Page 5 of Saving Ian Pope

While I’d heard and liked some of his solo songs, it seemed as if he’d released them a while ago. But maybe it was because one of the other former Five2Go band members had been all over the news with a big tour and a few acting gigs that had overshadowed the others.

My mouth burning from the spicy food, I twisted the cap off my own water and waited for an answer.

He placed his bottle carefully on the bench between us and wiped his palm on the thigh of his jeans. “You’re right. I haven’t released anything for a while. I’m working on some songs for a new album and planning a tour, so I took a few meetings here with my manager. And I’m just...uh, relaxing before I get back to work.”

I’d been holding my breath and released it slowly between my lips. He didn’t exactly sound pumped-up about the prospect of his new music. Now my fingers tingled with the urge to skim through my phone to discover the real story, but an even stronger impulse surged through me to bring the sunshine back to Ian’s smile and the warmth back to his brown eyes.

Something tickled the back of my neck, and I twitched and flicked my hair. A split second later a squirrel leapt from the bench over my shoulder and grabbed the fork sticking out of my bowl.

I emitted a terrified yelp while Ian doubled over beside me, his shoulders shaking with laughter. When he popped back up, his grin took up half his face, and his eyes sparkled. He pounded his chest as he choked on his food. “Are you okay?”

More than okay. I’d have to thank that squirrel later for bringing Ian out of that funk.

“Yeah, except that little rodent stole my fork. What’s he going to do with it?” I gave a little shiver and rubbed the back of my neck. “I don’t like the idea of that squirrel roaming campus armed with a fork.”

Ian nodded his head at my bowl. “More importantly, how are you going to finish your noodles?”

I dug through the plastic bag at my feet that had contained our food and triumphantly withdrew a set of chopsticks. “I hope you have all day. That’s how long it’s going to take me to eat.”

“I can run over and get you another fork, or...” he took the chopsticks from me and peeled off the paper “—I can give you a quick lesson in wielding chopsticks.”

“I suppose it’s time I learned, living in LA, the land of 283 different cuisines. Show me.”

Ian put his water bottle on the ground and scooted closer to me on the bench. I liked this lesson already. My eyelids drooped for a moment as I savored his nearness and inhaled his masculine, slightly spicy scent—even if it was the green curry.

“Give me your hand.”

Gladly. I held out my hand, steadier than it had a right to be, given the turmoil of my mind and other strategic parts of my body.

He placed one chopstick in my fingers and instructed, “Hold it like you would hold a pencil.”

I gripped the smooth wood between my thumb and pointer finger.

“Wait. You hold your pencil way down at the end?”

I whacked his hand with the chopstick. “Good teachers are patient.”

“Ow.” He rubbed the back of his hand that sported a tattoo with the Roman numeral 52. At least I thought the L was 50, or was that a C? No, 52 for Five2Go, obviously.

“Okay, slide your fingers up toward the top.” He tried to tell me where to place the second chopstick, but I got the same result I always did—the pincher chopstick wouldn’t pinch.

Shaking his head, he clicked his tongue. “You are seriously uncoordinated, Ivy. Here.”

He took the chopsticks from my clumsy fingers and deftly scooped up a mass of noodles. He held the food over the bowl. “Open.”

My jaw dropped. Was he going to feed me?

He leaned in, positioned the noodles over my open mouth and lowered them. Like a baby bird, I closed my lips around the chopsticks and sucked the food into my mouth.

His eyes never left mine, so I shielded my lips as I chewed. Instead of feeling gross for eating in his face, this had to be one of the most erotic moments of my life.

He blinked as if coming out of a daze. “See how easy that was?”

“For some. You did the hard part. I’m just chewing here.” My tongue darted out of my mouth, and I licked the spicy flavor from my greasy lips.

His eyes darkened to a chocolate brown, and his gaze intensified. He reached out with one finger and dabbed the corner of my mouth. “You missed a spot.”

My lips throbbed, and I touched the tip of my tongue to the pad of his finger.

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