could see the logic where it is better to be safe than sorry. He was released to his mother at 2 a.m. and left the hospital, a bit exhausted but without consequence.
I left him that night, went home to bed alone. I did not get a kiss, or a hug, or any sleep. I did get one thing, peace of mind. I had the good knowledge of knowing that he was okay, safe, at home in his own bed.
It had been a long day, and a longer night. I was awake with insomnia and completely stressed out, until an unknown hour only marked by the shadow's of the moon- he called...