Unwanted Wedlock

Chapter 3

     *One swear word, not including the basic ones I said I would use*

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      Reeds, that is what Lyla was going to call him now, barely looked her way. Lyla however wasn't affected, there was something, the most obvious thing, she had learnt from Ryerson just with his silence. He didn't like this marriage. Well, nor did she. But that didn't mean she had to completely give up on her dream. She wasn't going to be those desperate girls who would try to talk to him all the time but she decided that instead she was going to just stay there, acknowledging him, if this didn't work for too long and he never brought up conversation then she would try to talk to him. If even at the attempts he wouldn't talk to her Lyla would just ignore and destroy her dreams. There wasn't anything else she could do without hurting her pride. And she was too stubborn to let down her pride.

      As they got into the room Lyla nearly cried out in relief seeing there were two beds instead of the honeymoon suite single bed. The thought made her shudder. As much as she was willing to start a small connection between Reeds and herself she was far from ready to sleep by him. She released a small breath she hadn't been holding at the sight of two beds instead of crying out loud. It didn't go unnoticed by Ryerson, his eyebrows raised. To be honest, he was confused.

      He was used to women throwing themselves at him, he expected Lyla-just the fact that he bothered to remember her name surprised him-to be just like those other girls. He expected her to whine and try to talk to him on the way to the hotel. He expected herself to say 'I do' without even a small hesitation and Ryerson refused to think about the hollow silence in the minutes she didn't answer the priest. He expected her to be needy in sealing the marriage with a kiss and it bruised his pride to see how reluctant she was. Sure, they kissed but the kiss was placed on the corner of his lips and it was basically a butterfly kiss. He expected her to wear a smile through the wedding in excitement. He expected her to at least get excited at the sight of such a large hotel, he hadn't missed the scrunch of her nose at the sight of the hotel. He had thought, for a second, that she was hard to impress and he disliked this marriage more but then he studied her. The way she dressed, simple, the way her nose scrunched up, the better assumption was that she didn't like displays of money. But truly, what girl was like that? he asked himself. At least, when they got to the room he expected her to ask where the single bed, honeymoon room was, but instead she was wearing a relieved expression. Why was she so different?

      The next morning there was another silence. Until Lyla realized they were moving to Toronto. She didn't even get a VISA until she was informed that before the marriage it had been set up by her parents, they had known the entire time and hadn't bothered to tell her. She had expected to stay in California, she didn't know that they were moving, much less moving without even an input of her opinions. She wasn't liking this, she knew she was an opinionated person and it bruised her pride when she wasn't asked for input. But then again, in real life, with her parents she never got to express her opinion, this burn was familiar. There was one thing to be happy about, though. She could still work in Toronto.

     Lyla had skipped two grades in school, always being the youngest in her class by one or two years, she ended up going to University when she was 16. The funny thing was she made sure that she was always extremely busy, taking six to seven APs to skim off a year of undergrad, resulting in her finishing her undergraduate years by the time she was nineteen. Only a few months ago did she finisher two years of MED specialization, now having the freedom to work with full qualification, hence now her frustration of leaving the country. Now she was going to have to be tested for working in Canada with that license exam. This whole marriage was so confusing. It was starting to mess up her life plans. The plans she so carefully thought through during her freaking middle school years!

     Lyla sighed tiredly, collapsing in the seat of the private plane. Why did the dude have a freaking private plane? Did it go against him to use a regular plane? Even if he didn't take regular economy class. The seat was uncomfortable, Lyla noticed. If there was no one near her Lyla would have laughed out loud. It was so weird, she found the things that were most expensive uncomfortable but she was more than happy and cozy with the simple things. 

     "Let me help you, ma'am," a man who was probably the flight attendant said. Damn. Ryerson Reeds even had handsome flight attendants. The man stooped a bit, leaning close to her and taking the seat belt from her hands. He was holding eye contact and Lyla felt herself get amused as she stared back at him. He was going to start buckling her up before someone cleared their throat loudly. They both looked up to meet Reeds' blue-green eyes.

     "I think I can help my wife, thank you," he said. Lyla's eyebrows shot up. The dude barely talked to her and he was already getting possessive? How does that even add up? Reeds stopped taking the two parts of the seat belt in his hands, "you couldn't do this without help?" he muttered to her savagely. Lyla glared at him, before he could even get the belt close to her she took it from his hands and snapped it in the right place. She gave him a sickly sweet smile and Reeds simply scoffed and walked to his seat. The rest of the plane ride was quiet. One would think after that small exchange they would start having some kind of conversation. Wrong.

     As soon as they entered the airport to Lyla's surprise they were bombarded by a hoard of reporters. All of them were professionally holding cameras or notepads and pens. They crowded around, questions hollered to their ears, cameras flashing.

     "Mr. Reeds, who is this woman?"

     "Mr. Reeds, have you finally decided to settle to start a family?"

     "Mr. Reeds due to your distance to many ladies, people assumed you to be gay, now you have a lady at your arm, your comment?" (Lyla's eyebrows flew up to her hairline at that question)

     "Mr. Reeds, is that a ring on your finger and the lady's?"

      "Mr. Reeds-'' Mr. Reeds this, Mr. Reeds that, Lyla wasn't able to make anything else. She looked at Ryerson. He was already looking at her, with a brief fake smile (that Lyla almost believed it, except she was incredibly perceptive). To her surprise, he took her hand, squeezing it in warning. Right, nobody knew about the contract and now they were acting. Well, shit. Their intertwined fingers didn't go unnoticed and cameras started to flash even brighter, Lyla's eyes were burning slightly now, "Mr. Reeds-"

       "I'd appreciate it if you would stop with the cameras," Ryerson said loudly, "my wife does not appreciate it, she isn't used to this." More questions came flying at them at the term wife. Lyla nearly stuck her tongue out in disgust but she managed to keep a fake smile on her face. Practice, what could one say?

     "-Mr. Reeds, how long have you been in a relationship?" another reporter demanded. He sighed before saying.

     "We've been keeping it low for around five years now," he answered, squeezing Lyla's hand in what others might think to be a sweet gesture. To her, she was ready to rip her hand away and walk out. She knew what he wanted her to do, she tried to widen her fake smile and said.

     "Yes, five years," she agreed in tight voice, barely stopping a look of disgust from washing over her face. The reporters started yelling the number around like it was the biggest news of the century. Seriously, they needed to get a life. He was only the owner of a business. A business that ranged all over the world and one that was deemed the most successful for many continuous years. Ugh. More questions were thrown at them.

"It's been five years, seven months, three weeks and two days since we met," Ryerson announced, making up a number. Lyla nearly vomited at the way he was trying to convey his point, "now we have married. That's all there is to it. Please do not exaggerate this more than you need to." 'Dude, don't fucking say that to reporters,' Lyla thought furiously. Who says that to reporters? No point of exaggeration would sate reporters. Before the reporters could demand answers for more questions though Ryerson pulled her away to an awaiting car. 

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Let me know what you think, I suppose it's a bit unrealistic but well...